The autobiography of Goethe : truth and poetry, from my own life

f I

THE

AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF GOETHE.

TRUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN LIFE.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN,

BY

JOHN OXENFOKD,

THIRTEEN BOOKS,

LONDON:

HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.

1848.

LONDON:

HARRISON AND CO., PRINTERS,
ST, MARTIN S LANE.

ADVERTISEMENT.

the following translation was commenced, the
irst Ten Books had already appeared in America. It
was the intention of the Publisher to reprint these
without alteration, but, on comparing them with the
)riginal, it was perceived that the American version was
Lot sufficiently faithful, and therefore the present was
mclertaken. The Translator, however, is bound to
icknowledge, that he found many successful renderings
lin the work of his predecessor, and these he has
engrafted without hesitation.

The title " Truth and Poetry" is adopted in common
I with the American translation, as the nearest rendering
of Dichtung und Wahrheit, and preferable to " Truth and
Fiction," which has sometimes been used. The poet, by
the expression Dichtung, did not mean that he invented
incidents in the Auto-Biography, but merely that they
were of a poetic or romantic character; while " Wahrheit"
implies, that they also possessed the truth of history.
The " Prose and Poetry of my Life" would, perhaps,
convey to the English reader the exact meaning of the
Author, although not literally his words.

ERRATA.

Page 442, line 6 from bottom, omit "that."
451, 4 from bottom, for "theatrical," read "theoretical."
464, 2 from the bottom, for "thus a certain," read "thus arose

a certain."

490, 9, for "co-operation," read "corporation."
494, 20,/or"Dident,"raM* "Diderot."
495, 8 from bottom, for "caricaturing," read "country."
502, 9 from bottom, after "solitude," read "whoever resigns

himself to it flies all opposition, and what is more

opposed to him than," &c.

505, 3, read "more frequently made sad than pleasant," &c.
511, 5 from bottom, after "household," read "remedy."

AUTHOR S PREFACE.

As a preface to the present work, which, perhaps, more than
another requires one, I adduce the letter of a friend, by
which so serious an undertaking was occasioned.

"We have now, my dear friend, collected the twelve parts of
your poetical works, and on reading them through, find much
that is known, much that is unknown; while much that had
been forgotten is revived by this collection. These twelve
volumes, standing before us, in uniform appearance, we cannot
refrain from regarding as a whole ; and one would like to sketch
therefrom some image of the author and his talents. But it
cannot be denied, considering the vigour with which he began
his literary career, and the length of time which has since
elapsed, that a dozen small volumes must appear incommen
surate. Nor can one forget that, with respect to the detached
pieces, they have mostly been called forth by special occasions,
and reflect particular external objects, as well as distinct
grades of inward culture ; while it is equally clear, that tem
porary moral and aesthetic maxims and convictions prevail
in them. As a whole, however, these productions remain
without connexion ; nay, it is often difficult to believe that
they emanate from one and the same writer.

" Your friends, in the meantime, have not relinquished the
inquiry, and try, as they become more closely acquainted with
your mode of life and thought, to guess many a riddle, to solve
many a problem ; indeed, with the assistance of an old liking,
and a connexion of many years standing, they find a charm
even in the difficulties which present themselves. Yet a little
assistance here and there would not be unacceptable, and you
cannot well refuse this to our friendly entreaties.

"The first thing, then, we require, is that your poetical
works, arranged in the late edition according to some in
ternal relations, may be presented by you in chronological

vi AUTHOR S PREFACE.

order, and that the states of life and feeling which ^ afforded
the examples that influenced you, and the theoretical prin
ciples by which you were governed, may be imparted in
some kind of connexion. Bestow this labour for the gratifi
cation of a limited circle, and perhaps it may give rise
to something that will be entertaining and useful to an
extensive one. The author, to the most advanced period
of his life, should not relinquish the advantage of com
municating, even at a distance^, with those whom affection
binds to him ; and if it is not granted to every one to step
forth anew, at a certain age, with surprising and powerful
productions, yet just at that period of life when know
ledge is most perfect, and consciousness most distinct, it
must be a very agreeable and re-animating task to treat
former creations as new matter, and work them up into a
kind of Last Part, which may serve once more for the edifi
cation of those who have been previously edified with and
by the artist."

This desire, so kindly expressed, immediately awakened
within me an inclination to comply with it ; for, if in the
early years of life our passions lead us to follow our own
course, and, in order not to swerve from it, we impatiently
repel the demands of others, so, in our later days, it becomes
highly advantageous to us, should any sympathy excite and
determine us, cordially, to new activity. I therefore instantly
undertook the preparatory labour of separating the poems of
my twelve volumes, both great and small, and of arranging
them according to years. I strove to recall the times and
circumstances under which each had been produced. But the
task soon grew more difficult, as full explanatory notes and
illustrations were necessary to fill up the chasms between those
which had already been given to the world. For, in the first
place, all on which I had originally exercised myself were
wanting, many that had been begun and not finished were
also wanting, and of many that were finished even the external
form had completely disappeared, having since been entirely
reworked and cast into a different shape. Besides, I had also
to call to mind how I had laboured in the sciences and other
arts, and what, in such apparently foreign departments, both
individually and in conjunction with friends, I had practised
in silence, or had laid before the piiblic.

AUTHOR S PREFACE. vii

All this I wished to introduce by degrees for the satisfac
tion of my well-wishers ; but my efforts and reflections always
led me further on ; since while I was anxious to comply with
that very considerate request, and laboured to set forth in
succession my internal emotions, external influences, and the
steps which, theoretically and practically, I had trod, I was
carried out of my narrow private sphere into the wide world.
The images of a hundred important men, who either directly
or indirectly had influenced me, presented themselves to my
view ; and even the prodigious movements of the great poli
tical world, which had operated most extensively upon me,
as well as upon the whole mass of my contemporaries, had to
be particularly considered. For this seems to be the main
object of Biography, to exhibit the man in relation to the
features of his time ; and to show to what extent they have
opposed or favoured his progress ; what view of mankind and
the w r orld he has formed from them, and how far he himself,
if an artist, poet, or author, may externally reflect them. But
for this is required what is scarcely attainable, namely, that
the individual should know himself and his age : himself, so
far as he has remained the same under all circumstances ;
his age, as that which carries along with it, determines and
fashions, both the willing and the unwilling ; so that one may
venture to pronounce, that any person born ten years earlier
or later would have been quite a different being, both as
regards his own culture and his influence on others.

In this manner, from such reflections and endeavours, from
such recollections and considerations, arose the present deline
ation ; and from this point of view, as to its origin, will it be
the best enjoyed and used, and most impartially estimated.
For anything further it may be needful to say, particularly
with respect to the half-poetical, half-historic mode of treat
ment, an opportunity will, no doubt, frequently occur in the
course of the narrative.

CONTENTS.

PART THE FIRST.

Page

FIRST BOOK

00

SECOND BOOK

64
THIRD BOOK

oo
FOURTH BOOK

FIFTH BOOK 135

PART THE SECOND.

1 81

SIXTH BOOK

91 8

SEVENTH BOOK

EIGHTH BOOK

NINTH BOOK 303

TENTH BOOK

PART THE THIRD.

ELEVENTH BOOK

TWELFTH BOOK

THIRTEENTH BOOK ,, .,.,

TRUTH AND POETRY;

FROM MY OWN LIFE.

PAET THE FIRST.

*O pf) dapels avflptoiros ov

FIRST BOOK.

ON the 28th of August, 1749, at mid- day, as the clock struck
twelve, I came into the world, at Erankfort-on-the-Maine.
My horoscope was propitious : the sun stood in the sign of
the Virgin, and had culminated for the day ; Jupiter and
Venus looked on him with a friendly eye, and Mercury not
adversely ; while Saturn and Mars kept themselves indifferent ;
the Moon alone, just full, exerted the power of her reflection
all the more, as she had then reached her planetary hour.
She opposed herself, therefore, to my birth, which could not
be accomplished until this hour was passed.

These good aspects, which the astrologers managed subse
quently to reckon very auspicious for me, may have been the
causes of my preservation ; for, through the unskilfulness of
the midwife, I came into the world as dead, and only after
various efforts was I enabled to see the light. This event,
which had put our household into sore straits, turned to the
advantage of my fellow-citizens, inasmuch as my grandfather,
the Schultheiss,* John Wolfgang Textor, took occasion from
it to have an accoucheur established, and to introduce or
revive the tuition of midwives, which may have done some
good to those who were born after me.

When we desire to recall what befel vis in the earliest
period of youth, it often happens that w r e confound what we
have heard from others with that which we really possess from
our own direct experience. Without, therefore, instituting a
very close investigation into the point, which after all could

* A chief judge or magistrate of the town,

B

2 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

lead to nothing, I am conscious that we lived in an old house,
which in fact consisted of two adjoining houses, that had
been opened into each other. A spiral stair- case led to rooms
on different levels, and the unevenness of the stories was
remedied by steps. For us children, a younger sister and
myself, the favourite resort was a spacious floor below, near
the door of which was a large wooden lattice that allowed us
direct communication with the street and open air. A bird
cage of this sort, with which many houses were provided, was
called a Frame (Gercims). The women sat in it to sew and
knit ; the cook picked her salad there ; female neighbours
chatted with each other, and the streets consequently in the
fine season wore a southern aspect. One felt at ease while
in communication with the public. We children, too, by
means of these frames, were brought into contact with our
neighbours, of whom three brothers Yon Ochsenstein, the
surviving sons of the deceased Schultheiss, living on the other
side of the way, won my love, and occupied and diverted
themselves with me in many ways.

Our family liked to tell of all sorts of waggeries to which I
was enticed by these otherwise grave and solitary men. Let
one of these pranks suffice for all. A crockery fair had just
been held, from which not only our kitchen had been supplied
for a while with articles for a long time to come, but a great
deal of small gear of the same ware had been purchased as
playthings for us children. One fine afternoon, when every
thing was quiet in the house, I whiled away the time with
my pots and dishes in the Frame, and finding that nothing
more was to be got out of them, hurled one of them into the
street. The Yon Ochsensteins, who saw me so delighted at
the fine smash it made, that I clapped my hands for joy, cried
out, "Another." I was not long in flinging out a pot, and as
they made no end to their calls for more, by degrees the
whole collection, platters, pipkins, mugs and all, were dashed
upon the pavement. My neighbours continued to express
their approbation, and I was highly delighted to give them
pleasure. But my stock was exhausted, and still they shouted,
" More." I ran, therefore, straight to the kitchen, and
brought the earthenware, which produced a still livelier spec
tacle in breaking, and thus I kept running backwards and
forwards, fetching one plate after another as I could reach it

THE STAG-DITCH. 3

from where they stood in rows on the shelf. But as that did
not satisfy my audience, I devoted all the ware that I could
drag out to similar destruction. It was not till afterwards
that any one appeared to hinder and save. The mischief was
done, and in place of so much broken crockery, there was at
least a ludicrous story, in which the roguish authors took
special delight to the end of their days.

My father s mother, in whose house we properly dwelt,
lived in a large back-room directly on the ground floor, and
we were accustomed to carry on our sports even up to her
chair, and when she w^as ill, up to her bedside. I remember
her, as it were, a spirit, a handsome, thin woman, always
neatly dressed in white. Mild, gentle, and kind, she has ever
remained in my memory.

The street in which our house was situated passed by the
name of the Stag-Ditch; but as neither stags nor ditches
were to be seen, we wished to have the expression explained.
They told us that our house stood on a spot that was once
outside the city, and that where the street now ran had
formerly been a ditch, in which a number of stags were kept.
These stags were preserved and fed here because the senate
every year, according to an ancient custom, feasted publicly
on a stag, which was therefore always at hand in the ditch
for such a festival, in case princes or knights interfered with
the city s right of chase outside, or the walls were encom
passed or besieged by an enemy. This pleased us much, and
we wished that such a lair for tame animals could have been
seen in our times.

The back of the house, from the second story particularly,
commanded a very pleasant prospect over an almost immea
surable extent of neighbouring gardens, stretching to the very
walls of the city. But, alas ! in transforming what were once
public grounds into private gardens, our house and some
others lying towards the corner of the street had been much
stinted, since the houses towards the horse-market had appro
priated spacious out-houses and large gardens to themselves,
while a tolerably high wall shut us out from these adjacent
paradises.

On the second floor was a room which was called the gar
den-room, because they had there endeavoured to supply the
want of a garden by means of a few plants placed before the

B 2

4 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

window. As I grew older, it was there that I made my
favourite, not melancholy but somewhat sentimental, retreat.
Over these gardens, beyond the city s walls and ramparts,
might be seen a beautiful and fertile plain ; the same which
stretches towards Hochst. In. the summer season I commonly
learned my lessons there, and watched the thunder-storms, but
could never look my fill at the setting sun, which went down
directly opposite my windows. And when, at the same time,
I saw the neighbours wandering through their gardens taking
care of their flowers, the children playing, parties of friends
enjoying themselves, and could hear the bowls rolling and the
nine pins dropping, it early excited within me a feeling of
solitude, and a sense of vague longing resulting from it,
which, conspiring with the seriousness and awe implanted in
me by Nature, exerted its influence at an early age, and
showed itself more distinctly in after years.

The old, many cornered, and gloomy arrangement of the
house was moreover adapted to awaken dread and terror
in childish minds. Unfortunately, too, the principle of dis
cipline that young persons should be early deprived of all
fear for the awful and invisible, and accustomed to the terrible,
still prevailed. We children, therefore, were compelled to
sleep alone, and when we found this impossible, and softly
slipped from our beds to seek the society of the servants and
maids, our father, with his dressing-gown turned inside out.
which disguised him sufficiently for the purpose, placed him
self in the way, and frightened us, back to our resting-places.
The evil effect of this any one may "imagine. How is he who
is encompassed with a double terror to be emancipated from
fear? My mother, always cheerful and gay, and willing to
render others so, discovered a much better pedagogical expe
dient. She managed to gain her end by rewards. It was
the season, for peaches, the plentiful enjoyment of which she
promised us every morning if we overcame our fears during
the night. In this way she succeeded, and both parties were
satisfied.

In the interior of the house my eyes were chiefly attracted
by a series of lioman Views, with which my father had orna
mented an ante-room. They were engravings by some of the
accomplished predecessors of Piranesi, who well understood
perspective and architecture, and whose touches were clear

THE PUPPET-SHOW. 5

and excellent. There I saw every day, the Piazza del Popolo,
the Colosseum, the Piazza of St. Peter s and St. Peter s Church,
within and without, the castle of St. Angelo, and many other
places. These images impressed themselves deeply upon me,
and my otherwise very laconic father was often so kind as to
furnish descriptions of the objects. His partiality for the
Italian language, and for every thing pertaining to Italy, was
very decided. A small collection of marbles and natural
curiosities, which he had brought with him thence, he often
showed to us ; and he devoted a great part of his time to a
description of his travels, written in Italian, the copying and
correction of which he slowly and accurately completed, in
several parcels, with his own hand. A lively old teacher of
Italian, called Giovinazzi, was of sendee to him in this work.
The old man moreover did not sing badly, and my mother
every day must needs accompany him and herself upon the
clavichord, and thus I speedily learned the Solitario bosco om-
Iroso so as to know it by heart before I understood it.

My father was altogether of a didactic turn, and in his
retirement from business liked to communicate to others what
he knew or was able to do. Thus, during the first years of
their marriage, he had kept my mother busily engaged in
writing, playing the clavichord, and singing, by which means
she had been laid under the necessity of acquiring some
knowledge and a slight readiness in the Italian tongue.

Generally we passed all our leisure hours with my grand
mother, in whose spacious apartment we found plenty at
room for our sports. She contrived to engage us with various
trifles, and to regale us with all sorts of nice morsels. But
one Christmas evening, she crowned all her kind deeds, by
having a puppet-show exhibited before us, and thus unfolding
a new world in the old house. This unexpected drama
attracted our young minds with great force ; upon the Boy
particularly it made a very strong impression, which con
tinued to vibrate with a great and lasting effect.

The little stage with its speechless personages, which at
the outset had only been exhibited to us, but was afterwards
given over for our own use and dramatic vivification, was
prized more highly by us children, as it was the last bequest
of our good grandmother, whom encroaching disease first
withdrew from our sight, and death next tore away from our

6 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

hearts for ever. Her departure was of still more importance
to our family, as it drew after it a complete change in our
condition.

As long as my grandmother lived, my father had refrained
from any attempt to change or renovate the house, even in the
slightest particular, though it was known that he had pretty
large plans of building, which were now immediately begun.
In Frankfort, as in many other old towns, when anybody put
up a wooden structure, he ventured, for the sake of space, to
make not only the first, but each successive story project
over the lower one, by which means narrow streets especially
were rendered somewhat dark and confined. At last a law
was passed, that every one putting up a new house from the
ground, should confine his projections to the first upper story,
and carry the others up perpendicularly. My father, that he
might not lose the projecting space in the second story, caring
little for outward architectural appearance, and anxious only
for the good and convenient arrangement of the interior,
resorted to the expedient which others had employed before
him, of propping the upper part of the house, until one part
after another had been removed from the bottom upwards,
and a new house, as it were, inserted in its place. Thus,
while comparatively none of the old structure remained, the
new one merely passed for a repair. Now as the tearing down
and building up was done gradually, my father determined
not to quit the house, that he might better direct and give
his orders as he possessed a good knowledge of the techni
calities of building. At the same time he would not suffer his
family to leave him. This new epoch was very surprising and
strange for the children. To see the rooms in which they
had so often been confined and pestered with wearisome tasks
and studies, the passages they had played in, the walls which
had always been kept so carefully dean, all falling before the
mason s hatchet and the carpenter s axe and that from the
bottom upwards ; to float as it were in the air, propped up by
beams, being, at the same time, constantly confined to a
certain lesson, or definite task all this produced a commo
tion in our young heads that was not easily settled. But the
young people felt the inconvenience less, because they had
somewhat more space for play than before, and had many
opportunities of swinging on beams, and playing at see-saw
with the boards.

THE WALK HOUND FEANKFORT. 7

\

At first my father obstinately persisted in carrying out his
plan ; but when at last even the roof was partly removed, and
the rain reached our beds, in spite of the carpets that had
been taken up, converted into tarpaulin, and stretched over
as a defence, he determined, though reluctantly, that the
children should be entrusted for a time to some kind friends,
who had already offered their services, and sent to a public
school.

This transition was rather unpleasant ; for when the chil
dren who had all along been kept at home in a secluded,
pure, refined, yet strict manner, were thrown among a rude
mass of young creatures, they were compelled unexpectedly to
suffer everything froni the vulgar, bad, and even base, since
they lacked both weapons and skill to protect themselves.

It was properly about this period that I first became ac
quainted with my native city, which I strolled over with more
and more freedom, in every direction, sometimes alone, and
sometimes in the company of lively companions. To convey to
others in any degree the impression made upon me by these
grave and revered spots, I must here introduce a description
of my birth-place, as in its different parts it w^as gradually
unfolded to me. I loved more than anything else to pro
menade on the great bridge over the Maine. Its length, its
firmness, and its fine appearance, rendered it a notable struc
ture, and it was, besides, almost the only memorial left from
ancient times of the precautions due from the civil govern
ment to its citizens. The beautiful stream above and below
bridge, attracted my eye, and when the gilt weathercock on
the bridge-cross glittered in the sunshine, I always had a
pleasant feeling. Generally I extended my walk through
Sachsenhausen, and for a Kreutzer was ferried comfortably
across the river. I was now again on this side of the stream,
stole along to the wine market, and admired the mechanism
of the cranes when goods were unloaded. But it was par
ticularly entertaining to watch the arrival of the market-boats,
from which so many and such extraordinary figures were seen
to disembark. On entering the city, the Saalhof, w^hich at
least stood on the spot where the Castle of Emperor Charle
magne and his successors was reported to have been, was
greeted every time with profound reverence. One liked to
lose oneself in the old trading town, particularly on market-

8 TRUTH AKD POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

days, among the crowd collected about the church of St. Bar
tholomew. From the earliest times, throngs of buyers and
sellers had gathered there, and the place being thus occupied,
it was not easy in later days to bring about a more roomy and
cheerful arrangement. The booths of the so-called Pfarreism
were very important places for us children, and we carried
many a Bafaen to them in order to purchase sheets of coloured
paper stamped with gold animals. But seldom, however,
could one make one s way through the narrow, crowded, and
dirty market-place. I call to mind, also, that I always flew
past the adjoining meat-stalls, narrow and disgusting as they
were, in perfect horror. On the other hand, the Roman Hill
(T&merberg) was a most delightful place for walking. The
way to the New-Town, along by the new shops, was always-
cheering and pleasant ; yet we regretted that a street did not
lead directly towards the Church of the Holy Virgin, and that
we always had to go a round-about way by the Haseiigasse,
or the Catherine Gate. But what chiefly attracted the child s
attention, were the many little towns within the town, the
fortresses within the fortress ; viz., the walled monastic en
closures, and several other precincts, remaining from earlier
times, and more or less like castles as the Nuremberg Court,
the Compostella, the Braunfels, the ancestral house of the
family of Stailburg, and several strongholds, in later days
transformed into dwellings and warehouses. No architecture
of an elevating kind was then to be seen in Frankfort, and
every thing pointed to a period long past and unquiet, both
for town and district. Gates and towers, which defined the
bounds of the old city, then further on again, gates, towers,
walls, bridges, ramparts, moats, with which the new city was
encompassed, all showed, but too plainly, that a necessity
for guarding the common weal in disastrous times had in
duced these arrangements, that all the squares and streets,
even the newest, broadest, and best laid out, owed their
origin to chance and caprice and not to any regulating mind.
A certain liking for the antique was thus implanted in the
Boy, and was specially nourished and promoted by old chro
nicles and wood-cuts, as for instance, those of Grave relating
to the siege of Frankfort. At the same time a different taste
was developed in him for observing the conditions of man
kind, in their manifold variety and naturalness, without

THE COUNCIL-HOUSE. 9

regard to their importance or beaut} 7 ". It was, therefore, one
of our favourite walks, which we endeavoured to take now
and then in the course of a year, to follow the circuit of the
path inside the city walls. Gardens, courts, and back build
ings extend to the Zwinger ; and we saw many thousand
people amid their little domestic and secluded circumstances.
From the ornamental and show gardens of the rich, to the
orchards of the citizen, anxious about his necessities from
thence to the factories, bleaching-grounds, and similar esta
blishments, even to the burying-grounds for a little world
lay within the limits of the city- we passed a varied, strange,
spectacle, which changed at every step, and with the enjoy
ment of which our childish curiosity was never satisfied. In
fact, the celebrated Devil-upon-two-sticks, when he lifted the
roofs of Madrid at night, scarcely did more for his friend,
than was here done for us in the bright sunshine and open air.
The keys that were to be made use of in this journey, to
gain us a passage through many a tower, stair and postern,
were in the hands of the authorities, whose subordinates we
never failed to coax into good-humour.

But a more important, and in one sense more fruitful place
for us, was the Council-House, named from the Komans. In
its lower vault-like halls we liked but too well to lose our
selves. We obtained an entrance, too, into the large and
very simple session-room of the Council. The walls as well
as the arched ceiling were white, though wainscotted to a
certain height, and the whole was without a trace of painting,
or any kind of carved work ; only, high up on the middle
wall, might be read this brief inscription :

" One man s word is no man s word,
Justice needs that both be heard."

After the most ancient fashion, benches were ranged around
the wainscotting, and raised one step above the floor for the
accommodation of the members of the assembly. This readily
suggested to us why the order of rank in our senate was dis
tributed by benches. To the left of the door, on the oppo
site corner, sat the Schoffen ; in the corner itself the Schult-
heiss, who alone had a small table before him ; those of the
second bench sat in the space to his left as far as the wall to
where the windows were ; while along the windows ran the

10 TEUTH AND POETEY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

third bench, occupied by the craftsmen. In the midst of the
hall stood a table for the registrar (Protoculfuhrer}.

Once within the Romer, we even mingled with the crowd
at the audiences of the burgomasters. But whatever related
to the election and coronation of the Emperors possessed a
greater charm. We managed to gain the favour of the
keepers, so as to be allowed to mount the new gay imperial
staircase, which was painted in fresco, and on other occasions
closed with a grating. The election- chamber, with its purple
hangings and admirably-fringed gold borders, filled us with
awe. The representations of animals on which little children
or genii, clothed in the imperial ornaments and laden with
the insignia of the Empire, made a curious figure, were
observed by us with great attention; and we even hoped
that we might live to see, some time or other, a coronation
with our own eyes. They had great difficulty to get us out
of the great imperial hall, when we had been once fortunate
enough to steal in ; and we reckoned him our truest friend
who, while we looked at the half-lengths of all the emperors
painted around at a certain height, would tell us something
of their deeds.

We listened to many a legend of Charlemagne. But that
which was historically interesting for us began with Rudolph
of Hapsburg, who by his courage put an end to such violent
commotions. Charles the Fourth also attracted our notice.
We had already heard of the Golden Bull, and of the statutes
for the administration of criminal justice. We knew, too, that
he had not made the Frankforters suffer for their adhesion to
his noble rival, Emperor Gunther of Schwarzburg. We heard
Maximilian praised both as a friend to mankind, and to the
townsmen, his subjects, and were also told that it had been
prophesied of him he would be the last Emperor of a German
house ; which unhappily came to pass, as after his death the
choice wavered only between the King of Spain, (afterwards)
Charles V., and the King of France, Francis I. With some
anxiety it was added, that a similar prophecy, or rather in
timation, was once more in circulation; for it was obvious
that there was room left for the portrait of only one more
emperor a circumstance which, though seemingly accidental,
filled the patriotic with concern.

Having once entered upon this circuit, we did not fail to

IMPERIAL CORONATIONS. 11

repair to the cathedral, and there visit the grave o that brave
Gunther, so much prized both by friend and foe. The famous
stone which formerly covered it is set up in the choir. The
door close by, leading into the conclave, remained long shut
against us, until we at last managed through the higher
authorities, to gain access to this celebrated place. But we
should have done better had we continued as before to picture
it merely in our imagination ; for we found this room, which
is so remarkable in German history, where the most powerful
princes were accustomed to meet for an act so momentous, in
xio respect worthily adorned, and even disfigured with beams,
poles, scaffolding, and similar lumber, which people had
wanted to put out of the way. The imagination, for that
very reason, was the more excited and the heart elevated,
when we soon after received permission to be present in the
Council-House, at the exhibition of the Golden Bull to some
distinguished strangers.

The Boy then heard, with much curiosity, what his own
family, as well as other older relations and acquaintances,
liked to tell and repeat, viz., the histories of the two last
coronations, which had followed close upon each other ; for
there was no Frankforter of a certain age who would not
have regarded these two events, and their attendant circum
stances, as the crowning glory of his whole life. Splendid as
had been the coronation of Charles Seventh, during which
particularly the French Ambassador had given magnificent
feasts at great cost and with distinguished taste, the results
were all the more afflicting to the good Emperor, who could
not preserve his capital Munich, and was compelled in some
degree to implore the hospitality of his imperial towns.

If the coronation of Francis First was not so strikingly
splendid as the former one, it was dignified by the presence
of the Empress Maria Theresa, whose beauty appears to have
created as much impression on the men, as the earnest and
noble form and the blue eyes of Charles Seventh on the
women. At any rate, the sexes rivalled each other in giving
to the attentive Boy a highly favourable opinion of both these
personages. All these descriptions and narratives were given
in a serene and quiet state of mind ; for the peace of Aix-la-
Chapelle had, for the moment, put an end to all feuds ; and
they spoke at their ease of past contests, as well as of their

12 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

former festivities the battle of Dettingen, for instance, and
other remarkable events of by-gone years ; and all that was
important or dangerous seemed, as generally happens when a
peace has been concluded, to have occurred only to afford
entertainment to prosperous and unconcerned people.

Half a year had scarcely passed away in this narrow
patriotism before the fairs began, which always produced an
incredible ferment in the heads of all children. The erection,
in so short a time, of so many booths, creating a new town
within the old one, the roll and crush, the unloading and
unpacking of wares, excited from the very first dawn of con
sciousness an insatiable active curiosity and a boundless
desire for childish property, which the Boy with increasing
years endeavoured to gratify, in one way or another, as far as
his little purse permitted. At the same time he obtained a
notion of what the world produces, what it wants, and what
the inhabitants of its different parts exchange with each
other.

These great epochs, which came round regularly in spring
and autumn, were announced by curious solemnities, which
seemed the more dignified because they vividly brought
before us the old time, and what had come down from it to
ourselves. On Escort-day, the whole population were on
their legs, thronging to the Fahrgasse, to the bridge, and
beyond Sachsenhausen ; all the windows were occupied, though
nothing unusual took place on that day ; the crowd seeming
to be there only for the sake of jostling each other, and the
spectators merely to look at one another ; for the real occa
sion of their coming did not begin till nightfall, and was then
rather taken upon trust than seen with the eyes.

The affair was thus : in those old, unquiet times, when every
one did wrong according to his pleasure, or helped the right
as his liking led him, traders on. their way to the fairs were
so wilfully beset and harassed by waylay ers, both of noble and
ignoble birth, that princes and other persons of power caused
their people to be accompanied to Frankfort by an arme(J
escort. Now the burghers of the imperial city would yield
no rights pertaining to themselves or their district ; they went
out to meet the advancing party ; and thus contests often arose
as to how far the escort should advance, or whether it had a
right to enter the city at all. But, as this took place, not only

THE "PIPER S COUET." 13

ill regard to matters of trade and fairs, but also when high
personages came, in times of peace or war, and especially on
the days of election ; and as the affair often came to blows

/

when a train which was not to be endured in the city strove
to make its way in along with its lord, many negotiations had
from time to time been resorted to, and many temporary
arrangements concluded, though always with reservations of
rights on both sides. The hope had not been relinquished of
composing once for all a quarrel that had already lasted for
centuries, inasmuch as the whole institution, on account of
which it had been so long and often so hotly contested, might
be looked upon as nearly useless, or at least as superfluous.

Meanwhile, on those days, the city cavalry in several divi
sions, each having a commander in front, rode forth from
different gates and found on a certain spot some troopers or
hussars of the persons entitled to an escort, who with their
leaders were well received and entertained. They stayed till
towards evening, and then rode back to the city, -scarcely
visible to the expectant crowd, many a city knight not being
in a condition to manage his horse, or keep himself in the
saddle. The most important bands returned by the bridge-
gate, where the pressure was consequently the strongest. Last
of all, just as night fell, the Nuremberg post-coach arrived,
escorted in the same way, and always containing, as the
people fancied, in pursuance of custom, an old woman. Its
arrival, therefore, was a signal for all the urchins to break out
into an ear-splitting shout, though it was utterly impossible to
distinguish any one of the passengers within. The throng
that pressed after the coach through the bridge-gate was quite
incredible, and perfectly bewildering to the senses. The houses
nearest the bridge were those, therefore, most in demand
among spectators.

Another more singular ceremony, by which the people were
excited in broad daylight, was the Piper s-court (Pfeifer-
gerichf). It commemorated those early times when important
larger trading-towns endeavoured, if not to abolish tolls alto
gether, at least to bring about a reduction of them, as they
increased in proportion with trade and industry. They- were
allowed this privilege by the Emperor who needed their aid,
when it was in his power to grant it, but commonly only for
one year ; so that it had to be annually renewed. This was

14 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LITE.

effected by means of symbolical gifts, which were presented
before the opening of St. Bartholomew s Fair to the imperial
magistrate (Schultheiss], who might have sometimes been the
chief toll-gatherer ; and, for the sake of a more imposing
show, the gifts were offered when he was sitting in full court
with the Schoffen. But when the chief magistrate afterwards
came to be no longer appointed by the Emperor, and was
elected by the city itself, he still retained these privileges ;
and thus both the immunities of the cities from toll, and the
ceremonies by which the representatives from Worms, Nurem
berg, and Old Bamberg once acknowledged the ancient
favour, had come down to our times. The day before Lady-
day, an open court was proclaimed. In an enclosed space in
the great Imperial Hall, the Schoffen took their elevated seats ;
a step higher, sat the Schultheiss in the midst of them ; while
below on the right hand, were the procurators of both parties
invested with plenipotentiary powers. The Actuarius begins to
read aloud the weighty judgments reserved for this day ; the
lawyers demand copies, appeal, or do whatever else seems neces
sary. All at once a singular sort of music announces, if we may
so speak, the advent of former centuries. It proceeds from
three pipers, one of whom plays an old shawm, another a sack-
"but, and the third a pommer, or oboe. They wear blue mantles
trimmed with gold, having the notes made fast to their sleeves,
and their heads covered. Having thus left their inn at ten
o clock, followed by the deputies and their attendants, and
stared at by all, natives and strangers, they enter the hall.
The law proceedings are stayed the pipers and their train
halt before the railing the deputy steps in and stations him
self in front of the Schultheiss. The emblematic presents,
which were required to be precisely the same as in the old
precedents, consisted commonly of the staple wares of the
city offering them. Pepper passed, as it were, for everything
else ; and, even on this occasion, the deputy brought a hand
somely turned wooden goblet filled with pepper. Upon it lay
a pair of gloves, curiously slashed, stitched, and tasseled with
silk a token of a favour granted and received such as the
Emperor himself made use of in certain cases. Along with
this was a white staff, which in former times was not easily
dispensable in judicial proceedings. Some small pieces of
silver money were added ; and the city of Worms brought an

SUMMER AMUSEMENTS. 15

old felt hat, which was always redeemed again, so that the
same one had been a witness of these ceremonies for many
years.

After the deputy had made his address, handed over his
present, and received from the Schultheiss assurance of con
tinued favour, he quitted the enclosed circle, the pipers blew,
the train departed as it had come, the court pursued its busi
ness, until the second and at last the third deputy had been
introduced. For each came some time after the other ; partly
that the pleasure of the public might thus be prolonged,
and partly because they were always the same antiquated
virtuosi whom Nuremberg, for itself and its co-cities, had
undertaken to maintain and produce annually at the appointed
place.

We children were particularly interested in this festival,
because we were not a little flattered to see our grandfather in
a place of so much honour ; and because commonly, on the
self-same day, we used to visit him, quite modestly, in order
that we might, when my grandmother had emptied the pepper
into her spice box, lay hold of a cup or small rod, a pair of
gloves or an old Rdder Albus* These symbolical ceremonies,
restoring antiquity as if by magic, could not be explained to
us without leading us back into past times and informing us
of the manners, customs, and feelings of those early ancestors
who were so strangely made present to us, by pipers and
deputies seemingly risen from the dead, and by tangible gifts,
which might be possessed by ourselves.

These venerable solemnities were followed, in the fine sea
son, by many festivals, delightful for us children, which took
place in the open air, outside of the city. On the right shore
of the Maine going down, about half an hour s walk from the
gate, there rises a sulphur-spring, neatly enclosed and sur
rounded by aged lindens. Not far from it stands the Good-
People s- Court , formerly a hospital erected for the sake of the
waters. On the commons around, the herds of cattle from the
neighbourhood were collected on a certain day of the year ;
and the herdsmen, together with their sweethearts, celebrated
a rural festival, with dancing and singing, with all sorts of
pleasure and clownishness. On the other side of the city lay

* An old silver coin.

16 TRUTH AND POETBY ; FE.OM MY OWN LIFE.

a similar but larger common, likewise graced with a spring
and still finer lindens. Thither, at Whitsuntide, the flocks of
sheep were driven; and, at the same time, the poor, pale
orphan children were allowed to come out of their walls into
the open air ; for the thought had not yet occurred that these
destitute creatures, who must some time or other help them
selves through the world, ought soon to be brought in contact
with it; that instead of being kept in dreary confinement,
they should rather be accustomed to serve and to endure ; and
that there was every reason to strengthen them physically and
morally from their infancy. The nurses and maids, always
ready to take a walk, never failed to carry or conduct us to
such places, even in our first years ; so that these rural festi
vals belong to the earliest impressions that I can recall.

Meanwhile, our house had been finished, and that too in
tolerably short time, because everything had been judiciously
planned and prepared, and the needful money provided. We
now found ourselves all together again, and felt comfortable :
for, when a well-considered plan is once carried out, we forget
the various inconveniences of the means that were necessary
to its accomplishment. The building, for a private residence,
was roomy enough ; light and cheerful throughout, with broad
staircases, agreeable parlours, and a prospect of the gardens
that could be enjoyed easily from several of the windows.
The internal completion, and what pertained to mere orna
ment and finish, was gradually accomplished, and served at
the same time for occupation and amusement.

The first thing brought into order was my father s collec
tion of books, the best of which, in calf and half-calf bind
ing, were to ornament the walls of his office and study. He
possessed the beautiful Dutch editions of the Latin classics,
which for the sake of outward uniformity he had endeavoured
to procure all in quarto ; and also many other works relat
ing to Roman antiquities, and the more elegant jurispru
dence. The most eminent Italian poets were not wanting,
and for Tasso he showed a great predilection. There were
also the best and most recent Travels ; and he took great
delight in correcting and completing Keyssler and Nemeiz
from them. Nor had he omitted to surround himself with all
needful assistants to learning, such as dictionaries of various
languages, and encyclopedias of science and art, which with

ARTISTS. 17

much else adapted to profit and amusement, might be con
sulted at will.

The other half of this collection, in neat parchment bind
ings, with very beautifully written titles, was placed in a
separate attic. The acquisition of new books, as well as their
binding and arrangement, he pursued with great composure
and love of order : and he was much influenced in his opinion
by the critical notices that ascribed particular merit to any
work. His collection of juridical treatises was annually in
creased by some volumes.

Next, the pictures, which in the old house had hung about
promiscuously, were now collected and symmetrically hung on
the walls of a cheerful room near the study, all in black
frames, set off with gilt mouldings. My father had a prin
ciple, which he often and strongly expressed, that one ought to
employ the living Masters, and to spend less upon the departed,
in the estimation of whom prejudice greatly concurred. He
had the notion that it was precisely the same with pictures
as with Rhenish wines, which, though age may impart to them
a higher value, can be produced in any coming year of just as
excellent quality as in years past. After the lapse of some
time, the new wine also becomes old, quite as valuable and
perhaps more delicious. This opinion he chiefly confirmed by
the observation that many old pictures seemed to derive their

chief value for lovers of art from the fact that thev had

\>

become darker and browner ; and that the harmony of tone
in such pictures was often vaunted. My father, on the other
hand, protested that he had no fear that the new pictures
would not also turn black in time, though whether they were
likely to gain anything by this he was not so positive.

In pursuance of these principles, he employed for many
years the whole of the Frankfort artists : the painter HIRT,
who excelled in animating oak and beech woods, and other so-
called rural scenes, with cattle ; TnAUTMA]sr]s T , who had
adopted Rembrandt as his model, and had attained great per
fection in inclosed lights and reflections, as well as in effective
conflagrations, so that he was once ordered to paint a com
panion-piece to a llembrandt ; SCTITJTZ, who diligently elabo
rated landscapes of the Rhine country, in the manner of
SACHTLEBENS ; and JUNKER, who executed with great purity
flower and fruit pieces, still life, and figures quietly employed,

c

18 TRUTH AND POETKY; PKOM: MY OWN LIFE.

after the models of the Dutch. But now, by the new arrange
ment, by more convenient room, and still more by the acquaint
ance of a skilful artist, our love of art was again quickened and
animated. This artist was SEEKATZ, a pupil of Brinkmann,
court-painter at Darmstadt, whose talent and character will be
more minutely unfolded in the sequel.

In this way, the remaining rooms were finished, according
to their several purposes. Cleanliness and order prevailed
throughout. Above all, the large panes of plate-glass contri
buted towards a perfect lightness, which had been wanting in
the old house for many causes, but chiefly on account of the
panes, which were for the most part round. My father was
cheerful on account of the success of his undertaking, and if
his good humour had not been often interrupted because the
diligence and exactness of the mechanics did not come up to
his wishes, a happier life than ours could not have been con
ceived, since much good partly arose in the family itself, and
partly flowed from without.

But an extraordinary event deeply disturbed the Boy s peace
of mind, for the first time. On the 1st of November, 1755,
the earthquake at Lisbon took place, and spread a prodigious
alarm over the world, long accustomed to peace and quiet.
A great and magnificent capital, which was, at the same time,
a trading and mercantile city, is smitten, without warning, by
a most fearful calamity. The earth trembles and totters, the
sea roars up, ships dash together, houses fall in, and over them
churches and towers, the royal palace is in part swallowed by
the waters, the bursting land seems to vomit flames, since
smoke and fire are seen everywhere amid the ruins. Sixty
thousand persons, a moment before in ease and comfort, fall
together, and he is to be deemed most fortunate who is no
longer capable of a thought or feeling about the disaster.
The flames rage on, and with them rage a troop of despera
does, before concealed, or set at large by the event. The
wretched survivors are exposed to pillage, massacre, and every
outrage : and thus, on all sides, Nature asserts her boundless
capriciousness.

Intimations of this event had spread over wide regions
more quickly than the authentic reports : slight shocks had been
felt in many places : in many springs, particularly those of a
mineral nature, an unusual receding of the waters had been

EARTHQUAKE AT LISBON. 19

remarked; and so much the greater was the effect of the
accounts themselves, which were rapidly circulated, at first in
general terms, but finally with dreadful particulars. Here
upon, the religious were neither wanting in reflections, nor
the philosophic in grounds for consolation, nor the clergy in
warnings. So complicated an event arrested the attention of
the world for a long time ; and, as additional and more de
tailed accounts of the extensive effects of this explosion came
from every quarter, the minds already aroused by the misfor
tunes of strangers, began to be more and more anxious about
themselves and their friends. Perhaps the demon of terror
had never so speedily and powerfully diffused his terrors over
the earth.

The Boy, who was compelled to put up with frequent repe
titions of the whole matter, was not a little staggered. God,
the Creator and Preserver of Heaven and Earth, whom the
explanation of the first article of the Creed declared so wise
and benignant, having given both the just and the unjust a
prey to the same destruction, had not manifested Himself, by
any means, in a fatherly character. In vain the young mind
strove to resist these impressions. It was the more impossible,
as the wise and scripture-learned could not themselves agree as
to the light in which such a phenomenon should be regarded.

The next summer gave a closer opportunity of knowing
directly that angry God, of whom the Old Testament records
so much. A sudden hail-storm, accompanied by thunder and
lightning, violently broke the new panes at the back of our
house, which looked towards the west, damaged the new fur
niture, destroyed some valuable books and other things of
worth, and was the more terrible to the children, as the whole
household, quite beside themselves, dragged them into a dark
passage, where, on their knees, with frightful groans and cries,
they thought to conciliate the wrathful Deity. Meanwhile,
my father, who was alone self-possessed, forced open and un
hinged the window-frames, by which we saved much glass,
but made a broader inlet for the rain that followed the hail,
so that after we were finally quieted, we found ourselves in the
rooms and on the stairs completely surrounded by floods and
streams of water.

These events, startling as they were on the whole, did not
greatly interrupt the course of instruction which my father

c 2

20 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

himself had undertaken to give us children. He had passed
his youth in the Coboiirg Gymnasium, which stood as one of
the first among German educational institutions. He had
there laid a good foundation in languages, and other matters
reckoned part of a learned education, had subsequently applied
himself to jurisprudence at Leipzig, and had at last taken his
degree at Giessen. His dissertation, " Electa de aditione
Hereditatis" which had been earnestly and carefully written,
is yet cited by jurists with approval.

It is a pious wish of all fathers to see what they have them
selves failed to attain, realized in their sons, as if in this way
they could live their lives over again, and, at last, make a
proper use of their early experience. Conscious of his acquire
ments, with the certainty of faithful perseverance, and dis
trusting the teachers of the day, my father undertook to
instruct his own children, allowing them to take particular
lesson from particular masters only so far as seemed absolutely
necessary. A pedagogical dilettantism was already beginning
to show itself everywhere. The pedantry and heaviness of
the masters appointed in the public schools had probably
given rise to this evil. Something better was sought for, but
it was forgotten how defective all instruction must be, which
is not given by persons who are teachers by profession.

My father had prospered in his own career tolerably ac
cording to his wishes : I was to follow the same course, only
more easily, and much farther. He prized my natural endow
ments the more, because he was himself wanting in them ;
for he had acquired everything only by means of unspeakable
diligence, pertinacity, and repetition. He often assured me,
early and late, both in jest and earnest, that with my talents
he would have deported himself very differently, and would
not have turned them to such small account.

By means of a ready apprehension, practice, and a good
memory, I very soon outgrew the instructions which my
father and the other teachers were able to give, without being
thoroughly grounded in anything. Grammar displeased me,
because I regarded it as a mere arbitrary law; the rules
seemed ridiculous, inasmuch as they were invalidated by so
many exceptions, which had all to be learned by themselves.
And if the first Latin work had not been in rhyme, I should
have got on but badly in that ; but as it was, I hummed and

JUVENILE STUDIES. 21

sang it to myself readily enough. In the same way we had a
Geography in memory- verses, in which the most w r retched
doggerel best served to fix the recollection of that which was
to be retained : e. g. :

Upper- Yssel has many a fen,
Which makes it hateful to all men.

The forms and inflections of language I caught with ease ;
and I also quickly unravelled what lay in the conception of a
thing. In rhetoric, composition, and such matters, no one
excelled me, although I was often put back for faults of gram
mar. Yet these were the attempts that gave my father
particular pleasure, and for which he rewarded me with many
presents of money, considerable for such a lad.

My father taught my sister Italian in the same room in
which I had to commit Cellarius to memory. As I was soon
ready with my task, and was yet obliged to sit quiet, I listened
with my book before me, and very readily caught the Italian,
which struck me as an agreeable softening of Latin.

Other precocities, with respect to memory and the power
to combine, I possessed in common with those children who
thus acquire an early reputation. For that reason my father
could scarcely wait for me to go to college. He very soon
declared, that I must study jurisprudence in Leipzig, for
which he retained a strong predilection, and I w r as afterwards
to visit some other university and take my degree. As for
this second one he was indifferent which I might choose,
except that he had for some reason or other a disinclination
to Gottingen, to my disappointment, since it was precisely
there that I had placed such confidence and high hopes.

He told me further, that I was to go to Wetzlar and Ratis-
bon as well as to Vienna, and thence towards Italy, although
he repeatedly mentioned that Paris should first be seen, be
cause after coming out of Italy nothing else could be pleasing.

These tales of my future youthful travels, often as they
were repeated, I listened to eagerly, the more since they
always led to accounts of Italy, and at last to a description of
Naples. His otherwise serious and dry manner seemed on
these occasions to relax and quicken, and thus a passionate
wish awoke in us children to participate in the paradise he
described.

22 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

Private lessons, which now gradually multiplied, were
shared with the children of the neighbours. This learning
in common did not advance me ; the teachers followed their
routine ; and the rudeness, sometimes the ill-nature, of my
companions, interrupted the brief hours of stud# with tumult,
vexation, and disturbance. Chrestomathies, by which learn
ing is made pleasant and varied, had not yet reached us.
Cornelius Nepos, so dry to young people, the New Testament,
which was much too easy, and which by preaching and reli
gious instructions had been rendered even common-place,
Cellarius and Pasor could impart no kind of interest ; on the
other hand, a certain rage for rhyme and versification, a
consequence of reading the prevalent German poets, took
complete possession of us. Me it had seized much earlier, as
I had found it agreeable to pass from the rhetorical to the
poetical treatment of subjects.

We boys held a Sunday assembly where each of us was to
produce original verses. And here I was struck by something
strange, which long caused me uneasiness. My poems, what
ever they might be, always seemed to me the best. But I
soon remarked, that my competitors who brought forth very
lame affairs, were in the same condition, and thought no less
of themselves. Nay, what appeared yet more suspicious, a
good lad (though in such matters altogether unskilful), whom
I liked in other respects, but who had his rhymes made by
his tutor, not only regarded these as the best, but was
thoroughly persuaded they were his own, as he always main
tained in our confidential intercourse. Now, as this illusion
and error was obvious to me, the question one day forced itself
upon me, whether I myself might not be in the same state,
whether those poems were not really better than mine, and
whether I might not justly appear to those boys as mad as
they to me ? This disturbed me much and long ; for it was
altogether impossible for me to find any external criterion of
the truth ; I even ceased from producing, until at length I was
quieted by my own light temperament, and the feeling of my
own powers, and lastly by a trial of skill started on the spur
of the moment by our teachers and parents, who had noted
our sport in which I came off well and won general praise.

No libraries for children had at that time been established.
The old had themselves still childish notions, and found it

POPULAR WORKS. 23

convenient to impart tlieir own education to their successors.
Except the Orbis Pictus of Amos Comeiiius, no book of the
sort fell into our hands ; but the large folio Bible, with copper
plates by Merian, was diligently gone over leaf by leaf : Gott
fried s Chronicles, with plates by the same master, taught us
the most notable events of Universal History; the Acerra
Philologica added thereto all sorts of fables, mythologies and
wonders ; and, as I soon became familiar with Ovid s Meta
morphoses, the first books of which in particular I studied
carefully, my young brain was rapidly furnished with a mass
of images and events, of significant and wonderful shapes and
occurrences, and I never felt time hang upon my hands, as I
always occupied myself in working over, repeating, and re
producing these acquisitions.

A more salutary moral effect than that of these rude and
hazardous antiquities, was produced by Fenelon s Telemachus,
with which I first became acquainted in Neukirch s transla
tion, and which, imperfectly as it was executed, had a sweet
and beneficent influence on my mind. That Robinson Crusoe
was added in due time, follows in the nature of things ; and
it may be imagined that the Island of Falsenberg was not
wanting. Lord Anson s Voyage round the Globe combined
the dignity of truth with the rich fancies of fable, and while
our thoughts accompanied this excellent seaman, we were con
ducted over all the world, and endeavoured to follow him with
our fingers on the globe. But a still richer harvest was to
spring up before me, when I lighted on a mass of writings,
which, in their present state, it is true, cannot be called excel
lent, but the contents of which, in a harmless way, bring near
to us many a meritorious action of former times.

The publication, or rather the manufacture, of those books
which have at a later day become so well known and cele
brated under the name Volkschriften, Volksbucher (popular
works or books), was carried on in Frankfort. The enor
mous sales they met with, led to their being almost illegibly
printed from stereotypes on horrible blotting-paper. We
children were so fortunate as to find these precious remains of
the Middle Ages every day on a little table at the door of a
dealer in cheap books, and to obtain them at the cost of a
couple of hreutzer. The Eulenspiegel, the Four Sons of Hai-
mon, the Emperor Octavian, the Fair Melusina, the Beautiful

24 TRUTH AND POETRY ; PROM MY OWN" LIFE.

Magrelone, Fortunatus, with the whole race clown to the Wan-

o

dering Jew, were all at our service, as often as we preferred
the relish of these works to the taste of sweet things. The
greatest benefit of this was, that when we had read through
or damaged such a sheet, it could soon be reprocured and
swallowed a second time.

As a family pic-nic in summer is vexatiously disturbed by
a sudden storm, which transforms a pleasant state of things
into the very reverse, so the diseases of childhood fall unex
pectedly on the most beautiful season of early life. And thus
it happened with me. I had just purchased Fortunatus with
his Purse and Wishing-hat, when I was attacked by a restless
ness and fever which announced the small-pox. Inoculation
was still with us considered very problematical, and although
it had already been intelligibly and urgently recommended by
popular writers, the German physicians hesitated to perform
an operation that seemed to forestall Nature. Speculative
Englishmen, therefore, had come to the Continent and inocu
lated, for a considerable fee, the children of such persons as
were opulent and free from prejudices. Still the majority
were exposed to the old disease ; the infection raged through
families, killed and disfigured many children ; and few parents
dared to avail themselves of a method, the probable efficacy of
which had been abundantly confirmed by the result. The
evil now invaded our house and attacked me with unusual
severity. My whole body was sown over with spots, and my
face covered, and for several days I lay blind and in great
pain. They tried the only possible alleviation, and promised
me heaps of gold if I would keep quiet and not increase the
mischief by rubbing and scratching. I controlled myself,
while, according to the prevailing prejudice, they kept me as
warm as possible, and thus only rendered my suffering more
acute. At last, after a woful time, there fell as it were a mask
from my face. The blotches had left no visible mark upon
the skin, but the features were plainly altered. I myself was
satisfied merely with seeing the light of day again, and
gradually putting off my spotted skin ; but others were piti
less enough to remind me often of my previous condition ;
especially a very lively aunt, who had formerly regarded me
with idolatry, but in after years could seldom look at me
without exclaiming " The deuce, cousin ! what a fright he s

DISEASES OF CHILDHOOD. 25

grown !" Then she would tell me circumstantially how I had
once been her delight, and what attention she had excited
when she carried me about ; and thus I early learned that
people very often subject us to a severe atonement for the
pleasure wiiicjji we have afforded them.

I neither escaped measles, nor chicken-pox, nor any other
of the tormenting demons of childhood ; and I was assured
each time that it was a great piece of good luck that this
malady was now past for ever. But, alas ! another again
threatened in the back-ground, and advanced. All these
things increased my propensity to reflection; and as I had
already practised myself in fortitude, in order to remove the
torture of impatience, the virtues which I had heard praised
in the Stoics appeared to me highly worthy of imitation, and
the more so, as something similar was commended by the
Christian doctrine of patience.

While on the subject of these family diseases, I will men
tion a brother about three years younger than myself, who
was likewise attacked by that infection, and suifered not a
little from it. He was of a tender nature, quiet and capri
cious, and we were never on the most friendly terms. Besides,
he scarcely survived the years of childhood. Among several
other children born afterwards, who like him did not live long,
I only remember a very pretty and agreeable girl, who also
soon passed away ; so that, after the lapse of some years, my
sister and I remained alone, and were therefore the more
deeply and affectionately attached to each other.

These maladies and other unpleasant interruptions were in
their consequences doubly grievous ; for my father, who seemed
to have laid down for himself a certain calendar of education
and instruction, was resolved immediately to repair every
delay, and imposed double lessons upon the young convales
cent. These were not hard for me to accomplish, but were
so far troublesome, that they hindered, and to a certain extent
repressed, my inward development, which had taken a decided
direction.

From these didactic and pedagogic oppressions, we com
monly fled to my grandfather and grandmother. Their house
stood in the Friedberg -street, and appeared to have been for
merly a fortress ; for, on approaching it, nothing was seen but a
large gate with battlements, which were joined on either side

26 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

to the two neighbouring houses. On entering through a nar
row passage, we reached at last a tolerably broad court,
surrounded by irregular buildings, which were now all united
into one dwelling. We usually hastened at once into the
garden, which extended to a considerable length and breadth
behind the buildings, and was very well kept. The walks
were mostly skirted by vine trellises ; one part of the space
was used for vegetables, and another devoted to flowers, which
from spring till autumn adorned in rich succession the borders
as well as the beds. The long wall erected towards the south
was used for some well-trained espalier peach-trees, the for
bidden fruit of which ripened temptingly before us through the
summer. Yet we rather avoided this side, because we here
could not satisfy our dainty appetites ; and we turned to the
side opposite, where an interminable row of currant and goose
berry bushes furnished our voracity with a succession of har
vests till autumn. Not less important to us was an old, high,
wide-spreading mulberry-tree, both on account of its fruits,
and because we were told that the silk- worms fed upon its
leaves. In this peaceful region my grandfather w r as found
every evening, tending with genial care and with his own
hand the finer growths of fruits and flowers ; while a gardener
managed the drudgery. He was never vexed by the various
toils which were necessary to preserve and increase a fine
show of pinks. The branches of the peach-trees were care
fully tied to the espaliers with his own hands, in a fan-shape,
in order to bring about a full and easy growth of the fruit.
The sorting of the bulbs of tulips, hyacinths, and plants of a
similar nature, as well as the care of their preservation, he
entrusted to none ; and I still with pleasure recall to my mind
how diligently he occupied himself in inoculating the different
varieties of roses. That he might protect himself from the
thorns, he put on a pair of those ancient leather gloves, of
which three pair were given him annually at the Piper s Court,
so that there was no dearth of the article. He wore also a
loose dressing-gown, and a folded black velvet cap upon his
head, so that he might have passed for an intermediate person
between Alcinous and Laertes.

All this work in the garden he pursued as regularly and
with as much precision as his official business ; for, before he
came down, he always arranged the list of causes for the next

GOTHE S MATEKNAL GBANDFATHER. 27

day, and read the legal papers. In the morning he proceeded
to * the Council House, dined after his return, then nodded
in his easy chair, and so went through the same routine every
clay. He conversed little, never exhibited any vehemence,
and I do not remember ever to have seen him angry. All that
surrounded him was in the fashion of the olden time. I never
perceived any alteration in his wainscotted room. His library
contained, besides law works, only the earliest books of travels,
sea voyages, and discoveries of countries. Altogether I can
call to mind no situation more adapted than his to awaken
the feeling of uninterrupted peace and eternal duration.

But the reverence which we entertained for this venerable
old man was raised to the highest degree by a conviction that
he possessed the gift of prophecy, especially in matters that
pertained to himself and his destiny. It is true he revealed
himself to no one, distinctly and minutely, except to my
grandmother; yet we were all aware that he was informed
of what was going to happen, by significant dreams. He
assured his wife, for instance, at a time when he was still a
junior Councillor, that on the first vacancy he would obtain
the place left open on the bench of the Schoffen ; and soon
afterwards when one of those officers actually died of apoplexy,
my grandfather gave orders that his house should be quietly
got ready prepared on the day of electing and balloting, to
receive his guests and congratulators. Sure enough, the deci
sive gold ball was drawn in his favour. The simple dream
by which he had learned this, he confided to his wife as fol
lows : He had seen himself in the ordinary full assembly of
Councilmen, where all went on just as usual. Suddenly, the
late Schoff rose from his seat, descended the steps, pressed
him in the most complimentary manner to take the vacant
place, and then departed by the door.

Something like this occurred on the death of the Schul-
tJieiss. They make no delay in supplying this place, as they
always have to fear that the Emperor will at some time
resume his ancient right of nominating the officer. On this
occasion, the messenger of the Court came at midnight to
summon an extraordinary session for the next morning ; and
as the light in his lantern was about to expire, he asked for a
candle s end to help him on his way. " Give him a whole
one," said my grandfather to the ladies, " he takes the trouble

28 TRUTH A]S T D POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

all on my account." This expression anticipated the result-
he was made Schultheiss ; and what rendered the circum
stance particularly remarkable was, that although his repre
sentative was the third and last to draw at the ballot, the
two silver balls first came out, leaving the golden ball at the
bottom of the bag for him.

Perfectly prosaic, simple, and without a trace of the fan
tastic or miraculous, were the other dreams, of which we
were informed. Moreover, I remember that once, as a boy, I
was turning over his books and memoranda, and found among
some other remarks which related to gardening, such sen
tences as these : " To-night N. N. came to me and said "

the name and revelation being written in cipher ; or " This

night I saw " all the rest being again in cipher, except

the conjunctions and similar words, from which nothing could
be learned.

It is worthy of note also, that persons who showed no signs
of prophetic insight at other times, acquired, for the moment,
while in his presence, and that by means of some sensible
evidence, presentiments of diseases or deaths which were then
occurring in distant places. But no such gift has been trans
mitted to any of his children or grandchildren, who for the
most part have been hearty people, enjoying life, and never
going beyond the Actual.

While on this subject, I remember with gratitude many
kindnesses I received from them in my youth. Thus, for
example, we were employed and entertained in many ways
when we visited the second daughter, married to the druggist
Melbert, whose house and shop stood near the market, in the
midst of the liveliest and most crowded part of the town.
There we could look down from the windows pleasantly
enough upon the hurly-burly in which we feared to lose our
selves ; and though, at first, of all the goods in the shop,
nothing had much interest for us but the liquorice, and the
little brown stamped cakes made from it, we became in time
better acquainted with the multitude of articles bought and
sold in that business. This aunt was the most vivacious of
all the family. When my mother, in her early years, took
pleasure in being neatly dressed, working at some domestic
occupation, or reading a book, the other, on the contrary, ran
about the neighbourhood to pick up neglected children, take

RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 29

care of them, comb them, and carry them round, as indeed
she did me for a good while. At a time of public festivities,
such as coronations, it was impossible to keep her at home.
When a little child, she had already scrambled for the money
scattered on such occasions ; and it was related of her, that
once when she had got a good many together, and was
looking at them with great delight in the palm of her hand,
it was struck by somebody, and all her well-earned booty
vanished at a blow. There was another incident of which
she was very proud. Once, while standing on a post as the
Emperor Charles VII. was passing, at a moment when all the
people were silent, she shouted a vigorous " Vivat!" into the
coach, wiiich made him take off his hat to her, and thank
her quite graciously for her bold salutation.

Everything in her house was stirring, lively, and cheerful,
and we children owed her many a gay hour.

In a quieter situation, which was however suited to her
character, was a second aunt, married to the Pastor Stark,
incumbent of St. Catharine s Church. He lived much alone,
in accordance with his temperament and vocation, and pos
sessed a fine library. Here I first became acquainted with
Homer, in a prose translation, which may be found in the
seventh part of Herr Von Loen s new collection of the most
remarkable travels, under the title, Homers Description of
the Conquest of the Kingdom of Troy, ornamented with copper
plates, in the theatrical French taste. These pictures per
verted my imagination to such a degree, that for a long time
I could conceive the Homeric heroes only under such forms.

V

The incidents themselves gave me unspeakable delight ; though
I found great fault with the work for affording us 110 account
of the capture of Troy, and breaking off so abruptly with the
death of Hector. My uncle, to whom I mentioned this
defect, referred me to Virgil, who perfectly satisfied my
demands.

It will be taken for granted, that we children had among
our other lessons, a continued and progressive instruction in
religion. But the Church-Protestantism imparted to us was,
properly speaking, nothing but a kind of dry morality:
ingenious exposition was not thought of; and the doctrine
appealed neither to the understanding nor to the heart. For
that reason, there \vere various secessions from the Esta-

30 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

blished Church. Separatists, Pietists, Herrnhuter (Moravians),
Quiet-in-the-Lands, and others differently named and charac
terized sprang up, all of whom were animated by the same
purpose of approaching the Deity, especially through Christ,
more closely than seemed to them possible under the forms
of the established religion.

The Boy heard these opinions and sentiments constantly
spoken of; for the clergy as well as the laity divided them
selves into pro and con. The minority were composed of
those who dissented more or less broadly, but their modes
of thinking attracted by originality, heartiness, perseverance,
and independence. All sorts of stories were told of their
virtues and of the way in which they were manifested. The
reply of a certain pious tinman was especially noted, who,
when one of his craft attempted to shame him by asking
"who is really your confessor?" answered with great cheer
fulness and confidence in the goodness of his cause, " I have
a famous one no less than the confessor of King David."

Things of this sort naturally made an impression on the
Boy, and led him into similar states of mind. In fact, he
came to the thought that he might immediately approach the
great God of Nature, the Creator and Preserver of Heaven
and Earth, whose earlier manifestations of wrath had been
long forgotten in the beauty of the world, and the manifold
blessings in which we participate while upon it. The way he
took to accomplish this was very curious.

The Boy had chiefly kept to the first article of Belief. The
God who stands in immediate connexion with nature, and
owns and loves it as his work, seemed to him the proper God,
who might be brought into closer relationship with man, as
with everything else, and who would take care of him, as of
the motion of the stars, the days and seasons, the animals
and plants. There were texts of the Gospels which explicitly
stated this. The Boy could ascribe no form to this Being ;
he therefore sought Him in His works, and would, in the good
Old Testament fashion, build Him an altar. Natural produc
tions were set forth as images of the world, over which a
flame was to burn, signifying the aspirations of man s heart
towards his Maker. He brought out of the collection of
natural objects which he possessed, and which had been in
creased as chance directed, the best ores and other specimens.

THE BOY-PKIEST. 3t

But the next difficulty was, as to how they should be arranged
and raised into a pile. His father possessed a beautiful red-
lackered music-stand, ornamented with gilt flowers, in the
form of a four- sided pyramid, with different elevations, which
had been found convenient for quartets, but lately was not
much in use. The Boy laid hands on this, and built up his
representatives of Nature one above the other in steps, so that
it all looked quite pretty and at the same time sufficiently sig
nificant. On an early sunrise his first worship of God was
to be celebrated, but the young priest had not yet settled
how to produce a flame which should at the same time emit
an agreeable odour. At last it occurred to him to combine
the two, as he possessed a few fumigating pastils, which diffused
a pleasant fragrance with a glimmer, if not with a flame.
Nay, this soft burning and exhalation seemed a better repre
sentation of what passes in the heart, than an open flame.
The sun had already risen for a long time, but the neigbour-
ing houses concealed the East. At last it glittered above the
roofs, a burning-glass was at once taken up and applied to the
pastils, which were fixed on the summit in a fine porcelain
saucer. Everything succeeded according to the wish, and
the devotion was perfect. The altar remained as a peculiar
ornament of the room, which had been assigned him in the new
house. Every one regarded it only as a well-arranged collec
tion of natural curiosities. The Boy knew better, but con
cealed his knowledge. He longed for a repetition of the
solemnity. But unfortunately, just as the most opportune sun
arose, the porcelain cup was not at hand ; he placed the pastils
immediately on the upper surface of the stand; they were
kindled, and so great was the devotion of the priest, that he
did not observe, until it was too late, the mischief his sacrifice
was doing. The pastils had burned mercilessly into the red
lacker and beautiful gold flowers, and as if some evil spirit had
disappeared, had left their black, ineffaceable footprints. By
this the young priest was thrown into the most extreme per
plexity. The mischief could be covered up, it was true, with
the larger pieces of his show-materials, but the spirit for new
offerings was gone, and the accident might almost be con
sidered a hint and warning of the danger there always is in
wishing to approach the Deity in. such a way.

SECOND BOOK.

ALL that has been hitherto recorded indicates that happy
and easy condition in which nations exist during a long peace.
But nowhere probably is such a beautiful time enjoyed in
greater comfort than in cities living under their own laws,
and large enough to include a considerable number of citizens,
and so situated as to enrich them by trade and commerce.
Strangers find it to their advantage to come and go, and are
under a necessity of bringing profit in order to acquire profit.
Even if such cities rule but a small territory, they are the
better qualified to advance their internal prosperity, as their
external relations expose them to no costly undertakings or
alliances.

Thus, the Frankforters passed a series of prosperous years
during my childhood ; but scarcely, on the 28th of August,
1756, had I completed my seventh year, than that world-
renowned war broke out, which was also to exert great
influence upon the next seven years of my life. Frederick
the Second, King of Prussia, had fallen upon Saxony, with
sixty thousand men ; and instead of announcing his invasion
by a declaration of war, he followed it up with a manifesto,
composed by himself, as it was said, w r hich explained the
causes that had moved and justified him in so monstrous a
step. The world, which saw itself appealed to not merely as
spectator but as judge, immediately split into two parties, and
our family was an image of the great whole.

My grandfather, who, as Schoff of Frankfort, had carried
the coronation canopy over Francis the First, and had received
from the Empress a heavy gold chain with her likeness, took
the Austrian side along with some of his sons-in-law and
daughters. My father having been nominated to the imperial
council by Charles the Seventh, and sympathising sincerely
in the fate of that unhappy monarch, leaned towards Prussia,
with the other and smaller half of the family. Our meetings,
which had been held on Sundays for many years uninter-

FAMILY DISPUTES. 33

ruptedly, were very soon disturbed. The misunderstandings
so common among relatives by marriage, now first found a
form in which they could be expressed. Contention, discord,
silence, and separation ensued. My grandfather, otherwise
a serene, quiet, and easy man, became impatient. The
women vainly endeavoured to smother the flames ; and after
some unpleasant scenes, my father was the first to quit the
society. At home now we rejoiced undisturbed in the Prus
sian victories, which were commonly announced with great
glee by our vivacious aunt. Every other interest was forced
to give way to this, and we passed the rest of the year in
perpetual agitation. The occupation of Dresden, the modera
tion of the king at the outset, his slow but secure advances,
the victory at Lowositz, the capture of the Saxons, were so
many triumphs for our party. Everything that could be
alleged for the advantage of our opponents was denied or
depreciated ; and as the members of the family on the other
side did the same, they could not meet in the streets without
disputes arising, as in Romeo and Juliet.

Thus I also was then a Prussian in my views, or, to speak
more correctly, a Fritzian ; since what cared we for Prussia ?
It was the personal character of the great king that worked
upon all hearts. I rejoiced with my father in our conquests,
readily copied the songs of triumph, and almost more willingly
the lampoons directed against the other party, poor as the
rhymes might be.

As the eldest grandson and godchild, I had dined every
.Sunday since my infancy with my grandfather and grand
mother, and the hours so spent had been the most delightful
of the whole week. But now I relished no morsel that I
tasted, because I was compelled to hear the most horrible
slanders of mv hero. Here blew another wind, here sounded

u

another tone than at home. My liking and even my respect
for my grandfather and grandmother fell off. I could mention
nothing of this to my parents, but avoided the matter, both on
account of my own feelings, and because I had been warned
by my mother. In this way I was thrown back upon myself;
and as in my sixth year, after the earthquake at Lisbon, the
goodness of God had become to me in some measure suspicious,
so I began now, on account of Frederick the Second, to doubt
the justice of the public. My heart was naturally inclined to

D

34 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

reverence, and it required a great shock to stagger my faith in
anything that was venerable. But alas! they had commended
good manners and a becoming deportment to us, not for their
own sake, but for the sake of the people. What will people
say ? was always the cry, and I thought that the people must
be right good people, and would know how to judge of anything
and eveiything. But my experience went just to the contrary.
The greatest and most signal services were defamed and
attacked ; the noblest deeds, if not denied, were at least mis-
represented and diminished ; and this base injustice was done
to the only man who was manifestly elevated above all his con
temporaries, arid who daily proved what he was able to do,
and that, not by the populace, but by distinguished men, as I
took my grandfather and uncles to be. That parties existed,
and that he himself belonged to a party, had never entered
into the conceptions of the Boy. He, therefore, believed him-
self all the more right, and dared hold his own opinion for the
better one, since he and those of like mind appreciated the
beauty and other good qualities of Maria Theresa, and even
did not grudge the Emperor Francis his love of jewelry and
money. That Count Daun was often called an old dozer, they
thought justifiable.

But now I consider the matter more closely, I trace here
the germ of that disregard and even disdain of the public,
which clung to me for a whole period of my life, and only in
later days was brought within bounds by insight and cultiva
tion. Suffice it to say, that the perception of the injustice
of parties had even then a very unpleasant, nay, an injurious
effect upon the Boy, as it accustomed him to separate himself
from beloved and highly-valued persons. The quick suc
cession of battles and events left the parties neither quiet nor
rest. We ever found a malicious delight in reviving and
re-sharpening those imaginary evils and capricious disputes ;
and thus we continued to tease each other, until the occupa
tion of Frankfort by the French some years afterwards,
brought real inconvenience into our homes.

Although to most of us the important events occurring
in distant parts served only for topics of ardent controversy,
there were others who perceived the seriousness of the times,
and feared that the sympathy of France might open a scene
of war in our own vicinity. They kept us children at home

IK-DOOR AMUSEMENTS. 35

more than before, and strove in many ways to occupy and
amuse us. With this view, the puppet-show bequeathed by
our grandmother was again brought forth, and arranged in
such a way that the spectators sat in my gable room, while
the persons managing and performing, as well as the theatre
itself as far as the proscenium, found a place in the room
adjoining. We were allowed, as a special favour, to invite
first one and then another of the neighbours children as
spectators, and thus at the outset I gained many friends;
but the restlessness inherent in children, did not suffer them
to remain long a patient audience. They interrupted the
play, and we were compelled to seek a younger public, which
could at any rate be kept in order by the nurses and maids.
The original drama to which the puppets had been specially
adapted, we had learnt by heart, and in the beginning this was
exclusively performed. Soon growing weary of it, however,
we changed the dresses and decorations, and attempted various
other pieces, w r hich were indeed on too grand a scale for so
narrow a stage. Although this presumption spoiled and finally
quite destroyed what we performed, such childish pleasures and
employments nevertheless exercised and advanced in many
ways my power of invention and representation, my fancy and
a certain technical skill, to a degree which in any other way
could not perhaps have been secured in so short a time, in
so confined a space, and at so little expense.

I had early learned to use compasses and ruler, because all
the instructions they gave me in geometry were forthwith
put into practice, and I occupied myself greatly with paste
board-work. I did not stop at geometrical figures, little
boxes, and such things, but invented pretty pleasure-houses
adorned with pilasters, steps, and flat roofs. However, but
little of this was completed.

Far more persevering was I, on the other hand, in arranging,
with the help of our domestic (a tailor by trade), an armoury
for the service of our plays and tragedies, which we ourselves
performed with delight when we had outgrown the puppets.
My playfellows, too, prepared for themselves such armouries,
which they regarded as quite as fine and good as mine ; but I
had made provision not for the wants of one person only, and
could furnish several of the little band with every requisite,
and thus made myself more and more indispensable to our

36 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

little circle. That such games tended to factions, quarrels,
and blows, and commonly came to a sad end in tumult and
vexation, may easily be supposed. In such cases certain of
my companions generally took part with me, while others
sided against me ; though many changes of party occurred.
One single boy, whom I will call Pylades, urged by the others,
once only left my party, but could scarcely for a moment
maintain his hostile position. We were reconciled amid many
tears, and for a long time afterwards kept faithfully together.
To him, as well as other well-wishers, I could render myself

t/

very agreeable by telling tales, which they most delighted to
hear when I was the hero of my own story. It greatly re
joiced them to know that such wonderful things could befall
one of their own playfellows ; nor was it any harm that they
did not understand how I could find time and space for such
adventures, as they must have been pretty well aware of all my
comings and goings, and how I was occupied the entire day.
Not the less necessary was it for me to select the localities
of these occurrences, if not in another world, at least in another
spot ; and yet all was told as having taken place only to-day
or yesterday. They rather, therefore, deceived themselves^
than were imposed upon by me. If I had not gradually
learned, in accordance w r ith the instincts of my nature, to
work up these visions and conceits into artistic forms, such
vain-glorious beginnings could not have gone on without
producing evil consequences in the end.

Considering this impulse more closely, we may see in it
that presumption with which the poet authoritatively utters
the greatest improbabilities, and requires every one to recog
nise as real whatever may in any way seem to him, the
inventor, as true.

But what is here told only in general terms, and by way of
reflection, will perhaps become more apparent and interesting
by means of an example. I subjoin, therefore, one of these
tales, which, as I often had to repeat it to my comrades,
still hovers entire in my imagination and memory.

37

THE NEW PARIS,

A BOY S LEGEND.

ON the night before Whit Sunday, not long since, I dreamed
that I stood before a mirror, engaged with the new summer
clothes \vhich my dear parents had given me for the holiday.
The dress consisted, as you know, of shoes of polished leather,
with large silver buckles, fine cotton stockings, black nether
garments of serge, and a coat of green baracan with gold
buttons. The waistcoat of gold cloth was cut out of my
father s bridal waistcoat. My hair had been frizzled and pow
dered, and my curls stuck out from my head like little wings ;
but I could not finish dressing myself, because I kept confusing
the different articles, the first always falling off as soon as 1
was about to put on the next. In this dilemma, a young and
handsome man came to me, and greeted me in the friendliest
manner. " O ! you are welcome!" said I, "I am very glad to
see you here." "Do you know me, then ?" replied he, smiling.
" Why not?" was my no less smiling answer ; " you are Mer
cury I have often enough seen you represented in pictures."
" I am, indeed," replied he ; "and am sent to you by the gods
on an important errand. Do you see these three apples?" he
stretched forth his hand, and showed me three apples, which
it could hardly hold, and which were as wonderfully beautiful
as they were large, the one of a red, the other of a yellow,
the third of a green colour. One could not help thinking
they were precious stones made into the form of fruit. I
would have snatched them, but he drew back, and said, " You
must know, in the first place, that they are not for you. You
must give them to the three handsomest youths of the city, who
then, each according to his lot, will find wives to the utmost
of their wishes. Take them, and success to you!" said he, as
he departed, leaving the apples in my open hands. They
appeared to me to have become still larger. I held them up
at once against the light and found them quite transparent ;
but soon they expanded upwards, and became three beautiful
little ladies, about as large as middle-sized dolls, wiiose clothes
were of the colours of the apples. They glided gently up my
fingers, and when I was about to catch at them, to make sure
of one at least, they had already soared high and far, and I

38 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

had to put up with the disappointment. I stood there all
amazed and petrified, holding up my hands and staring at my
fingers, as if there were still something on them to see. Sud
denly I beheld, upon the very tips, a most lovely girl dancing,
smaller than those, but pretty and lively, and as she did not
fly away like the others, but remained dancing, now on one
finger-point now on another, I regarded her for a long while
with admiration. And, as she pleased me so much, I thought
in the end I could catch her, and made as I fancied a very
adroit grasp. But at the moment I felt such a blow on my
head, that I fell down stunned, and did not awake from my
stupor till it was time to dress myself and go to church.

During the service I often recalled those images to mind ;
and also when I was eating dinner at my grand-father s
table. In the afternoon, I wished to visit some friends,
partly to show myself in my new dress, with my hat under
my arm and my sword by my side, and partly to return,
their visits. I found no one at home, and, as I heard that
they were gone to the gardens, I resolved to follow them, and
pass the evening pleasantly. My way led towards the en
trenchments, and I came to the spot which is rightly called
the Bad Wall ; for it is never quite safe from ghosts there. I
walked slowly, and thought of my three goddesses, but espe
cially of the little nymph ; and often held up my fingers, in
hopes she might be kind enough to balance herself there
again. With such thoughts I was proceeding, when I saw in
the wall on my left hand a little gate, which I did not remem
ber to have ever noticed before. It looked low, but its pointed
arch would have allowed the tallest man to enter. Arch and
wall were chiselled out in the handsomest way, both by mason
and sculptor ; but it was the door itself which first properly
attracted my attention. The old brown wood, though slightly
ornamented, was crossed with broad bands of brass, wrought
both in relief and intaglio. The foliage on these, with the
most natural birds sitting in it, I could not sufficiently admire.
But, what seemed most remarkable, no keyhole could be seen,
no latch, no knocker ; and from this I conjectured that the
door could be opened only from within. I was not in error ;
for when I went nearer, in order to touch the ornaments, it
opened inwards, and there appeared a man. whose dress was
somewhat long, wide, and singular. A venerable beard enve-

THE NEW PAEIS. 39

loped his chin, so that I was inclined to think him a Jew.
But he, as if he had divined my thoughts, made the sign of
the Holy Cross, by which he gave me to understand that he
was a good Catholic Christian. " Young gentleman, how
came you here, and what are you doing?" he said to me,
with a friendly voice and manner. " I am admiring," I re
plied, " the workmanship of this door ; for I have never seen
anything like it, except in some small pieces in the collections
of amateurs." " I am glad," he answered, that you like
such works. The door is much more beautiful inside. Come
in, if you like." My heart, in some degree, failed me. The
mysterious dress of the porter, the seclusion, and a something,
I know not what, that seemed to be in the air, oppressed
me. I paused, therefore, under the pretext of examining the
outside still longer; and at the same time I cast stolen
glances into the garden, for a garden it was which had opened
before me. Just inside the door I saw a space. Old linden,
trees, standing at regular distances from each other, entirely
covered it with their thickly interwoven branches, so that the
most numerous parties, during the hottest of the day, might
have refreshed themselves in the shade. Already I had
stepped upon the threshold, and the old man contrived gra
dually to allure me on. Properly speaking, I did not resist ;
for I had always heard that a prince or sultan in such a case
must never ask whether there be danger at hand. I had my
sword by my side, too ; and could I not soon have finished
with the old man, in case of hostile demonstrations ? I there
fore entered perfectly reassured ; the keeper closed the door,
which bolted so softly that I scarcely heard it. He now
showed me the workmanship on the inside, which in truth was
still more artistic than the outside, explained it to me, and at
the same time manifested particular good- will. Being thus
entirely at my ease, I let myself be guided in the shaded
space by the wall, that formed a circle, where I found much
to admire. Niches tastefully adorned with shells, corals, and
pieces of ore, poured a profusion of water from the mouths of
Tritons into marble basins. Between them were aviaries and
other lattice-work, in which squirrels frisked about, guinea-
pigs ran hither and thither, with as many other pretty little
creatures as one could wish to see. The birds called and sang
to us as we advanced ; the starlings particularly chattered the

40 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

silliest stuff. One always cried, Paris ! Paris ! and the other,
Narcissus ! Narcissus ! as plainly as a schoolboy can say them.
The old man seemed to continue looking at me earnestly while
the birds called out thus, but I feigned not to notice it, and
had in truth no time to attend to him ; for I could easily per-
ceive that we went round and round, and that this shaded
space was in fact a great circle, which inclosed another much
more important. Indeed we had actually reached the small
door again, and it seemed as though the old man would let me
out. But my eyes remained directed towards a golden railing,
which seemed to hedge round the middle of this wonderful
garden, and which I had found means enough of observing in
our walk, although the old man managed to keep me always
close to the wall, and therefore pretty far from the centre.
And now, just as he was going to the door, I said to him, with
a bow, " You have been so extremely kind to me, that I would
fain venture to make one more request before I part from you.
Might I not look more closely at that golden railing, which
appears to inclose in a very wide circle the interior of the
garden ?" " Very willingly," replied he : " but in that case
you must submit to some conditions." " In what do they
consist?" I asked hastily. "You must leave here your hat
and sword, and must not let go my hand while I accompany
you." "Most willingly," I replied; and laid my hat and
sword on the nearest stone bench. Immediately he grasped
my left hand with his right, held it fast, and led me with
some force straight forwards. When we reached the railing,
my wonder changed into amazement. On a high socle of
marble stood innumerable spears and partisans, ranged beneath
each other, joined by their strangely ornamented points, and
forming a complete circle. I looked through the intervals,
and saw just behind a gently flowing piece of water, bounded
on both sides by marble, and displaying in its clear depths a
multitude of gold and silver fish, which moved about now
slowly and now swiftly, now alone and now in shoals. I would
also fain have looked beyond the canal, to see what there was
in the heart of the garden. But I found, to my great sorrow,
that the other side of the water was bordered by a similar
railing, and with so much art, that to each interval on this
side exactly fitted a spear or partisan on the other. These
and the other ornaments rendered it impossible for one to see

THE NEW PARIS. 41

i

through, stand as one would. Besides, the old man, who still
held me fast, prevented me from moving freely. My curiosity,
meanwhile, after all that I had seen, increased more and more ;
and I took heart to ask the old man whether one could not
pass over. " Why not? returned he, " but on new condi
tions." When I asked him what these were, he gave me to
understand that I must put on other clothes. I was satisfied
to do so ; he led me back towards the wall, into a small neat
room, on the sides of which hung many kinds of garments, all
of which seemed to approach the oriental costume. I soon
changed my dress. He confined my powdered hair under a
many coloured net, after having to my horror violently dusted
it out. Now standing before a great mirror, I found myself
quite handsome in my disguise, and pleased myself better
than in my formal Sunday clothes. I made gestures and
leaped as I had seen the dancers do at the Fair-theatre. In
the midst of this I looked in the glass, and saw by chance the
image of a niche which was behind me. On its white ground
hung three green cords, each of them twisted up in a way
which from the distance I could not clearly discern. I there
fore turned round rather hastily, and asked the old man about
the niche as well as the cords. He very courteously took a
cord down, and showed it to me. It was a band of green silk
of moderate thickness; the ends of which joined by green
leather with two holes in it, gave it the appearance of an in
strument for no very desirable purpose. The thing struck me
as suspicious, and I asked the old man the meaning. He
answered me very quietly and kindly, " This is for those who
abuse the confidence which is here readily shown them." He
hung the cord again in its place, and immediately desired me
to follow him ; for this time he did not hold me, and so I
walked freely beside him.

My chief curiosity now was to discover where the gate and
bridge, for passing through the railing and over the canal,
might be ; since as yet I had not been able to find anything of
the kind. I therefore watched the golden fence very narrowly
as we hastened towards it. But in a moment my sight failed ;
lances, spears, halberds, and partisans, began unexpectedly to
rattle and quiver, and this strange movement ended in all the
points sinking towards each other, just as if two ancient hosts,
armed with pikes, were about to charge. The confusion ta

42 TRUTH AND POETEY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

the eyes, the clatter to the ears, was hardly to be borne ; but
infinitely surprising was the sight when falling perfectly level,
they covered the circle of the canal, and formed the most
glorious bridge that one can imagine. For now a most varie
gated garden parterre met my sight. It was laid out in cur
vilinear beds, which, looked at together, formed a labyrinth of
ornaments; all with green borders of a low woolly plant,
which I had never seen before ; all with flowers, each division
of different colours, which being likewise low and close to the
ground, allowed the plan to be easily traced. This delicious
sight, which I enjoyed in the full sunshine, quite rivetted my
eyes. But I hardly knew where I was to set my foot ; for the
serpentine paths were most delicately laid with blue sand, which
seemed to form upon the earth a darker sky, or a sky seen in
the water : and so I walked for a while beside my conductor,
with my eyes fixed upon the ground, until at last I perceived
that, in the middle of this round of beds and flowers, there
was a great circle of cypresses or poplar-like trees, through
which one could not see, because the lowest branches seemed
to spring out of the ground. My guide, without taking me
directly the shortest way, led me nevertheless immediately
towards that centre : and how was I astonished, when on
entering the circle of high trees, I saw before me the peristyle
of a magnificent garden-house, which seemed to have similar
prospects and entrances on the other sides ! The heavenly
music which streamed from the building, transported me
still more than this model of architecture. I fancied that I
heard now a lute, now a harp, now a guitar, and now some
thing jingling, w^hich did not belong to any of these instru
ments. The door which we approached opened soon after
a light touch by the old man. But how was I amazed, when
the porter ess, who came out, perfectly resembled the delicate
girl who had danced upon my fingers in the dream ! She
greeted me as if we were already acquainted, and invited me
to walk in. The old man remained behind, and I went with
her through a short passage, arched and finely ornamented, to
the middle hall, the splendid dome-like ceiling of which
attracted my gaze on my entrance, and filled me with asto
nishment. Yet my eye could not linger long on this, being
allured down by a more charming spectacle. On a carpet,
directly under the middle of the cupola, sat three women, in

THE NEW PARIS. 43

a triangle, clad in three different colours ; one red, the other
yellow, the third green. The seats were gilt, and the carpet
was a perfect flower-bed. In their arms lay the three instru
ments which I had been able to distinguish from the outside ;
for being disturbed by my arrival, they had stopped their play
ing. " Welcome !" said the middle one, who sat with her face
to the door, in a red dress, and with the harp. " Sit down
by Alert, and listen, if you are a lover of music."

Now first I remarked that there was a rather long bench
placed obliquely before them, on which lay a mandoline. The
pretty girl took it up, sat down, and drew me to her side.
Now also I looked at the second lady on my right. She wore
the yellow dress, and had the guitar in her hand ; and if the
harp-player was dignified in form, grand in features, and
majestic in her deportment, one might remark in the guitar-
player an easy grace and cheerfulness. She was a slender
blonde while the other was adorned by dark browTi hair.
The variety and accordance of their music could not prevent
me from remarking the third beauty, in the green dress, whose
lute-playing was for me at once touching and striking. She
was the one who seemed to notice me the most, and to direct
her music to me ; only I could not make up my mind about
her ; for she appeared to me now tender, now whimsical, now
frank, now self-willed, according as she changed her mien and
mode of playing. Sometimes she seemed to wish to move me,
sometimes to teaze me ; but do what she would, she got little
out of me ; for my little neighbour, by whom I sat elbow to
elbow, had gained me entirely to herself; and while I clearly
saw in those three ladies the Sylphides of my dream, and re
cognised the colours of the apples, I conceived that I had no
cause to detain them. The pretty little maiden I would
rather have captured, if I had not but too feelingly remem
bered the blow which she had given me in my dream.
Hitherto she had remained quite quiet with her mandoline ;
but when her mistresses had ceased, they commanded her to
perform some pleasant little piece. Scarcely had she jingled
off some dancing tune, in a most exciting manner, than she
sprang up ; I did the same. She played and danced ; I was
hurried on to accompany her steps, and w^e executed a kind of
little ballet, with which the ladies seemed satisfied ; for as
soon as we had done, they commanded the little girl to refresh

44 TKUTH AND POETEY ; FKOM MY OWN LIFE.

me with, something nice till supper should come in. I had
indeed forgotten that there was anything in the world beyond
this paradise. Alert led me back immediately into the passage
by which I had entered. On one side of it she had two well-
arranged rooms. In that in which she lived, she set before me
oranges, figs, peaches, and grapes ; and I enjoyed with great
gusto both the fruits of foreign lands and those of our own
not yet in season. Confectionary there was in profusion ;
she filled, too, a goblet of polished crystal with foaming wine ;
but I had no need to drink, as I had refreshed myself with
the fruits. " Now we will play," said she, and led me into
the other room. Here all looked like a Christmas fair ; but
such costly and exquisite things were never seen in a Christ
mas booth. There were all kinds of dolls, dolls clothes, and
dolls furniture ; kitchens, parlours, and shops, and single toys
innumerable. She led me round to all the glass cases, in
which these ingenious works were preserved. But she soon
closed again the first cases, and said " That is nothing
for you, I know well enough. Here," she said, " we could
find building materials, walls and towers, houses, palaces,
churches, to put together a great city. But this does not
entertain me. We will take something else, which will be
pleasant alike to both of us." Then she brought out some
boxes, in which I saw an army of little soldiers piled one upon
the other, of which I must needs confess that I had never seen
anything so beautiful. She did not leave me time to examine
them closely in detail, but took one box under her arm, while I
seized the other. "We will go," she said, "upon the golden
bridge. There one plays best with soldiers ; the lances give
at once the direction in which the armies are to be opposed to
each other." We had now reached the golden trembling
floor ; and below me I could hear the waters gurgle, and the
fishes splash, while I knelt down to range my columns. All,
as I now saw, were cavalry. She boasted {hat she had the
Queen of the Amazons as leader of her female host. I, on
the contrary, found Achilles and a very stately Grecian
cavalry. The armies stood facing each other, and nothing
could have been seen more beautiful. They were not flat
leaden horsemen like ours, but man and horse were round and
solid, and most finely wrought ; nor could one conceive how
they kept their balance, for they stood of themselves, without
a support for their feet.

THE NEW PAftlS. 45

Both of us had inspected our hosts with much self-compla
cency, when she announced the onset. "We had found ordnance
in our chests, viz., little boxes full of well-polished agate balls.
With these we were to fight against each other from a certain
distance, while, however, it was an express condition that we
should not throw with more force than was necessary to upset
the figures, as none of them were to be injured. Now the
cannonade began on both sides, and at first it succeeded to the
satisfaction of us both. But when my adversary observed
that I aimed better than she, and might in the end win the
victory, which depended on the majority of pieces remaining
upright, she came nearer, and her girlish way of throwing
had then the desired result. She prostrated a multitude of
my best troops, and the more I protested the more eagerly
did she throw. This at last vexed me, and I declared that I
would do the same. In fact, I not only went nearer, but in
my rage threw with much more violence, so that it was not
long before a pair of her little centauresses flew in pieces. In
her eagerness she did not instantly notice it, but I stood
petrified when the broken figures joined together again of
themselves ; Amazon and horse became again one whole, and
also perfectly close, set up a gallop from the golden bridge
under the lime-trees, and running swiftly backwards and for
wards, were lost in their career, I know not how, in the
direction of the wall. My fair opponent had hardly perceived
this, when she broke out into loud weeping and lamentation,
and exclaimed that I had caused her an irreparable loss, which
was far greater than could be expressed. But I, by this time
provoked, was glad to annoy her, and blindly flung a couple
of the remaining agate balls with force into the midst of her
nrmy. Unhappily I hit the queen, who had hitherto, during
our regular game, been excepted. She flew in pieces, and
her nearest officers were also shivered. But they swiftly set
themselves up again, and started off like the others, galloping
very merrily about under the lime-trees, and disappearing
against the wall. My opponent scolded and abused me ; but
being now in full play, I stooped to pick up some agate balls
which rolled about upon the golden lances. It was my fierce
desire to destroy her whole army. She, on the other hand,
not idle, sprang at me, and gave me a box on the ear which
made my head ring again. Having always heard that a

46 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

hearty kiss was the proper response to a girl ,s box of the ear,
I took her by the ears, and kissed her repeatedly. But she
gave such a piercing cry as frightened even me ; I let her go,
and it was fortunate that I did so ; for in a moment I knew
not what was happening to me. The ground beneath me
began to quake and rattle ; I soon remarked that the railings
again set themselves in motion; but I had no time to con
sider, nor could I get a footing so as to fly. I feared every
instant to be pierced, for the partisans and lances, which had
lifted themselves up, were already slitting my clothes. It is
sufficient to say that, I know not how it was, hearing and sight
failed me, and I recovered from my swoon and terror at the
foot of a lime-tree, against which the pikes in springing up
had thrown me. As I awoke, my anger awakened also, and
violently increased when I heard from the other side the gibes
and laughter of my opponent, who had probably reached the
earth somewhat more softly than I. Thereupon I sprang up,
and as I saw the little host, with its leader Achilles, scattered
around me, having been driven over with me by the rising of
the rails, I seized the hero first and threw him against a tree.
His resuscitation and flight now pleased me doubly, a malicious
pleasure combining with the prettiest sight in the world ; and
I was on the point of sending all the other Greeks after him,
when suddenly hissing waters spurted at me on all sides, from
stones and walls, from ground and branches ; and wherever I
turned dashed against me cross ways.

My light garment was in a short time wet through ; it was
already rent, and I did not hesitate to tear it entirely off my
body. I cast away my slippers, and one covering after
another. Nay, at last I found it very agreeable to let such a
shower-bath play over me in the warm day. Now, being
quite naked, I walked gravely along between these welcome
waters, where I thought to enjoy myself for some time. My
anger cooled, and I wished for nothing more than a reconcilia
tion with my little adversary. But, in a twinkling the water
stopped, and I stood drenched upon the saturated ground.
The presence of the old man, who appeared before me unex
pectedly, was by no means welcome ; I could have wished, if
not to hide, at least to clothe myself. The shame, the shiver
ing, the effort to cover myself in some degree, made me cut a
most piteous figure. The old man employed the moment in

THE NEW PAEIS. 47

venting the severest reproaches against me. " What hinders
me," he exclaimed, "from taking one of the green cords, and
fitting it, if not to your neck, to your back?" This threat I
took in very ill part. " Refrain," I cried, " from such w T ords,
even from such thoughts, for otherwise you and your mis
tresses will be lost." " Who then are you," he asked in
defiance, "who dare speak thus?" "A favourite of the
gods," I said, " on whom it depends whether those ladies shall
find worthy husbands and pass a happy life, or be left to pine
and wither in their magic cell." The old man stepped some
paces back. " Who has revealed that to you?" he inquired,
with astonishment and concern. " Three apples," I said
three jewels." "And what reward do you require?" he
exclaimed. " Before all things, the little creature," I replied,
" who has brought me into this accursed state." The old man
cast himself down before me, without shrinking from the wet
and miry soil ; then he arose without being wetted, took me
kindly by the hand, led me into the hall, clad me again
quickly, and I was soon once more decked out and frizzled in
my Sunday fashion as before. The porter did not speak
another word ; but before he let me pass the entrance, he
stopped me, and showed me some objects on the wall over the
way, while, at the same time, he pointed backwards to the
door. I understood him ; he wished to imprint the objects on
my mind, that I might the more certainly find the door, which
had unexpectedly closed behind me. I now took good notice
of what was opposite to me. Above a high wall rose the
boughs of extremely old nut-trees, and partly covered the
cornice at the top. The branches reached down to a stone
tablet, the ornamented border of which I could perfectly
recognise, though I could not read the inscription. It rested
on the corbel of a niche, in which a finely-wrought fountain
poured water from cup to cup into a great basin, that formed,
as it were, a little pond, and disappeared in the earth. Foun
tain, inscription, nut-trees, all stood directly one above
another ; I would paint it as I saw it.

Now, it may well be conceived how I passed this evening*
and many following days, and how often I repeated to myself
this story, which even I could hardly believe. As soon as it
was in any degree possible, I went again to the Bad Wall, at
least to refresh my remembrance of these signs, and to look at

48 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWK LIFE.

the precious door. But, to my great amazement, I found all
changed. Nut-trees, indeed, overtopped the wall, but they
did not stand immediately in contact. A tablet also was in
serted in the wall, but far to the right of the trees, without
ornament, and with a legible inscription. A niche with a
fountain was found far to the left, but with no resemblance
whatever to that which I had seen ; so that I almost believed
that the second adventure was, like the first, a dream ; for of
the door there is not the slightest trace. The only thing that
consoles me is the observation, that these three objects seem
always to change their places. For in repeated visits to the
spot, I think I have noticed that the nut-trees have moved
somewhat nearer together, and that the tablet and the fountain
seem likewise to approach each other. Probably, when all is
brought together again, the door, too, will once more be visible ;
and I will do my best to take up the thread of the adventure.
Whether I shall be able to tell you what further happens, or
whether it will be expressly forbidden me, I cannot say.

This tale, of the truth of which my playfellows vehemently
strove to convince themselves, received great applause. Each
of them visited alone the place described, without confiding it
to me or the others, and discovered the nut-trees, the tablet,
and the spring, though always at a distance from each other ;
as they at last confessed to me afterwards, because it is not
easy to conceal a secret at that early age. But here the con
test first arose. One asserted that the objects did not stir
from the spot and always maintained the same distance : a
second averred that they did move, and that too away from
each other : a third agreed with the latter as to the first point
of their moving, though it seemed to him that the nut-tree,
tablet, and fountain rather drew near together : while a fourth
had something still more wonderful to announce, which was,
that the nut-trees were in the middle, but that the tablet and
the fountain were on sides opposite to those which I had
stated. With respect to the traces of the little door they also
varied. And thus they furnished me an early instance of the
contradictory views men can hold and maintain in regard to
matters quite simple and easily cleared up. As I obstinately
refused the continuation of my tale, a repetition of the first
part was often desired. I was on my guard, however, not to

JUVENILE STOICISM. 49

change the circumstances much, and by the uniformity of the
narrative I converted the fable into truth in the minds of my
hearers.

Yet I was averse to falsehood and dissimulation, and alto
gether by no means frivolous. Rather, on the contrary, the
inward earnestness with which I had early begun to consider
myself and the world, was seen even in my exterior, and I
w^as frequently called to account, often in a friendly way,
and often in raillery, for a certain dignity which I had
assumed. For, although good and chosen friends were cer
tainly not wanting to me, we were always a minority against
those who found pleasure in assailing us with wanton rude
ness, and who indeed often awoke us in no gentle fashion from,
that legendary and self-complacent dreaming in which we I
by inventing, and my companions by sympathising were too
readily absorbed. Thus we learned once more, that instead
of sinking into effeminacy and fantastic delights, there was
reason rather for hardening ourselves, in order either to bear
or to counteract inevitable evils.

Among the stoical exercises which I cultivated, as earnestly
as it was possible for a lad, was even the endurance of bodily
pain. Our teachers often treated us very unkindly and unskil
fully, with blows and cuffs, against which we hardened our
selves all the more as refractoriness was forbidden under the
severest penalties. A great many of the sports of youth,
moreover, depend on a rivalry in such endurances ; as, for
instance, when they strike each other alternately, with two
fingers or the whole fist, till the limbs are numbed, or
when they bear the penalty of blows, incurred in certain
games, with more or less firmness; when in wrestling or
scuffling they do not let themselves be perplexed by the pinches
of a half-conquered opponent ; or finally, when they suppress
the pain inflicted, for the sake of teasing, and even treat with
indifference the nips and ticklings with which young persons
are so active towards each other. Thus we gain a great
advantage, of which others cannot speedily deprive us.

But as I made a sort of boast of this impassiveness, the im
portunity of the others was increased ; and, since rude bar
barity knows no limits, it managed to force me beyond my
bounds. Let one case suffice for several, It happened once
that the teacher did not come at the usual hour for instruction.

E

50 TRUTH A!*D POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

As long as we children were all together, we entertained
ourselves quite agreeably; but when my adherents, after wait
ing long enough, went away, and I remained alone with three
of my enemies, these took it into their heads to torment me,
to shame me, and to drive me away. Having left me an
instant in the room, they came back with switches, which they
had made by quickly cutting up a broom. I noted their
design, and as I supposed the end of the hour near, I at once
resolved not to resist them till the clock struck. They began,
therefore, without remorse, to lash my legs and calves in the
cruellest fashion. I did not stir, but soon felt that I had mis
calculated, and that such pain greatly lengthened the minutes.
My wrath grew with my endurance, and at the first stroke of
the hour, I grasped the one who least expected it by the hair
behind, hurled him to the earth in an instant, pressing my
knee upon his back ; the second, a younger and weaker one,
who attacked me from behind, I drew by the head under my
arm, and almost throttled him with the pressure. The last,
and not the weakest, still remained ; and my left hand only
was left for my defence. But I seized him by the clothes, and
with a dexterous twist on my part, and an over precipitate
one on his, I brought him down and struck his face on the
ground. They were not wanting in bites, pinches, and kicks,
but I had nothing but revenge in my limbs as well as in my
heart. With the advantage which I had acquired, I repeatedly
knocked their heads together. At last they raised a dreadful
shout of murder, and we were soon surrounded by all the
inmates of the house. The switches scattered around, and
my legs, which I had bared of the stockings, soon bore witness
for me. They put off the punishment, and let me leave the
house ; but I declared that in future, on the slightest offence,
I would scratch out the eyes, tear off the ears, of any one of
them, if not throttle him.

This event, though, as usually happens in childish affairs,
it was soon forgotten, and even laughed over, was yet the
cause that these instructions in common became fewer, and at
last entirely ceased. I was thus again, as formerly, kept
more at home, where I found my sister Cornelia, who was only
one year younger than myself, a companion always growing
more agreeable.

Still, I will not leave this topic without narrating some more

RUDENESS OF JUVENILE COMPANIONS G 51

stories of the many vexations caused me by my playfellows ;
for this is the instructive part of such moral communications,
that a man may learn how it has gone with others, and what
he also has to expect from life ; and that whatever comes to
pass, he may consider that it happens to him as a man, and
not as one specially fortunate or unfortunate. If such know
ledge is of little use for avoiding evils, it is very serviceable
so far as it qualifies us to understand our condition, and bear
or even to overcome it.

Another general remark will not be out of place here, which
is, that as the children of the cultivated classes grow up, a
great contradiction appears. I refer to the fact, that they are
urged and trained, by parents and teachers, to deport them
selves moderately, intelligently, and even wisely ; to give pain
to no one from petulance or arrogance, and to suppress all the
evil impulses which may be developed in them ; but yet, on
the other hand, while the young creatures are engaged in this
discipline, they have to suffer from others that which in them
is reprimanded and punished. In this way, the poor things
are brought into a sad strait between the natural and civilised
states, and after restraining themselves for a while, break out
according to their characters into cunning or violence.

Force is rather to be put down by force ; but a well-disposed
child, inclined to love and sympathy, has little to oppose to
scorn and ill-will. Though I managed pretty well to keep off
the active assaults of my companions, I was by no means
equal to them in sarcasm and abuse ; because he who merely
defends himself in such cases, is always a loser. Attacks of
this sort, consequently, when they went so far as to excite
anger, were repelled with physical force, or at least excited
strange reflections in me, which could not be without results.
Among other advantages which my ill-wishers grudged me,
was the pleasure I took in the relations that accrued to the
family from my grandfather s position of Schultheiss, since, as
he w T as the first of his class, this had no small effect on those
belonging to him. Once, when after the holding of the Piper s-
court, I appeared to pride myself on having seen my grand
father in the midst of the council, one step higher than the
rest, enthroned, as it were, under the portrait of the Emperor,
one of the boys said to me in derision, that like the peacock
contemplating his feet, I should cast niy eyes back to my

E 2

52 TRUTH AT*D POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

paternal grandfather, who had been keeper of the Willow-inn,
and would never have aspired to thrones and coronets. I
replied that I was in no wise ashamed of that, as it was the
glory and honour of our native city that all its citizens might
consider each other equal, and every one derive profit and
honour from his exertions in his own way. I was sorry only
that the good man had been so long dead ; for I had often
yearned to know him in person, had many times gazed upon
his likeness, nay, had visited his tomb, and had at least
derived pleasure from the inscription on the simple monu
ment of that past existence to which I was indebted for my
own. Another ill-wisher, who was the most malicious of all,
took the first aside, and whispered something in his ear, while
they still looked at me scornfully. My gall already began
to rise, and I challenged them to speak out. " What is more,
then, if you will have it," continued the first, " this one thinks
you might go looking about a long time before you could find
your grandfather !" I now threatened them more vehemently
if they did not more clearly explain themselves. Thereupon
they brought forward an old story, which they pretended to
have overheard from their parents, that my father was the son
of some eminent man, while that good citizen had shown him
self willing to take outwardly the paternal office. They had
the impudence to produce all sorts of arguments; as, for
example, that our property came exclusively from our grand
mother, that the other collateral relations, who lived in Fried-
burg and other places, were all alike destitute of property,
and other reasons of the sort, which could merely derive their
weight from malice. I listened to them more composedly than
they expected, for they stood ready to fly the very moment
that I should make a gesture as if I would seize their hair.
But I replied quite calmly, and in substance, " that even this
was no great injury to me. Life was such a boon, that one
might be quite indifferent as to whom one had to thank for
it, since at least it must be derived from God, before whom
we all were equals." As they could make nothing of it, they
let the matter drop for this time ; we went on playing together
as before, which among children is an approved mode of
reconciliation.

Still these spiteful words inoculated me with a sort of moral
disease, which grept on in secret. It would not have dis-

GOETHE S REPUTED GRANDFATHER. 53

.pleased me at all to have been the grandson of any person of
consideration, even if it had not been in the most lawful way.
My acuteness followed up the scent my imagination was
excited, and my sagacity put in requisition. I began to inves
tigate the allegation, and invented or found for it new grounds
of probability. I had heard little said of my grandfather,
except that his likeness, together with my grandmother s, had
hung in a parlour of the old house ; both of which, after the
building of the new one, had been kept in an upper chamber.
My grandmother must have been a very handsome woman, and
of the same age as her husband. I remembered, also, to have
seen in her room the miniature of a handsome gentleman in
uniform, with star and order, which, after her death, and
during the confusion of house-building, had disappeared with
many other small pieces of furniture. These, and many other
things, I put together in my childish head, and exercised that
modern poetical talent which contrives to obtain the sympa
thies of the whole cultivated world by a marvellous combina
tion of the important events of human life.

But as I did not venture to trust such an affair to any one,
or even to ask the most remote questions concerning it, I was
not wanting in a secret diligence, in order to get, if possible,
somewhat nearer to the matter. I had heard it explicitly
maintained, that sons often bore a decided resemblance to
their fathers or grandfathers. Many of our friends, especially
Councillor Schneider, a friend of the family, were connected
by business with all the princes and noblemen of the neigh
bourhood, of whom, including both the ruling and the younger
branches, not a few had estates on the Rhine and Maine, and
in the intermediate country, and who at times honoured their
faithful agents with their portraits. These, which I had often
seen on the walls from my infancy, I now regarded with re
doubled attention, seeking wiiether I could not detect some
resemblance to my father or even to myself, which too often
happened to lead me to any degree of certainty. For now
it was the eyes of this, now the nose of that, which seemed
to indicate some relationship. Thus these marks led me
delusively backwards and forwards ; and though in the end I
was compelled to regard the reproach as a completely empty
tale, the impression remained, and I could not from time to
time refrain from privately calling up and testing all the noble-

54 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

men whose images had remained very clear in my fancy. So
true is it that whatever inwardly confirms man in his self-
conceit, or natters his secret vanity, is so highly desirable to
him, that he does not ask further, whether in other respects it
may turn to his honour or his disgrace.

But instead of mingling here serious and even reproachful
reflections, I rather turn my look away from those beautiful
times ; for who is able to speak worthily of the fulness of
childhood ? We cannot behold the little creatures which flit
about before us otherwise than with delight, nay, with admira
tion ; for they generally promise more than they perform, and it
seems that nature, among the other roguish tricks that she
plays us, here also especially designs to make sport of us.
The first organs she bestows upon children coming into the
world, are adapted to the nearest immediate condition of the
creature, which, unassuming and artless, makes use of them
in the readiest way for its present purposes. The child, con
sidered in and for itself, with its equals, and in relations suited
to its powers, seems so intelligent and rational, and at the same
time so easy, cheerful, and clever, that one can hardly wish it
further cultivation. If children grew up according to early
Indications, we should have nothing but geniuses ; but growth
Is not merely development ; the various organic systems which
constitute one man. spring one from another, follow each
other, change into each other, supplant each other, and even
consume each other ; so that after a time scarcely a trace is to
be found of many aptitudes and manifestations of ability.
Even when the talents of the man have on the whole a decided
direction, it will be hard for the greatest and most experienced
connoisseur to declare them beforehand with confidence,
although afterwards it is easy to remark what has pointed to
a future.

By no means, therefore, is it my design wholly to comprise
the stories of my childhood in these first books ; but I will
rather afterwards resume and continue many a thread which
ran through the early years unnoticed. Here, however, I
must remark what an increasing influence the incidents of the
war gradually exercised upon our sentiments and mode of life.

The peaceful citizen stands in a wonderful relation to the
great events of the world. They already excite and disquiet him
from a distance, and even if they do not touch him, he can

FEELINGS OF THE FKANKFORTEHS IN 1757. 55

scarcely refrain from an opinion and a sympathy. Soon he
takes a side, as his character or external circumstances may
determine. But when such grand fatalities, such important
changes, draw nearer to him, then with many outward incon
veniences remains that inward discomfort, which doubles and
sharpens the evil and destroys the good which is still possible.
Then he has really to suffer from friends and foes, often more
from those than from these, and he knows not how to secure
and preserve either his interests or his inclinations.

The year 1757, which still passed in perfectly civic tranquil
lity, kept us, nevertheless, in great uneasiness of mind. Per
haps no other was more fruitful of events than this. Conquests,
achievements, misfortunes, restorations, followed one upon
another, swallowed up and seemed to destroy each other ; yet
the image of Frederick, his name and glory, soon hovered
again above all. The enthusiasm of his worshippers grew
always stronger and more animated, the hatred of his enemies
more bitter, and the diversity of opinion, which separated even
families, contributed not a little to isolate citizens, already
sundered in many ways and on other grounds. For in a city
like Frankfort, where three religions divide the inhabitants
into three unequal masses, where only a few men, even of the
ruling faith, can attain to political power, there must be many
wealthy and educated persons who are thrown back upon
themselves, and, by means of studies and tastes, form for
themselves an individual and secluded existence. It will be
necessary for us to speak of such men, now and hereafter, if
We are to bring before us the peculiarities of a Frankfort
citizen of that time.

My father, immediately after his return from his travels, had
in his own way formed the design, that to prepare himself for
the service of the city, he would undertake one of the subor
dinate offices, and discharge its duties without emolument^ if
it were conferred upon, him without balloting. In the con
sciousness of his good intentions, and according to his way of
thinking and the conception which he had of himself, he
believed that he deserved such a distinction, which indeed was
not conformable to law or precedent. Consequently, when his
suit was rejected, he fell into ill-humour and disgust, vowed
that he would never accept of any place, and in order to
render it impossible, procured the title of Imperial Councillor,

56 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

which the Schultheiss and elder Schbffen bear as a special
honour. He had thus made himself an equal of the highest,
and could not begin again at the bottom. The same impulse
induced him also to woo the eldest daughter of the Schultheiss,
so that he was excluded from the council on this side also.
He was now of that number of recluses who never form them
selves into a society. They are as much isolated in respect to
each other as they are in regard to the whole, and the more
so as in this seclusion the character becomes more and more
uncouth. My father, in his travels and in the world which he
had seen, might have formed some conception of a more
elegant and liberal mode of life than was, perhaps, common
among his fellow- citizens. In this respect, however, he was
not entirely without predecessors and associates.

The name of UFFENBACH is well known. At that time
there was a Schoff von Uffenbach, who was generally respected.
He had been in Italy, had applied himself particularly to
music, sang an agreeable tenor, and having brought home a
fine collection of pieces, concerts and oratorios were performed
at his house. Now, as he sang in these himself, and held
musicians in great favour, it was not thought altogether suit
able to his dignity, and his invited guests, as well as the
other people of the country, allowed themselves many a jocose
remark on the matter.

I remember, too, a BARON YON HAKEL, a rich nobleman,
who being married, but childless, occupied a charming house
in the Antonius-street, fitted up with all the appurtenances
of a dignified position in life. He also possessed good
pictures, engravings, antiques, and much else which generally
accumulates with collectors and lovers of art. From time
to time he asked the more noted personages to dinner, and was
beneficent in a careful way of his own, since he clothed the
poor in his own house, but kept back their old rags, and gave
them a weekly charity, on condition that they should present
themselves every time clean and neat in the clothes bestowed
on them. I can recall him but indistinctly, as a genial, well-
made man ; but more clearly his auction, which I attended
from beginning to end, and, partly by command of my father,
partly from my own impulse, purchased many things that are
still to be found in my collections.

At an earlier date than this so early that I scarcely set

DR. ORTH. 57

eyes upon him JOHN MICHAEL YON LOEN gained consider
able repute in the literary world, as well as at Frankfort.
Not a native of Frankfort, he settled there, and married a
sister of my grandmother Textor, whose maiden-name was
Lindheim. Familiar with the court and political world, and
rejoicing in a renewed title of nobility, he had acquired repu
tation by daring to take part in the various excitements which
arose in Church and State. He wrote the Count of Rivera,
a didactic romance, the subject of which is made apparent by
the second title, " or, the Honest Man at Court." This work
was well received, because it insisted on morality even in
courts, where prudence only is generally at home ; and thus
his labour brought him applause and respect. A second work,
for that very reason, would be accompanied by more danger.
He wrote The Only True Religion, a book designed to ad
vance tolerance, especially between Lutherans and Calvinists.
But here he got in a controversy with the theologians : one
Dr. Benner, of Giessen, in particular, wrote against him.
Von Loen rejoined ; the contest grew violent and personal,
and the unpleasantness which arose from it caused him to
accept the office of President at Lingen, which Frederick II.
offered him, supposing that he was an enlightened, unpreju
diced man, and not averse to the new views that more exten
sively obtained in France. His former countrymen, whom he
left in some displeasure, averred that he was not contented
there, nay, could not be so, as a place like Lingen was not to
be compared with Frankfort. My father also doubted whether
the President would be happy, and asserted that the good uncle
would have done better not to connect himself with the king,
as it was generally hazardous to get too near him, extraordinary
sovereign as he undoubtedly was ; for it had been seen how
disgracefully the famous Voltaire had been arrested in Frank
fort, at the requisition of the Prussian Resident Freitag,
though he had formerly stood so high in favour, and had been
regarded as the king s teacher in French poetry. There was
no want, on such occasions, of reflections and examples, to
warn one against courts and princes service, of which a native
Frankforter could scarcely form a conception.

An excellent man, Dr. ORTH, I will only mention by name,
because here I have not so much to erect a monument to
the deserving citizens of Frankfort, but rather refer to them

58 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

so far forth as their renown or personal character had some
influence upon me in my earliest years. Dr. Orth was a
wealthy man, and was also of that number who never took
part in the government, although perfectly qualified to do so by
his knowledge and penetration. The antiquities of Germany,
and more especially of Frankfort, have been much indebted to
him ; he published remarks on the so-called Reformation of
Frankfort, a work in which the statutes of the state are col
lected. The historical portions of this book I diligently read
in my youth.

YON OCHSENSTEIN, the eldest of the three brothers whom
I have mentioned above as our neighbours, had not been
remarkable during his lifetime, in consequence of his recluse
habits, but became the more remarkable after his death, by
leaving behind him a direction that common working-men
should carry him to the grave, early in the morning, in perfect
silence, and without an attendant or follower. This was done,
and the affair excited great attention in the city, where they
were accustomed to the most pompous funerals. All who
discharged the customary offices on such occasions, rose against
the innovation. But the stout patrician found imitators in all
classes, and though such ceremonies were derisively called ox-
burials,* they came into fashion, to the advantage of many of
the more poorly-provided families, while funeral parades were
less and less in vogue. I bring forward this circumstance,
because it presents one of the earlier symptoms of that ten
dency to humility and equality, which in the second half of
the last century was manifested in so many ways, from above
downwards, and broke out in such unlooked-for effects.

Nor was there any lack of antiquarian amateurs. There
were cabinets of pictures, collections of engravings, while the
curiosities of our own country especially were zealously sought
and hoarded. The older decrees and mandates of the imperial
city, of which no collection had been prepared, were carefully
searched for in print and manuscript, arranged in the order of
time, and preserved with reverence, as a treasure of native
laws and customs. The portraits of Frankforters, which
existed in great number, were also brought together, and
formed a special department of the cabinets.

* A pun upon the name of Ochsenstein. Trans.

THE SENKENBERGS. 59

Such men my father appears generally to have taken as his
models. He was wanting in none of the qualities that pertain
to an upright and respectable citizen. Thus, after he had
built his house, he put his property of every sort into order.
An excellent collection of maps by Schenck and other
geographers at that time eminent, the aforesaid decrees and
mandates, the portraits, a chest of ancient weapons, a case of
remarkable Venetian glasses, cups and goblets, natural curiosi
ties, works in ivory, bronzes, and a hundred other things, were
separated and displayed, and I did not fail, whenever an
auction occurred, to get some commission for the increase of
his possessions.

I must still speak of one important family, of which I had
heard strange things since my earliest years, and of some of
whose members I myself lived to see a great deal that was
wonderful I mean the SENKENBERGS. The father, of whom
I have little to say, was an opulent man. He had three sons,
who even in their youth uniformly distinguished themselves
as oddities. Such things are not well received in a limited city,
where no one is suffered to render himself conspicuous, either
for good or evil. Nicknames and odd stories, long kept in
memory, are generally the fruit of such singularity. The
father lived at the corner of Hare -street (Hascngasse), which
took its name from a sign on the house, that represented one
hare at least, if not three hares. They consequently called
these three brothers only the three Hares, which nick-name
they could not shake off for a long while. But as great
endowments often announce themselves in youth in the form
of singularity and awkwardness, so was it also in this case.
The eldest of the brothers was the Reichshofrath (Imperial
Councillor) von Senkenberg afterwards so celebrated. The
second w T as admitted into the magistracy, and displayed
eminent abilities, which, however, he subsequently abused in
a pettifogging and even infamous way, if not to the injury
of his native city, certainly to that of his colleagues. The
third brother, a physician and man of great integrity, but who
practised little, and that only in high families, preserved even
in his old age a somewhat whimsical exterior. He was
always very neatly dressed, and was never seen in the street
otherwise than in shoes and stockings, with a well-powdered
curled wig, and his hat under his arm. He walked on

60 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

rapidly, but with a singular sort of stagger, so that he was
sometimes on one and sometimes 011 the other side of the
way, and formed a complete zigzag as he went. The wags
said that he made this irregular step to get out of the way
of the departed souls, who might follow him in a straight
line, and that he imitated those who are afraid of a cro
codile. But all these jests and many merry sayings were
transformed at last into respect for him, when he devoted his
handsome dwelling-house in Eschenheimer- street, with court,
garden, and all other appurtenances, to a medical establish
ment, where, in addition to a hospital designed exclusively
for the citizens of Frankfort, a botanic garden, an anatomical
theatre, a chemical laboratory, a considerable library, and a
house for the director, were instituted in a way of which no
university need have been ashamed.

Another eminent man, whose efficiency in the neighbour
hood and whose writings, rather than his presence, had a
very important influence upon me, was CHARLES FREDERICK
VON MOSER, who was perpetually referred to in our district
for his activity in business. He also had a character essen
tially moral, which as the vices of human nature frequently
gave him trouble, inclined him to the so-called pious. Thus,
what Yon Loen had tried to do in respect to court life, he would
have done for business-life, introducing into it a more con
scientious mode of proceeding. The great number of small
German courts gave rise to a multitude of princes and ser
vants, the former of whom desired unconditional obedience,
while the latter, for the most part, would work or serve only
according to their own convictions. Thus arose an endless
conflict, and rapid changes and explosions, because the effects
of an unrestricted course of proceeding become much sooner
noticeable and injurious on a small scale than on a large one.
Many families were in debt, and Imperial Commissions of
Debts were appointed: others found themselves sooner or
later on the same road ; while the officers either reaped
an unconscionable profit, or conscientiously made themselves
disagreeable and odious. Moser wished to act as a statesman
and man of business, and here his hereditary talent, cultivated
to a profession, gave him a decided advantage ; but he at the
same time wished to act as a man and a citizen, and surrender
as little as possible of his moral dignity. His Prince and

KLOPSTOCK S MESSIAH." 61

Servant, his Daniel in the Lions Den, his Relics, paint
throughout his own condition, in which he felt himself not
indeed tortured, but always cramped. They all indicate im
patience in a condition, to the bearings of which one cannot
reconcile oneself, yet from which one cannot get free. With
this mode of thinking and feeling, he was, indeed, often
compelled to seek other employments, which, on account of his
great cleverness, were never wanting. I remember him as a
pleasing, active, and at the same time gentle man.

The name of KLOPSTOCK had already produced a great effect
upon us, even at a distance. In the outset, people wondered
how so excellent a man could be so strangely named ; but
they soon got accustomed to this, and thought no more of the
meaning of the syllables. In my father s library I had hitherto
found only the earlier poets, especially those who in his day had
gradually appeared and acquired fame. All these had written
in rhyme, and my father held rhyme as indispensable in poetical
works. Canitz, Hagedorn, Drollinger, Gellert, Creuz, Haller,
stood in a row, in handsome calf bindings, to these were added
Neukirch s Telemachus, Koppen s Jerusalem Delivered, and
other translations. I had from my childhood diligently read
through the whole of these works, and committed portions to
memory, whence I was often called upon to amuse the company.
A vexatious era on the other hand opened upon my father,
when through Klopstock s Messiah, verses, which seemed
to him no verses, became an object of public admiration.*
He had taken good care not to buy this book ; but the friend
of the family, Councillor Schneider, smuggled it in, and
slipped it into the hands of my mother and her children.

On this man of business, who read but little, the Messiah,
as soon as it appeared, made a powerful impression. Those
pious feelings, so naturally expressed, and yet so beautifully
elevated, that agreeable language, even if considered merely
as harmonious prose, had so won the otherwise dry man of
business, that he regarded the first ten cantos, of which alone
we are properly speaking, as the finest Book of Devotion, and
once every year in Passion week, when he managed to escape
from business, read it quietly through by himself, and thus
refreshed himself for the entire year. In the beginning he

* Tlie Messiah is written in hexameter verse. T)*ans.

62 TRUTH AND POETRY ; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

thought to communicate his emotions to his old friend; but
he was much shocked when forced to perceive an incurable
dislike cherished against a book of such valuable substance,
merely because of what appeared to him an indifferent ex
ternal form. It may readily be supposed that their conver
sation often reverted to this topic ; but both parties diverged
more and more widely from each other, there were violent
scenes, and the compliant man was at last pleased to be silent
on his favourite work, that he might not lose, at the same
time, a friend of his youth, and a good Sunday meal.

It is the most natural wish of every man to make proselytes,
and how much did our friend find himself rewarded in secret,
when he discovered in the rest of the family hearts so openly
disposed for his saint. The copy which he used only one week
during the year, was devoted to us all the remaining time.
My mother kept it secret, and we children took possession of
it when we could, that in leisure hours, hidden in some nook,
we might learn the most striking passages by heart, and par
ticularly might impress the most tender as well as the most
violent parts on our memory, as quickly as possible.

Porcia s dream we recited in a sort of rivalry, and divided
between us the wild dialogue of despair between Satan and
Adramelech, who have been cast into the Red Sea. The first
part, as the strongest, had been assigned to me, and the
second, as a little more pathetic, was undertaken by my
sister. The alternate and horrible but well-sounding curses
flowed only thus from our mouths, and we seized every
opportunity to accost each other with these infernal phrases.

One Saturday evening, in winter my father always had
himself shaved over night, that on Sunday morning he might
dress himself for church at his ease we sat on a footstool
behind the stove, and muttered our customary imprecations in
a tolerably low voice, while the barber was putting on the
lather. But now Adramelech had to lay his iron hands on
Satan ; my sister seized me with violence, and recited, softly
enough, but with increasing passion :

11 Give me thine aid, I intreat thee, will worship thee, if thou requires t,
Thee, thou monster abandoned, yes thee, of all criminals blackest ;
Aid me, I suffer the tortures of death, which is vengeful, eternal,
Once, in the times gone by, with a hot fierce hate I could hate thee,
Now I can hate thee no more 1 E en this is the sharpest of tortures."

KLOPSTOCK S "MESSIAH." 63

Thus far all went on tolerably ; but loudly, with a dreadful
voice, she cried the following words :

" How am I crushed \ n

The good surgeon was startled, and emptied the lather-basin
into my father s bosom. There was a great uproar, and a
severe investigation was held, especially with respect to the
mischief which might have been done if the shaving had
been actually going forward. In order to relieve ourselves
of all suspicions of wantonness in the affair, we confessed our
Satanic characters, and the misfortune occasioned by the
hexameters was so apparent, that they were again condemned
and banished.

Thus children and common people are accustomed to trans
form the great and sublime into a sport, and even a jest ; and
how indeed could they otherwise abide and tolerate it ?

THIRD BOOK.

AT that time the general interchange of personal good wishes
made the city very lively on New Year s day. Those who
otherwise did not easily leave home, donned their best clothes,
that for a moment they might be friendly and courteous to
their friends and patrons. The festivities at my grandfather s
house on this day were pleasures particularly desired by us
children. At early dawn the grandchildren had already
assembled there to hear the drums, oboes, clarionets, trumpets,
and cornets played upon by the military, the city musicians,
and whoever else might furnish his tones. The New Year s
gifts, sealed and superscribed, were divided by us children
among the humbler congratulators, and, as the day advanced,
the number of those of higher rank increased. The relations
and intimate friends appeared first, then the subordinate offi
cials ; even the gentlemen of the council did not fail to pay
their respects to the Schultheiss, and a select number were
entertained in the evening in rooms which were else scarcely
opened throughout the year. The tarts, biscuits, marchpane,
and sweet wine had the greatest charm for the children, and,
besides, the Schultheiss and the two Burgomasters annually
received from some institutions some article of silver, which
was then bestowed upon the grandchildren and godchildren in
regular gradation. In fine, this small festival was not wanting
in any of those things which usually glorify the greatest.

The New Year s day of 1759 approached, as desirable and
pleasant to us children as any preceding one, but full of im
port and foreboding to older persons. To the passage of the
French troops people certainly had become accustomed, and
they happened often, but they had been most frequent in the
last days of the past year. According to the old usage of an
imperial town, the warder of the chief tower sounded his
trumpet whenever troops approached, and on this New
Year s day he would not leave off, which was a sign that

/ <_/

large bodies were in motion on several sides. They actually

OCCUPATION OE FRANKFORT BY THE FRENCH 65

marched through the city in greater masses on this day, and the
people ran to see them pass by. We had generally been used
to see them go through in small parties, but these gradually
swelled, and there was neither power nor inclination to stop
them. In short, on the 2nd of January, after a column had
come through Sachsenhausen over the bridge, through the
Fahrgasse, as far as the Police Guard House it halted, over
powered the small company which escorted it, took possession
of the before-mentioned Guard House, marched down the
Zeile, and after a slight resistance, the main guard were also
obliged to yield. In a moment the peaceful streets were
turned into a scene of war. The troops remained and
bivouacked there until lodgings were provided for them by
regular billetting.

This unexpected, and, for many years, unheard-of burden
weighed heavily upon the comfortable citizens, and to none
could it be more cumbersome than to my father, who was
obliged to take foreign military inhabitants into his scarcely
finished house, to open for them his well-furnished reception
rooms, which were generally closed, and to abandon to the
caprices of strangers all that he had been used to arrange and
keep so carefully. Siding as he did with the Prussians, he
was now to find himself besieged in his own chambers by the
.French ; it was, according to his way of thinking, the greatest
misfortune that could happen to him. Had it, however, been
possible for him to have taken the matter more easily, he
might have saved himself and us many sad hours, since he spoke
French well, and could deport himself with dignity and grace
in the daily intercourse of life. For it was the King s Lieu
tenant who was quartered on us, and he, although a military
person, had only to settle civil occurrences, disputes between
soldiers and citizens, and questions of debt and quarrels.
This was the Count Thorane, a native of Grasse in Provence,
not far from Antibes ; a tall, thin, stern figure, with a face
much disfigured by the small pox, black fiery eyes, and a dig
nified, reserved demeanour. His first entrance was at once
favourable for the inmates of the house. They spoke of the
different apartments, some of which were to be given up, and
others retained by the family; and when the Count heard a
picture-room mentioned, he immediately requested permission,
although it was already night, at least to give a hasty look at

3?

66 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

the pictures by candlelight. He took extreme pleasure in
these things, behaved in the most obliging manner to my father,
who accompanied him, and when he heard that the greater
part of the artists were still living, and resided in Frankfort
and its neighbourhood, he assured us that he desired nothing
more than to know them as soon as possible, and to employ

them.

But even this sympathy in respect to art could not change
my father s feelings nor bend his character. He permitted
what he could not prevent, but kept at a distance in inactivity,
and the uncommon state of things around him was intolerable
to him, even in the veriest trifle.

Count Thorane behaved himself meanwhile in an exemplary
manner. He would not even have his maps nailed on the
walls, that he might not injure the new hangings. His people
were skilful, quiet, and orderly ; but, in truth, as during the
whole day and a part of the night there was no quiet with him,
one complainant quickly following another, arrested persons
being brought in and led out, and all officers and adjutants being
admitted to his presence ; as, moreover, the Count kept an
open table every day ; it made in the moderately-sized house,
arranged only for a family, and with but one open staircase
running front top to bottom, a movement and a buzzing like
that in a beehive, although everything was managed with
moderation, gravity, and severity.

As mediator between the irritable master of the house, who
became daily more of a hypochondriac self-tormentor, and his
well-intentioned, but stern and precise military guest, there
was a pleasant interpreter, a handsome, corpulent, lively man,
who was a citizen of Frankfort, spoke French well, knew
how to adapt himself to everything, and only made a jest of
many little annoyances. Through him my mother had sent a
representation to the Count of the situation in which she was
placed, owing to her husband s state of mind. He had ex
plained the matter so skilfully had laid before him the new
and scarcely furnished house, the natural reserve of the owner,
his occupation in the education of his family and all that
could be said to the same effect, that the Count, who in his
capacity took the greatest pride in the utmost justice, integrity,
and honourable conduct, resolved here also to behave in an
exemplary manner to those upon whom he was quartered,

COUNT THOKANE. 67

and, indeed, never swerved from this resolution under varying
circumstances during the several years he stayed with us.

My mother possessed some knowledge of Italian, a language
not altogether unknown to any of the family; she therefore
resolved to learn French immediately, for which purpose the
interpreter, for whose child she had stood godmother during
these stormy times, and who now therefore, as a gossip, * felt
a redoubled interest in our house, devoted every spare moment
to his child s godmother for he lived directly opposite and
above all, he taught her those phrases which she would be
obliged to use in her personal intercourse with the Count.
This succeeded admirably. The Count was flattered by the
pains taken by the mistress of the house at her years, and as
he had a cheerful, witty vein in his character, and he liked to
exhibit a certain dry gallantry, a most friendly relation arose
between them, and the allied godmother and father could
obtain whatever they wanted from him.

As I said before, if it had been possible to cheer up my
father, this altered state of things would have caused little
inconvenience. The Count practised the severest disinterest
edness ; he even declmed receiving gifts which pertained to his
situation ; the most trifling thing which could have borne the
appearance of bribery, he rejected angrily, and even punished.
His people were most strictly forbidden to put the proprietor
of the house to the least expense. We children, on the con
trary, were bountifully supplied from the dessert. To give an
idea of the simplicity of those times, I must take this oppor
tunity to mention that my mother grieved us excessively one
day by throwing away the ices which had been sent us from
the table, because she would not believe it possible for the
stomach to bear real ice, however it might be sweetened.

Besides these dainties, which we gradually learned to enjoy
&nd to digest with perfect ease, it was very agreeable for us
children to be in some measure released from fixed hours of
study and strict discipline. My father s ill-humour increased,
he could not resign himself to the unavoidable. How he

* The obsolete word " gossip" has been revived as an equivalent for
the German " Gevatter." But it should be observed that this word not
only signifies godfather, but that the person whose child has another per
son for godfather or godmother) is that person s Gevatter, or Gevatte^in
(feminine).

68 TRUTH AND POETRY; FEOM MY OWN LIFE,

tormented himself, my mother, the interpreter, the councillors,
and all his friends, only to rid him of the Count ! In vain
they represented to him that under existing circumstances the
presence of such a man in the house was an actual benefit,
and that the removal of the Count would be followed by a
constant succession of officers or of privates. None of these
arguments had any effect. To him the present seemed so
intolerable, that his indignation prevented his conceiving any
thing worse that could follow.

In this way his activity, which he had been used chiefly to
employ upon us, was crippled. The lessons he gave us were
no longer required with the former exactness, and we tried to
gratify our curiosity for military and other public proceedings
as much as possible, not only at home, but also in the streets,
which was the more easily done, as the front door, open day
and night, was guarded by sentries who paid no attention to
the running to and fro of restless children.

The many affairs which were settled before the tribunal of
the Royal Lieutenant had quite a peculiar charm, from his
making it a point to accompany his decisions with some witty,
ingenious, or lively turn. What he decreed was strictly just,
his manner of expressing it whimsical and piquant. He
seemed to have taken the Duke of Ossuna as his model.
Scarcely a day passed in which the interpreter did not tell
some anecdote or other of this kind to amuse us and my
mother. This lively man had made a little collection of such
Solomonian decisions ; but I only remember the general im
pression, and cannot recall to my mind any particular case.

By degrees we became better acquainted with the strange
character of the Count. This man clearly understood his own
peculiarities, and as there were times in which he was seized
with a sort of dejection, hypochondria, or by whatever name
we may call the evil demon, he withdrew into his room at
such hours, which were often lengthened into days, saw no one
but his valet, and in urgent cases could not even be prevailed
upon to receive any one. But as soon as the Evil Spirit had
left him, he appeared as before, active, mild, and cheerful. It
might be inferred from the talk of his valet, Saint Jean, a
small, thin man of lively good-nature, that in his earlier years
he had caused a great misfortune when overcome by this
temper ; and that therefore, in so important a position as his,

THE TKANKFOKT PAINTERS. 69

exposed to the eyes of all the world, he had earnestly resolved
to avoid similar aberrations.

During the very first days of the Count s residence with us,
all the Frankfort artists, as Hirt, Schutz, Trautmann, Noth-
nagel, and Junker, were called to him. They showed their
finished pictures, and the Count bought what were for sale.
My pretty, light room in the gable-end of the attic was given
up to him, and immediately turned into a cabinet and studio,
for he designed to keep all the artists at work for a long time,
especially Seekatz of Darmstadt, whose pencil, particularly in
simple and natural representations, highly pleased him. He
therefore caused to be sent from Grasse, where his elder
brother possessed a handsome house, the dimensions of all
the rooms and cabinets ; then considered with the artists, the
divisions of the walls, and fixed accordingly upon the size 01
the large oil-pictures, which w^ere not to be set in frames, but
to be fastened upon the walls like pieces of tapestry. And
now the work went on zealously. Seekatz undertook country
scenes, and succeeded extremely well in his old people and
children, which were copied directly from nature. His young
men did not answer so well, they were almost all too thin, and
his women failed from the opposite cause. For as he had a
little, fat, good, but unpleasant-looking wife, who would let
him have no model but herself, he could produce nothing
agreeable. He was also obliged to exceed the usual size of
his figures. His trees had truth, but the foliage was over
minute. He was a pupil of Brinkmann, whose pencil in easel
pictures is not contemptible.

Schutz, the landscape painter, had perhaps the best of the
matter. He was thoroughly master of the Rhine country, and
of the sunny tone which animates it in the fine season. Nor
was he entirely unaccustomed to work on a larger scale, and
then he showed no want of execution or keeping. His
paintings were of a cheerful cast.

Trautmann Rembrandtized some resurrection-miracles out of
the New Testament, and alongside of them set fire to villages
and mills. One cabinet was entirely allotted to him, as I
found from the designs of the rooms. Hirt painted some
good oak and beech forests. His cattle were praiseworthy.
Junker, accustomed to the imitation of the most elaborate
Dutch, was least able to manage this tapestry-work, but he

70 TUTJTH AND POETRY ; FBOM MY OWN LIFE.

condescended to ornament many compartments with flowers
and fruits for a handsome price.

As I had known all these men from my earliest youth, and
had often visited them in their studios, and as the Count also
liked to have me with him, I was present at the suggestions,
consultations, and orders, as well as at the deliveries of the
pictures, and ventured to speak my opinion freely when
sketches and designs were handed in. I had already gained
among amateurs, particularly at auctions, which I attended
diligently, the reputation of being able to tell at once what
any historical picture represented, whether taken from Biblical
or Profane History, or from Mythology ; and even if I did
not always hit upon the meaning of allegorical pictures, there
was seldom any one present who understood it better than I.
Often had I persuaded the artists to represent this or that
subject, and I now joyfully made use of these advantages. I
still remember writing a circumstantial essay, in which I
described twelve pictures which were to exhibit the history of
Joseph ; some of them were executed.

After these achievements, which were certainly laudable in
a boy, I will mention a little disgrace which happened to me
within this circle of artists. I was well acquainted with all
the pictures which had been from time to time brought into
that room. My youthful curiosity left nothing unseen or
unexplored. I once found a little black box behind the stove ;
I did not fail to investigate what might be concealed in it,
and drew back the bolt without long deliberation. The picture
contained was certainly of a kind not usually exposed to view,
and although I tried to bolt it again immediately, I was not
quick enough. The Count entered and caught me " Who
allowed you to open that box ?" he asked, with all his air of a
Royal Lieutenant. I had not much to say for myself, and he
immediately pronounced my sentence in a very stem manner :
" For eight days," said he, " you shall not enter this room."
I made a bow, and walked out. Even this order I obeyed
most punctually, so that the good Seekatz, who was then at
work in the room, was very much annoyed, for he liked to
have me about him ; and, out of a little spite, I carried my
obedience so far, that I left Seekatz s coffee, which I generally
brought him, upon the threshold. He was then obliged to
leave his work and fetch it, which he took so ill, that he almost
conceived a dislike to me.

FKE2TCH THEATBE. 71

It now seems necessary to state more circumstantially and, to
make intelligible how, under these circumstances, I made my
way with more or less ease through the French language, which,
however, I had never learned. Here, too, my natural gift was
of service to me, enabling me easily to catch the sound of a
language, its movements accent, tone, and all other outward
peculiarities. I knew many words from the Latin ; Italian sug
gested still more ; and by listening to servants and soldiers,
sentries and visitors, I soon picked up so much that, if I could
not join in conversation, I could at any rate manage single ques
tions and answers. All this, however, was little compared to
the profit I derived from the theatre. My grandfather had
given me a free ticket, which I used daily, in spite of my
father s reluctance, by dint of my mother s support. There I
sat in the pit, before a foreign stage, and watched the more
narrowly the movement and the expression, both of gesture
and speech, as I understood little or nothing of what was said,
and therefore could only derive entertainment from the action
and the tone of voice. I understood least of comedy, because
it was spoken rapidly, and related to the affairs of common
life, of the phrases of which I knew nothing. Tragedy was
not so often played, and the measured step, the rhythm of the
Alexandrines, the generality of the expression, made it more
intelligible to me in every way. It was not long before I took
up Racine, which I found in my father s library, and de
claimed the pieces to myself, in the theatrical style and
manner, as the organ of my ear and the organ of speech, so
nearly akin to that, had caught it, and this with considerable
animation, although I could not perceive the connexion of a
whole speech. I even learned entire passages by rote, like a
trained talking-bird, which was easier to me, from having
previously committed to memory passages from the Bible
which are generally unintelligible to a child, and accustomed
myself to reciting them in the tone of the Protestant preachers.
The versified French comedy was then much in vogue ; the
pieces of Destouches, Marivaux, and La Chaussee, were often
produced, and I still remember distinctly many characteristic
figures. Of those of Moliere I recollect less. What made
the greatest impression upon me was the Hypermnestra of
Lemiere, which, as a new piece, was brought out with care and
often repeated. The Devin du Village, Rose et Colas, Annette et

72 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

Lulin, made each a very pleasant impression upon me. I can
even now recall the youths and maidens decorated with
ribands, and their gestures. It was not long before the wish
arose in me to see the interior of the theatre, for which
many opportunities were offered me. For as I had not always
patience to hear out the whole pieces, and often carried on all
sorts of games with other children of my age in the corridors,
and in the milder season even before the door, a handsome,
lively boy joined us, who belonged to the theatre, and whom
I had seen in many little parts, though only casually. He
came to a better understanding with me than with the rest, as
I could turn my French to account with him, and he the more
attached himself to me because there was no boy of his age
or his nation at the theatre, or anywhere in the neighbour
hood. We also went together at other times, as well as
during the play, and even while the representations went on
he seldom left me in peace. He was a most delightful little
braggart, chattered away charmingly and incessantly, and could
tell so much of his adventures, quarrels, and other strange
incidents, that he amused me wonderfully, and I learned from
him in four weeks more of the language, and of the power of
expressing myself in it, than can be imagined ; so that no one
knew how I had attained the foreign tongue all at once, as if
by inspiration.

In the very earliest days of our acquaintance he took me
with him upon the stage, and led me especially to the foyers,
where the actors and actresses remained during the intervals
of the performance, and dressed and undressed. The place
was neither convenient nor agreeable, for they had squeezed
the theatre into a concert-room, so that there were no separate
chambers for the actors behind the stage. A tolerably large
room adjoining, which had formerly served for card-parties,
was now mostly used by both sexes in common, who appeared
to feel as little ashamed before each other as before us children,
if there was not always the strictest propriety in putting on or
changing the articles of dress. I had never seen anything of
the kind before, and yet from habit, after repeated visits, I
soon found it quite natural.

It was not long before a very peculiar interest of my own
arose. Young Derones, for so I will call the boy whose
acquaintance I still kept up, was, with the exception of his

"DEBONES" AND HIS SISTER. 73

boasting, a youth of good manners and very courteous de
meanour. He made me acquainted with his sister, a girl who
was a few years older than we were, and a very pleasant, well-
grown girl, of regular form, brown complexion, black hair
and eyes ; her whole deportment had about it something quiet,
even sad. I tried to make myself agreeable to her in every way,
but I could not attract her notice. Young girls think them
selves far advanced beyond younger boys, and while aspiring
to young men, they assume the manner of an aunt towards
the boy whose first inclination is turned towards them. With
a younger brother of his I had no acquaintance.

Often, when their mother had gone to rehearsals, or was out
visiting, we met at her house to play and amuse ourselves.
I never went there without presenting the fair one with a
flower, a fruit, or something else, wilich she always received
very courteously, and thanked me for most politely, but I
never saw her sad look brighten, and found no trace of her
having given me a further thought. At last I fancied I had
discovered her secret. The boy showed me a crayon- drawing
of a handsome man, behind his mother s bed, which was hung
with elegant silk curtains, remarking at the same time, with
a sly look, that this was not papa, but just the same as papa ;
and as he glorified this man, and told me many things in his
circumstantial and ostentatious manner, I thought I had dis
covered that the daughter might belong to the father, but the
other two children to the intimate friend. I thus explained
to myself her melancholy look, and loved her for it all the
more.

My liking for this girl assisted me in bearing the extrava
gances of her brother, who was not always within bounds. I
had often to endure prolix accounts of his exploits, how he
had already often fought, without wishing to injure the other
.all for the mere sake of honour. He had always contrived
to disarm his adversary, and had then forgiven him ; nay, he
was such a good fencer, that he was once very much perplexed
by striking the sword of his opponent up into a high tree, so
that it was not easy to be got again.

What much facilitated my visits to the theatre was, that
my free ticket, coming from the hands of the Schultkeiss, gave
me access to any of the seats, and therefore also to those in
the proscenium. This was very deep, after the French style,

74 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

and was bordered on both sides with seats, which, surrounded
by a low rail, ascended in several rows one behind another,
so that the first seats were but a little elevated above the
stage. The whole was considered a place of special honour,
and was generally used only by officers, although the nearness
of the actors destroyed, I will not say all illusion, but, in a
measure, all enjoyment. I have thus experienced and seen
with my own eyes the usage or abuse of which Voltaire so
much complains. When the house was very full, and at
the time troops were passing through the town, officers of
distinction strove for this place of honour, which was gene
rally occupied already, some rows of benches and chairs were
placed in the proscenium on the stage itself, and nothing re
mained for the heroes and heroines but to reveal their secrets
in the very limited space between the uniforms and orders.
I have even seen the Hypermnestra performed under such
circumstances.

The curtain did not fall between the acts, and I must yet
mention a strange custom which I thought quite extraordi
nary, as its inconsistency with art was to me, as a good
German boy, quite unendurable. The theatre was considered
the greatest sanctuary, and any disturbance occurring there
would have been instantly resented as the highest crime
against the majesty of the public. Therefore in all comedies,
two grenadiers stood with their arms grounded, in full view,
at the two sides of the back scene, and were witnesses of all
that occurred in the bosom of the family. Since, as I said
before, the curtain did not fall between the acts, two others,
while music struck up, relieved guard, by coming from the
wings, directly in front of the first, who retired in the same
measured manner. Now, if such a practice was well fitted to
destroy all that in the theatre is called illusion, this is the
more striking, because it was done at a time when, accord
ing to Diderot s principles and examples, the most natural
naturalness was required upon the stage, and a perfect decep
tion was proposed as the proper aim of theatrical art. Tra
gedy, however, was absolved from any such military-police
regulations, and the heroes of antiquity had the right of
guarding themselves ; nevertheless, the same grenadiers stood
near enough behind the side-scenes.

I will also mention that I saw Diderot s " Father of a

DUEL WITH

Family," and " The Philosophers" of Palissot, and still per
fectly remember the figure of the philosopher in the latter
piece going upon all fours, and biting into a raw head of
lettuce.

All this theatrical variety could not, however, keep us chil
dren always in the theatre. In fine weather we played in front
of it, and in the neighbourhood, and committed all manner of
absurdities, which, especially on Sundays and festivals, by no
means corresponded to our personal appearance ; for I and my
comrades then appeared dressed as I described myself in the
tale, with the hat under the arm, and a little sword, the hilt or
which was ornamented with a large silk knot. One day when
we had long gone in this way, and Derones had joined us, he
took it into his head to assert to me that I had insulted him,
and must give him satisfaction. I could not, in truth, con
ceive what was the cause of this ; but I accepted his chal
lenge, and was going to draw my sword. However, he
assured me that in such cases it was customary to go to
secluded spots, in order to be able to settle the matter more
conveniently. We therefore went behind some barns, and
placed ourselves in the proper position. The duel took place
in a somewhat theatrical style, the blades clashed, and the
thrusts followed close upon each other ; but in the heat of the
combat he remained with the point of his sword lodged in
the knot of my hilt. This was pierced through, and he
assured me that he had received the most complete satisfac
tion ; then embraced me, also theatrically, and we went to
the next coffee-house to refresh ourselves with a glass of
almond-milk after our mental agitation, and to knit more
closely the old bond of friendship.

On this occasion I will relate another adventure which also
happened to me at the theatre, although at a later time. I
was sitting very quietly in the pit with one of my playmates,
and we looked with pleasure at a pas seul, which was executed
with much skill and grace by a pretty boy about our own age
the son of a French dancing-master who was passing through
the city. After the fashion of dancers, he was dressed in a
close vest of red silk, which ending in a short hoop-petticoat,
like a runner s apron, floated above the knee. We had given
our meed of applause to this young artist with the whole
public, when I know not how it occurred to me to make a

76 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM 3VTY OWN LIFE.

moral reflection. I said to my companion, " How handsomely
this boy was dressed, and how well he looked ; who knows in
how tattered a jacket he may sleep to-night!" All had
already risen, but the crowd prevented our moving. A woman
who had sat by me, and who was now standing close beside
me, chanced to be the mother of the young artist, and felt
much offended by my reflection. Unfortunately, she knew
German enough to understand me, and spoke it just as much
as was necessary to scold. She abused me violently. Who
was I, she would like to know, that had a right to doubt the
family and respectability of this young man ? At all events,
she would be bound he was as good as I, and his talents might
probably procure him a fortune, of which I could not even
venture to dream. This moral lecture she read me in the
crowd, and made those about me wonder what rudeness I had
committed. As I could neither excuse myself nor escape from
her, I was really embarrassed, and when she paused for a
moment, said without thinking, " Well ! why do you make
such a noise about it ? to-day red, to-morrow dead."* These
words seemed to strike the woman dumb. She stared at me,
and moved away from me as soon as it was in any degree
possible. I thought no more of my words ; only, some time
afterwards, they occurred to me, when the boy, instead of
continuing to perform, became ill, and that very dangerously.
Whether he died or not, I cannot say.

Such intimations, by an unseasonably or even improperly
spoken word, were held in repute even by the ancients, and it
is very remarkable that the forms of belief and of superstition
have always remained the same among all people and in all
times.

From the first day of the occupation of our city, there was
no lack of constant diversion, especially for children and young
people. Plays and balls, parades, and marches through the
town, attracted our attention in all directions. The last par
ticularly were always increasing, and the soldiers life seemed
to us very merry and agreeable.

The residence of the King s Lieutenant at our house pro
cured us the advantage of seeing by degrees all the distin
guished persons in the French army, and especially of

* A German proverb, " Heute roth, morgen todt."

MABSHAL DE BROGLIO. 77

beholding close at hand the leaders whose names had already
been made known to us by reputation. Thus we looked from
stairs and landing-places, as if from galleries, very conveniently
upon the generals who passed by. Before all I remember the
PRINCE SOUBISE as a handsome, courteous gentleman, but
most distinctly the MARECHAL DE BROGLIO, who was a
younger man, not tall, but well-built, lively, active, and
abounding in keen glances.

He often came to the King s Lieutenant, and it was soon
remarked that the conversation was on weighty matters. We
had scarcely become accustomed to having strangers quartered
upon us in the first three months, than a rumour was obscurely
circulated that the Allies were on the march, and that Duke
Ferdinand of Brunswick was coming to drive the French from
the Maine. Of these, who could not boast of any especial
success in war, no high opinion was held, and after the battle
of Rossbach it was thought they might be dispersed. The
greatest confidence was placed in Duke Ferdinand, and all
those favourable to Prussia awaited with eagerness their de
livery from the yoke hitherto borne My father was in some
what better spirits my mother was apprehensive. She was
wise enough to see that a small present evil might easily be
exchanged for a great affliction ; since it was but too plain
that the French would not advance to meet the Duke, but
would wait an attack in the neighbourhood of the city. A
defeat of the French, a flight, a defence of the city, if it were
only to cover their rear and hold the bridge, a bombardment,
a sack all these presented themselves to the excited imagi
nation, and gave anxiety to both parties. My mother, wiio
could bear everything but suspense, imparted her fears to the
Count through the interpreter. She received the answer
usual in such cases : she might be quite easy, for there was
nothing to fear, and should keep quiet and mention the matter
to no one.

Many troops passed through the city ; we learned that they
halted at Bergen. The coming and going, the riding and
running constantly increased, and our house was in an uproar
day and night. At this time I often saw Marshal de Broglio,
always cheerful, always the same in look and manner, and I
was afterwards pleased to find a man whose form had made
such a good and lasting impression upon me, so honourably
mentioned in history.

78 TRUTH AKD POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE,

Thus, after an unquiet Passion- week, the Good-Friday of
1759 arrived. A profound stillness announced the approach
ing storm. We children were forbidden to quit the house :
my father had no quiet, and went out. The battle began : I
ascended to the garret, where indeed I was prevented seeing
the country round, but could very well hear the thunder of
cannon and the general discharge of musketry. After some
hours we saw the first symptoms of the battle in a line of
wagons, in which the wounded, with various sad mutilations
and gestures, were slowly drawn by us, to be taken to the con
vent of St. Mary, now transformed into a hospital. The com
passion of the citizens was instantly moved. Beer, wine, bread,
and money were distributed to those who were yet able to take
them. But when, some time after, wounded and captive Ger
mans were seen in the train, the pity knew no limits, and it
seemed as if everybody would strip himself of every moveable
that he possessed to assist his suffering countrymen.

The prisoners, however, were an evidence of a battle un
favourable to the allies. My father, whose party feelings made
him quite certain that these would come off victorious, had
the violent temerity to go forth to meet the expected victors,
without thinking that the beaten party must pass over him
in their flight. He first repaired to his garden before the
Friecfberg gate, where he found everything lonely and quiet,
then he ventured to the Bornheim heath, where he soon
descried various stragglers of the army, who were scattered
and amused themselves by shooting at the boundary-stones,
so that the rebounding lead whizzed round the head of the
inquisitive wanderer. He therefore considered it more pru
dent to go back, and learned on enquiry what the report of
the firing might have before informed him, that all stood well
for the French, and that there was no thought of retreating.
Reaching home in an ill-humour, the sight of his wounded
and captured countrymen brought him altogether out of his
usual self-command. He also caused various donations to be
given to the passers by, but only the Germans were to have
them, which was not always possible, as fate had packed
together both friend and foe.

My mother and we children, who had already relied on
the Count s word, and had therefore passed a tolerably quiet
day, were highly rejoiced, and my mother doubly consoled, the

3UAKKEL WITH COUNT THORANE. 79

next day, when having consulted the oracle of her treasure-
box, by the prick of a needle, she received a very comfortable
answer, both for present and future. We wished our father
similar faith and feelings ; we flattered him as much as we
could ; we entreated him to take some food, from w r hich he
had abstained all day; but he repulsed our caresses and
every enjoyment, and betook himself to his chamber. Our
joy, however, was not interrupted ; the affair was decided ;
the King s Lieutenant, who, against his habit, had been oil
horseback to-day, at last returned home, where his presence
was more necessary than ever. We sprang to meet him,
kissed his hands, and testified our delight. This seemed
much to please him. "Well," said he more kindly than
usual, " I am glad also for your sakes, my dear children."
He immediately ordered that sweetmeats, sweet wine, and the
best of everything should be given us, and went to his room,
already surrounded by a crowd of the urgent, the demanding,
and the suppliant.

We had now a fine collation, pitied our poor father who
would not partake of it, and pressed our mother to call him.
in ; but she, more prudent than we, well knew how distasteful
such gifts would be to him. In the meantime she had pre
pared some supper, and would readily have sent a portion up
to his room, but he never tolerated such an irregularity even
in the most extreme cases ; and after the sweet things were
removed, we endeavoured to persuade him to corne down
into the ordinary dining-room. At last he allowed himself to
be persuaded unwillingly, and we had no notion of the mischief
which we were preparing for him and ourselves. The stair
case ran through the whole house, along all the ante-rooms.
My father in coming down had to go directly past the Count s
apartment. This ante-room was so full of people, that the
Count, to get through much at once, resolved to come out,
and this happened unfortunately at the moment when my
father descended. The Count met him cheerfully, greeted
him, and remarked, " You will congratulate yourselves and
us that this dangerous affair is so happily terminated." " By
no means !" replied my father in a rage ; " would that it had
driven you to the devil, even if I had gone with you." The
Count restrained himself for a moment, and then broke out
with wrath ."You shall pay for this," cried he; "you shall

80 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

find that you have not thus insulted the good cause and
myself for nothing !"

My father, meanwhile, came down very calmly, seated
himself near us, seemed more cheerful than before, and began
to eat. We were glad of this, unconscious of the dangerous
method in which he had rolled the stone from his heart. Soon
afterwards my mother was called out, and we had great
pleasure in chattering to our father about the sweet things
the Count had given us. Our mother did not return. At
last the interpreter came in. At a hint from him we were
sent to bed ; it was already late, and we willingly obeyed.
After a night quietly slept through, we heard of the violent
commotion which had shaken the house the previous evening.
The King s Lieutenant had instantly ordered my father to be
led to the guard-house. The subalterns well knew that he
was never to be contradicted ; yet they had often earned thanks
by delaying the execution of his orders. The interpreter^
whose presence of mind never forsook him, contrived to excite
this disposition in them very strongly. The tumult, more
over, was so great, that a delay brought with it its own con
cealment and excuse. He had called out my mother, and
put her, as it were, into the hands of the adjutants, that by
prayers and representations she might gain a brief postpone
ment of the matter. He himself hurried up to the Count,
who with great self-command had immediately retired into
the inner room, and would rather allow the most urgent
affair to stand still, than wreak on an innocent person the ill-
humour once excited in him, and give a decision derogatory
to his dignity.

The address of the interpreter to the Count, the train of the
whole conversation, were often enough repeated to us by the
fat interpreter, who prided himself not a little on the fortunate
result, so that I can still describe it from recollection.

The interpreter had ventured to open the cabinet and enter,
an act which was severely prohibited. "What do you want?"
shouted the Count, angrily. " Out with you ! no one but St.
Jean has a right to enter here."

"Well, suppose I am St. Jean for a moment," answered
the interpreter.

" It would need a powerful imagination for that ! Two of
him would not make one such as you. He tire !"

THE GOSSIP AND COUNT THORANE. 81

" Count, you have received a great gift from heaven, and
to that I appeal."

"You think to flatter me! Do not fancy you will suc
ceed."

" You have the great gift, Count, even in moments of pas
sion in moments of rage, of listening to the opinions of
others."

"Well, well, the question now is just about opinions, to
which I have listened too long. I know but too well that we
are not liked here, and that these citizens look askance at

us/

" Not all !"

" Very many. What ! These towns will be imperial towns,
will they? They saw their emperor elected and crowned,
and when, being unjustly attacked, he is in danger of losing
his dominions and surrendering to an usurper; when he
fortunately finds faithful allies who pour out their blood and
treasure in his behalf they will not put up with the slight
burden that falls to their share, towards humbling the enemy!"

"But you have long known these sentiments, and have
endured them like a wise man ; they are, besides, held only
by a minority. A few, dazzled by the splendid qualities of the
enemy, w r hom you yourself prize as an extraordinary man, a
few only as you are aware."

"Yes, indeed! I have known and suffered it too long!
otherwise this man would not have presumed to utter such
insults to my face, and at the most critical moment. Let
them be as many as they please, they shall be punished in the
person of this their audacious representative, and perceive
what they have to expect."

" Only delay, Count."

" In certain things one cannot act too promptly."

" Only a little delay, Count."

"Neighbour, you think to mislead me into a false step;
you shall not succeed."

" I would neither lead you into a false step nor restrain you
from one ; your resolution is just ; it becomes the Frenchman
and the King s Lieutenant; but consider that you are also
Count Thorane !"

" He has no right to interfere here."

" But the gallant man has a right to be heard."

a

82 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

" What would he say then r"

" King s Lieutenant," he would begin, " you have so long
had patience with so many gloomy, untoward, bungling men,
if they were not really too bad. This man has certainly been,
too bad, but control yourself, King s Lieutenant, and every
one will praise and extol you on that account."

" You know I can often endure your jests, but do not abuse
my good- will. These men are they then completely blinded ?
Suppose we had lost the battle, what would have been their
fate at this moment? We fight up to the gates, we shut up
the city, we halt, we defend ourselves to cover our retreat
over the bridge. Think you, the enemy would have stood
with his hands before him? He throws grenades, and what
he has at hand, and they catch where they can. This house
holder what would he have ? Here, in these rooms, a bomb
might now have burst, and another have followed it; in these-
rooms, the cursed China-paper of which I have spared, in
commoding myself, by not nailing up my maps ! They ought
to have spent the whole day on their knees."

" How many would have done that!"

"They ought to have prayed for a blessing on us, and
to have gone out to meet the generals and officers with
tokens of honour and joy, and the wearied soldiers with
refreshments. Instead of this, the poison of party-spirit de
stroys the fairest and happiest moments of my life, won by
so many cares and efforts."

" It is party-spirit ; but you will only increase it by the
punishment of this man. Those who think with him will
proclaim you a tyrant and a barbarian: they will consider
him a martyr, who has suffered for the good cause ; and even
those of the other opinion, who are now his opponents, will
see in him only their fellow- citizen, will pity him, and while
they confess your justice, will yet feel that you have pro
ceeded too severely."

" I have listened to you too much already, now, away
with you!"

" Hear only this. Remember this is the most unheard-of
thing that could befall this man, this family. You have had
no reason to be edified by the good- will of the master of the
house ; but the mistress has anticipated all your wishes, and
the children have regarded you as their uncle. With this

THOHANE S MAGNANIMITY. 83

single blow, you will for ever destroy the peace and happi
ness of this dwelling. Indeed, I may say, that a bomb falling
into the house, would not have occasioned greater desolation.
I have so often admired your self-command, Count ; give me
this time opportunity to adore you. A warrior is worthy of
honour who considers himself a guest in the house of an
enemy; but here there is no enemy, only a mistaking man.
Control yourself, and you will acquire an everlasting fame."

" That would be odd," replied the Count, with a smile.

"Merely natural," continued the interpreter; " I have not
sent the wife and children to your feet, because I know you
detest such scenes; but I will depict to you this wife and
these children, how they will thank you. I will depict them
to you conversing all their lives of the battle of Bergen, and
of your magnanimity on this day, relating it to their children,
and children s children, and inspiring even strangers with
their own interest for you: an act of this kind can never
perish."

" But you do not hit my weak side yet, interpreter! About
posthumous fame I am not in the habit of thinking ; that is
for others, not for me ; but to do right at the moment, not to
neglect my duty, not to prejudice my honour that is my
care. We have already had too many words ; now go and
receive the thanks of the thankless, whom I spare."

The interpreter, surprised and moved by this unexpectedly
favourable issue, could not restrain his tears, and would have
kissed the Count s hands. The Count motioned him off, and
said severely and seriously, " You know I cannot bear such
things." And with these words he went into the ante-room,
to attend to his pressing affairs, and hear the claims of so
many expectant persons. So the matter was disposed of,
and the next morning we celebrated with the remnants of the
yesterday s sweetmeats, the passing over of an evil through
the threatenings of which we had happily slept.

Whether the interpreter really spoke so wisely, or merely
so painted the scene to himself, as one is apt to do after
a good and fortunate action, I will not decide ; at least he
never varied it in repeating it. Indeed, this day seemed
to him both the most anxious and the most glorious in his
life.

One little incident will show how the Count in general

G2

84 TRUTH AND POETRY ; T EOM MY OWN LIFE.

rejected all false parade, never assumed a title which did not
belong to him, and how witty he was in his more cheerful

moods.

A man of the higher class, who was one of the abstruse, soli
tary Frankforters, thought he must complain of the quartering
of the soldiers upon him. He came in person, and the inter
preter proffered him his services, but the other supposed that
he did not need them. He came before the Count with a
most becoming bow, and said, "Your excellency!" The
Count returned the bow, as well as the " excellency." Struck
by this mark of honour, and not supposing but that the title
was too humble, he stooped lower, and said, " Monseigneur."
"Sir," said the Count, very seriously, "we will not go further,
or else we may easily bring it to Majesty." The ether gentle
man was extremely confused, and had not a word to utter.
The interpreter, standing at some distance, and apprised of
the whole affair, was wicked enough not to mo.ve, but the
Count, with much cheerfulness, continued, " Well now, for
instance, sir, what is your name?" " Spangenberg," replied
the other. " And mine," said the Count, " is Thorane.
Spangenberg, what is your business with Thorane? Now,
then, let us sit down; the affair shall at once be settled."

And thus the affair was indeed settled at once, to the great
satisfaction of the person I have here named Spangenberg,
and the same evening, in our family circle, the story was not
only told by the waggish interpreter, but was given with all
the circumstances and gestures.

After these confusions, disquietudes, and grievances, the
former security and thoughtlessness soon returned, in which
the young particularly live from day to day, if it be in any
degree possible. My passion for the French theatre grew
with every performance. I did not miss an evening, though
on every occasion, when after the play I sat down with the
family to supper, often putting up with the remains, I had
to endure the constant reproaches of my father, that theatres
were useless, and would lead to nothing. In these cases I
adduced all and every argument which is at hand for the
apologists of the stage when they fall into a difficulty like
mine. Vice in prosperity and virtue in misfortune, are in.
the end set right by poetical justice. Those beautiful exam
ples of misdeeds punished. Miss Sarah Sampson, and the Mer-

JUVENILE ATTEMPT AT THE DEAMA. 85

chant of London, were very energetically cited on my part;
but, on the other hand, I often came off worst when the
Fouberies de Scapin, and others of the sort, were in the bill,
and I was forced to bear reproaches for the delight felt by
the public in the deceits of intriguing servants, and the suc
cessful follies of prodigal young men. Neither party was
convinced; but my father was very soon reconciled to the
theatre when he saw that I advanced with incredible rapidity
in the French language.

Men are so constituted that everybody would rather under
take himself what he sees done bv others, whether he has

i/

aptitude for it or not. I had soon exhausted the whole range
of the French stage; several pieces I had already witnessed
for the third and fourth times ; all had passed before my eyes
and mind, from the stateliest tragedy to the most frivolous
afterpiece; and as when a child I had presumed to imitate
Terence, I did not fail now as a boy, on a much more inciting
occasion, to copy the French forms to the best of my ability
and want of ability. There were then performed some half-
mythological, half-allegorical pieces in the taste of PIROIST ;
they partook somewhat of the nature of parody, and were
much liked. These representations particularly attracted
me : the little gold wings of a lively Mercury, the thunder
bolt of a disguised Jupiter, an amorous Danae, or by whatever
name a fair one visited by the gods might be called, if in
deed it were not a shepherdess or huntress to whom they
descended. And as elements of this kind, from Ovid s Meta
morphosis, or the Pantheon Mythicum of Pomey, were hum
ming in swarms about my head I had soon put together in
my imagination a little piece of the kind, of which I can only
say that the scene was rural, and that there was no lack
in it of king s daughters, princes, or gods. Mercury, espe
cially, made so vivid an impression on my senses, that I
could almost be sworn that I had seen him with my own
eyes.

I presented my friend Derones with a very neat copy, made
by myself, which he accepted with quite a special grace, and
with a truly patronizing air, glanced hastily over the manu
script, pointed out a few grammatical blunders, found some
speeches too long, and at last promised to examine and judge
the work more attentively when he had the requisite leisure.

86 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

To my modest question, whether the piece could by any
chance be performed, he assured me that it was not alto
gether impossible. In the theatre, he said, a great deal went
by favour, and he would support me with all his heart : only
the affair must be kept private ; for he had himself once on a
time surprised the directors with a piece of his own, and it
would certainly have been acted if it had not been too soon
detected that he was the author. I promised him all possible
silence; and already saw in my mind s eye the name of my
piece posted up in large letters on the corners of the streets
and squares.

Light-minded as my friend generally was, the opportunity
of playing the master was but too desirable. He read the
piece through with attention, and while he sat down with me
to make some trivial alterations, turned the whole thing, in
the course of the conversation, completely topsy-turvy, so
that not one stone remained on another. He struck out,
added, took away one character, substituted another, in
short, went on with the maddest wantonness in the world, so
that my hair stood on end. My previous persuasion that he
must understand the matter, allowed him to have his way;
for he had often laid before me so much about the Three
Unities of Aristotle, the regularity of the French drama, the
probability, the harmony of the verse, and all that belongs to
these, that I was forced to regard him, not merely as informed,
but thoroughly grounded. He abused the English and scorned
the Germans; in short, he laid before me the whole drama
turgic litany w r hich I have so often in my life been compelled
to hear.

Like the boy in the fable, I carried my mangled offspring
home, and strove in vain to bring it to life. As, however, I
would not quite abandon it, I caused a fair copy of my first
manuscript, after a few alterations, to be made by our clerk,
which I presented to my father, and thus gained so much that
for a long time he let me eat my supper in quiet after the
play was over.

This unsuccessful attempt had made me reflective, and I
resolved now to learn at the very sources, these theories,
these laws, to which every one apfpealed, but which had be
come suspicious to me chiefly through the unpoliteness of my
arrogant master. This was not indeed difficult, but laborious.

DRAMATIC THEORIES. 7

I immediately read Corneille s Treatise on the Three Unities,
and learned from that how people would have it, but why
they desired it so was by no means clear to me ; and what
was worst of all, I fell at once into still greater confusion
when I made myself acquainted with the disputes on the
dd, and read the prefaces in which Corneille and Racine
are obliged to defend themselves against the critics and
public. Here at least I plainly saw that no man knew what
he wanted; that a piece like the Cid, which had produced
the noblest effect, was to be condemned at the command of
an all-powerful cardinal; that Racine, the idol of the French
living in my day, who had now also become my idol (for I
had got intimately acquainted with him when Schoff Von
Olenschlager made us children act Britonnicus, in which the
part of Nero fell to me) that Racine, I say, even in his own
day, was not able to get on with the amateurs nor critics.
Through all this I became more perplexed than ever, and
after having pestered myself a long time with this talking
backwards and forwards, and theoretical quackery of the pre
vious century, threw them to the dogs, and was the more
resolute in casting all the rubbish away, the more I thought
I observed that the authors themselves who had produced
excellent things, when they began to speak about them, when
they set forth the grounds of their treatment, when they
desired to defend, justify, or excuse themselves, were not
always able to hit the proper mark. I hastened back again,
therefore, to the living present, attended the theatre far more
zealously, read more scrupulously and connectedly, so that I
had perseverance enough this time to work through the whole
of Racine and Moliere, and a great part of Corneille.

The King s Lieutenant still lived at our house. He in no
respect had changed his deportment, especially towards us;
but it was observable, and the interpreter made it still more
evident to us, that he no longer discharged his duties with
the same cheerfulness and zeal as at the outset, though always
with the same rectitude and fidelity. His character and
habits, which showed the Spaniard rather than the French
man ; his caprices, which were not without their influence on
his business ; his unbending will under all circumstances ; his
susceptibility as to everything that concerned his person or
reputation ^-all this together might perhaps sometimes bring

TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

him into conflict with his superiors. Add to this, that he had
been wounded in a duel, which had arisen in the theatre, and
it was deemed wrong that the King s Lieutenant, himself
chief of police, should have committed a punishable offence.
As I have said, all this may have contributed to make him
live more retired, and here and there perhaps to act with less
energy.

Meanwhile, a considerable part of the pictures he had or
dered had been delivered. Count Thorane passed his leisure
hours in examining them, while in the aforesaid gable-room
he had them nailed up, canvas after canvas, large and small,
side by side, and because there was want of space, even one
over another, and then taken down and rolled up. The works
were constantly inspected anew; the parts that were con
sidered the most successful were repeatedly enjoyed; but
there was no want of wishes that this or that had been dif
ferently done.

Hence arose a new and very singular operation. As one
painter best executed figures, another middle-grounds and
distances, a third trees, a fourth flowers, it struck the Count
that these talents might perhaps be combined in the paint
ings, and that in this way perfect works might be produced.
A beginning was made at once, by having for instance some
beautiful cattle painted into a finished landscape. But be
cause there was not always adequate room for all, and a few
sheep more or less was no great matter to the cattle-painter,
the largest landscape proved in the end too narrow. Now
also the painter of figures had to introduce the shepherd, and
some travellers ; these deprived each other of air, as we may
say; and we marvelled that they were not all stifled, even in
the most open country. No one could anticipate what was
to come of the matter, and when it was finished it gave no
satisfaction. The painters were annoyed. They had gained
something by their first orders, but lost by these after-labours,
though the Count paid for them also very liberally. And as
the parts worked into each other in one picture by several
hands, produced no good effect after all the trouble, every
one, at last, fancied that his own work had been spoiled and
destroyed by that of the others ; hence the artists were within
a hair s-breadth of falling out, and becoming irreconcilably
hostile to each other. These alterations, or rather additions,

THE PAINTER SEEKATZ. 89

were made in the before-mentioned studio, where I remained
quite alone with the artists ; and it amused me to hunt out
from the studies, particularly of animals, this or that indi
vidual or group, and to propose it for the foreground or the
distance, in which respect they many times, either from con
viction or kindness, complied with my wishes.

The partners in this affair were therefore greatly dis
couraged, especially Seekatz, a very hypochondriacal, retired
man, who indeed by his incomparable humour was the best
of companions among friends, but who, when he worked,
desired to work alone, abstracted and perfectly free. This
man, after solving difficult problems, and finishing them with
the greatest diligence and the warmest love, of which he was
always capable, was forced to travel repeatedly from Darm
stadt to Frankfort, either to change something in his own pic
tures, or to touch up those of others, or even to allow, under
his superintendence, a third person to convert his pictures into
a variegated mess. His peevishness augmented, his resistance
became more decided, and a great deal of effort was necessary
on our part to guide this "gossip" for he was one also
according to the Count s wishes. I still remember that when
the boxes were standing ready to pack up all the pictures, in
the order in which the upholsterer at their place of destina
tion might fix them up at once, a small but indispensable bit
of afterwork was demanded, but Seekatz could not be moved
to come over. He had, by way of conclusion, done the best
he could, having represented in paintings to be placed over
the doors, the four elements as children and boys, after life,
and having expended the greatest care, not only on the figures,
but on the accessories. These were delivered and paid for,
and he thought he was quit of the business for ever ; but now
he was to come over again, that he might enlarge, by a
few touches of his pencil, some figures, the size of which was
too small. Another, he thought, could do it just as well ; he
had already set about some new work ; in short, he would not
come. The time for sending off the pictures was at hand;
they must also have opportunity to dry ; every delay was pre
carious ; and the Count, in despair, was about to have him
fetched in military fashion. We all wished to see the pic
tures finally gone, and found at last no expedient than for the
gossip interpreter to seat himself in a wagon, and fetch over

90 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIPE.

the refractory subject, with his wife and child. He was kindly
received by the Count, well treated, and at last dismissed with
liberal payment.

After the pictures had been sent away, there was great
peace in the house. The gable-room in the attic was cleaned
and given up to me ; and my father, when he saw the boxes
go, could not refrain from wishing to send off the Count after
them. For much as the tastes of the Count coincided with
his own, much as he must have rejoiced to see his principle of
patronizing living artists so generously followed out by a man
richer than himself, much as it may have flattered him that
his collection had been the occasion of bringing so consider
able a profit to a number of brave artists in a pressing time,
he nevertheless felt such a repugnance to the foreigner who
had intruded into his house, that he could not think well
of any of his doings. One ought to employ painters, but not
degrade them to paper-stainers ; one ought to be satisfied with
what they have done, according to their conviction and ability,
even if it does not thoroughly please one, and not be per
petually carping at it. In short, in spite of all the Count s
own generous endeavours, there could, once for all, be no
mutual understanding. My father only visited that room when
the Count w r as at table, and I can recall but one instance,
when, Seekatz having excelled himself, and the wish to see
these pictures having brought the whole house together, my
father and the Count met, and manifested a common pleasure
in these works of art, which they could not take in each other.

Scarcely, therefore, had the house been cleared of the chests
and boxes, than the plan for removing the Count, which had
formerly been begun, but was afterwards interrupted, was re
sumed. The endeavour was made to gain justice by repre
sentations, equity by entreaties, favour by influence, and the
quarter-masters were prevailed upon to decide thus : the
Count was to change his lodgings, and our house, in con
sideration of the burden borne dav and niiit for several

j

years uninterruptedly, was to be exempt for the future from
billetting. But, to furnish a plausible pretext for this, we
were to take in lodgers on the first floor, which the Count
had occupied, and thus render a new quartering as it were
impossible. The Count, who after the separation from his
dear pictures felt no further peculiar interest in the house,

DEPARTURE OF THOBANE. 91

and hoped moreover to be soon recalled and placed else
where, was pleased to move without opposition to another
good residence, and left us in peace and good- will. Soon
afterwards he quitted the city, and received different ap
pointments in gradation, but, it was rumoured, not to his
own satisfaction. Meantime, he had the pleasure of seeing
the pictures which he had preserved with so much care felici
tously arranged in his brother s chateau ; he wrote sometimes,
sent dimensions, and had different pieces executed by the
artists so often named. At last we heard nothing further
about him, except after several years we were assured that he
had died as governor of one of the French colonies in the
West Indies.

FOTJETH BOOK.

MUCH inconvenience as the quartering of the French had
occasioned us, we had become so accustomed to it, that we
could not fail to miss it, nor could we children fail to feel
as if the house were deserted. Moreover it was not decreed
that we should again attain perfect family unity. New
lodgers were already agreed upon, and after some sweeping
and scouring, planing and rubbing with bees -wax, painting
and varnishing, the house was completely restored again. The
chancery-director Moritz, with his family, very worthy Mends
of my parents, moved in. He was not a native of Frankfort,
but an able jurist and man of business, and managed the legal
affairs of many small princes, counts, and lords. I never
saw him otherwise than cheerful and pleasant, and diligent
with his law papers. His wife and children, gentle, quiet,
and benevolent, did not indeed increase the sociableness of
our house, for they kept to themselves ; but a stillness, a
peace returned, which we had not enjoyed for a long time.
I now again occupied my attic room, in which the ghosts
of the many pictures sometimes hovered before me, while
I strove to frighten them away by labour and study.

The Counsellor of Legation Moritz, a brother of the chan
cellor, came from this time often to our house. He was even
more a man of the world, had a handsome figure, while
his manners were easy and agreeable. He also managed
the affairs of different persons of rank, and on occasions
of meetings of creditors and imperial commissions fre
quently came into contact with my father. They had a
high opinion of each other, and commonly stood on the side
of the creditors, though they were generally obliged to per
ceive, much to their vexation, that a majority of the agents
on such occasions are usually gained over to the side of the
debtors. The counsellor of legation readily communicated
his knowledge, was a friend to the mathematics, and as these
did not occur in his present course of life, he made himself

LESSONS IN DRAWING. 93

a pleasure by helping me on in this branch of study. I
was thus enabled to finish my architectural sketches more
accurately than heretofore, and to profit more by the instruc
tion of a drawing-master, who now also occupied us an hour
every day.

This good old man was indeed only half an artist. We
were obliged to draw and combine strokes, from which eyes
and noses, lips and ears, nay, at last, whole faces and heads,
were to arise, but of natural or artistic forms there was no
thought. We were tormented a long while with this quid
pro quo of the human figure, and when the so-called Passions
of Le Brun were given us to copy, it was supposed at last
that we had made great progress. But even these caricatures
did not improve us. Then we went off to landscapes, foliage,
and all the things which in ordinary instruction are practised
without consistency or method. Finally we dropped into
close imitation and neatness of strokes, without troubling
ourselves about the merit or taste of the original.

In these attempts our father led the way in an exemplary
manner. He had never drawn, but he was unwilling to
remain behind now that his children pursued this art, and
would give, even in his old age, an example how they should
proceed in their youth. Several heads, therefore, of Piazetta,
from his well-known sheets in small octavo, he copied with
an English lead-pencil upon the finest Dutch paper. In
these he not only observed the greatest clearness of outline,
but most accurately imitated the hatching of the copper-plate
with a light hand only too slightly, as in his desire to avoid
hardness he brought no keeping into his sketches. Yet they
were always soft and accurate. His unrelaxing and untiring
assiduity went so far, that he drew the whole considerable
collection number by number, while we children jumped from
one head to another, and chose only those that pleased us.

About this time the long- debated project, long under con
sideration, for giving us lessons in music, was carried into
effect ; and the last impulse to it certainly deserves mention.
It was settled that we should learn the harpsichord ; but there
was always a dispute about the choice of a master. At last
I went once accidentally into the room of one of my com
panions, who was just taking his lesson on the harpsichord,
and found the teacher a most charming man. For each

94 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

finger of the right and left hand he had a nickname, by
which he indicated in the merriest way when it was to be
used. The black and white keys were likewise symbolically
designated, and even the tones appeared under figurative
names. Such a motley company worked most pleasantly
together. Fingering and time seemed to become perfectly
easy and obvious, and while the scholar was put into the
best humour, everything else succeeded beautifully

Scarcely had I reached home, than I importuned my
parents to set about the matter in good earnest at last, and
give us this incomparable man for our master on the harp
sichord. They hesitated, and made inquiries; they indeed
heard nothing bad of the teacher ; but, at the same time,
nothing particularly good. Meanwhile I had informed my
sister of all the droll names ; we could hardly wait for the
lesson, and succeeded in having the man engaged.

The reading of the notes began first, but as no jokes
occurred here, we comforted ourselves with the hope that
when we went to the harpsichord, and the fingers were
needed, the jocular method would commence. But neither
keys nor fingering seemed to afford opportunity for any com
parisons. Dry as the notes were, with their strokes on and
between the five lines, the black and white keys were no less so :
and not a syllable was heard either of " thumbling," " point-
eiiing," or " goldfinger," while the countenance of the man
remained as imperturbable during his dry teaching as it had
been before during his dry jests. My sister reproached me
most bitterly for having deceived her, and actually believed
that it was all an invention of mine. But I was myself con
founded and learned little, though the man at once went
regularly enough to work ; for I kept always expecting that
the early jokes would make their appearance, and so con
soled my sister from one day to another. They did not
reappear, however, and I should never have been able to
explain the riddle if another accident had not solved it for
me.

One of my companions came in during a lesson, and at
once all the pipes of the humorous jet d eau were opened ;
the "thumblings" and " pointerlings," the "pickers" and
"stealers," as he used to call the fingers, the "falings"
and "gaHngs," meaning "f" and "g," the "fielings" and

THE ECCENTRIC MUSIC-MASTER. 95

"gielings," meaning "f" and "g" sharp,* became once more
extant, and made the most wonderful mannikins. My young
friend could not leave off laughing, and was rejoiced that
one could learn in such a merry manner. He vowed that
he would give his parents no peace until they had given him
such an excellent man for a teacher.

And thus the way to two arts was early enough opened to
me, according to the principles of a modern theory of educa
tion, merely by good luck, and without any conviction that I
should be furthered therein by a native talent. My father
maintained that everybody ought to learn drawing; for
which reason, he especially venerated the Emperor Maxi
milian, by whom this had been expressly commanded. He
therefore held me to it more steadily than to music, which,
on the other hand, he especially recommended to my sister,
and even out of the hours for lessons kept her fast, during
a good part of the day, at her harpsichord.

But the more I was in this way made to press on, the
more I wished to press forward of myself, and my hours
of leisure were employed in all sorts of curious occupations.
From my earliest years I felt a love for the investigation of
natural things. It is often regarded as an instinct of cruelty
that children like at last to break, tear, and devour objects
with which for a long time they have played, .and which
they have handled in various manners. Yet even in this way
is manifested the curiosity, the desire of learning how such
things hang together, how they look within. I remember
that as a child, I pulled flowers to pieces to see how the leaves
were inserted into the calyx, or even plucked birds to observe
how the feathers were inserted into the wings. Children are
not to be blamed for this, when even our naturalists believe
they get their knowledge oftener by separation and division
than by union and combination, more by killing than by
making alive.

An armed loadstone, very neatly sewed up in scarlet cloth,
was one day destined to experience the effects of this spirit of
inquiry. For the secret force of attraction which it exercised
not only on the little iron bar attached to it, but which was
of such a kind that it could gain strength and could daily

* The names of the sharp notes in German terminate in "is," and
hence "f " and "g" sharp are called "fis" and "gis,"

96 TRUTH A1STD POETEY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE.

bear a heavier weight this mysterious virtue had so excited
my admiration, that for a long time I was pleased with merely
staring at its operation. But at last I thought I might arrive
at some nearer revelation by tearing away the external cover
ing. This was done, but I became no wiser in consequence,
as the naked iron taught me nothing further. This also I took
off, and I held in my hand the mere stone, with which I never
grew weary of making experiments of various kinds on filings
and needles experiments from which my youthful mind drew
no further advantage beyond that of a varied experience. I
could not manage to reconstruct the whole arrangement ; the
parts were scattered, and I lost the wondrous phenomenon
at the same time with the apparatus.

Nor was I more fortunate in putting together an electrical
machine. A friend of the family, whose youth had fallen in
the time when electricity occupied all minds, often told us how
as a child he had desired to possess such a machine, had got
together the principal requisites, and by the aid of an old
spinning-wheel and some medicine bottles, had produced
tolerable results. As he readily and frequently repeated the
story, and imparted to us some general information on electri
city, we children found the thing very plausible, and long
tormented ourselves with an old spinning-wheel and some
medicine bottles, without producing even the smallest result.
We nevertheless adhered to our belief, and were much de
lighted when at the time of the fair, among other rarities,
magical and legerdemain tricks, an electrical machine per
formed its marvels, which, like those of magnetism, were at
that time already very numerous.

The want of confidence in the public method of instruction
was daily increasing. People looked about for private tutors,
and because single families could not afford the expense, several
of them united to attain their object. Yet the children seldom
agreed, the young man had not sufficient authority, and after
frequently repeated vexations, there were only angry partings.
It is not surprising, therefore, that other arrangements were
thought of which should be more permanent as well as more
advantageous.

The thought of establishing boarding-schools (Pensionen)
had arisen from the necessity which every one felt for having
the French language taught and communicated orally. My

PFEIL S EOATJDING-SCHOOL. 97

father had brought up a young person who had been his foot
man, valet, secretary, and in short successively all in all.
This man, whose name was Pfeil, spoke French well. After
he had married, and his patrons had to think of a situation
for him, they hit upon the plan of making him establish a
boarding-school, which extended gradually into a small aca
demy, in which everything necessary, and at last even Greek
and Latin, were taught. The extensive connexions of Frank
fort caused young French and English men to be brought to
this establishment, that they might learn German and be other
wise cultivated. Pfeil, who w r as a man in the prime of life,
and of the most wonderful energy and activity, superintended
the whole very laudably, and as he could never be employed
enough, and was obliged to keep music-teachers for his
scholars, he set about music on the occasion, and practised the
harpsichord with such zeal that, without having previously
touched a note, he very soon played with perfect readiness and
spirit. He seemed to have adopted my father s maxim, that
nothing can more cheer and excite young people, than when
at mature years one declares one s self again a learner, and at
an age when new accomplishments are acquired with diffi
culty, one endeavours, nevertheless, by zeal and perseverance,
to excel the younger, who are more favoured by nature.

By this love of harpsichord-playing Pfeil was led to the
instruments themselves, and while he hoped to obtain the
best, came into connexion with Frederici of Gera, whose in
struments were celebrated far and wide. He took a number
of them on commission, and had now the joy of seeing not
only one piano, but many, set up in his residence, and of
practising and being heard upon them.

The vivacity of this man brought a great rage for music
into our house. My father remained on lasting good terms
with him up to certain points of dispute. A large piano of
Frederici was purchased also for us, which I, adhering to my
harpsichord, hardly touched, but which so much increased
the troubles of my sister, as, to do proper honour to the new
instrument, she had to spend some time every day in prac
tice ; while my father as overseer, and Pfeil as a model and
encouraging friend, alternately took their positions at her
side.

A singular taste of my father caused much inconvenience to

H

98 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

us children. This was the cultivation of silk, of the advan
tages of which, when it should be more widely extended, he
had a high opinion. Some acquaintances at Hanau, where the
breeding of the worms was carried on with great care, gave
him the immediate impulse. At the proper season, the eggs
were sent to him from that place, and as soon as the mulberry-
trees showed sufficient leaves, they had to be stripped, and
the scarcely visible creatures were most diligently tended.
Tables and stands, with boards, were set up in a garret cham
ber, to afford them more room and sustenance ; for they grew
rapidly, and after their last change of skin were so voracious,
that it was scarcely possible to get leaves enough to feed them;
nay, they had to be fed day and night, as everything depends
upon there being 110 deficiency of nourishment when the
great and wondrous change is about to take place in them.
If the weather was favourable, this business might indeed be
regarded as a pleasant amusement ; but if the cold set in, so
that the mulberry-trees suffered, it was exceedingly trouble
some. Still more unpleasant was it when rain fell during the
last epoch, for these creatures cannot at all endure moisture,
and the wet leaves had to be carefully wiped and dried, which
could not always be done quite perfectly ; and for this, or per
haps some other reason also, various diseases came among the
flock, by which the poor things were swept off in thousands.
The corruption which ensued produced a smell really pesti
lential, and because the dead and diseased had to be taken away
and separated from the healthy, the business was indeed ex
tremely wearisome and repulsive, and caused many an unhappy
hour to us children.

After we had one year passed the finest weeks of the spring
and summer in tending the silk- worms, we were obliged to assist
our father in another business, which, though simpler, was no
less troublesome. The Roman views, which, bound by black
rods at the top and bottom, had hung for many years on the walls
of the old house, had become very yellow, through the light,
dust, and smoke, and not a little unsightly through the flies.
If such uncleanliness was not to be tolerated in the new house,
yet, on the other hand, these pictures had gained in value to
my father, in consequence of his longer absence from the
places represented. For in the outset such copies only serve
to refresh arid vivify the impressions shortly before received.

LESSONS IN ENGLISH. 99

They seem trifling in comparison, and at the best only a
melancholy substitute. But as the remembrance of the ori
ginal forms fades more and more, the copies imperceptibly
assume their place, they become as dear to us as those once
were, and what we at first contemned, now gains esteem and
affection. Thus it is with all copies, and particularly with
portraits. No one is easily satisfied with the counterfeit of an
object still present, but how we value every silhouette of one
who is absent or departed.

In short, with this feeling of his former extravagance, nry
father wished that these engravings might be restored as much
as possible. It was well known that this could be done by
bleaching ; and the operation, always critical with large plates,
was undertaken under rather unfavourable circumstances.
For the large boards on which the smoked engravings were
moistened and exposed to the sun, stood in the gutters
before the garret windows, leaning against the roof, and
were therefore liable to many accidents. The chief point
was, that the paper should never thoroughly dry, but must
be kept constantly moist. This was the duty of my sister
and myself ; and the idleness, which would have been other
wise so desirable, was excessively annoying, on account of
the tedium and impatience, and the watchfulness which
allowed of no distraction. The end, however, was attained,
and the bookbinder who fixed each sheet upon thick paper,
did his best to match and repair the margins, which had
been here and there torn by our inadvertence. All the sheets
together were bound in a volume, and for this time preserved.

That we children might not be wanting in every variety
of life and learning, a teacher of the English language must
announce himself just at this time, who pledged himself to
teach English to anybody not entirely raw in languages,
within four weeks ; and to advance him to such a degree that,
with some diligence, he could help himself further. His
price was moderate, and he was indifferent as to the number
of scholars at one lesson. My father instantly determined
to make the attempt, and took lessons, in connexion with
my sister and myself, from this expeditious master. The
hours were faithfully kept ; there was no want of repeating
our lessons ; other exercises were neglected rather than this,
during the four weeks ; and the teacher parted from us, and

H2

100 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY O~WN LIFE.

we from him, with satisfaction. As he remained longer in.
the town, and found many employers, he came from time to
time to look after us and to help us, grateful that we had
been among the first who placed confidence in him, and proud
to be able to cite us as examples to the others.

My father, in consequence of this, entertained a new anxiety
that English might neatly stand in the series of my other
studies in languages. Now, I will confess that it became
more and more burdensome for me to take my occasions
for study now from this grammar or collection of examples,
now from that; now from one author, now from another,
and thus to divert my interest in a subject every hour. It
occurred to me, therefore, that I might despatch all at once, and
I invented a romance of six or seven brothers and sisters ,,
who, separated from each other and scattered over the world,
should communicate with each other alternately as to their
conditions and feelings. The eldest brother gives an account
in good German of all the manifold objects and incidents
of his journey. The sister, in a ladylike style, with short
sentences and nothing but stops, much as Siegivart was after-
wards written, answers now him, now the other brothers,
partly about domestic matters, and partly about affairs of the
heart. One brother studies theology, and writes a very formal
Latin, to which he often adds a Greek postscript. To another
brother, holding the place of mercantile clerk at Hamburgh,
the English correspondence naturally falls, while a still younger
one at Marseilles has the French. For the Italian was found
a musician, on his first trip into the world ; while the youngest
of all, a sort of pert nestling, had applied himself to Jew-
German, the other languages having been cut off from him,
and by means of his frightful cyphers brought the rest of them
into despair, and my parents into a hearty laugh at the good
notion.

I sought for matter to fill up this singular form by studying
the geography of the countries in which my creations resided,
and by inventing for those dry localities all sorts of human
incidents, which had some affinity with the characters and
employments of my heroes. Thus my exercise-books became
much more voluminous, my father was better satisfied, and I
was much sooner made aware of the acquirements and the
sort of readiness in which I was wanting.

BECTOB ALBHECHT. 101

Now, as such things once begun have no end and no limits,
so it happened in the present case ; for, while I strove to
attain the odd Jew-German, and to write it as well as I could
read it, I soon discovered that I ought to know Hebrew,
from which alone the modern corrupted dialect could be de
rived and handled with any certainty. I consequently ex
plained the necessity of my learning Hebrew to my father,
and earnestly besought his consent, for I had a still higher
object. Everywhere I heard it said that to understand the
Old as well as the New Testament, the original languages
were requisite. The latter I could read quite easily, because,
that there might be no want of exercise even on Sundays,
the so-called Epistles and Gospels had, after church, to be
recited, translated, and in some measure explained. I now
designed doing the same thing with the Old Testament, the
peculiarities of which had always especially interested me.

My father, who did not like to do anything by halves,
determined to request the rector of our Gymnasium, one Dr.
ALBHECHT, to give me private lessons weekly, until I should
have acquired what was most essential in so simple a language,
for he hoped that if it would not be despatched as soon as
English was learned, it could at least be managed in double
the time.

Rector Albrecht was one of the most original figures in
the world, short, broad, but not fat, ill-shaped without being
deformed, in short, an ^Esop in gown and wig. His more
than seventy-years-old face was completely twisted into a
sarcastic smile, while his eyes always remained large, and,
though red, were always brilliant and intelligent. He lived
in the old cloister of the Barefoot Friars, the seat of the
Gymnasium. Even as a child, I had often visited him in
company with my parents, and had, with a kind of trembling
delight, glided through the long dark passages, the chapels
transformed into reception-rooms, the place broken up and
full of stairs and corners. Without annoying me, he ques
tioned me familiarly whenever we met, and praised and
encouraged me. One day, on the changing of the pupil s
places after a public examination, he saw me standing as a
mere spectator, not far from his chair, while he distributed
the silver prcemia virtutis et diligentice. I was probably gaz
ing very eagerly upon the little bag out of which he drew

102 THUTH AND POETRY; FHOM MY OWN LIFE.

the medals ; lie nodded to me, descended a step, and handed
me one of the silver pieces. My joy was great, although
others thought that this gift bestowed upon a boy not belong
ing to the school was out of all order. But for this the good
old man cared but little, having always played the eccentric,
and that in a striking manner. He had a very good repu
tation as a schoolmaster, and understood his business, although
age no more allowed him to practise it thoroughly. But
almost more than by his own infirmities was he hindered by
greater circumstances, and, as I already knew, he was satis
fied neither with the consistory, the inspectors, the clergy,
nor the teachers. To his natural temperament, which inclined
to satire, and the watching for faults and defects, he allowed
free play, both in his programs and his public speeches, and
as Lucian was almost the only writer whom he read and
esteemed, he spiced all that he said and wrote with biting
ingredients.

Fortunately for those with whom he was dissatisfied, he
never went directly to work, but only jeered at the defects
which he wanted to reprove, with hints, allusions, classic
passages, and Scripture texts. His delivery, moreover he
always read his discourses was unpleasant, unintelligible,
and, above all, was often interrupted by a cough, but more
frequently by a hollow paunch-convulsing laugh, with which
he was wont to announce and accompany the biting pas
sages. This singular man I found to be mild and obliging
when I began to take lessons from him. I now went to him
daily at six o clock in the evening, and always experienced
a secret pleasure when the outer door closed behind me, and
I had to thread the long dark cloister-passage. We sat in
his library at a table covered with oil-cloth, a much-read
Lucian never quitting his side.

In spite of all my willingness, I did not get at the matter
v/ithout difficulty, for my teacher could not suppress certain
sarcastic remarks as to the real truth about Hebrew. I con
cealed from him my designs upon Jew-German, and spoke of a
better understanding of the original text. He smiled at this,
and said I should be satisfied if I only learned to read. This
vexed me in secret, and I concentrated all my attention when
we came to the letters. I found an alphabet something like
the Greek, of which the forms were easy, and the names, for

HEBREW STUDIES. 103

the most part, not strange to me. All this I had soon com
prehended and retained, and supposed we should now go to
reading. That this was done from right to left I was well
aware. But now, all at once appeared a new army of little
characters and signs, of points and strokes of all sorts, which
were in fact to represent vowels. At this I wondered the
more, as there were manifestly vowels in the larger alphabet,
and the others only appeared to be hidden under strange
appellations. It w r as also taught, that the Jewish nation, so
long as it flourished, actually were satisfied with the first
signs, and knew no other way to write and read. Most wil
lingly then would 1 have gone on along this ancient, and, as
it seemed to me, easier path ; but my old man declared rather
sternly, that we must go by the grammar as it had been
approved and composed. Reading without these points and
strokes, he said, was a very hard undertaking, and could be
accomplished only by the learned, and those who were well
practised. I must therefore make up my mind to learn these
little characters ; but the matter became to me more and more
confused. Now, it seemed, some of the first and larger pri
mitive letters had no value in their places, in order that their
little after-born kindred might not stand there in vain. Now
they indicated a gentle breathing, now a guttural more or
less rough, arid now served as mere supports. But, finally,
when one fancied that one had well noted everything, some
of these personages, both great and small, were rendered
inoperative, so that the eyes always had very much, and the
lips very little to do.

As that of which I already knew the contents had now to
be stuttered in a strange gibberish, in which a certain snuffle
and gargle were not a little commended as something unat
tainable, I in a certain degree deviated from the matter, and
diverted myself in a childish way with the singular names of
these accumulated signs. There were " emperors," "kings,"
and " dukes," * which, as accents, governing here and there,
gave me not a little entertainment. But even these shallow
jests soon lost their charm. Nevertheless, I was indemnified,
inasmuch as by reading, translating, repeating, and commit
ting to memory, the substance of the book came out more

* These are the technical names for classes of accents in the Hebrew
gram mar . Trans*

104 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

vividly, and it was this, properly, about which I desired to
be enlightened. Even before this time the contradiction be
tween tradition and the actual and possible had appeared to
me very striking, and I had often put my private tutors to
a non-plus with the sun which stood still on Gibeon, and the
moon in the vale of Ajalon, to say nothing of other impro
babilities and incongruities. Everything of this kind was
now awakened, while, in order to master the Hebrew, I occu
pied myself exclusively with the Old Testament, and studied
it, though no longer in Luther s translation, but in the literal
version of Sebastian Schmid, printed under the text which
my father had procured for me. Here, unfortunately, our
lessons began to be defective, so far as practice in the lan
guage was concerned. Reading, interpreting, grammar, tran
scribing, and the repetition of words, seldom lasted a full half
hour ; for I immediately began to aim at the sense of the
matter, and, though we were still engaged in the first book
of Moses, to utter several things suggested to me by the later
books. At first the good old man tried to restrain me from
such digressions, but at last they seemed to entertain him
also. It was impossible for him to suppress his characteristic
cough and chuckle, and although he carefully avoided giving
me any information that might have compromised himself, my
importunity was not relaxed ; nay, as I cared more to set forth
my doubts than to learn their solution, I grew constantly more
vivacious and bold, seeming justified by his deportment. Yet
I could get nothing out of him, except that ever and anon he
would exclaim, with his peculiar shaking laugh, " Ah ! mad
fellow ! ah ! mad boy !

Still, my childish vivacity, which scrutinized the Bible on
all sides, may have seemed to him tolerably serious and worthy
of some assistance. He therefore referred me, after a time, to
the large English Biblical work which stood in his library,
and in which the interpretation of difficult and doubtful pas
sages was attempted in an intelligent and judicious manner.
By the great labours of German divines the translation had
obtained advantages over the original. The different opinions
were cited, and at last a kind of reconciliation was attempted,
so that the dignity of the book, the ground of religion, and the
human understanding might in some degree co-exist. Now,
as often as towards the end of the lesson I came out with my

THE OLD TESTAMENT. 105

usual questions and doubts, so often did he point to the repo
sitory. I took the volume, he let me read, turned over his
Lucian, and when I made any remarks on the book, his ordi
nary laugh was the only answer to my sagacity. In the long
summer days he let me sit as long as I could read, many times
alone ; after a time he suffered me to take one volume after
another home with me.

A man may turn whither he pleases, and undertake anything
whatsoever, but he will always return to the path which
nature has once prescribed for him. Thus it happened also with
me in the present case. My trouble about the language, about
the contents of the Sacred Scriptures themselves, ended at last
in producing in my imagination a livelier picture of that beau
tiful and famous land, its environs and its vicinities, as well
as of the people and events by which that little spot of earth
was made glorious for thousands of years.

This small space was to see the origin and growth of the
human race ; thence we were to derive our first and only
accounts of primitive history ; and such a locality was to lie
before our imagination, no less simple and comprehensible
than varied and adapted to the most wonderful migrations and
settlements. Here, between four designated rivers, a small
delightful spot was separated from the whole habitable earth,
for youthful man. Here he was to unfold his first capacities,
and here at the same time was the lot to befal him, which was
appointed for all his posterity, namely, that of losing peace by
striving after knowledge. Paradise was trifled away; men
increased and grew worse ; and the Elohim, not yet accus
tomed to the wickedness of the new race, became impatient
and utterly destroyed it. Only a few were saved from the uni
versal deluge ; and scarcely had this dreadful flood ceased,
than the well known ancestral soil lay once more before the
grateful eyes of the preserved.

Two rivers out of four, the Euphrates and Tigris, still flowed
in their beds. The name of the first remained ; the other
seemed to be pointed out by its course. Minuter traces of
Paradise were not to be looked for after so great a revolution.
The renewed race of man went forth from hence a second time ;
it found occasion to sustain and employ itself in all sorts of
ways, but chiefly to gather around it large herds of tame ani
mals, and to wander with them in every direction.

106 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

This mode of life, as well as the increase of the families,
soon compelled the people to disperse. They could not at once
resolve to let their relatives and friends go for ever ; they hit
upon the thought of building a lofty tower which should show
them the way back from the far distance. But this attempt,
like their first endeavour, miscarried. They could not be at
the same time happy and wise, numerous and united. The
Elohim confounded their minds the building remained un
finished the men were dispersed the world was peopled,
but cundered.

But our regards, our interests, are still fastened to these
regions. At last the founder of a race again goes forth from
hence, and is so fortunate as to stamp a distinct character
upon his descendants, and by that means to unite them for all
time to come into a great nation, inseparable through all
changes of place or destiny.

From the Euphrates, Abraham, not without divine guid
ance, wanders towards the west. The desert opposes no
invincible barrier to his march. He attains the Jordan, passes
over its waters, and spreads himself over the fair southern
regions of Palestine. This land was already occupied, and
tolerably inhabited. Mountains, not extremely high, but
rocky and barren, were severed by many watered vales favour
able to cultivation. Towns, villages, and solitary settlements
lay scattered over the plain and on the slopes of the great
valley, the waters of which are collected in Jordan. Thus
inhabited, thus tilled was , the land ; but the world was still
large enough, and the men were not so circumspect, necessi
tous, and active, as to usurp at once the whole adjacent
country. Between their possessions were extended large
spaces, in which grazing herds could freely move in every direc
tion. In one of these spaces Abraham resides ; his brother
Lot is near him ; but they cannot long remain in such places.
The very condition of a land, the population of which is now
increasing, now decreasing, and the productions of which are
never kept in equilibrium with the wants, produces unex
pectedly a famine, and the stranger suffers alike with the
native, whose own support he has rendered difficult by his
accidental presence. The two Chaldean brothers move onward
to Egypt, and thus is traced out for us the theatre on which,
for some thousands of years, the most important events of the

THE OLD TESTAMENT. 107

world were to be enacted. From the Tigris to the Euphrates,
from the Euphrates to the Nile, we see the earth peopled ; and
this space also is traversed by a well-known, heaven-beloved
man, who has already become worthy to us, moving to and
fro with his goods and cattle, and, in a short time, abundantly
increasing them. The brothers return; but, taught by the
distress they have endured, they determine to part. Both,
indeed, tarry in Southern Canaan; but while Abraham re
mains at Hebron, near the wood of Harare, Lot departs for
the valley of Siddim, which, if our imagination is bold
enough to give Jordan a subterranean outlet, so that in place
of the present Dead Sea we should have dry ground, can
and must appear like a second Paradise ; a conjecture all the
more probable, because the residents about there, notorious
for effeminacy and wickedness, lead us to infer that they led
an easy and luxurious life. Lot lives among them, but apart.

But Hebron and the wood of Mamre appear to us as the
important place where the Lord speaks with Abraham, and
promises him all the land as far as his eye can reach in four
directions. From these quiet districts, from these shepherd
tribes, who can associate with celestials, entertain them as
guests, and hold many conversations with them, we are com
pelled to turn our glance once more towards the East, and to
think of the condition of the surrounding world, which on the
whole, perhaps, may have been like that of Canaan.

Families hold together : they unite, and the mode of life of
the tribes is determined by the locality which they have appro
priated or appropriate. On the mountains which send down
their waters to the Tigris, we find warlike populations, who
even thus early foreshadow those world- conquerors and world-
rulers and in a campaign, prodigious for those times, give
us a prelude of future achievements. Chedor Laomer, king
of Elam, has already a mighty influence over his allies. He
reigns a long while ; for twelve years before Abraham s arrival
in Canaan, he had made all the people tributary to him as far
as the Jordan. They revolted at last, and the allies equipped
for war. We find them unawares upon a route by which pro
bably Abraham also reached Canaan. The people on the left
and lower side of the Jordan were subdued. Chedor Laomer
directs his march southwards towards the people of the Desert,
then wending north, he smites the Amalekites, and when he

108 TRUTH AND POETKY: FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

has also overcome the Amorites, lie reaches Canaan, falls upon
the kings of the valley of Siddim, smites and scatters them,
and marches with great spoil up the Jordan, in order to extend
his conquests as far as Lebanon.

Among the captives, despoiled and dragged along with their
property, is Lot, who shares the fate of the country in which
he lives a guest. Abraham learns this, and here at once we
behold the patriarch a warrior and hero. He gathers together
his servants, divides them into troops, attacks and falls upon
the luggage of booty, confuses the victors, who could not sus
pect another enemy in the rear, and brings back his brother
and his goods, with a great deal more belonging to the con
quered kings. Abraham, by means of this brief contest,
acquires, as it were, the whole laud. To the inhabitants he
appears as a protector, saviour, and, by his disinterestedness,
a king. Gratefully the kings of the valley receive him :
Melchisedek, the king and priest, with blessings.

Now the prophecies of an endless posterity are renewed,
nay, they take a wider and wider scope. From the waters of
the Euphrates to the river of Egypt all the lands are promised
him ; but yet there seems a difficulty with respect to his next
heirs. He is eighty years of age, and has no son. Sarai, less
trusting in the heavenly powers than he, becomes impatient ;
she desires, after the oriental fashion, to have a descendant
by means of her maid. But scarcely is Hagar given up to the
master of the house, scarcely is there hope of a son, than dis
sensions arise. The wife treats her own dependent ill enough,
and Hagar flies to seek a happier position among other tribes.
She returns, not without a higher intimation, and Ishmael is
born.

Abraham is now ninety-nine years old, and the promises of
a numerous posterity are constantly repeated, so that in the
end the pair regard them as ridiculous. And yet Sarai be
comes at last pregnant and brings forth a son, to whom the
name of Isaac is given.

History, for the most part, rests upon the legitimate propa
gation of the human race. The most important events of the
world require to be traced to the secrets of families : and thus
the marriages of the patriarchs give occasion for peculiar con
siderations. It is as if the Divinity, who loves to guide the
destiny of mankind, wished to prefigure here connubial events

NATURAL AND REVEALED RELIGION. 109

of every kind. Abraham, so long united by childless marriage
to a beautiful woman whom many coveted, finds himself, in
his hundredth year, the husband of two women, the father of
two sons ; and at this moment his domestic peace is broken.
Two women, and two sons by different mothers, cannot pos
sibly agree. The party less favoured by law, usage, and
opinion, must yield. Abraham must sacrifice his attachment
to Hagar and Ishmael. Both are dismissed, and Hagar is
compelled now, against her will, to go upon a road which
she once took in voluntary flight, at first, it seems, to the
destruction of herself and child ; but the angel of the Lord,
who had before sent her back, now rescues her again, that
Ishmael also may become a great people, and that the most
improbable of all promises may be fulfilled beyond its limits.

Two parents in advanced years, and one son of their old
age here, at last, one might expect domestic quiet and
earthly happiness. By no means. Heaven is yet preparing
the heaviest trial for the patriarch. But of this we cannot
speak without premising several considerations.

If a natural universal religion was to arise, and a special
revealed one to be developed from it, the countries in which
our imagination has hitherto lingered, the mode of life, the
race of men, were the fittest for the purpose. At least, we do
not find in the whole world anything equally favourable and
encouraging. Even to natural religion, if we assume that it
arose earlier in the human mind, there pertains much of deli
cacy of sentiment ; for it rests upon the conviction of an
universal providence, which conducts the order of the world
as a whole. A particular religion, revealed by Heaven to this
or that people, carries with it the belief in a special provi
dence which the Divine Being vouchsafes to certain favoured
men, families, races, and people. This faith seems to develope
itself with difficulty from man s inward nature. It requires
tradition, usage, and the warrant of a primitive time.

Beautiful is it, therefore, that the Israelitish tradition repre
sents the very first men who confide in this particular provi
dence as heroes of faith, following all the commands of that
high Being on whom they acknowledge themselves dependent,
just as blindly as, undisturbed by doubts, they are unwearied
in awaiting the later fulfilments of his promises.

As a particular revealed religion rests upon the idea that

110 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

one man can be more favoured by Heaven than another, so it
also arises pre-eminently from the separation of classes. The
first men appeared closely allied ; but their employments soon
divided them. The hunter was the freest of all ; from him
was developed the warrior and the ruler. Those who tilled
the field bound themselves to the soil, erected dwellings and
barns to preserve what they had gained, and could estimate
themselves pretty highly, because their condition promised
durability and security. The herdsman in his position seemed
to have acquired the most unbounded condition and unlimited
property. The increase of herds proceeded without end, and
the space which was to support them widened itself on all
sides. These three classes seemed from the very first to have
regarded each other with dislike and contempt ; and as the
herdsman was an abomination to the townsman, so did he in
turn separate from the other. The hunters vanish from our
sight among the hills, and re-appear only as conquerors.

The patriarchs belonged to the shepherd class. Their
manner of life upon the ocean of deserts and pastures, gave
breadth and freedom to their minds ; the vault of heaven, under
which they dwelt, with all its nightly stars, elevated their
feelings ; and they, more than the active, skilful huntsman, or
the secure, careful, householding husbandman, had need of the
immovable faith that a God walked beside them, visited them,
cared for them, guided and saved them.

We are compelled to make another reflection in passing to
the rest of the history. Humane, beautiful, and cheering as
the religion of the patriarchs appears, yet traits of savageness
and cruelty run through it, out of which man may emerge, or
into which he may again be sunk.

That hatred should seek to appease itself by the blood, by
the death of the conquered enemy, is natural ; that men con
cluded a peace upon the battle-field among the ranks of the
slain, may easily be conceived ; that they should in like
manner think to give validity to a contract by slain animals,
follows from the preceding. The notion also that slain crea
tures could attract, propitiate, and gain over the gods, whom
they always looked upon as partisans, either opponents or
allies, is likewise not at all surprising. But if we confine our
attention to the sacrifices, and consider the way in which they
were offered in that primitive time, we find a singular, and,

THE OLD TESTAMENT. Ill

to our notions, altogether repugnant custom, probably derived
from the usages of war, viz., that the sacrificed animals of
every kind, and whatever number was devoted, had to be
hewn in two halves, and laid out on two sides, so that in the
space between them were those who wished to make a cove
nant with the Deity.

Another dreadful feature wonderfully and portentously per
vades that fair world, namely, that everything consecrated or
vowed must die. This also was probably an usage of war trans
ferred to peace. The inhabitants of a city which forcibly
defends itself are threatened with such a vow ; it is taken by
storm or otherwise. Nothing is left alive ; men never, and
often women, children, and even cattle, share a similar fate.
Such sacrifices are rashly and superstitiously and with more or
less distinctness promised to the gods, and those whom the votary
would willingly spare, even his nearest of kin, his own children,
may thus bleed, the expiatory victims of such a delusion.

In the mild and truly patriarchal character of Abraham,
such a savage kind of worship could not arise ; but the God
head,* which often, to tempt us, seems to put forth those
qualities which man is inclined to assign to it, imposes a
monstrous task upon him. He must offer up his son as a
pledge of the new covenant, and, if he follows the usage,
must not only kill and burn him, but cut him in two, and await
between the smoking entrails a new promise from the be
nignant Deity. Abraham blindly, and without lingering, pre
pares to execute the command ; to Heaven the will is sufficient.
Abraham s trials are now at an end, for they could not be
carried further. But Sarai dies, and this gives Abraham an
opportunity for taking typical possession of the land of Canaan.
He requires a grave, and this is the first time he looks out for
a possession in this earth, He had before this probably sought
out a two-fold cave by the grove of Mamre. This he purchases
with the adjacent field, and the legal form which he observes
on the occasion, shows how important this possession is to
him. Indeed it was more so, perhaps, than he himself sup
posed ; for there he, his sons and his grandsons, were to rest,
and by this means, the nearest title to the whole land, as well

* It should be observed that in this Biblical narrative, when we have
used the expressions " Deity," " Godhead," or " Divinity," Gothe gene
rally has " die Gotter," or "the Gods,"

112 TRUTH AXD POETHY; PBOM MY OWN LIFE.

as the everlasting desire of his posterity to gather themselves
there, was most properly grounded.

From this time forth the manifold incidents of the family
life become varied. Abraham still keeps strictly apart from
the inhabitants, and though Ishmael, the son of an Egyptian
woman, has married a daughter of that land, Isaac is obliged
to wed a kinswoman of equal birth with himself.

Abraham despatches his servant to Mesopotamia, to the
relatives whom he had left behind there. The prudent Eleazer
arrives unknown, and, in order to take home the right bride,
tries the readiness to serve of the girls at the well. He asks to
drink himself, and Rebecca, unasked, waters his camels also.
He gives her presents, he demands her in marriage, and his
suit is not rejected. He conducts her to the home of his lord,
and she is wedded to Isaac. In this case, too, issue has to
be long expected. Rebecca is not blessed until after some
years of probation, and the same discord which in Abraham s
double marriage arose through two mothers, here proceeds
from one. Two boys of opposite characters wrestle already in
their mother s womb. They come to light, the elder lively and
vigorous, the younger gentle and prudent. The former be
comes the father s, the latter the mother s favourite. The
strife for precedence, which begins even at birth, is ever going
on. Esau is quiet and indifferent as to the birthright which fate
has given him ; Jacob never forgets that his brother forced
him back. Watching every opportunity of gaining the desir
able privilege, he buys the birthright of his brother, and
defrauds him of their father s blessing. Esau is indignant,
and vows his brother s death ; Jacob flees to seek his fortune
in the land of his forefathers.

Now, for the first time, in so noble a family appears a mem
ber who has no scruple in attaining by prudence and cunning
the advantages which nature and circumstances have denied
him. It has often enough been remarked and expressed, that
the Sacred Scriptures by no means intend to set up any of the
patriarchs and other divinely-favoured men as models of virtue.
They, too, are persons of the most different characters, with
many defects and failings. But there is one leading trait, in,
which none of these men after God s own heart can be want
ing that is, an immovable faith that God has special care of
them and their families.

THE OLD TESTAMENT. 113

General, natural religion, properly speaking, requires no
faith ; for the persuasion that a great producing, regulating,
and conducting Being conceals himself, as it were, behind
Nature, to make himself comprehensible to us such a con
viction forces itself upon every one. Nay, if we for a moment
let drop this thread, which conducts us through life, it may be
immediately and everywhere resumed. But it is different
with a special religion, which announces to us that this Great
Being distinctly and pre-eminently interests himself for one
individual, one family, one people, one country. This religion
is founded on faith, which must be immovable if it would not
be instantly destroyed. Every doubt of such a religion is
fatal to it. One may return to conviction, but not to faith.
Hence the endless probation, the delay in the fulfilment of so
often repeated promises, by which the capacity for faith in
those ancestors is set in the clearest light.

It is in this faith also that Jacob begins his expedition, and
if by his craft and deceit he has not gained our affections, he
wins them by his lasting and inviolable love for Rachel, whom
he himself woos on the instant, as Eleazar had courted Re
becca for his father. In him the promise of a countless people
was first to be fully unfolded ; he was to see many sons around
him, but through them and their mothers was to endure mani
fold sorrows of heart*

Seven years he serves for his beloved, without impatience
and without wavering. His father-in-law, crafty like himself,
and disposed, like him, to consider legitimate this means to an
end, deceives him, and so repays him for what he has done to
his brother. Jacob finds in his arms a wife whom he does not
love. Laban, indeed, endeavours to appease him, by giving
him his beloved also after a short time, and this but on the con
dition of seven years of further service. Vexation arises out of
vexation. The wife he does not love is fruitful, the beloved
one bears no children. The latter, like Sarai, desires to become
a mother through her handmaiden ; the former grudges her
even this advantage. She also presents her husband with a
maid ; but the good patriarch is now the most troubled man
in the world he has four women, children by three, and none
from her he loves. Finally she also is favoured, and Joseph
comes into the world, the late Iruit of the most passionate
attachment. Jacob s fourteen years of service are over, but

X

114 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

Laban is unwilling to part with him, his chief and most trusty
servant. They enter into a new compact, and portion the flocks
between them. Laban retains the white ones as most numerous,
Jacob has to put up wiith the spotted ones, as the mere refuse.
But he is able here too to secure his own advantage ; and as
by a paltry mess (of pottage) he had procured the birthright,
and by a disguise his father s blessing, he manages by art and
sympathy to appropriate to himself the best and largest part
of the herds ; and on this side also he becomes the truly
worthy progenitor of the people of Israel, and a model for his
descendants. Laban and his household remark the result, if
not the stratagem. Vexation ensues ; Jacob flees with his
family and goods, and partly by fortune, partly by cunning,
escapes the pursuit of Laban. Rachel is now about to present
him another son, but dies in the travail : Benjamin, the child
of sorrow, survives her ; but the aged father is to experience
a still greater sorrow from the apparent loss of his son Joseph.

Perhaps some one may ask why I have so circumstantially
narrated histories so universally known and so often repeated
and explained. Let the inquirer be satisfied with the answer,
that I could in no other way exhibit, how with my distracted life
and desultory education, I concentrated my mind and feelings
in quiet action on one point ; that I was able in no other way
to depict the peace that prevailed about me, even when all
without was so wild and strange. If an ever busy imagina
tion, of which that tale may bear witness, led me hither and
thither, if the medley of fable and history, mythology and
religion, threatened to bewilder me, I readily fled to those
oriental regions, plunged into the first books of Moses, and
there, amid the scattered shepherd- tribes, found myself at once
in the greatest solitude and the greatest society.

These family scenes, before they were to lose themselves in
a history of the Jewish nation, show us now, in conclusion, a
form by which the hopes and fancies of the young in particular
are agreeably excited : Joseph, the child of the most passionate
wedded love. He seems to us tranquil and clear, and predicts
to himself the advantages which are to elevate him above his
family. Cast into misfortune by his brothers, he remains
steadfast and upright in slavery, resists the most dangerous
temptations, rescues himself by prophecy, and is elevated

HISTORY OP JOSEPH. 115

according to his deserts to high honours. He shows himself
first serviceable and useful to a great kingdom, then to his own
kindred. He is like his ancestor Abraham in repose and
greatness, his grandfather Isaac in silence and devotedness.
The talent for traffic inherited from his father he exercises on
a large scale. It is no longer flocks which are gained for him
self from a father-in-law, but people, with all their possessions,
which he knows how to purchase for a king. Extremely grace
ful is this natural story, only it appears too short, and one
feels called upon to paint it in detail.

Such a filling-up of biblical characters and events given only
in outline, was no longer strange to the Germans. The person
ages of both the Old and New Testaments had received through
Klopstock a tender and affectionate nature, highly pleasing to
the Boy as well as to many of his contemporaries. Of Bodmer s
efforts in this line little or nothing came to him ; but Daniel in
the Lion s Den, by Moser, made a great impression on the young
heart. In that work a right-minded man of business and
courtier arrives at high honours through manifold tribula
tions, and the piety for which they threatened to destroy him
became early and late his sword and buckler. It had long
seemed to me desirable to work out the history of Joseph, but
I could not get on with the form, particularly as I was con
versant with no kind of versification which would have been
adapted to such a work. But now I found a treatment of it
in prose very suitable, and I applied all my strength to its
execution. I now endeavoured to discriminate and paint the
characters, and by the interpolation of incidents and episodes,
to make the old simple history a new and independent work.
I did not consider, what, indeed, youth cannot consider, that
subject-matter was necessary to such a design, and that this
could only arise by the perceptions of experience. Suffice
it to say, that I represented to myself all the incidents down to
the minutest details, and narrated them accurately to myself
in their succession.

What greatly lightened this labour was a circumstance
which threatened to render this work, and my authorship in
general, exceedingly voluminous. A young man of various
capacities, but who had become imbecile from over exertion
and conceit, resided as a ward in my father s house, lived
quietly with the family, and if allowed to go on in his usual

i 2

116 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

way, was contented and agreeable. He had with great care
written out notes of his academical course, and had acquired
a rapid legible hand. He liked to employ himself in writing
better than in anything else, and was pleased when some
thing was given him to copy ; but still more when he was
dictated to, because he then felt carried back to his happy
academical years. To my father, who was not expeditious
in writing, and whose German letters were small and tremu
lous, nothing could be more desirable, and he was conse
quently accustomed, in the conduct of his own and other
business, to dictate for some hours a day to this young
man. I found it no less convenient, during the intervals, to ,
see all that passed through my head fixed upon paper by the
hand of another, and my natural gift of feeling and imitation
grew with the facility of catching up and preserving.

As yet I had not undertaken any work so large as that
biblical prose-epic. The times were tolerably quiet, and no
thing recalled my imagination from Palestine and Egypt.
Thus my manuscripts swelled more and more every day, as
the poem, which I recited to myself, as it were, in the air,
stretched along the paper ; and only a few pages from time
to time needed to be rewritten.

When the work was done for to my own astonishment it
really came to an end I reflected that from former years

f *//

many poems were extant, which did not even now appear to
me utterly despicable, and which, if written together in the
same size with JOSEPH, would make a very neat quarto, to
which the title " Miscellaneous Poems might be given. I
was pleased with this, as it gave me an opportunity of quietly
imitating well-known and celebrated authors. I had com
posed a good number of so-called Anacreontic poems, which,
on account of the convenience of the metre and the easiness
of the subject, flowed forth readily enough. But these I
could not well take, as they were not in rhyme, and my desire
before all things was to show my father something that would
please him. So much the more, therefore, did the spiritual
odes seem suitable, which I had very zealously attempted in
imitation of the Last Judgment of Elias Schlegel. One of
these, written to celebrate the descent of Christ into hell,
received much applause from my parents and friends, and had
the good fortune to please myself for some years afterwards.

PLITT S SERMONS. 117

The so-called texts of the Sunday church-music, which were
always to be had printed, I studied with diligence. They
were, indeed, very weak, and I could well believe that my
verses, of which I had composed many in the prescribed
manner, were equally worthy of being set to music, and per
formed for the edification of the congregation. These and
many like them I had for more than a year before copied
with my own hand, because through this private exercise I
was released from the copies of the writing-master. Now,
all were corrected and put in order, and no great persuasion
was needed to have them neatly copied by the young man who
was so fond of writing. I hastened with them to the book-
binder, and when very soon after I handed the nice-looking
volume to my father, he encouraged me with peculiar satisfac
tion to furnish a similar quarto every year ; which he did with
the greater conviction, as I had produced the whole in my
spare moments alone.

Another circumstance increased my tendency to these theo
logical, or rather biblical studies. The senior of the ministry,
JOHN PHILIP FUESENITJS, a mild man, of handsome, agree
able appearance, who was respected by his congregation and
the whole city as an exemplary pastor and good preacher,
but who, because he stood forth against the Herrnhuters, was
not in the best odour with the peculiarly pious ; while, on the
other hand, he had made himself famous, and almost sacred,
with the multitude, by the conversion of a free-thinking Gene
ral who had been mortally wounded this man died, and his
successor, Plitt, a tall, handsome, dignified man, who brought
from his Chair (he had been a Professor in Marburg) the gift
of teaching rather than of edifying, immediately announced a
sort of religious course, to which his sermons were to be de
voted in a certain methodical connexion. I had already, as I
was compelled to go to church, remarked the distribution of
the subject, and could now and then show myself off by a pretty
complete recitation of a sermon. But now as much was said
in the congregation, both for and against the new senior, and
many placed no great confidence in his announced didactic
sermons, I undertook to write them out more carefully, and I
succeeded the better from having made smaller attempts in a
seat very convenient for hearing, but concealed from sight,
was extremely attentive and on the alert ; the moment he said

118 TUTJTH AND POETRY; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

Amen I hastened from the church and consumed a couple of
hours in rapidly dictating what I had fixed in my memory
and on paper, so that I could hand in the written sermon be
fore dinner. My father was very proud of this success, and
the good friend of the family, who had just come in to dinner,
also shared in the joy. Indeed, this friend was very well-
disposed to me, because I had so made his Messiah my own,
that in my repeated visits to him to get impressions of seals
for my collection of coats-of-arms, I could recite long passages
from it till the tears stood in his eyes.

The next Sunday I prosecuted the work with equal zeal, and
as the mechanical part of it mainly interested me, I did not
reflect upon what I wrote and preserved. During the first
quarter these efforts may have continued pretty much the
same ; but as I fancied at last, in my self-conceit, that I found
no particular enlightenment as to the Bible, nor clearer insight
into dogmas, the small vanity which was thus gratified seemed
to me too dearly purchased for me to pursue the matter with
the same zeal. The sermons, once so many-leaved, grew more
and more meagre ; and before long I should have relinquished
this labour altogether, if my father, who was a fast friend to
completeness, had not, by words and promises, induced me to
persevere till the last Sunday in Trinity though, at the con
clusion, scarcely more than the text, the statement, and the
divisions were scribbled on little pieces of paper.

My father was particularly pertinacious on this point of com
pleteness. What was once undertaken must be finished, even
if the inconvenience, tedium, vexation, nay, uselessness of the
thing begun were plainly manifested in the meantime. It
seemed as if he regarded completeness as the only end, and
perseverance as the only virtue. If in our family circle, in the
long winter evenings, we had begun to read a book aloud, we
were compelled to finish, though we were all in despair about
it, and my father himself was the first to yawn. I still re
member such a winter when we had thus to work our way
through Bower s History of the Popes. It was a terrible time f
as little or nothing that occurs in ecclesiastical affairs can
interest children and young people. Still, with all my inat
tention and repugnance, so much of that reading remained in
my mind that I was able, in after times, to take up many
threads of the narrative.

LESSONS IN FENCING. 119

Amid all these heterogeneous occupations and labours,
which followed each other so rapidly that one could hardly
reflect whether they were permissible and useful, my father
did not lose sight of the main object. He endeavoured
to direct my memory and my talent for apprehending and
combining to objects of jurisprudence, and therefore gave me
a small book by Hopp, in the shape of a catechism, and
worked up according to the form and substance of the Insti
tutions. I soon learned questions and answers by heart, and
could represent the catechist as well as the catechumen;
and, as in religious instruction at that time, one of the chief
exercises was to find passages in the Bible as readily as pos
sible, so here a similar acquaintance with the Corpus Juris
was found necessary, in which, also, I soon became completely
versed. My father wished me to go on, and the little STUUVE
was taken in hand; but here affairs did not proceed so
rapidly. The form of the w^ork was not so favourable for
beginners, that they could help themselves on, nor was my
father s method of teaching so liberal as greatly to interest me.

Not only by the warlike state in which we lived for some
years, but also by civil life itself, and the perusal of history and
romances, was it made clear to me that there were many
cases in which the laws are silent and give no help to the
individual, who must then see how to get out of the difficulty
by himself. We had now reached the period when, according
to the old routine, we were, besides other things, to learn to
fence and ride, that we might guard our skins upon occasion,
and have no pedantic appearance on horseback. As to the
first, the practice was very agreeable to us ; for we had
already, long ago, contrived to make broad-swords out ol
hazel-sticks, with basket-hilts, neatly woven of willow, to
protect the hands. Now we might get real steel blades, and
the clash we made with them was very merry.

There were two fencing-masters in the city : an old earnest
German, who went to work in a severe and solid style, and a
Frenchman, who sought to gain his advantage by advancing
and retreating, and by light fugitive thrusts, which he always
accompanied by cries. Opinions varied as to whose manner
was the best. The little company with which I was to take
lessons sided with the Frenchman, and we speedilv accus-

X A/

tomed ourselves to move backwards and forwards, make passes

120 TKTJTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY O\VN LIFE.

and recover, always breaking out into the usual exclamations.
But several of our acquaintance had gone to the German
teacher, and practised precisely the opposite. These distinct
modes of treating so important an exercise, the conviction of
each that his master was the best, really caused a dissension
among the young people, who were of about the same age,
and the fencing-schools occasioned serious battles, for there
was almost as much fighting with words as with swords ; and
to decide the matter in the end, a trial of skill between the
two teachers was arranged, the consequences of which I need
not circumstantially describe. The German stood in his posi
tion like a wall, watched his opportunity, and contrived to
disarm his opponent over and over again with his cut and
thrust. The latter maintained that this mattered not, and
proceeded to exhaust the other s wind by his agility. He
fetched the German several lunges, too, which, however, if
they had been in earnest, would have sent himself into the
next world.

On the whole, nothing was decided or improved, except
that some went over to our countryman, of whom I was one.
But I had already acquired too much from the first master ;
and hence a considerable time elapsed before the new one
could break me of it, who was altogether less satisfied with
us renegades than with his original pupils.

As to riding, it fared still worse with me. It happened
that they sent me to the course in the autumn, so that I com
menced in the cool and damp season. The pedantic treat
ment of this noble art was highly repugnant to me. From
first to last the whole talk was about sitting the horse, and
yet no one could say in what a proper sitting consisted,
though all depended on that ; for they went to and fro on the
horse without stirrups. Moreover, the instruction seemed
contrived only for cheating and degrading the scholars. If
one forgot to hook or loosen the curb-chain, or let his switch
fall down, or even his hat, every delay, every misfortune,
had to be atoned for by money, and one was even laughed at
besides. This put me in the worst of humours, particularly
when I found the place of exercise itself quite intolerable.
The great nasty space, either wet or dusty, the cold, the
mouldy smell, all together was in the highest degree repug
nant to me ; and since the stable -master always gave the others

THE REBEL FETTMILCH. 121

the best and me the worst horses to ride, perhaps because
they bribed him by breakfasts and other gifts, or even by their
own cleverness ; since he kept me waiting, and, as it seemed,
slighted me, I spent the most disagreeable hours in an employ
ment that ought to have been the most pleasant in the w^orld.
Nay, the impression of that time and of these circumstances
has remained with me so vividly, that although I afterwards
became a passionate and daring rider, and for days and weeks
together scarcely got off my horse, I carefully shunned covered
riding- courses, and at least passed only a few moments in them.
The case often happens that when the elements of an exclu
sive art are taught us, this is done in a painful and revolting
manner. The conviction that this is both wearisome and in
jurious, has given rise in later times to the educational maxim,
that the young must be taught everything in an easy, cheerful,
and agreeable way : from which, however, other evils and
disadvantages have proceeded.

With the approach of spring, times became again more
quiet with us, and if in earlier days I had endeavoured to
obtain a sight of the city, its ecclesiastical, civil, public and
private structures, and especially found great delight in the
still prevailing antiquities, I afterwards endeavoured, by means
of Lernsner s Chronicle, and other Frankfortian books and
pamphlets belonging to my father, to revive the persons of
past times. This seemed to me to be well attained by great
attention to the peculiarities of times and manners, and of
distinguished individuals.

Among the ancient remains, that which, from my child
hood, had been remarkable to me, was the skull of a state
criminal, fastened up on the tower of the bridge, who, out
of three or four, as the naked iron spikes showed, had, since
1616, been preserved in spite of the encroachments of time
and weather. Whenever one returned from Sachsenhausen to
Frankfort, one had this tower before one, and the skull was
directly in view. As a boy, I liked to hear related the history
of these rebels Fettmilch and his confederates how they
had become dissatisfied with the government of the city, had
risen up against it, plotted a mutiny, plundered the Jews
quarter, and excited a fearful riot, but were at last captured,
and condemned to death by a deputy of the eniDeror. After
wards I felt anxious to know the most minute circumstance,

122 TRUTH AIN D POETRY : FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

and to hear what sort of people they were. When from an
old cotemporary book, ornamented with woodcuts, I learned
that while these men had indeed been condemned to death,
many councillors had at the same time been deposed, because
various kinds of disorder and very much that was unwarrant
able was then going on ; when I heard the nearer particulars
how all took place, I pitied the unfortunate persons who
might be regarded as sacrifices made for a future better con
stitution. For from that time was dated the regulation which
allows the noble old house of Limpurg, the Frauenstein-
house, sprung from a club, besides lawyers, tradespeople,
and artisans, to take a part in a government, which, com
pleted by a system of ballot, complicated in the Venetian
fashion, and restricted by the civil colleges, was called to do
right, without acquiring any special privilege to do wrong.

Among the things which excited the misgivings of the Boy,
and even of the youth, was especially the state of the Jewish
quarter of the city (Judenstadf), properly called the Jew-
street (Judengasse), as it consisted of little more than a single
street, which in early times may have been hemmed in between
the walls and trenches of the town, as in a prison (Zwinger).
The closeness, the filth, the crowd, the accent of an unpleasant
language, altogether made a most disagreeable impression,
even if one only looked in as one passed the gate. It was
long before I ventured in alone, and I did not return there
readily, when I had once escaped the importunities of so
many men unwearied in demanding and offering to traffic.
At the same time the old legends of the cruelty of theuJews
towards Christian children, which we had seen hideously illus
trated in Godfrey s Chronicles, hovered gloomily before my
young mind. And although they were thought better of in
modern times, the large caricature, still to be seen, to their
disgrace, on an arched wall under the bridge tower, bore
extraordinary witness against them ; for it had been made,
not through private ill-will, but by public order.
! However, they still remained, nevertheless, the chosen
people of God, and passed, no matter how it came about, as
a memorial of the most ancient times. Besides, they also were
men, active and obliging, and even to the tenacity with which
they clung to their peculiar customs, one could not refuse one s
respect. The girls, moreover, were pretty, and were far from

PUBLIC BUHNING OF A BOOK. 123

displeased when a Christian lad, meeting them on the sabbath
in the Fischerfeld, showed himself kindly and attentive. I was
consequently extremely curious to become acquainted with
their ceremonies. I did not desist until I had frequently
visited their school, had assisted at a circumcision and a wed
ding, and had formed a notion of the Feast of the Tabernacles.
Everywhere I was well received, pleasantly entertained, and
invited to come again ; for they were persons of influence by
whom I had been either introduced or recommended.

Thus, as a young resident in a large city, I was thrown
about from one object to another, and horrible scenes were
not wanting in the midst of the municipal quiet and security.
Sometimes a more or less remote fire aroused us from our
domestic peace, sometimes the discovery of a great crime,
with its investigation and punishment, set the whole city in
an uproar for many weeks. We were forced to be witnesses of
different executions ; and it is worth remembering, that I was
also once present at the burning of a book. The publication
was a French comic romance, which indeed spared the state,
but not religion and manners. There was really something
dreadful in seeing punishment inflicted on a lifeless thing.
The packages exploded in the fire, and were raked asunder by
an oven-fork, to be brought in closer contact with the flames.
It was not long before the kindled sheets w r ere wafted about
in the air, and the crowd caught at them with eagerness. Nor
could we rest until we had hunted up a copy, while not a few
managed likewise to procure the forbidden pleasure. Nay,
if it had been done to give the author publicity, he could not
himself have made a more effectual provision.

But there were also more peaceable inducements which
took me about in every part of the city. My father had
early accustomed me to manage for him his little affairs of

v O

business. He charged me particularly to stir up the labourers
whom he set to w r ork, as they commonly kept him waiting
longer than was proper; because he wished everything
done accurately, and was used in the end to lower the price
for a prompt payment. In this way, I gained access to all
the workshops ; and as it was natural to me to enter into the
condition of others, to feel every species of human existence,
and sympathize in it with pleasure, these commissions were
to me the occasion of many most delightful hours, and I

124 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

learned to know every one s method of proceeding, and what
joy and sorrow, what advantages and hardships, were incident
to the indispensable conditions of this or that mode of life.
I was thus brought nearer to that active class which connects
the lower and upper classes. For, if on the one side stand
those who are employed in the simple and rude products, and
on the other those who desire to enjoy something that has
been already worked up ; the manufacturer, with his skill
and hand, is the mediator through whom the other two receive
something from each other ; each is enabled to gratify his
wishes in his own way. The household economy of many
crafts, which took its form and colour from the occupation,
was likewise an object of my quiet attention ; and thus was
developed and strengthened in me the feeling of the equality,
if not of all men, yet of all human conditions, the mere fact
of existence seeming to me the main point, and all the rest
indifferent and accidental.

As my father did not readily allow himself an expense which
would be at once consumed in a momentary enjoyment as I can
scarcely call to mind that we ever took a walk together, and
spent anything in a place of amusement, he was, on the other
hand, not niggardly in procuring such things as had a
good external appearance in addition to inward value. No
one could desire peace more than he, although he had not felt
the smallest inconvenience during the last days of the war.
With this feeling, he had promised my mother a gold snuff
box, set with diamonds, which she was to receive as soon as
peace should be publicly declared. In the expectation of the
happy event, they had laboured now for some years on this
present. The box, which was tolerably large, had been exe
cuted in Hanau, for my father was on good terms with
the gold-workers there, as well as with, the heads of the silk
establishments. Many designs were made for it ; the cover
was adorned by a basket of flowers, over which hovered a
dove with the olive-branch. A vacant space was left for the
jewels, which were to be set partly in the dove and partly on
the spot where the box is usually opened. The jeweller to
whom the execution and the requisite stones were entrusted
was named Lautensak, and was a brisk, skilful man, who
like many artists, seldom did what was necessary; but usually
works of caprice, which gave him pleasure. The jewels were

LAUTENSAK S BOUQUET. 125

very soon set, in the shape in which they were to be put
upon the box, on some black wax, and looked very well ; but
they would not come off to be transferred to the gold. In
the outset, my father let the matter rest; but as the hope
of peace became livelier, and finally when the stipulations
particularly the elevation of the Archduke Joseph to the
Roman throne seemed more precisely known, he grew more
and more impatient, and I had to go several times a week,
nay, at last, almost daily, to visit the tardy artist. By means
of my unremitted teazing and exhortation, the work went on,
though slowly enough ; for as it was of that kind which can
be taken in hand or laid aside at will, there was always
something by which it was thrust out of the way, and put
aside.

The chief cause of this conduct, however, was a task which
the artist had undertaken on his own account. Everybody
knew that the Emperor Francis cherished a strong liking for
jewels, and especially for coloured stones. Lautcnsak had ex
pended a considerable sum, and as it afterwards turned out
larger than his means, on such gems, out of which he had
begun to shape a nosegay, in which every stone was to be
tastefully disposed, according to its shape and colour, and the
whole form a work of art worthy to stand in the treasure-
vaults of an emperor. He had, in his desultory way, laboured
for many years upon it, and now hastened because after tke
hoped-for peace the arrival of the Emperor, for the corona
tion of his son, was expected in Frankfort to complete it
and finally to put it together. My desire to become ac
quainted with such things he used very dexterously in order
to distract me as a bearer of threats, and to lead me away
from my intention. He strove to impart a knowledge of
these stones to me, and made me attentive to their pro
perties and value, so that in the end I knew his whole
bouquet by heart, and quite as well as he could have demon
strated its virtues to a customer. It is even now before me,
and I have since seen more costly, but not more graceful
specimens of show and magnificence in this sort. He pos
sessed, moreover, a pretty collection of engravings, and other
works of art, with which he liked to amuse himself; and
I passed many hours with him, not without profit. Finally,
when the Congress of Hubertsburg was finally fixed, he did

126 TRUTH AND POETRY ; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

for my sake more than was due ; and the dove and flowers
actually reached my mother s hands on the festival in celebra
tion of the peace.

I then received also many similar commissions to urge on
painters with respect to pictures which had been ordered.
My father had confirmed himself in the notion and few men
were free from it that a picture painted on wood was greatly
to be preferred to one that was merely put on canvas. It was
therefore his great care to possess good oak boards, of every
shape, because he well knew that just on this important point
the more careless artists trusted to the joiners. The oldest planks
were hunted up, the joiners were obliged to go accurately to
work with gluing, painting, and arranging, and they were
then kept for years in an upper room, where they could be
sufficiently dried. A precious board of this kind was intrusted
to the painter JUNKER, who was to represent on it an orna
mental flower-pot, with the most important flowers drawn
after nature in his artistic and elegant manner. It was just
about the spring-time, and I did not fail to take him several
times a week the most beautiful flowers that fell in my way,
which he immediately put in, and by degrees composed the
whole out of these elements with the utmost care and fidelity.
On one occasion I had caught a mouse, which I took to him,
and which he desired to copy as a very pretty animal ; nay,
really represented it, as accurately as possible, gnawing an ear
of corn at the foot of the flower-pot. Many such inoffen
sive natural objects, such as butterflies and chafers, were
brought in and represented, so that finally, as far as imitation
and execution were concerned, a highly valuable picture was
put together.

Hence I was not a little astonished when the good man
formally declared one day, when the work was just about to
be delivered, that the picture no longer pleased him, since,
while it had turned out quite well in its details, it was not
well composed as a whole, because it had been produced in
this gradual manner; and he had perpetrated a blunder in
the outset, in not at least devising a general plan for light and
shade, as well as for colour, according to which the single
flowers might have been arranged. He examined with me
the minutest parts of the picture, which had arisen before my
eyes during a half year, and had in many respects pleased me,

OIL-CLOTH FACTORY. 127

and managed to convince me perfectly, much to my regret.
Even the copy of the mouse he regarded as a mistake ; for
many persons, he said, have a sort of horror of such animals,
and they should not be introduced where the object is to
excite pleasure. As it commonly happens with those who
are cured of a prejudice, and imagine themselves much more
knowing than they were before, I now had a real contempt
for this work of art, and agreed perfectly with the artist when
he caused to be prepared another tablet of the same size, on
which, according to his taste, he painted a better formed vessel
and a more artistically arranged nosegay, and also managed
to select and distribute the little living accessories in an orna
mental and agreeable way. This tablet also he painted with
the greatest care, though altogether after the former copied
one, or from memory, which, through a very long and assi
duous practice, came to his aid. Both paintings were now
ready, and we were thoroughly delighted with the last, which
was certainly the more artistic and striking of the two. My
father was surprised with two pictures instead of one, and to
him the choice was left. He approved of our opinion, and of
the reasons for it, and especially of our good- will and activity ;
but, after considering both pictures some days, decided in
favour of the first, without saying much about the motives of
his choice. The artist, in an ill-humour, took back his second
well-meant picture, and could not refrain from the remark that
the good oaken tablet on which the first was painted had cer
tainly its effect on my father s decision.

Now I am again speaking of painting, I am reminded of a
large establishment, where I passed much time, because both
it and its managers especially attracted me. It w r as the great
oil-cloth factory which the painter NOTHNAGEL had erected;
an expert artist, but one who by his mode of thought inclined
more to manufacture than to art. In a very large space of
courts and gardens, all sorts of oil-cloths were made, from the
coarsest that are spread with a trowel, and used for baggage-
wagons and similar purposes, and the carpets impressed with
figures, to the finer and the finest, on which sometimes
Chinese and grotesque, sometimes natural flowers, sometimes
figures, sometimes landscapes were represented by the pencils
of accomplished workmen. This multiplicity, to which there
was no end, amused me vastly. The occupation of so many

128 THUTH A3SD POETHY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

men, from the commonest labour to that in which a certain
artistic worth could not be denied, was to me extremely attrac
tive. I made the acquaintance of this multitude of younger
and older men, working in several rooms one behind the other,
and occasionally lent a hand myself. The sale of these com-
modities was extraordinarily brisk. Whoever at that time
was building or furnishing a house, wished to provide for
his lifetime, and this oil-cloth carpeting was certainly quite
indestructible. Nothnagel had enough to do in managing
the whole, and sat in his office surrounded by factors and
clerks. The remainder of his time he employed in his collection
of works of art, consisting chiefly of engravings, in which, as
well as in the pictures he possessed, he traded occasionally.
At the same time he had acquired a taste for etching ; he
etched a variety of plates, and prosecuted this branch of art
even into his latest years.

As his dwelling lay near the Eschenheim gate, my way
when I had visited him led me out of the city to some pieces
of ground which my father owned beyond the gates. One was
a large orchard, the soil of which was used as a meadow, and
in which my father carefully attended the transplanting 01
trees, and whatever else pertained to their preservation, though
the ground itself was leased. Still more occupation was fur
nished by a very well-preserved vineyard beyond the Fried-
berg gate, where between the rows of vines, rows of asparagus
were planted and tended with great care. Scarcely a day
passed in the fine season in which my father did not go there,
and as on these occasions we might generally accompany him,
we were provided with joy and delight from the earliest pro
ductions of spring to the last of autumn. We also learned
to occupy ourselves with gardening matters, which, as they
were repeated every year, became in the end perfectly known
and familiar to us. But after the manifold fruits of summer
and autumn, the vintage at last was the most lively and the
most desirable : nay, there is no question that as wine gives
a freer character to the very places and districts where it is
grown and drunk, so also do these vintage-days, while they
close summer and at the same time open the winter, diffuse
an incredible cheerfulness. Joy and jubilation pervade a
whole district. In the daytime, huzzas and shoutings are
heard from every end and corner, and at night rockets and

:FBANKFOBT CHARACTERS TON OLENSCHLAGEE. 129

fire-balls, now here, now there, announce that the people,
everywhere awake and lively, would willingly make this festi
val last as long as possible. The subsequent labour at the
wine-press, and during the fermentation in the cellar, gave us
also a cheerful employment at home, and thus we ordinarily
reached winter without being properly aware of it.

These rural possessions delighted us so much the more in
the spring of 1763, as the 15th of February in that year was
celebrated as a festival day, on account of the conclusion of
the Hubertsberg peace, under the happy results of which the
greater part of my life was to flow away. But before I go
further, I think I am bound to mention some men who exerted
an important influence on my youth.

VON OJLENSCHLAGER, a member of the Frauenstein family,
a Schoff, and son-in-law of the above-mentioned Dr. Orth, a
handsome, comfortable, sanguine man. In his official holiday
costume he could well have personated the most important
French prelate. After his academical course, he had em
ployed himself in political and state affairs, and directed even
his travels to that end. He greatly esteemed me, and often
conversed with me on matters which chiefly interested him.
I was with him when he wrote his Illustration of the Golden
Bull ; when he managed to explain to me very clearly the
worth and dignity of that document. My imagination was
led back by it to those wild and unquiet times, so that I could
not forbear representing what he related historically, as if it
were present, by pictures of characters and circumstances,
and often by mimicry. In this he took great delight, and by
his applause excited me to repetition.

I had from childhood the singular habit of always learning
by heart the beginnings of books, and the divisions of a work,
first of the five books of Moses, and then of the ^Eneid and
Ovid s Metamorphoses. I now did the same thing with the
Golden Bull, and often provoked my patron to a smile, w r hen
I quite seriously and unexpectedly exclaimed, " Omne regnum
in se divisum desolabitur ; nam principes ejus facti sunt socii
furum."* The knowing man shook his head, smiling, and
said doubtingly, " What times those must have been, when

Every kingdom divided against itself shall be brought to desola
tion ; for the princes thereof have become the associates of robbers.
Trans.

K

130 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

at a grand Diet, the Emperor had such words published in
the face of his princes ! :

There was a great charm in Von Olenschlager s society. He
received little company, but was strongly inclined to intel
lectual amusement, and induced us young people from time
to time to perform a play; for such exercises were deemed
particularly useful to the young. We gave the CANUTE of
Schlegel, in which the part of the king was assigned to me,
Elfrida to my sister, and Ulfo to the younger son of the family.
We then ventured on the BRITANNICUS,* for, besides our dra
matic talents, we were to bring the language into practice. I
took Nero, my sister, Agrippina, and the younger son, Britan-
nicus. We were more praised than we deserved, and fancied
that we had done it even beyond the amount of praise. Thus
I stood on the best terms with this family, and have been
indebted to them for many pleasures and a speedier develop
ment.

VON EEINECK, of an old patrician family, able, honest, but
stubborn, a meagre, swarthy man, whom I never saw smile.
The misfortune befell him that his only daughter was carried
off by a friend of the family. He pursued his son-in-law with
the most vehement prosecution; and because the tribunals,
with their formality, were neither speedy nor sharp enough to
gratify his desire of vengeance, he fell out with them ; and
there arose quarrel on quarrel, suit on suit. He retired com
pletely into his own house and its adjacent garden, lived in a
spacious but melancholy lower-room, into which for many
years no brush of a white washer, and perhaps scarcely the broom
of a maid-servant, had found its way. Me he could readily
endure, and he had especially commended to me his younger
son. He many times asked his oldest friends, who knew how
to humour him, his men of business and agents, to dine with
him, and on these occasions never omitted inviting me. There
was good eating and better drinking at his house. But a large
stove, that let out the smoke from many cracks, caused the
greatest pain to his guests. One of the most intimate of these
once ventured to remark upon this, by asking the host whether
lie could put up with such an inconvenience all the winter. He
answered, like a second Timon or Heautontimoroumenos :
" Would to God this was the greatest evil of those which torment

* Racine s tragedy. Trans.

FRANKFORT CHARACTERS YON REINECK. 131

me!" It was long before he allowed himself to be persuaded
to see his daughter and grandson. The son-in-law never again
dared to come into his presence.

On this excellent but unfortunate man my visits had a very
favourable effect ; for while he liked to converse with me, and
particularly instructed me on world and state affairs, he seemed
to feel himself relieved and cheered. The few old friends who
still gathered round him, often, therefore, made use of me
when they wished to soften his peevish humour, and persuade
him to any diversion. He now really rode out with us many
times, and again contemplated the country, on which he had
not cast an eye for so many years. He called to mind the old
landowners, and told stories of their characters and actions, in
which he showed himself always severe, but often cheerful and
witty. We now tried also to bring him again among other
men, which, however, nearly turned out badly.

About the same age, if indeed not older, was one HERE,
VON MALAPERT, a rich man, who possessed a very handsome,
house by the Horse-market, and derived a good income from
salt-pits. He also lived quite secluded : but in summer he
was a great deal in his garden, near the Bockenheim gate,
where he watched and tended a very fine plot of pinks.

Von Reineck w r as likewise an amateur of pinks ; the season
of flowering had come, and suggestions were made as to
whether these two could not visit each other. We introduced
the matter, and persisted in it, till at last Von Reineck resolved
to go out with us one Sunday afternoon. The greeting of the
two old gentlemen was very laconic, indeed, almost panto
mimic, and they walked up and down by the long pink frames
with true diplomatic strides. The display was really extraor
dinarily beautiful, and the particular forms and colours of the
different flowers, the advantages of one over the other, and
their rarity, gave at last occasion to a sort of conversation,
which appeared to get quite friendly ; at which we others
rejoiced the more because we saw the most precious old
Rhine wine in cut decanters, fine fruits, and other good things,
spread upon a table in a neighbouring bower. But these, alas
we were not to enjoy. For Von Reineck unfortunately saw a
very fine pink .with its head somewhat hanging down ; ho
therefore took tne stalk near the calyx very cautiously between
his fore and middle fingers, and lifted the flower so that he

K2

132 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

could well inspect it. But eyen this gentle handling vexed
the owner. Von Malapert courteously, indeed, but stiffly
enough, and somewhat self- complacently, reminded him of
the OcuK&, non manibus.* Von Reineck had already let go the
flower, but at once took fire at the words, and said in his
usual dry, earnest manner, that it was quite consistent with
an amateur to touch and examine them in such a manner.
Whereupon he repeated the act, and took the flower again
between his fingers. The friends of both parties for Von
Malapert also had one present were now in the greatest per
plexity. They set one hare to catch another (that was our
proverbial expression, when a conversation was to be inter
rupted, and turned to another subject), but it would not do ;
the old gentleman had become quite silent, and we feared every
moment that Von Reineck would repeat the act, when it would
be all over with us. The two friends kept their principals
apart by occupying them, now here, now there, and at last we
found it most expedient to make preparation for departure.
Thus, alas ! we were forced to turn our backs on the inviting
side-board, yet unenjoyed.

HOFRATH HTJISGEN, not born in Frankfort, of the reformedf
religion, and therefore incapable of public office, including the
profession of advocate, which, however, because much con
fidence was placed in him as an excellent jurist, he managed
to exercise quietly, both in the Frankfort and the imperial
courts, under assumed signatures, was already sixty years
old when I took writing lessons with his son, and so came
into his house. His figure was tall without being thin, and
broad without corpulency. You could not look, for the-
first time, on his face, which was not only disfigured by small
pox, but deprived of an eye, without apprehension. He always
wore on his bald head a perfectly white bell- shaped cap, tied
at the top with a ribbon. His morning-gowns, of calamanco or
damask, were always very clean. He dwelt in a very cheer
ful suite of rooms on the ground-floor by the Allee, and the
neatness of everything about him corresponded with this cheer
fulness. The perfect arrangement of his papers, books, and
maps, produced a favourable impression. His son Heinrich

* Eyes, not hands. Trans.

f That is to say, he was a Calvinist, as distinguished from a Lutheran.
Trans

FKANKEOUT CHARACTERS HOFRATH HTJTSGEN^ 133

Sebastian, afterwards known by various writings on Art, gave
little promise in his youth. Good-natured but dull, not rude
but blunt, and without any special liking for instruction, he
rather sought to avoid the presence of his father, as he could
get all he wanted from his mother. I, on the other hand, grew
more and more intimate with the old man, the more I knew
of him. As he attended only to important cases, he had time
enough to occupy and amuse himself in another manner. I
had not long frequented his house, and heard his doctrines,
than I could well perceive that he stood in opposition to God
and the world. One of his favourite books was Agrippa de
Vanitate Scientiarum, which he especially commended to me,
and so set my young brains in a considerable whirl for a long
time. In the happiness of youth I was inclined to a sort of
optimism, and had again pretty well reconciled myself with
God or the Gods ; for the experience of a series of years had
taught me that there was much to counterbalance evil, that
one can well recover from misfortune, and may be saved from
dangers without always going about breaking one s neck. I
looked with tolerance, too, on what men did and pursued, and
found many things worthy of praise which my old gentleman
could not by any means abide. Indeed, once when he had
sketched the world to me, rather from the distorted side, I
observed from his appearance that he meant to close the game
with an important trump- card. He shut tight his blind left
eye, as he was wont to do in such cases, looked sharp out of
the other, and said in a nasal voice, " Even in God I discover
defects."

My Timonic mentor was also a mathematician, but his prac
tical turn drove him to mechanics, though he did not work
himself. A clock, wonderful indeed in those days, which indi
cated not only the days and hours, but the motions of the sun
and moon, he caused to be made according to his own plan.
On Sunday, about ten o clock in the morning, he always wound
it up himself, which he could do the more regularly, as he never
went to church. I never saw company nor guests at his house ;
and only twice in ten years do I remember to have seen him
dressed and out of doors.

My various conversations with these men were not insignifi
cant, and each of them influenced me in his own way. From
every one I had as much attention as his own children, if not

134 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

more, and each, strove to increase his delight in me as in a be
loved son, while he aspired to mould me into his moral counter
part. Olenschlager would have made me a courtier, Von Rei-
jieck a diplomatic man of business ; both, the latter particularly,
sought to disgust me with poetry and authorship. Huisgen
wished me to be a Timon after his fashion, but, at the same
time, an able juris-consult ; a necessary profession, as he
thought, with which one could in a regular manner defend
oneself and friends against the rabble of mankind, succour the
oppressed, and above all, pay off a rogue ; though the last is
neither especially practicable nor advisable.

But if I liked to be at the side of these men to profit by their
counsels and directions, younger persons, only a little older
than myself, roused me to immediate emulation. I name here
before all others, the brothers SCHLOSSER and GRIESBACH.
But, as I came subsequently into a more intimate connexion
with these, which lasted for many years uninterruptedly, I will
only say for the present, that they were then praised as being
distinguished in languages and other studies which opened the-
academical course, and held up as models, and that everybody
cherished the certain expectation that they would once do
something uncommon in church and state.

With respect to myself, I also had it in my mind to produce
something extraordinary, but in what it was to consist was not
clear. But as we are apt to think rather upon the reward
which may be received than upon the merit which is to be
acquired, so, I do not deny, that if I thought of a desirable
piece of good fortune, it appeared to me most fascinating in
the shape of that laurel garland which is woven to adorn the
poet.

FIFTH BOOK.

EVEHY bird has its decoy, and every man is led and misled in
a way peculiar to himself. Nature, education, circumstances,,
and habit kept me apart from all that was rude ; and though
I often came into contact with the lower classes of people, par
ticularly mechanics, no close connexion grew out of it. I had
indeed boldness enough to undertake something uncommon
and perhaps dangerous, and many times felt disposed to do
so ; but I was without the handle by which to grasp and
hold it.

Meanwhile I was quite unexpectedly involved in an affair
which brought me near to a great hazard, and at least for a
long time into perplexity and distress. The good terms on
which I before stood with the boy whom I have already named
Pylades was maintained up to the time of my youth. We
indeed saw each other less often, because our parents did not
stand on the best footing with each other ; but when we did
meet, the old raptures df friendship broke out immediately.
Once we met in the alleys which offer a very agreeable \valk
between the outer and inner gate of Saint Gallus. We had
scarcely returned greetings, than he said to me, " I hold to
the same opinion as ever about your verses. Those which
you recently communicated to me, I read aloud to some plea
sant companions, and not one of them will believe that you
have made them." "Let it pass," I answered; "we will
make them and enjoy them, and the others may think and
say of them what they please."

"There comes the unbeliever now," added my friend.
" We will not speak of it," I replied ; " what is the use of it?
one cannot convert them." " By no means," said my friend;
" I cannot let the affair pass off in this way."

After a short and indifferent conversation, my young com
rade, who was but too well disposed towards me, could not
suffer the matter to drop, without saying to the other, with
some resentment, " Here is my friend who made those pretty

136 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

verses, for which you will not give him credit ! " He will cer
tainly not be offended at that," answered the other, " for we do
him an honour when we suppose that more learning is required
to make such verses than one of his years can possess." I re
plied with something indifferent; but my friend continued,
" It will not cost much labour to convince you. Give him
any theme, and he will make you a poem on the spot."
I assented, we were agreed, and the other asked me whether
I would venture to compose a pretty love-letter in rhyme,
which a modest young woman might be supposed to write to
a young man, to declare her inclination. " Nothing is easier
than that," I answered, "if I only had writing materials."
He pulled out his pocket almanac, in which there were a great
many blank leaves, and I sat down upon a bench to write.
They walked about in the meanwhile, but always kept me in
sight. I immediately brought the required situation before
my mind, and thought how agreeable it must be if some pretty
girl were really attached to me, and would reveal her senti
ments to me, either in prose or verse. I therefore began my
declaration with delight, and in a little while executed it in a
flowing measure, between doggerel and madrigal, with the
greatest possible naivete, and in such a way that the sceptic
was overcome with admiration, and my friend with delight.
The request of the former to possess the poem I could the less
refuse, as it was written in his almanac ; and I willingly saw
the documentary evidence of my capabilities in his hands.
He departed with many assurances of admiration and respect,
and wished for nothing more than that we should often meet;
so we settled soon to go together into the country.

Our party actually took place, and was joined by several
more young people of the same rank. They were men of the
middle, or, if you please, of the lower class, who were not
wanting in brains, and who moreover, as they had gone through
school, were possessed of various knowledge and a certain
degree of culture. In a large, rich city there are many modes
of gaining a livelihood. These got on by copying for the
lawyers, and by advancing the children of the lower order
more than is usual in common schools. With grown-up
children, who were about to be confirmed, they went through
the religious courses ; then, again, they assisted factors and
merchants in some way, and were thus enabled to enjoy them-

PIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH GBETCHEN. 137

V

selves frugally in the evenings, and particularly on Sundays
and festivals.

On the way there, while they highly extolled my love-
letter, they confessed to me that they had made a very merry
use of it, viz. that it had been copied in a feigned hand,
and, with a few pertinent allusions, had been sent to a con
ceited young man, who was now firmly persuaded that a lady
to whom he had paid distant court was excessively enamoured
of him, and sought an opportunity for closer acquaintance.
They at the same time told me in confidence, that he desired
nothing more now than to be able to answer her in verse ; but
that neither he nor they were skilful enough, so that they
earnestly solicited me to compose the much- desired reply.

Mystifications are and will continue to be an amusement
for idle people, whether more or less ingenious. A venial
wickedness, a self-complacent malice, is an enjoyment for
those who have neither resources in themselves nor a whole
some external activity. No age is quite exempt from such
pruriences. We had often tricked each other in our childish
years ; many sports turn upon mystification and trick. The
present jest did not seem to me to go further ; I gave my con
sent. They imparted to me many particulars which the letter
ought to contain, and we brought it home already finished.

A little while afterwards I was urgently invited, through
my friend, to take part in one of the evening feasts of that
society. The lover, he said, was willing to bear the expense
on this occasion, and desired expressly to thank the friend
who had shown himself so excellent a poetical secretary.

We came together late enough, the meal was most frugal, the
wine drinkable : while as for the conversation, it turned almost
entirely on jokes upon the young man, who was present, and
certainly not very bright, and who, after repeated readings of
the letter, almost believed that he had written it himself.

My natural good-nature would not allow me to take much
pleasure in such a malicious deception, and the repetition of
the same subject soon disgusted me. I should certainly have
passed a tedious evening, if an unexpected apparition had not
revived me. On our arrival the table had already been neatly
and orderly covered, and sufficient wine had been put on;
we sat down and remained alone, without requiring further
service. As there was, however, a want of wine at last, one

138 TRUTH AND POETEY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

of them called for the maid ; but instead of the maid there
came in a girl of uncommon, and, when one saw her with all
around her, of incredible beauty. "What do you desire? 1
she asked, after having cordially wished us a good evening ;
" the maid is ill in bed. Can I serve you ? ; " The wine is
out," said one ; "if you would fetch us a few bottles, it would
be very kind." " Do it, Gretchen," * said another, " it is but
a cat s leap from here." "Whynot? : she answered, and
taking a few empty bottles from the table, she hastened out.
Her form, as seen from behind, was almost more elegant.
The little cap sat so neatly upon her little head, which a
slender throat united very gracefully to her neck and shoul
ders. Everything about her seemed choice, and one could
survey her whole form the more at ease, as one s attention
was no more exclusively attracted and fettered by the quiet,
honest eyes and lovely mouth. I reproved my comrades for
sending the girl out alone at night, but they only laughed at
me, and I was soon consoled by her return, as the publican
lived only just across the way. " Sit down with us, in re
turn," said one. She did so ; but, alas, she did not come
near me. She drank a glass to our health, and speedily
departed, advising us not to stay very long together, and not
to be so noisy, as her mother was just going to bed. It
was not, however, her own mother, but the mother of our
hosts.

The form of that girl followed me from that moment on every
path ; it was the first durable impression which a female being
had made upon me ; and as I could find no pretext to see her
at home, and would not seek one, I went to church for love of
her, and had soon traced out where she sat. Thus, during
the long Protestant service, I gazed my fill at her. When
the congregation left the church I did not venture to accost
her, much less to accompany her, and was perfectly delighted
if she seemed to have remarked me and to have returned my
greeting with a nod. Yet I was not long denied the happiness
of approaching her. They had persuaded the lover, whose
poetical secretary I had been, that the letter written in his
name had been actually despatched to the lady, and had
strained to the utmost his expectations that an answer must
soon come. This, also, I was to write, and the waggish com-
* The diminutive of Margaret. Trans.

GRETCHEN S ADVICE. 139

pany entreated me earnestly, through Pylades, to exert all my
wit and employ all my art, in order that this piece might be
quite elegant and perfect.

In the hope of again seeing my fair one, I went immediately
to work, and thought of everything that would be in the high
est degree pleasing if Gretchen were writing it to me. I
imagined I had written out everything so completely from her
form, her nature, her manner, and her mind, that I could not
refrain from wishing that it were so in reality, and lost myself
in rapture at the mere thought that something similar could
be sent from her to me. Thus I mystified myself, while I
intended to impose upon another ; and much joy and much
trouble was yet to arise out of the affair. When I was once
more summoned, I had finished, promised to come, and did
not fail at the appointed hour. There was only one of the
young people at home ; Gretchen sat at the window spinning ;
the mother was going to and fro. The young man desired
that I should read to him aloud ; I did so, and read not with
out emotion, as I glanced over the paper at the beautiful girl ;
and when I fancied that I remarked a certain uneasiness in
her deportment, and a gentle flush on her cheeks, I uttered
better and with more animation that which I wished to hear
from herself. The cousin, who had often interrupted me with
commendations, at last entreated me to make some amend
ments. These affected some passages which indeed were
rather suited to the condition of Gretchen than to that of the
lady, who was of a good family, wealthy, and known and
respected in the city. After the young man had designated
the desired changes, and had brought me an inkstand, but had
taken leave for a short time on account of some business,
I remained sitting on the bench against the wall, behind the
large table, and essayed the alterations that were to be made,
on the large slate, which almost covered the whole table,
using a style that always lay in the window, because upon this
slate reckonings were often made, and various memoranda
noted down, and those coming in or going out even commu
nicated with each other.

I had for a while written different things and rubbed them
out again, when I exclaimed impatiently, " It will not do !
" So much the better," said the dear girl, in a grave tone ;
" I wished that it might not do ! You should not meddle in

140 TEUTH AND POETRY; FBOM MY OWN LIFE.

such matters." She arose from the distaff, and stepping
towards the table, gave me a severe lecture, with a great deal
of good sense and kindliness. " The thing seems an innocent
jest ; it is a jest, but it is not innocent. I have already lived
to see several cases, in which our young people, for the sake
of such mere mischief, have brought themselves into great
difficulty." " But what shaU I do ? " I asked ; " the letter is
written, and they rely upon me to alter it." "Trust me,"
she replied, " and do not alter it ; nay, take it back, put it in
your pocket, go away, and try to make the matter straight
through your friend. I will also put in a word ; for look you,
though I am a poor girl, and dependent upon these relations,
who indeed do nothing bad, though they often, for the sake
of sport or profit, undertake a good deal that is rash, I have
resisted them, and would not copy the first letter, as they
requested. They transcribed it in a feigned hand, and if it is
not otherwise, so may they also do with this. And you, a
young man of good family, rich, independent, why will you
allow yourself to be used as a tool in a business which can
certainly bring no good to you, and may possibly bring much
that is unpleasant ? ; I was glad to hear her speaking thus
continuously, for generally she introduced but few words into
conversation. My liking for her grew incredibly, I w r as not
master of myself, and replied, " I am not so independent as
you suppose ; and of what use is wealth to me, when the
most precious thing I can desire is wanting?

She had drawn my sketch of the poetic epistle towards her,
and read it half aloud in a sweet and graceful manner.
That is very pretty," said she, stopping at a sort of naive
point ; " but it is a pity that it is not destined for a real pur
pose." "That were indeed very desirable," I cried, "and,
oh ! how happy must he be, who receives from a girl he infi
nitely loves, such an assurance of her affection." " There is
much required for that," she answered; "and yet many
things are possible." " For example," I continued, " if any
one who knew, prized, honoured, and adored you, laid such a
paper before you, what would you do ? I pushed the paper
nearer to her, which she had previously pushed back to me.
She smiled, reflected for a moment, took the pen, and sub
scribed her name. I was beside myself with rapture, sprang
up, and would have embraced her. " No kissing ! " said she,

JUVENILE LOVE. 141

" that is so vulgar ; but let us love if we can." I had taken
up the paper, and thrust it into my pocket. " No one shall
ever get it," said I; "the affair is closed. You have saved
me." " Now complete the salvation," she exclaimed, " and
hurry off, before the others arrive, and you fall into trouble
and embarrassment." I could not tear myself away from her;
but she asked me in so kindly a manner, while she took my
right hand in both of hers, and lovingly pressed it! The
tears stood in my eyes; I thought hers looked moist. I
pressed my face upon her hands and hastened away. Never
in my life had I found myself in such perplexity.

The first propensities to love in an uncorrupted youth take
altogether a spiritual direction. Nature seems to desire that
one sex may by the senses perceive goodness and beauty in
the other. And thus to me, by the sight of this girl by my
strong inclination for her a new world of the beautiful and
the excellent had arisen. I read my poetical epistle a hundred
times through, gazed upon the signature, kissed it, pressed it
to my heart, and rejoiced in this amiable confession. But the
more my transports increased, the more did it pain me, not to
be able to visit her immediately, and to see and converse with
her again; for I dreaded the reproofs and importunities of
her cousins. The good Pylades, who might have arranged the
affair, I could not contrive to meet. The next Sunday, there
fore, I set out for Niederrad, where these associates generally
used to go, and actually found them there. I was, however,
greatly surprised, when, instead of behaving in a cross, distant
manner, they came up to me with joyful countenances. The
youngest particularly was very friendly, took me by the hand,
and said, " You have lately played us a sorry trick, and we
were very angry with you ; but your absconding and taking
away the poetical epistle has suggested a good thought to us,
which otherwise might never have occurred. By way of atone
ment, you may treat us to-day, and you shall learn at the same
time the notion we have, which will certainly give you plea
sure." This address put me in no little perplexity ; for I had
about me only money enough to regale myself and a friend ;
but to treat a whole company, and especially one which did
not always stop at the right time, I was by no means pre
pared ; nay, the proposal astonished me the more, as they had
always insisted, in the most honourable manner, that each

142 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

one should pay only his own share. They smiled at my dis
tress, and the youngest proceeded, " Let us first take a seat
in the bower, and then you shall learn more." We sat down,
and he said, " When you had taken the love-letter with
you, we talked the whole affair over again, and came to a
conclusion that we had gratuitously misused your talent to the
vexation of others and our own danger, for the sake of a mere
paltry love of mischief, when we could have employed it to the
advantage of all of us. See, I have here an order for a wed-
ding-poem, as well as for a dirge. The second must be ready
immediately, the other can wait a week. Now, if you make
these, which is easy for you, you will treat us twice, and we
shall long remain your debtors." This proposition pleased
me in every respect; for I had already in my childhood
looked with a certain envy on the occasional poems, * of which
then several circulated every week, and at respectable mar
riages especially came to light by the dozen, because I thought
I could make such things as well, nay, better than others.
Now an opportunity was offered me to show myself, and espe
cially to see myself in print. I did not appear disinclined.
They acquainted me with the personal particulars and the
position of the family; I went somewhat aside, made my
plan, and produced some stanzas. However, when I returned
to the company, and the wine was not spared, the poem
began to halt, and I could not deliver it that evening.
"There is still time till to-morrow evening," they said;
" and we will confess to you that the fee which we receive
for the dirge is enough to get us another pleasant evening
to-morrow. Come to us; for it is but fair that Gretchen
too should sup with us, as it was she properly who gave us
the notion." My joy was unspeakable. On my way home
I had only the remaining stanzas in my head, wrote down the
whole before I went to sleep, and the next morning made a
very neat fair copy. The day seemed infinitely long to me ;
and scarcely was it dusk, than I found myself again in the
narrow little dwelling beside the dearest of girls.

The young persons with whom in this way I formed a
closer and closer connexion were not properly low, but
ordinary sort of people. Their activity was commendable, and

* That is to say, a poem written for a certain occasion, as a wedding 1 ,
faneral, &c. The German word is " Gelegenheitsgedicht." Trans.

GRETCHEN AND HER FRIENDS. 143

I listened to them with pleasure when they spoke of the mani
fold ways and means by which one could gain a living ; above
all they loved to tell of people, now very rich, who had begun
with nothing. Others to whom they referred had, as poor
clerks, rendered themselves indispensable to their employers,
and had finally risen to be their sons-in-law : while others had
so enlarged and improved a little trade in matches and the
like, that they were now prosperous merchants and tradesmen.
But above all, to young men, who were active on their feet,
the trade of agent and factor, and the undertaking of all sorts
of commissions and charges for helpless rich men was, they
said, a most profitable means of gaining a livelihood. We all
heard this eagerly, and each one fancied himself somebody,
when he imagined, at the moment, that there was enough in
him, not only to get on in the world, but to acquire an extra
ordinary fortune. But no one seemed to carry on this conver
sation more earnestly than Pylades, who at last confessed that
he had an extraordinary passion for a girl, and was actually
engaged to her. The circumstances of his parents would not
allow him to go to universities, but he had endeavoured to
acquire a fine handwriting, a knowledge of accounts, and the
modern languages, and would now do his best in hopes of
attaining that domestic felicity. The cousins praised him for
this, although they did not approve of a premature engage
ment to a girl, and they added, that while forced to acknow
ledge him to be a fine good fellow, they did not consider him
active or enterprising enough to do anything extraordinary.
While he, in vindication of himself, circumstantially set forth
what he thought himself fit for, and how he was going to begin,
the others were also incited, and each one began to tell what he
was now able to do, doing, or carrying on, what he had already
accomplished, and what he saw immediately before him. The
turn at last came to me. I was to set forth mv course of life

/

and prospects, and while I was considering, Pylades said, " I
make this one proviso, if we all would stand on a level, that
he does not bring into the account the external advantages of
his position. He should rather tell us a tale how he would
proceed if at this moment he were thrown entirely upon his

own resources, as we are."

Gretchen, who till this moment had kept on spinning, rose
and seated herself as usual at the end of the table. We had

144 TRUTH AND POETBY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

already emptied some bottles, and I began to relate the hypo
thetical history of my life in the best humour. " First of all,
then, I commend myself to you," said I, " that you may con*
tinue the custom you have begun to bestow on me. If you gra
dually procure me the profit of all the occasional poems, and
we do not consume them in mere feasting, I shall soon come
to something. But then you must not take it ill if I dabble
also in your handicraft." Upon this I told them what I had
observed in their occupations, and for which I held myself fit
at any rate. Each one had previously rated his services in
money, and I asked them to assist me also in completing my
establishment. Gretchen had listened to all hitherto very
attentively, and that in a position which well suited her,
whether she chose to hear or to speak. With both hands she
clasped her folded arms, and rested them on the edge of the
table. Thus she could sit a long while without moving any
thing but her head, which was never done without occasion or
meaning. She had several times put in a word and helped us
on over this and that, when we halted in our projects, and
then was again still and quiet as usual. I kept her in my eye,
and it may readily be supposed that I had not devised and
uttered my plan without reference to her. My passion for her
gave to what I said such an air of truth and probability, that
for a moment I deceived myself, imagined myself as lonely and
helpless as my story supposed, and felt extremely happy in
the prospect of possessing her. Pylades had closed his con
fession with marriage, and the question arose among the rest
of us, whether our plans went as far as that. " I have not
the least doubt on that score," said I, " for properly a wife is
necessary to every one of us, in order to preserve at home and
enable us to enjoy as a whole what we rake together abroad
in such an odd way." I then made a sketch of a wife, such
as I wished, and it must have turned out strangely if she had
not been a perfect counterpart of Gretchen.

The dirge was consumed ; the epithalamium now stood be
neficially at hand ; I overcame all fear and care, and contrived,
as I had many acquaintances, to conceal my actual evening
entertainments from my family. To see and to be near the
dear girl was soon an indispensable condition of my being.
The friends had grown just as accustomed to me, and we were
almost daily together, as if it could not be otherwise. Pylades

THE HOCHST MARKET- SHIP. 145

had, in the meantime, introduced his fair one into the house,
and this pair passed many an evening with us. They, as bride
and bridegroom, though still very much in the bud, did not
conceal their tenderness ; Gretchen s deportment towards me
was only suited to keep me at a distance. She gave her hand
to no one, not even to me ; she allowed no touch ; yet she
many times seated herself near me, particularly when I wrote or
read aloud, and then laying her arm familiarly upon my shoul
der, she looked over the book or paper. If, however, I ventured
on a similar freedom towards her, she withdrew, and would
not soon return. This position she often repeated, and indeed all
her attitudes and motions were very uniform, but always equally
fitting, beautiful, and charming. But such a familiarity I never
saw her practise towards anybody else.

One of the most innocent, and at the same time amusing,
parties of pleasure in which I engaged with different com
panies of young people, was this : that we seated ourselves in
the Hochst market-ship, observed the strange passengers packed
away in it, and bantered and teased, now this one, now that,
as pleasure or caprice prompted. At Hochst we got out at
the same time as the market-boat from Mentz arrived. At a
hotel there was a well-spread table, where the better sort of
travellers, coming and going, ate with each other, and then
proceeded, each on his way, as both ships returned. Every
time, after dining, we sailed up to Frankfort, having, with a
very large company, made the cheapest water- excursion that
was possible. Once I had undertaken this journey with
Gretchen s cousins, when a young man joined us at table in
Hochst, who might be a little older than we were. They knew
him, and he got himself introduced to me. He had something
very pleasing in his manner, though he was not otherwise dis
tinguished. Coming from Mentz, he now went back with us
to Frankfort, and conversed with me of everything that re
lated to the internal arrangements of the city, and the public
offices and places, on which he seemed to me to be very well
informed. When we separated he bade me farewell, and
added, that he wished I might think well of him, as he hoped
on occasion to avail himself of my recommendation. I did not
know what he meant by this, but the cousins enlightened me
some days after ; they spoke favourably of him, and requested
me to intercede with my grandfather, as a middle place was

146 TETJTH AND POETRY ; FEOM MY OWtf LIFE.

just now vacant, which this friend would like to obtain. I at
first excused myself, because I had never meddled in such
affairs ; but they went on urging me until I resolved to do it.
I had already many times remarked that, in these grants of
offices, which unfortunately were often regarded as matters of
favour, the mediation of my grandmother or an aunt had not
been without effect. I was now so advanced as to arrogate some
influence to myself. For that reason, to gratify my friends,
who declared themselves under every sort of obligation for such
a kindness, I overcame the timidity of a grandchild, and under
took to deliver a written application that was handed in to me.

One Sunday, after dinner, as my grandfather was busy in
his garden, all the more because autumn was approaching, and
I tried to assist him on every side, I came forward with my
request and the petition, after some hesitation. He looked at
it, and asked me whether I knew the young man. I told him
in general terms what was to be said, and he let the matter
rest there. " If he has merit, and moreover good testimonials,
I will favour him for your sake and his own." He said no
more, and for a long while I heard nothing of the matter.

For some time I had observed that Gretchen span no more,
but on the other hand was employed in sewing, and that, too,
on very fine work, which surprised me the more, as the days
were already shortening, and winter was coming on. I thought
no further about it, only it troubled me that several times I
had not found her at home in the morning as formerly, and could
not learn, without importunity, whither she had gone. Yet I
was destined one day to be surprised in a very odd manner..
My sister, who was getting herself ready for a ball, asked me
to fetch her some so-called Italian flowers, at a fashionable
milliner s. They were made in convents, and were small and
pretty ; myrtles especially, dwarf-roses, and the like, came out
quite beautifully and naturally. I granted her the favour, and
went to the shop where I had already often been with her;
Hardly had I entered and greeted the proprietress, than 1 saw
sitting in the window a lady, who in a lace cap looked veiy
young and pretty, and in a silk mantilla seemed very well
shaped. I could easily recognize that she was an assistant,
for she was occupied in fastening a ribbon and feathers upon a
hat. The milliner showed me the long box with single flowers
of various sorts j I looked them over, and as I made my choice

GKETCHEN S NEW SITUATION. 147

glanced again towards the lady in the window; but how
great was my astonishment when I perceived an incredible
similarity to Gretchen, nay, was forced to be convinced at last
that it was Gretchen herself. No doubt remained, when she
winked with her eyes and gave me a sign that I must not be
tray our acquaintance. I now with my choosing and rejecting
drove the milliner into despair more than even a lady could
have done, I had, in fact, no choice, for I was excessively
confused, and at the same time liked to linger, because it kept
me near the girl, whose disguise annoyed me, though in that dis
guise she appeared to me more enchanting than ever. Finally,
the milliner seemed to lose all patience, and with her own
hands selected for me a whole bandbox full of flowers, which
I was to place before my sister and let her choose for herself.
Thus I was, as it were, driven out of the shop, while she sent
the box first by one of her girls.

Scarcely had I reached home than my father caused me
to be called, and communicated to me that it was now
quite certain that the Archduke Joseph would be elected and
crowned King of Rome. An event so highly important was
not to be expected without preparation, nor allowed to pass
with mere gaping and staring. He wished, therefore, he said,
to go through with me the election- and coronation- diaries of
the two last coronations, as well as through the last capitulations
of election, in order to remark what new conditions might be
added in the present instance. The diaries were opened, and
we occupied ourselves with them the wliole day till far into
the night, while the pretty girl, sometimes in her old house-
dress, sometimes in her new costume, ever hovered before me,
backwards and forwards among the most august objects of the
Holy Roman Empire. This evening it was impossible to see
her, and I lay awake through a very restless night. The study
of yesterday was the next day zealously resumed, and it was
not till towards evening that I found it possible to visit my
fair one, whom I met again in her usual house-dress. She
smiled when she saw me, but I did not venture to mention
anything before the others. When the whole company sat
quietly together again, she began and said, " It is unfair that
you do not confide to our friend what we have lately resolved
upon." She then continued to relate, that after our late con
versation, in which the discussion was how any one could get

L2

148 TEI7TH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

on in the world, something was also said of the way in which
a woman could enhance the value of her talent and labour, and
advantageously employ her time. The cousins had conse
quently proposed that she should make an experiment at a
milliner s who was just then in w r ant of an assistant. They
had, she said, arranged with the woman ; she went there so
many hours a-day, and was well paid ; only when there she
was obliged, for propriety s sake, to conform to a certain dress,
which, however, she left behind her every time, as it did not
at all suit her other modes of life and employment. I was
indeed set at rest by this declaration, but it did not quite please
me to know that the pretty girl was in a public shop, and at a
place where the fashionable world found a convenient resort.
But I betrayed nothing, and strove to work off my jealous
care in silence. For this the younger cousin did not allow me
a long time, as he once more came forward with a proposal for
an occasional poem, told me all the personalities, and at once
desired me to prepare myself for the invention and disposition
of the work. He had already spoken with me several times
concerning the proper treatment of such a theme, and as I was
voluble in these cases, he readily asked me to explain to him
circumstantially what is rhetorical in these things, to give him
a notion of the matter, and to make use of my own and others
labours in this kind for examples. The young man had some
brains, though he was without a trace of a poetical vein, and now
he went so much into particulars, and wished to have such an
account of everything, that I gave utterance to the remark : "It
seems as if you wanted to encroach upon my trade and steal away
my customers !" "I will not deny it," said he, smiling, " as
I shall do you no harm by it. This will only continue to the
time when you go to the university, and till then you must
allow me still to profit something by your society." " Most
cordially," I replied, and I encouraged him to draw out a plan,
to choose a metre according to the character of his subject,
and to do whatever else might seem necessary. He went to
work in earnest, but did not succeed. I was in the end com
pelled to re-write so much of it, that I could more easily and
better have written it all from the beginning myself. Yet this
teaching and learning, this mutual labour, afforded us good
entertainment : Gretchen took part in it and had many a pretty
notion, so that we were all pleased, we may indeed say, happy.

PREPARATIONS FOE THE ELECTION. 149

During the day she worked at the milliner s : in the evenings
we generally met together, and our contentment was not even
disturbed when at last the commissions for occasional poems
began to leave off. Still we felt hurt once, when one of them
came back under protest, because it did not stiit the party who
ordered it. We consoled ourselves, however, as we considered
it our very best work, and could therefore declare the other a
bad judge. The cousin, who was determined to learn some
thing at any rate, resorted to the expedient of inventing pro
blems, in the solution of which we always found amusement
enough, but as they brought in nothing, our little banquets
had to be much more frugally managed.

That great political object, the election and coronation of a
King of Rome, was pursued with more and more earnestness.
The assembling of the electoral college, originally appointed to
take place at Augsburg in the October of 1 763, was now trans
ferred to Frankfort, and both at the end of this year and in the
beginning of the next, preparations went forward, which should
usher in this important business. The beginning was made by
a parade never yet seen by us. One of our chancery officials
on horseback, escorted by four trumpeters likewise mounted,
and surrounded by a guard of infantry, read in a loud clear
voice at all the corners of the city, a prolix edict, which an
nounced the forthcoming proceedings, and exhorted the citi
zens to a becoming deportment suitable to the circumstances.
The council was occupied with weighty considerations, and it
was not long before the Imperial Quarter-Master, despatched
by the Hereditary Grand Marshal, made his appearance, in
order to arrange and designate the residences of the ambassa
dors and their suites, according to the old custom. Our house
lay in the Palatine district, and we had to provide for a new
but agreeable billetting. The middle story, which Count Tho-
rane had formerly occupied, was given up to a cavalier of the
Palatinate, and as Baron von Konigsthal, the Nuremberg
charge, d affaires, occupied the upper floor, we were still more
crowded than in the time of the French. This served me
as a new excuse to be out of doors, and to pass the greater
part of the day in the streets, that I might see all that was
open to public view.

After the preliminary alteration and arrangement of the
rooms in the town-house had seemed to us worth seeing, after

150. TEUTH AND POETKY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

the arrival of the ambassadors one after another, and their first
solemn ascent in a body, on the 6th of February, had taken
place, we admired the coming in of the imperial commissioners,
and their ascent also to the Homer, which was made with
great pomp. The dignified person of the PRINCE of LICHT-
ENSTEIN made a good impression ; yet connoisseurs main
tained that the showy liveries had already been used on
another occasion, and that this election and coronation would
hardly equal in brilliancy that of Charles the Seventh. We
younger folks were content with what was before our eyes ;
all seemed to us very fine, and much of it perfectly astonishing.

The electoral congress was fixed at last for the 3rd of March.
New formalities again set the city in motion, and the alternate
visits of ceremony on the part of the ambassadors kept us
always on our legs. We were compelled, too, to watch closely,
as we were not only to gape about, but to note everything well,
in order to give a proper report at home, and even to make out
many little memoirs, on which my father and Herr von Ko-
nigsthal had deliberated, partly for our exercise and partly for
their own information. And certainly this was of peculiar ad
vantage to me, as I was enabled very tolerably to keep a living
election- and coronation-diary, as far as regarded externals.

The person who first of all made a durable impression upon
me was the chief ambassador from the electorate of Mentz,
BARON VON ERTHAL, afterwards Elector. Without having
anything striking in his figure, he was always highly pleasing
to me in his black gown trimmed with lace. The second am
bassador, BARON VON GROSCHLAG, was a well-formed man of
the world, easy in his exterior, but conducting himself with
great decorum. He everywhere produced a very agreeable
impression. PRINCE ESTERHAZY, the Bohemian envoy, was
not tall, though well-formed, lively, and at the same time emi
nently decorous, without pride or coldness. I had a special
liking for him, because he reminded me of MARSHAL DE BRO-
GLIO. Yet the form and dignity of these excellent persons
vanished, in a certain degree, before the prejudice that was
entertained in favour of BARON VON PLOTHO, the Branden
burg ambassador. This man, who was distinguished by a
certain parsimony, both in his own clothes and in his liveries
and equipages, had been greatly renowned from the time of the
seven years war, as a diplomatic hero. At Katisbon, when the

BAKOtf YON PLOTSO. 151

Notary April thought, in the presence of witnesses, to serve
him with the declaration of outlawry which had been issued
against his king, he had, with the laconic exclamation:
" What ! you serve ? " thrown him, or caused him to be thrown,
down stairs. We believed the first, because it pleased us best,
and we could readily believe it of the little compact man, with
his black, fiery eyes glancing here and there. All eyes were
directed towards him, particularly when he alighted. There
arose every time a sort of joyous whispering, and but little was
wanting to a regular explosion, or a shout of Vivat ! Bravo !
So high did the king, and all who were devoted to him, body
and soul, stand in favour with the crowd, among whom, besides
the Frankforters, were Germans from all parts.

On the one hand these things gave me much pleasure ; as
all that took place, no matter of what nature it might be, con
cealed a certain meaning, indicated some internal relation, and
such symbolic ceremonies again, for a moment, represented
as living the old Empire of Germany, almost choked to death
by so many parchments, papers, and books. But, on the other
hand, I could not suppress a secret displeasure, when I was
forced, at home, on my father s account, to transcribe the in
ternal transactions, and at the same time to remark that here
several powers, which balanced each other, stood in opposition,
and only so far agreed, as they designed to limit the new ruler
even more than the old one ; that every one valued his influence
only so far as he hoped to retain or enlarge his privileges, and
better to secure his independence. Nay, on this occasion they
were more attentive than usual, because they began to fear
Joseph the Second, his vehemence and probable plans.

With my grandfather and other members of the council,
whose families I used to visit, this was no pleasant time, they
had so much to do with meeting distinguished guests, compli
menting, and the delivery of presents. No less had the magis
trate, both in general and in particular, to defend himself, to
resist, and to protest, as every one on such occasions desires
to extort something from him, or burden him with something,
and few of those to whom he appeals support him, or lend him
their aid. In short, all that I had read in Lersner s Chronicles
of similar incidents on similar occasions, with admiration ot
the patience and perseverance of those good old councilman,
came once more vividly before my eyes.

152 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

Many vexations arise also from this, that the city is gra
dually overrun with people, both useful and needless. In vain
are the courts reminded, on the part of the city, of prescrip
tions of the Golden Bull, now, indeed, obsolete. Not only the
deputies with their attendants, but many persons of rank, and
others who come from curiosity or for private objects, stand
under protection, and the question as to who is to be billetted
out, and who is to hire his own lodging, is not always decided
at once. The tumult constantly increases, and even those who
have nothing to give, or to answer for, begin to feel uncom
fortable.

Even we young people, who could quietly contemplate it all,
ever found something which did not quite satisfy our eyes or
our imagination. The Spanish mantles, the huge feathered
hats of the ambassadors, and other objects here and there, had
indeed a truly antique look ; but there was a great deal, on
the other hand, so half-new or entirely modern, that the affair
assumed throughout a motley, unsatisfactory, often tasteless
appearance. We were very happy to learn, therefore, that
great preparations were made on account of the journey to
Frankfort of the Emperor and future King ; that the proceed
ings of the college of electors, which were based on the last
electoral capitulation, were now going forward rapidly ; and
that the day of election had been appointed for the 27th of
March. Now there was a thought of fetching the insignia of
the Empire from Nuremberg and Aix-la-Chapelle, and next we
expected the entrance of the Elector of Mentz, while the
disputes with his ambassadors about the quartering ever con
tinued.

Meanwhile I pursued my clerical labours at home very
actively, and perceived many little suggestions (monita) which
came in from all sides, and were to be regarded in the new
capitulation. Every rank desired to see its privileges gua
ranteed and its importance increased in this document. Very
many such observations and desires were, however, put aside ;
much remained as it was, though the suggestors (monentes)
received the most positive assurances that the neglect should
in no wise enure to their prejudice.

In the meanwhile the office of Imperial Marshal was forced
to undertake many dangerous affairs ; the crowd of strangers
increased, and it became more and more difficult to find

LAYATEK. 153

lodgings for them. Nor was there unanimity as to the limits
of the different precincts of the Electors. The magistracy
wished to keep from the citizens the burdens which they were
not bound to bear, and thus day and night there were hourly
grievances, redresses, contests, and misunderstandings.

The entrance of the Elector of Mentz happened on the
21st of May. Then began the cannonading, with which for a
long time we were often to be deafened. This solemnity was
important in the series of ceremonies ; for all the men whom
we had hitherto seen, high as they were in rank, were still
only subordinates ; but here appeared a sovereign, an inde
pendent prince, the first after the Emperor, preceded and
accompanied by a large retinue worthy of himself. Of the
pomp which marked his entrance I should have much to tell,
if I did not purpose returning to it hereafter, and on an occa
sion which no one could easily guess.

What I refer to is this : the same day, LAVATER, on his
return home from Berlin, came through Frankfort, and saw the
solemnity. Now, though such worldly formalities could not
have the least value for him, this procession, with its display
and all its accessaries, might have been distinctly impressed
on his very lively imagination ; for, many years afterwards,
when this eminent but singular man showed me a poetical
paraphrase of, I believe, the Revelation of St. John, I dis
covered the entrance of Anti- Christ copied, step by step,
figure by figure, circumstance by circumstance, from the en
trance of the Elector of Mentz into Frankfort, in such a
manner, too, that even the tassels on the heads of the dun-
coloured horses were not wanting. More can be said on
this point when I reach the epoch of that strange kind of
poetry, by which it was supposed that the myths of the Old
and New Testaments were brought nearer to our view and
feelings when they were completely travestied into the modern
style, and clothed with the vestments of present life, whether
gentle or simple. How this mode of treatment gradually
obtained favour, will be likewise discussed hereafter; yet
I may here simply remark that it could not well be car
ried further than it was by Lavater and his emulators, one
of these having described the three holy kings riding into
Bethlehem, in such modern form, that the princes and gen
tlemen whom Lavater used to visit were not to be mistaken
as the persons.

154 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

We will then for the present allow the ELECTOR EMERIC
JOSEPH to enter the Compostello incognito, so to speak,
and turn to Gretchen, whom, just as the crowd was dis
persing, I spied in the crowd, accompanied by Pylades and
his mistress, the three now seeming to be inseparable. We
had scarcely come up to each other and exchanged greetings,
than it was agreed that we should pass the evening together,
and I kept the appointment punctually. The usual company
had assembled, and each one had something to relate, to say,
or to remark -how one had been most struck by this thing
and another by that. "Your speeches," said Gretchen at
last, "perplex me even more than the events of the time
themselves. What I have seen I cannot make out ; and
should very much like to know what a great deal of it means."
I replied that it was easy for me to render her this ser
vice. She had only to say what particularly interested her.
This she did, and as I was about to explain some points, it
was found that it would be better to proceed in order. I not
unskilfully compared these solemnities and functions to a
play, in which the curtain was let down at will, while the
actors played on, and was then raised again, so that the spec
tators could once more, to some extent, take part in the action.
As now I was very loquacious when I was allowed my
own way, I related the whole, from the beginning down to
the time present, in the best order ; and to make the subject
of my discourse more apparent, did not fail to use the
pencil and the large slate. Being only slightly interrupted by
some questions and obstinate assertions of the others, I
brought my discourse to a close, to the general satisfaction,
while Gretchen, by her unbroken attention, had highly en
couraged me. At last she thanked me, and envied, as she said,
all who were informed of the affairs of this world, and knew
how this and that came about and what it signified. She
wished she were a boy, and managed to acknowledge, with
much kindness, that she was indebted to me for a great deal
of instruction. " If I were a boy," said she, " we would
learn something good together at the university." The con
versation continued in this strain ; she definitively resolved
to take instruction in French, of the absolute necessity of
which she had become well aware in the milliner s shop. I
asked her why she no longer went there ; for during the latter

APPROACH OF THE ELECTION. 155

times, not being able to go out much in the evening, I had
often passed the shop during the day for her sake, merely to
see her for a moment. She explained that she had not liked
to expose herself there in these unsettled times. As soon as
the city returned to its former condition she intended to go
there again.

Then the discourse was on the impending day of election.
I contrived to tell, at length, what was going to happen, and
how, and to support my demonstrations in detail by drawings
on the tablet ; for I had the place of conclave, with its altars,
thrones, seats, and chairs, perfectly before my mind. We
separated at the proper time, and in a peculiarly comfortable
frame of mind.

For, with a young couple who are in any degree harmo
niously formed by nature, nothing can conduce to a more
beautiful union than when the maiden is anxious to learn,
and the youth inclined to teach. There arises from it a well-
grounded and agreeable relation. She sees in him the creator
of her spiritual existence, and he sees in her a creature that
ascribes her perfection, not to nature, not to chance, nor to
any one-sided inclination, but to a mutual will ; and this reci
procation is so sweet, that we cannot wonder, if from the days
of the old and the new** Abelard, the most violent passions,
and as much happiness as unhappiness, have arisen from such
an intercourse of two beings.

With the next day began great commotion in the city, on
account of the visits paid and returned which now took place
with the greatest ceremony. But what particularly interested
me, as a citizen of Frankfort, and gave rise to a great many
reflections, was the taking of the oath of security (Sicherheit-
seides) by the council, the military, and the body of citizens,
not through representatives, but personally, and in mass : first,
in the great hall of the Eomer, by the magistracy and staff-
officers ; then in the great square (jPlafe), the Romerberg, by
all the citizens, according to their respective ranks, grada
tions, or quarterings ; and lastly by the rest of the military.
Here one could survey at a single glance the entire common
wealth, assembled for the honourable purpose of swearing
security to the head and members of the Empire, and un-

* The " new Abelard " is St. Preux, in the Nouvette Heloise of Rous
seau. Trans.

156 TRUTH AND POETEY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

broken peace during the great work now impending. The
Electors of Treves and of Cologne had now also arrived in
person. On the evening before the day of election all
strangers are sent out of the city, the gates are closed, the
Jews are confined to their quarter, and the citizen of Frank
fort prides himself not a little that he alone may be a witness
of so great a solemnity.

All that had hitherto taken place was tolerably modern ;
the highest and high personages moved about only in coaches ;
but now we were going to see them in the primitive manner on
horseback. The concourse and rush were extraordinary. I
managed to squeeze myself into the Homer, which I knew as
familiarly as a mouse does the private corn-loft, till I reached
the main entrance, before which the Electors and ambassadors,
who had first arrived in their state-coaches, and had assem
bled above, were now to mount their horses. The stately,
well-trained steeds were covered with richly laced housings,
and ornamented in every way. The Elector Emeric Joseph,
a comfortable-looking man, looked well on horseback. Of the
other two I remember less, excepting that the red princes
mantles, trimmed with ermine, which we had been accus
tomed to see only in pictures before, seemed to us very
romantic in the open air. The ambassadors of the absent
temporal Electors, with their Spanish dresses of gold bro
cade, embroidered over with gold, and trimmed with gold
lace, likewise did our eyes good ; and the large feathers par
ticularly, that waved most splendidly from the hats, which were
cocked in the antique style. But what did not please me
were the short modern breeches, the white silk stockings,
and the fashionable shoes. We should have liked half-boots
gilded as much as they pleased sandals, or something of
the kind, that we might have seen a more consistent costume.

In deportment the Ambassador Von Plotho again distin
guished himself from all the rest. He appeared lively and
cheerful, and seemed to have no great respect for the whole
ceremony. For when his front-man, an elderly gentleman,
could not leap immediately on his horse, and he was therefore
forced to wait some time in the grand entrance, he did not
refrain from laughing, till his own horse was brought forward,
upon which he swung himself very dexterously, and w^as again
admired by us as a most worthy representative of Frederick
the Second.

APPROACH OF THE EMPEKOK AND KJNG. 157

Now the curtain was for us once more let down. I had
indeed tried to force my way into the church ; but that place
was more inconvenient than agreeable. The voters had with
drawn into the sanctum, where prolix ceremonies usurped the
place of a deliberate consideration as to the election. After
long delay, pressure, and bustle, the people at last heard the
name of Joseph the Second, who was proclaimed King of
Rome.

The thronging of strangers into the city became greater and
greater. Everybody went about in his holiday clothes, so
that at last none but dresses entirely of gold were found
worthy of note. The Emperor and King had already arrived
at Heusenstamm, a castle of the Counts of Schonborn, and
were there in the customary manner greeted and welcomed ;
but the city celebrated this important epoch by spiritual festi
vals of all the religions, by high masses and sermons ; and on
the temporal side by incessant firing of cannon as an accom
paniment to the Te Deums.

If all these public solemnities, from the beginning up to
this point, had been regarded as a deliberate work of art, not
much to find fault with would have been found. All was well
prepared. The public scenes opened gradually, and went on
increasing in importance ; the men grew in number, the per
sonages in dignity, their appurtenances, as well as themselves,
in splendour; and thus it advanced with every day, till at
last even a well-prepared and firm eye became bewildered.

The entrance of the Elector of Mentz, which we have re
fused to describe more completely, was magnificent and im
posing enough to suggest to the imagination of an eminent
man, the advent of a great prophesied World- Ruler ; even we
were not a little dazzled by it. But now our expectation was
stretched to the utmost, as it was said that the Emperor and
the future King were approaching the city. At a little dis
tance from Sachsenhausen, a tent had been erected, in which
the entire magistracy remained, to show the appropriate
honour, and to proffer the keys of the city to the chief of the
Empire. Further out, on a fair spacious plain, stood another
a, state pavilion, whither the whole body of electoral princes
and ambassadors repaired, while their retinues extended
along the whole way, that gradually, as their turns came, they
might again move towards the city, and enter properly into

158 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

the procession. By this time the Emperor reached the tent,
entered it, and the princes and ambassadors, after a most
respectful reception, withdrew, to facilitate the passage of the
chief ruler.

We others who remained in the city to admire this pomp
within the walls and streets, still more than could have been
done in the open fields, were very well entertained for a while
by the barricade set up by the citizens in the lanes, by the
throng of people, and by the various jests and improprieties
which arose, till the ringing of bells and the thunder of
cannon announced to us the immediate approach of Majesty.
What must have been particularly grateful to a Frankforter
was, that on this occasion, in the presence of so many sove
reigns and their representatives, the imperial city of Frank
fort also appeared as a little sovereign ; for her equerry opened
the procession ; chargers with armorial trappings, upon which
the white eagle on a red field looked very fine, followed him ;
then came attendants and officials, drummers and trumpeters,
and deputies of the council, accompanied by the clerks of the
council, in the city livery, on foot. Immediately behind
these were the three companies of citizen cavalry, very well
mounted the same that we had seen from our youth, at the
reception of the escort and on other public occasions. We
rejoiced in our participation of the honour, and in our hundred-
thousandth part of a sovereignty which now appeared in its
full brilliancy. The different trains of the Hereditary Imperial
Marshal, and of the envoys deputed by the six temporal
Electors, marched after these step by step. None of them
consisted of less than twenty attendants, and two state-car
riages some even of a greater number. The retinue of the
spiritual Electors was ever on the increase, their servants
and domestic officers seemed innumerable, the Elector of
Cologne and the Elector of Treves had above twenty state-
carriages, and the Elector of Mentz quite as many alone.
The servants, both on horseback and on foot, were clothed
most splendidly throughout; the lords in the equipages,
spiritual and temporal, had not omitted to appear richly and
venerably dressed, and adorned with all the badges of their
orders. The train of his Imperial Majesty now, as was fit,
surpassed all the rest. The riding-masters, the led horses,
the equipages, the shabracks and caparisons, attracted every

THE IMPERIAL CARRIAGE. 159

eye, and the sixteen six-horse gala- wagons of the Imperial
Chamberlains, Privy Councillors, High Chamberlain, High
Stewards, and High Equerry, closed, with great pomp, this
division of the procession, which, in spite of its magnificence
and extent, was still only to be the van-guard.

But now the line concentrated itself more and more, while
the dignity and parade kept on increasing. For, in the midst
of a chosen escort of their own domestic attendants, the most
of them on foot, and a few on horseback, appeared the Elec
toral ambassadors as well as the Electors in person, in ascend
ing order, each one in a magnificent state-carriage. Imme
diately behind the Elector of Mentz, ten imperial footmen, one
and forty lackeys, and eight Hey ducks,* announced their Ma
jesties. The most magnificent state-carriage, furnished even
at the back part with an entire window of plate-glass, orna
mented with paintings, lacker, carved work, and gilding,
covered with red embroidered velvet on the top and inside,
allowed us very conveniently to behold the Emperor and King,
the long- desired heads, in all their glory. The procession was
led a long circuitous route, partly from necessity, that it might
be able to unfold itself, and partly to render it visible to the
great multitude of people. It had passed through Sachsen-
hausen, over the bridge, up the Fahrgasse, then down the
Zeile, and turned towards the inner city through the Katha-
rinenpforte, formerly a gate, and since the enlargement of the
city, an open thoroughfare. Here it had been fortunately
considered that, for a series of years, the external grandeur of
the world had gone on expanding both in height and breadth.
Measure had been taken, and it was found that the present
imperial state-carriage could not, without striking its carved
work and other outward decorations, get through this gateway,
through which so many princes and emperors had gone back
wards and forwards. The matter was debated, and to avoid
an inconvenient circuit, it was resolved to take up the pave
ments, and to contrive a gentle ascent and descent. With the
same view they had also removed all the projecting eaves from
the shops and booths in the street, that neither crown, nor eagle,
nor the genii should receive any shock or injury.

Eagerly as we directed our eyes to the high personages when
this precious vessel with such precious contents approached us,
* A class of attendants dressed in Hungarian costume. -Tram*

160 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

we could not avoid turning our looks upon the noble horses,
their harness, and its embroidery ; but the strange coachmen
and outriders, both sitting on the horses, particularly struck
us. They looked as if they had come from some other nation,
or even from another world, with their long black and yellow
velvet coats, and their caps with large plumes of feathers, after
the imperial court fashion. Now the crowd became so dense
that it was impossible to distinguish much more. The Swiss
guard on both sides of the carriage, the Hereditary Marshal
holding the Saxon sword upwards in his right hand, the Field-
Marshals, as leaders of the Imperial Guard, riding behind the
carriage, the imperial pages in a body, and finally, the Imperial
Horse-guard (Hatschier garde) itself, in black velvet frocks
(FlugelrocJc), with all the seams edged with gold, under which
were red coats and leather- coloured camisoles, likewise richly
decked with gold ! One scarcely recovered oneself from sheer
seeing, pointing, and showing, so that the scarcely less splen
didly clad body-guards of the Electors were barely looked at,
and we should perhaps have withdrawn from the windows, if
we had not wished to take a view of our own magistracy, who
closed the procession in their fifteen two-horse coaches, and
particularly the clerk of the council, with the city keys on red
velvet cushions. That our company of city grenadiers should
cover the rear, seemed to us honourable enough, and we felt
doubly and highly edified as Germans and as Frankforters by
this great day.

We had taken our place in a house which the procession
had to pass again when it returned from the cathedral. Of
religious services, of music, of rites and solemnities, of addresses
and answers, of propositions and readings aloud, there was so
much in church, choir, and conclave, before it came to the
swearing of the electoral capitulation, that we had time enough
to partake of an excellent collation, and to empty several flasks
to the health of our old and young ruler. The conversation,
in the meanwhile, as is usual on such occasions, reverted to the
time past, and there were not wanting aged persons who pre
ferred that to the present, at least with respect to a certain
human interest and impassioned sympathy which then pre
vailed. At the coronation of Francis the First all had not
been so settled as now ; peace had not yet been concluded ;
France and the Electors of Brandenburg and the Palatinate

MARIA THERESA. 161

were opposed to the election ; the troops of the future emperor
were stationed at Heidelberg, where he had his head-quarters,
and the insignia of the Empire coming from Aix, were almost
carried off by the inhabitants of the Palatinate. Meanwhile
negotiations went on, and on neither side was the affair con
ducted in the strictest manner. MARIA THERESA, though
then pregnant, comes in person to see the coronation of her
husband, which is at last carried into effect. She arrived at
Aschaffenburg, and went on board a yacht in order to repair
to Frankfort. Francis, from Heidelberg, thinks to meet his
wife, but comes too late; she has already departed. Unknown,
he throws himself into a little boat, hastens after her, reaches
her ship, and the loving pair is delighted at this surprising
meeting. The story spreads immediately, and all the world
sympathizes with this tender pair, so richly blessed with their
children, who have been so inseparable since their union, that
once on a journey from Vienna to Florence they are forced to
keep quarantine together on the Venetian border. Maria
Theresa is welcomed in the city with rejoicings, she enters the
Roman Emperor inn, while the great tent for the reception of
her husband is erected on the Bornheim heath. There of the
spiritual Electors is found only Mentz, and of the ambassadors
of the temporal Electors, only Saxony, Bohemia, and Hanover.
The entrance begins, and what it may lack of completeness
and splendour is richly compensated by the presence of a beau
tiful lady. She stands upon the balcony of the well-situated
house, and greets her husband with cries of Vivat and clapping
of hands ; the people joined, excited to the highest enthusiasm.
As the great are, after all, men, the citizen thinks them his
equals when he wishes to love them, and that he can best do
when he can picture them to himself as loving husbands, tender
parents, devoted brothers, and true friends. At that time all
happiness had been wished and prophesied, and to-day it was
seen fulfilled in the first-born son ; to whom everybody was
well inclined on account of his handsome youthful form, and
upon whom the world set the greatest hopes, on account of
the great qualities that he showed.

We had become quite absorbed in the past and future, when
some friends who came in recalled us to the present. They
were of those who know the value of novelty, and therefore
hasten to announce it first. They were even able to tell of a fine

M

162 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FROM MY OAVN LIFE.

humane trait in those exalted personages whom we had seen
go by with the greatest pomp. It had been concerted that on
the way, between Heusenstamm and the great tent, the Empe
ror and King should find the Landgrave of Darmstadt in the
forest. This old prince, now approaching the grave, wished
to see once more the master to whom he had been devoted in
former times. Both might remember the day when the Land
grave brought over to Heidelberg the decree of the Electors
choosing Francis as Emperor, and replied to the valuable pre
sents he received with protestations of unalterable devotion.
These eminent persons stood in a grove of firs, and the Land
grave, weak with old age, supported himself against a pine, to
continue the conversation, which was not without emotion on
both sides. The place was afterwards marked in an innocent
way, and we young people sometimes wandered to it.

Thus several hours had passed in remembrance of the old
and consideration of the new, when the procession, though
curtailed and more compact, again passed before our eyes, and
we were enabled to observe and mark the detail more closely,
and imprint it on our minds for the future.

From that moment the city was in uninterrupted motion ;
for until each and every one whom it behoved, and of whom it
was required, had paid their respects to the highest dignities,
and exhibited themselves one by one, there was no end to the
marching to and fro, and the court of each one of the high
persons present could be very conveniently repeated in detail.

Now, too, the insignia of the Empire arrived. But that no
ancient usage might be omitted even in this respect, they had
to remain half a day till late at night in the open field, on
account of a dispute about territory and escort between the
Elector of Mentz and the city. The latter yielded, the people
of Mentz escorted the insignia as far as the barricade, and so
the affair terminated for this time.

In these days I did not come to myself. At home I had to
write and copy ; everything had to be seen ; and so ended the
month of March, the second half of which had been so rich in
festivals for us. I had promised Gretchen a faithful and com
plete account of what had lately happened, and of what was
to be expected on the coronation- day. This great day ap
proached ; I thought more how I should tell it to her than of
what properly was to be told ; all that came under my eyes

AN EVENING WITH GRETCHEN. 163

and my pen I merely worked up rapidly for this sole and imme
diate use. At last I reached her residence somewhat late one
evening, and was not a little proud to think how my discourse
on this occasion would be much more successful than the first
unprepared one. But a momentary incitement often brings
us, and others through us, more joy than the most deliberate
purpose can afford. I found, indeed, pretty nearly the same
company, but there were some unknown persons among them.
They sat down to play, all except Gretchen and her younger
cousin, who remained with me at the slate. The dear girl
expressed most gracefully her delight that she, though a
stranger, had passed for a citizen on the election-day, and had
taken part in that unique spectacle. She thanked me most
warmly for having managed to take care of her, and for hav
ing been so attentive as to procure her, through Pylades, all
sorts of admissions by means of billets, directions, friends, and
intercessions.

She liked to hear about the jewels of the Empire. I pro
mised her that we should, if possible, see these together. She
made some jesting remarks when she learned that the garments
and crown had been tried on the young king. I knew where
she would gaze at the solemnities of the coronation- day, and
directed her attention to everything that was impending, and
particularly to what might be minutely inspected from her
place of view.

Thus we forgot to think about time ; it was already past
midnight ; and I found that I unfortunately had not the house-
key with me. I could not enter the house without making
the greatest disturbance. I communicated my embarrassment
to her. " After all," said she, " it will be best for the com
pany to remain together." The cousins and the strangers had
already had this in mind, because it was not known where
they would be lodged for the night. The matter was soon
decided ; Gretchen went to make some coffee, after bringing
in and lighting a large brass lamp, furnished with oil and
wick, because the candles threatened to burn out.

The coffee served to enliven us for several hours, but the
game gradually slackened; conversation failed; the mother
slept in the great chair ; the strangers, weary from travelling,
nodded here and there, and Pylades and his fair one sat in a
corner. She had laid her head on his shoulder and had gone to

LnA

164 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

sleep, and he did not keep long awake. The younger cousin
sitting opposite to us by the slate, had crossed his arms before
him, and slept with his face resting upon them. I sat in the
window-corner, behind the table, and Gretchen by me. We
talked in a low voice : but at last sleep overcame her also, she
leaned her head on my shoulder, and sank at once into a slumber.
Thus I now sat, the only one a\vake, in a most singular posi
tion, in which the kind brother of death soon put me also to
rest. I went to sleep, and when I awoke it was already bright
"day. Gretchen was standing before the mirror arranging her
little cap : she was more lovely than ever, and when I de
parted cordially pressed my hands. I crept home by a round
about w r ay ; for, on the side towards the little Stag -ditch, my
father had opened a sort of little peep-hole in the wall, not
without the opposition of his neighbour. This side we avoided
when we wanted not to be observed by him in coming home.
My mother, whose mediation always came in well for us, had
endeavoured to palliate my absence in the morning at breakfast,
by the supposition that I had gone out early, and I experienced
no disagreeable effects from this innocent night.

Taken as a whole, this infinitely various world which sur
rounded me, produced upon me but a very simple impression.
I had no interest but to mark closely the outside of the objects,
no business but that with which I had been charged by my
father and Herr von Konigsthal, by which, indeed, I perceived
the inner course of things. I had no liking but for Gretchen,
and no other view than to see and apprehend all properly, that
I might be able to repeat it with her, and explain it to her.
Often when a train was going by, I described it half aloud to
myself, to assure myself of all the particulars, and to be praised
by my fair one for this attention and accuracy ; the applause
and acknowledgments of the others I regarded as a mere
appendix.

I was indeed presented to many exalted and distinguished
persons ; but partly, no one had time to trouble himself about
others, and partly, older people do not know at once how they
should converse with a young man and try him. I, on my
side, was likewise not particularly skilful in adapting myself
to people. Generally I acquired their favour, but not their
approbation. Whatever occupied me was completely present
to me ; but I did not ask whether it might be also suitable to

THE COKONATION-DAY. 165

others. I was mostly too lively or too quiet, and appeared
either importunate or sullen, just as persons attracted or
repelled me ; and thus I was considered to be indeed full of
promise, but at the same time was declared eccentric.

The coronation-day dawned at last, on the 3rd of April,
1764; the weather was favourable, and everybody was in
motion. I, with several of my relations and friends, had been
provided with a good place in one of the upper stories of the
Homer itself, where we might completely survey the whole.
We betook ourselves to the spot very early in the morning, and
from above, as in a bird s-eye view, contemplated the arrange
ments which we had inspected more closely the day before.
There was the newly-erected fountain, with two large tubs on
the left and right, into which the double-eagle on the post was
to pour from its two beaks white wine on this side and red
wine on that. There, gathered into a heap, lay the oats ; here
stood the large wooden hut, in which we had several days since
seen the whole fat ox roasted and basted on a huge spit before
a charcoal fire. All the avenues leading out from the Romer,
and from other streets back to the Homer, were secured on
both sides by barriers and guards. The great square was gra
dually filled, and the waving and pressure grew every moment
stronger and more in motion, as the multitude always, if pos
sible, endeavoured to reach the spot where some new scene
arose, and something particular was announced.

All this time there reigned a tolerable stillness, and when
the alarm-bells were sounded, all the people seemed struck
with terror and amazement. What first attracted the atten
tion of all who could overlook the square from above, was the
train in which the lords of Aix and Nuremberg brought the
crown-jewels to the cathedral. These, as palladia, had been
assigned the first place in the carriage, and the deputies sat
before them on the back seat with becoming reverence. Now
the three Electors betake themselves to the cathedral. After
the presentation of the insignia to the Elector of Mentz, the
crown and sword are immediately carried to the imperial
quarters. The further arrangements and manifold ceremonies
occupied, in the interim, the chief persons, as well as the spec
tators, in the church, as we other well-informed persons could
well imagine.

In the meanwhile before our eyes the ambassadors ascended

166 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIEE.

to the Romer, from which the canopy is carried by the under-
officers into the imperial quarters. The Hereditary Marshal
COUNT VON PAPPENHEIM instantly mounts his horse ; he was
a very handsome, slender gentleman, whom the Spanish cos
tume, the rich doublet, the gold mantle, the high feathered
hat, and the loose flying hair, became very well. He puts
himself in motion, and, amid the sound of all the bells, the
ambassadors follow him on horseback to the quarters of the
Emperor in still greater magnificence than on the day of elec
tion. One would have liked to be there too, as indeed on this
day it would have been altogether desirable to multiply one s-
self. However, we told each other w r hat was going on there.
Now the Emperor is putting on his domestic robes, we said,
a new dress, made after the old Caroliiigian pattern. The
hereditary officers receive the insignia, and with them get on
horseback. The Emperor in his robes, the Roman King in the
Spanish habit, immediately mount their steeds ; and while
this is done, the endless procession which precedes them has
already announced them.

The eye was already wearied by the multitude of richly-
dressed attendants and magistrates, and by the nobility who,
in stately fashion, were moving along ; but when the Elec
toral envoys, the hereditary officers, and at last, under the
richly- embroidered canopy, borne by twelve Schoffen and
senators, the Emperor, in romantic costume, and to the left,
a little behind him, in the Spanish dress, his son, slowly floated
along on magnificently-adorned horses, the eye was no more
sufficient for the sight. One would have liked to detain the
scene, but for a moment, by a magic charm ; but the glory
passed on without stopping, and the space that was scarcely
quitted was immediately filled again by the crowd, which
poured in like billows.

But now a new pressure took place ; for another approach
from the market to the Romer gate had to be opened, and a
road of planks to be bridged over it, on which the train
returning from the cathedral was to walk.

What passed within the cathedral, the endless ceremonies
which precede and accompany the anointing, the crowning,
the dubbing of knighthood, all this we were glad to hear
told afterwards by those who had sacrificed much else to be
present in the church.

THE CORONATION PROCESSION. 167

The rest of us, in the interim, partook of a frugal repast ;
for in this festal day we had to be contented with cold meat.
But, on the other hand, the best and oldest wine had been
brought out of all the family-cellars, so that in this respect at
least we celebrated the ancient festival in ancient style.

In the square, the sight most worth seeing was now the
bridge, which had been finished, and covered with orange and
white cloth ; and we who had stared at the Emperor, first in
his carriage and then on horseback, were now to admire him
walking on foot. Singularly enough, the last pleased us the
most ; for we thought that in this way he exhibited himself
both in the most natural and in the most dignified manner.

Older persons, who were present at the coronation of
Francis the First, related that Maria Theresa, beautiful
beyond measure, had looked on this solemnity from a bal
cony window of the Frauenstein house, close to the Romer.
As her consort returned from the cathedral in his strange
costume, and seemed to her, so to speak, like a ghost of
Charlemagne, he had, as if in jest, raised both his hands, and
shown her the imperial globe, the sceptre, and the curious
gloves, at which she had broken out into immoderate laugh
ter, which served for the great delight and edification of the
crowd, which was thus honoured with a sight of the good and
natural matrimonial understanding between the most exalted
couple of Christendom. But when the Empress, to greet her
consort, waved her handkerchief, and even shouted a loud
vivat to him, the enthusiasm and exultation of the people was
raised to the highest, so that there was no end to the cheers
of joy.

Now, the sound of bells, and the van of the long train
which gently made its way over the many-coloured bridge,
announced that all was done. The attention was greater than
ever, and the procession more distinct than before, particu
larly for us, since it now came directly up to us. We saw it,
as well as the whole of the square, which was thronged with
people, almost as if on a ground-plan. Only at the end the
magnificence was too much crowded; for the envoys, the
hereditary officers, the Emperor and King, under the canopy
(Baldachin), the three spiritual Electors, who immediately
followed, the Schoifen and senators, dressed in black, the
gold embroidered canopy (Himmei\ all seemed only one

168 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

mass, which moved by a single will, splendidly harmonious,
and thus stepping from the temple amid the sound of the
bells, beamed towards us as something holy.

A politico-religious ceremony possesses an infinite charm.
We behold earthly majesty before our eyes, surrounded by all
the symbols of its power ; but while it bends before that of
heaven, it brings to our minds the communion of both. For
even the individual can only prove his relationship with the
Deity by subjecting himself and adoring,

The rejoicings, which resounded from the market-place,
now spread likewise over the great square, and a boisterous
vivat burst forth from thousands upon thousands of throats,
and doubtless from as many hearts. For this grand festival
was to be the pledge of a lasting peace, which indeed for
many a long year actually blessed Germany.

Several days before, it had been made known by public
proclamation, that neither the bridge nor the eagle over the
fountain were to be exposed to the people, and were therefore
not, as at other times, to be touched. This was done to pre
vent the mischief inevitable with such a rush of persons.
But in order to sacrifice in some degree to the genius of the
mob, persons expressly appointed went behind the procession,
loosened the cloth from the bridge, wound it up like a flag,
and threw it into the air. This gave rise to no disaster, but
to a laughable mishap ; for the cloth unrolled itself in the air,
and. as it fell, covered a larger or smaller number of persons.
Those now who took hold of the ends and drew them towards
themselves, pulled all those in the middle to the ground, en
veloped them and teased them till they tore or cut themselves-
through, and everybody, in his own way, had borne off a
corner of the stuff made sacred by the footsteps of Majesty.

1 did not long contemplate this rude sport, but hastened
from my high position, through all sorts of little steps and
passages, down to the great llomer stairs, where the distin
guished and majestic mass, which had been stared at from
the distance, was to ascend in its undulating course. The
crowd was not great, because the entrances to the council-
house were well garrisoned, and I fortunately reached at once
the iron balustrades above. Now the chief personages as
cended past me, while their followers remained behind in the
lower arched passages, and I could observe them on the thrice
broken stairs from all sides, and at last quite close.

CORONATION CEREMONIES. 169

Finally both their Majesties came up. Father and son
were altogether dressed like Menaichim. The Emperor s
domestic robes, of purple-coloured silk, richly adorned with
pearls and stones, as well as his crown, sceptre, and imperial
orb, struck the eye with good effect. For all in them was
new, and the imitation of the antique was tasteful. He
moved, too, quite easily in his attire, and his true-hearted,
dignified face, indicated at once the emperor and the father.
The young King, on the contrary, in his monstrous articles of
dress, with the crown-jewels of Charlemagne, dragged himself
along as if he had been in a disguise, so that he himself, looking
at his father from time to time, could not refrain from laughing.
The crown, which it had been necessary to line a great deal,
stood out from his head like an overhanging roof. The dal-
matica, the stole, well as they had been fitted and taken in
by sewing, presented by no means an advantageous appear
ance. The sceptre and imperial orb excited some admiration ;
but one would, for the sake of a more princely effect, rather
have seen a strong form, suited to the dress, invested and
adorned with it.

Scarcely were the gates of the great hall closed behind
these figures, than I hurried to my former place, which being
already occupied by others, I only regained with some trouble.

It was precisely at the right time that I again took possession
of my window ; for the most remarkable part of all that was
to be seen in public was just about to take place. All the
people had turned towards the Homer, and a reiterated shout
of vivat gave us to understand that the Emperor and King, in
their vestments, were showing themselves to the populace
from the balcony of the great hall. But they were not alone
to serve as a spectacle, since another strange spectacle occurred
before their eyes. First of all, the handsome slender Heredi
tary Marshal flung himself upon his steed ; he had laid aside
his sword ; in his right hand he held a silver-handled vessel,
and a tin spatula in his left. He rode within the barriers to
the great heap of oats, sprang in, filled the vessel to overflow,
smoothed it off, and carried it back again with great dignity.
The imperial stable was now provided for. The Hereditary
Chamberlain then rode likewise to the spot, and brought back
a basin with ewer and towel. But more entertaining for the
spectators was the Hereditary Carver, who came to fetch a

170 TEUTH AND POETRY; FBOM MY OWN LIFE.

piece of the roasted ox. He also rode, with a silver dish,
through the barriers, to the large wooden kitchen, and came
forth again with his portion covered, that he might go back
to the Homer. Now it was the turn of the Hereditary Cup
bearer, who rode to the fountain and fetched wine. Thus
now was the imperial table furnished, and every eye waited
upon the Hereditary Treasurer, who was to throw about the
money. He, too, mounted a fine steed, to the sides of whose
saddle, instead of holsters, a couple of splendid bags em
broidered with the arms of the Palatinate, were suspended.
Scarcely had he put himself in motion than he plunged his
hands into these pockets, and generously scattered right and
left gold and silver coins, which on every occasion glittered
merrily in the air like metallic rain. A thousand hands
waved instantly in the air to catch the gifts ; but hardly had
the coins fallen than the crowd tumbled over each other on
the ground, and struggled violently for the pieces which
might have reached the earth. As this agitation was con
stantly repeated on both sides as the giver rode forwards, it
afforded the spectators a very diverting sight. It was most
lively at the close, when he threw out the bags themselves,
and everybody tried to catch this highest prize.

Their Majesties had retired from the balcony, and another
offering was to be made to the mob, who, on such occasions,
would rather steal the gifts than receive them tranquilly and
gratefully. The custom prevailed, in more rude and uncouth
times, of giving up to the people on the spot the oats, as
soon as the Hereditary Marshal had taken away his share,
the fountain and the kitchen, after the cup-bearer and the
carver had performed their offices. But this time, to guard
against all mischief, order and moderation were preserved as
far as possible. But the old malicious jokes, that when one
filled a sack with oats another cut a hole in it, with sallies of
the kind, were revived. About the roasted ox, a serious
battle on this occasion, as usual, was waged. This could
only be contested en masse. Two guilds, the butchers and the
wine-porters, had, according to ancient custom, again stationed
themselves so that the monstrous roast must fall to one of
the two. The butchers believed that they had the best right
to an ox which they provided entire for the kitchen ; the
wine-porters, on the other hand, laid claim because the

THE OX AND THE WOODEN KITCHEN. 171

kitchen was built near the abode of their guild, and because
they had gained the victory the last time, the horns of the
captured steer still projecting from the latticed gable- window
of their guild and meeting-house as a sign of victory. Both
these companies had very strong and able members ; but which,
of them conquered this time, I no longer remember.

But as a festival of this kind must always close with
something dangerous and frightful, it was really a terrible
moment when the wooden kitchen itself was made a prize.
The roof of it swarmed instantly with men, no one knowing
how they got there, the boards were torn loose, and pitched
down, so that one could not help supposing, particularly
at a distance, that each would kill a few of those pressing to
the spot. In a trice the hut was unroofed, and single indivi
duals hung to the beams and rafters, in order to pull them
also out of their joinings ; nay, many floated above upon
the posts which had been already sawn off below, and the
whole skeleton, moving backwards and forwards, threatened
to fall in. Sensitive persons turned their eyes away, and
everybody expected a great calamity ; but we did not hear of
any mischief, and the whole affair, though impetuous and
violent, had passed off happily.

Everybody knew now that the Emperor and King would
return from the cabinet, whither they had retired from the
balcony, and feast in the great hall of the Homer. We had
been able to admire the arrangements made for it, the day
before ; and my most anxious wish was, if possible, to look in
to-day. I repaired, therefore, by the usual path, to the great
staircase, which stands directly opposite the door of the hall.
Here I gazed at the distinguished personages who this day
acted as the servants of the head of the Empire. Forty-four
counts, all splendidly dressed, passed me, carrying the dishes
from the kitchen, so that the contrast between their dignity and
their occupation might well be bewildering to a boy. The
crowd was not great, but, considering the little space, suffi
ciently perceptible. The hall-door was guarded, while those
who \vere authorised went frequently in and out. I saw one
of the Palatine domestic officials, whom I asked whether he
could not take me in with him. He did not deliberate
long, but gave me one of the silver vessels he just then bore,
which he could do so much the more as I was neatly clad ;

172 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

and thus I reached the sanctuary. The Palatine buffet stood
to the left, directly by the door, and with some steps I placed
myself on the elevation of it, behind the barriers.

At the other end of the hall, immediately by the windows,
raised on the steps of the throne, and under canopies, sat the
Emperor and King in their robes ; but the crown and sceptre
lay at some distance behind them on gold cushions. The
three spiritual Electors, their buffets behind them, had taken
their places on single elevations ; the Elector of Mentz oppo
site their Majesties, the Elector of Treves at the right, and
the Elector of Cologne at the left. This upper part of the
hall was imposing and cheerful to behold, and excited the
remark that the spiritual power likes to keep as long as pos
sible with the ruler. On the contrary, the buffets and tables
of all the temporal Electors, which were, indeed, magni
ficently ornamented, but without occupants, made one think
of the misunderstanding which had gradually arisen for cen
turies between them and the head of the Empire. Their
ambassadors had already withdrawn to eat in a side-chamber ;
and if the greater part of the hall assumed a sort of spectral
appearance, by so many invisible guests being so magnifi
cently attended, a large unfurnished table in the middle was
still more sad to look upon ; for there also many covers stood
empty, because all those who had certainly a right to sit
there had, for appearance sake, kept away, that on the greatest
day of honour they might not renounce any of their honour,
if, indeed, they were then to be found in the city.

Neither my years nor the mass of present objects allowed
me to make many reflections. I strove to see all as much as

h,

possible ; and when the dessert was brought in and the am
bassadors re-entered to pay their court, I sought the open air,
and contrived to refresh myself with good friends in the
neighbourhood, after a day s half-fasting, and to prepare for
the illumination in the evening.

This brilliant night I purposed celebrating in a right
hearty way; for I had agreed with Gretchen, and Pylades
and his mistress, that we should meet somewhere at nightfall.
The city was already resplendent at every end and corner
when I met my beloved. I offered Gretchen my arm ; we
went from one quarter to another, and found ourselves very
happy in each other s society. The cousins at first were also

THE ILLUMINATIONS. 173

of our party, but were afterwards lost in the multitude of
people. Before the houses of some of the ambassadors, where
magnificent illuminations were exhibited (those of the Elec
tor-Palatine were pre-eminently distinguished), it was as
clear as day. Lest I should be recognised, I had disguised
myself to a certain extent, and Gretchen did not find it amiss.
We admired the various brilliant representations and the
fairy-like structures of flame by which each ambassador strove
to outshine the others. But Prince Esterhazy s arrangements
surpassed all the rest. Our little company were in raptures
both with the invention and the execution, and we were just
about to enjoy this in detail, when the cousins again met us,
and spoke to us of the glorious illumination with which the
Brandenburg ambassador had adorned his quarters. We
were not displeased at taking the long way from the Ross-
markt (Horse-market) to the Saalhof ; but found that we had
been villanously hoaxed.

The Saalhof is, towards the Maine, a regular and handsome
structure, but the part in the direction of the city is exceed
ingly old, irregular, and unsightly. Small windows, agreeing
neither in form nor size, neither in a line nor placed at equal
distances, gates and doors arranged without symmetry, a
ground-floor mostly turned into shops, it forms a confused
outside, which is never observed by any one. Now here this
accidental, irregular, unconnected architecture had been fol
lowed, and every window, every door, every opening, was
surrounded by lamps ; as indeed can be done with a well-
built house ; but here the most wretched and ill-formed of
all fagades was thus quite incredibly placed in the clearest
light. Did one amuse oneself with this as with the jests
of the Pagliasso, ^ though not without scruple, since everybody
must recognise something intentional in it; -just as people
Iiad before glossed over the previous external deportment of
Von Plotho, so much prized in other respects, and when once
inclined towards him, had admired him as a wag, who, like
his king, would place himself above all ceremonies one
nevertheless gladly returned to the fairy kingdom of Ester-
hazy.

This eminent envoy, to honour the day, had quite passed
over his own unfavourably situated quarters, and in their

* A sort of buffoon.

174 TBUTH AND POETRY ; FHOM ]\IY OWN LIFE.

stead had caused the great esplanade of linden-trees in the
Horse-market to be decorated in the front with a portal illu
minated with colours, and at the back with a still more mag
nificent prospect. The entire enclosure was marked by lamps.
Between the trees stood pyramids and spheres of light, upon
transparent pedestals ; from one tree to another were stretched
glittering garlands, on which floated suspended lights. In
several places bread and sausages were distributed among the
people, and there was no want of wine.

Here now, four abreast, we walked very comfortably up
and down, and I, by Gretchen s side, fancied that I really
wandered in those happy Elysian fields where they pluck
from the trees crystal cups that immediately fill themselves
with the wine desired, and shake down fruits that change into
every dish at will. At last we also felt such a necessity, and
conducted by Pylades, we found a neat, well-arranged eating-
house. When we encountered no more guests, since every
body was going about the streets, we were all the better
pleased, and passed the greatest part of the night most hap
pily and cheerfully, in the feeling of friendship, love, and
attachment. When I had accompanied Gretchen as far as
her door, she kissed me on the forehead. It was the first and
last time that she granted me this favour ; for, alas, I was not
to see her again.

The next morning, while I was yet in bed, my mother
entered, in trouble and anxiety. It was easy to see when she
was at all distressed. " Get up," she said, " and prepare
yourself for something unpleasant. It has come out that you
frequent very bad company, and have involved yourself in
very dangerous and bad affairs. Your father is beside himself,
and we have only been able to get thus much from him, that
he will investigate the affair by means of a third party. Re
main in your chamber and await what may happen. Councillor
Schneider will come to you ; he has the commission both
from your father and from the authorities ; for the matter is
already prosecuted, and may take a very bad turn."

I saw that they took the affair for much worse than it was ;
yet I felt myself not a little disquieted, even if only the actual
state of things should be detected. My old Messiah-loving friend
finally entered, with the tears standing in his eyes ; he took
me by the arm, and said, " I am heartily sorry to come to you

GOETHE IN TROUBLE. 175

on such an affair. I could not have supposed that you could
go astray so far. But what will not wicked companions and
bad example do ! Thus can a young inexperienced man be
led step by step into crime!" " I am conscious of no crime,"
I replied, " and as little of having frequented bad company."
" The question now is not one of defence/ said he, interrupt
ing me, " but of investigation, and on your part of an upright
confession." " What do you want to know ?" retorted I. He
seated himself, drew out a paper, and began to question me :
" Have you not recommended N. N. to your grandfather as a
candidate for the * * place?" I answered, "Yes." " Where
did you become acquainted with him ?" " In my walks." " In
what company ?" I started : for I would not willingly betray
my friends. " Silence will not do now," he continued, " for
all is sufficiently known." " What is known then ?" said I.
" That this man has been introduced to you by others like him
in fact, by * * *." Here he named three persons whom I
had never seen nor known : which I immediately explained to
the questioner. " You pretend," he resumed, " not to know
these men, and have yet had frequent meetings with them."
" Not in the least," I replied ; " for, as I have said, except the
first, I do not know one of them, and even him I have never
seen in a house." " Have you not often been in * * * street ?"
" Never," I replied. This was not entirely conformable to the
truth. I had once accompanied Pylades to his sweetheart,
who lived in that street ; but we had entered by the back-door,
and remained in the summer-house. I therefore supposed that
I might permit myself the subterfuge, that I had not been in
the street itself.

The good man put more questions, all of which I could an
swer with a denial : for of all that he wished to learn I knew
nothing. At last he seemed to become vexed, and said, " You
repay my confidence and good- will very badly ; I come to save
you. You cannot deny that you have composed letters for
these people themselves or for their accomplices, have furnished
them writings, and have thus been accessory to their evil acts ;
for the question is of nothing less than of forged papers, false
wills, counterfeit bonds, and things of the sort. I come not
only as a friend of the family, I come in the name and by order
of the magistrates, who, in consideration of your connexions
and youth, would spare you and some other young persons.

176 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

who, like you, have been lured into the net." It was strange
to me that among the persons he named, none of those with
whom I had been intimate were found. The circumstances
touched, without agreeing, and I could still hope to save my
young friends. But the good man grew more and more urgent.
I could not deny that I had come home late many nights, that
I had contrived to have a house-key made, that I had been
seen at public places more than once with persons of low rank
and suspicious looks, that some girls were mixed up in the
affair ; in short, everything seemed to be discovered but the
names. This gave me courage to persist steadfastly in my
silence. " Do not," said my excellent friend, " let me go away
from you ; the affair allows of no delay ; immediately after me
another will come, who will not grant you so much scope. Do
not make the matter, which is bad enough, worse by your
obstinacy."

I represented very vividly to myself the good cousins, and
particularly Gretchen : I saw them arrested, tried, punished,
disgraced, and then it went through my soul like a flash of
lightning, that the cousins, though they always observed in
tegrity towards me, might have engaged in such bad affairs,
at least the oldest, who never quite pleased me, who came
home later and later, and had little to tell of a cheerful sort.
Still I kept back my confession. " Personally," said I, " I am
conscious of nothing evil, and can rest satisfied on that side,
but it is not impossible that those with whom I have associated
may have been guilty of some daring or illegal act. They may
be sought, found, convicted, punished ; I have hitherto nothing
to reproach myself with ; and will not do any wrong to those
who have behaved well and kindly to me." He did not let
me finish, but exclaimed with some agitation, " Yes, they will
be found out. These villains met in three houses. (He named
the streets, he pointed out the houses, and, unfortunately,
among them was the one to which I used to go.) The first
nest is already broken up, and at this moment so are the two
others. In a few hours the whole will be clear. Avoid, by a
frank confession., a judicial inquiry, a confrontation, and all
other disagreeable matters." The house was known and marked.
Now I deemed silence useless ; nay, considering the innocence
of our meetings, I could hope to be still more useful to them
than to myself. " Sit down/ I exclaimed, fetching him back

GOETHE S DISTRESS. 177

from the door ; "I will tell all, and at once lighten your heart
and mine ; only one thing I ask ; henceforth let there be no
doubt of my veracity."

I soon told my friend the whole progress of the affair,
and was, at first, calm and collected ; but the more I brought
to mind and pictured to myself the persons, objects, and
events, so many innocent pleasures and charming enjoyments,
and was forced to depose as before a criminal court, the more
did the most painful feeling increase, so that at last I burst
forth in tears and gave myself up to unrestrained passion. The
family friend, who hoped that now the real secret was coming
to light (for he regarded my distress as a symptom that I was
on the point of confessing with repugnance something mon
strous), sought to pacify me, as with him the discovery was the
all-important matter. In this he only partly succeeded, but
so far, however, that I could eke out my story to the end.
Though satisfied of the innocence of the proceedings, he was
still doubtful to some extent, and put further questions to me,
which excited me afresh, and transported me with pain and
rage. I asserted, finally, that I had nothing more to say, and
well knew that I need fear nothing, for I was innocent, of a
good family, and well reputed ; but that they might be just as
guiltless without having it recognised, or being otherwise fa
voured. I declared at the same time, that if they were not
spared like myself, that if their follies were not regarded with
indulgence, and their faults pardoned, that if anything in the
least harsh or unjust happened to them, I would do myself a
mischief, and no one should prevent me. In this, too, my
friend tried to pacify me ; but I did not trust him, and was,
when he quitted me at last, in a most terrible state. I now
reproached myself for having told the affair, and brought all
the positions to light. I foresaw that our childish actions,
our youthful inclinations and confidences, might be quite dif
ferently interpreted, and that I might perhaps involve the
excellent Pylades in the matter, and render him very unhappy.
All these images pressed vividly one after the other before my
soul, sharpened and spurred my distress, so that I did not
know what to do for sorrow. I cast myself at full length
upon the floor, and moistened it with my tears.

I know not how long I might have lain, when my sister
entered, was frightened at my gestures, and did all that she

IT

178 TETJTH AND POETBY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

could to raise me up. She told me that a person connected
with the magistracy had waited below with my father for the
return of the family friend, and that after they had been
closeted together for some time, both the gentlemen had de
parted, had talked to each other with apparent satisfaction,
and had even laughed. She believed that she had heard the
words " It is all right ; the affair is of no consequence."
" Indeed !" I broke out, " the affair is of no consequence for
me, for us ; for I have committed no crime, and if I had, they
would contrive to help me through : but the others, the others,"
I cried, " who will stand by them !"

My sister tried to comfort me by circumstantially arguing
that if those of higher rank were to be saved, a veil must also
be cast over the faults of the more lowly. All this was of no
avail. She had scarcely left than I again abandoned myself
to my grief, and ever recalled alternately the images both of
my affection and passion and of the present and possible mis
fortune. I repeated to myself tale after tale, saw only unhap-
piness following unhappiness, and did not fail in particular
to make Gretchen and myself truly wretched.

The family friend had ordered me to remain in my room,
and have nothing to do with any one but the family. This
was just what I wanted, for I found myself best alone. My
mother and sister visited me from time to time, and did not
fail to assist me vigorously with all sorts of good consola
tion ; nay, even on the second day they came in the name of
my father, who was now better informed, to offer me a perfect
amnesty, which indeed I gratefully accepted ; but the proposal
that I should go out with him and look at the insignia of the
Empire, which were now exposed to the curious, I stubbornly
rejected, and I asserted that I wanted to know nothing either
of the world or of the Roman Empire till I was informed how
that distressing affair, which for me could have no further con
sequences, had turned out for my poor acquaintance. They
had nothing to say on this head, and left me alone. Yet the
next day some further attempts were made to get me out of
the house and excite in me a sympathy for the public cere
monies. In vain ! neither the great gala-day, nor what hap
pened on the occasion of so many elevations of rank, nor the
public table of the Emperor and King, in short, nothing could
more me. The Elector of the Palatinate might come and wait

GOETHE S ILLNESS. 179

on both their Majesties ; these might visit the Electors ; the
last electoral sitting might be attended for the despatch of
business in arrear, and the renewal of the electoral union ;
nothing could call me forth from my passionate solitude. I
let the bells ring for the rejoicings, the Emperor repair to the
Capuchin church, the Electors and Emperor depart, without
on that account moving one step from my chamber. The final
cannonading, immoderate as it might be, did not arouse me,
and as the smoke of the powder dispersed, and the sound died
away, so had all this glory vanished from my soul.

I now experienced no satisfaction but in chewing the cud
of my misery, and in a thousandfold imaginary multiplication
of it. My whole inventive faculty, my poetry and rhetoric,
had cast themselves on this diseased spot, and threatened, pre
cisely by means of this vitality, to involve body and soul into
an incurable disorder. In this melancholy condition nothing
more seemed to me worth a desire, nothing worth a wish. An
infinite yearning, indeed, seized me at times to know how it
had gone with my poor Mends and my beloved, what had
been the result of a stricter scrutiny, how far they were im
plicated in those crimes, or had been found guiltless. This
also I circumstantially painted to myself in the most various
ways, and did not fail to hold them as innocent and truly un
fortunate. Sometimes I longed to see myself freed from this
uncertainty, and wrote vehemently threatening letters to the
family friend, insisting that he should not withhold from me
the further progress of the affair, Sometimes I tore them up
again, from the fear of learning my unhappiness quite distinctly,
and of losing the principal consolation with which hitherto I
had alternately tormented and supported myself.

Thus I passed both day and night in great disquiet, in raving
and lassitude, so that I felt happy at last when a bodily illness
seized me with considerable violence, when they had to call in
the help of a physician, and think of every way to quiet me.
They supposed that they could do it generally by the sacred
assurance that all who were more or less involved in the guilt
had been treated with the greatest forbearance, that my nearest
friends, being as good as innocent, had been dismissed with a
slight reprimand, and that Gretchen had retired from the city
and had returned to her own home. They lingered the most

K 2

180 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

over this last point, and I did not take it in the best part ; for
I could discover in it, not a voluntary departure, but only a
shameful banishment. My bodily and mental condition was
not improved by this ; my distress now first really began, and
I had time enough to torment myself by picturing the strangest
romance of sad events, and an inevitably tragical catastrophe.

PAET THE SECOND.

WHATEVER ONE WISHES IN YOUTH : IN AGE ONE HAS ABUNDANCE.

SIXTH BOOK.

THUS was I driven alternately to assist and to retard my
recovery, and a certain secret chagrin was now added to my
other sensations ; for I plainly perceived that I was watched,
that they were loth to hand me any sealed paper without
taking notice what effect it produced whether I kept it
secret whether I laid it down open, and the like. I there
fore conjectured that Pylades, or one of the cousins, or even
Gretchen herself, might have attempted to write to me, either
to give or to obtain information. In addition to my sorrow,
I was now for the first time thoroughly cross, and had again
fresh opportunities to exercise my conjectures, and to mislead
myself into the strangest combinations.

It was not long before they gave me a special overseer.
Fortunately, it was a man whom I loved and valued. He
had held the place of tutor in the family of one of our friends ;
and his former pupil had gone alone to the university. He
often visited me in my sad condition, and they at last found
nothing more natural than to give him a chamber next to
mine, as he was then to employ me, pacify me, and, as I
marked, keep his eye upon me. Still, as I esteemed him
from my heart, and had already confided many things to him,
though not my affection for Gretchen, I determined so much
the more to be perfectly candid and straightforward with him,
as it was intolerable to me to live in daily intercourse with
any one, and at the same time to stand on an uncertain, unplea
sant footing with him. It was not long, then, before I spoke
to him about the affair, refreshed myself by the relation and
repetil ion of the minutest circumstances of my past happiness,
and thus gained so much, that he, like a sensible man, saw it
would be better to make me acquainted with the issue of the
story, and that too in its details and particulars, so that

182 TTUTTH AND POETRY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

I might be clear as to the whole, and that with earnestness and
zeal, I might be persuaded of the necessity of composing
myself, throwing the past beliind me, and beginning a new
life. First he confided to me who the other young people of
quality were who had allowed themselves to be seduced, at
the outset, into daring hoaxes, then into sportive breaches of
police, afterwards into frolicsome impositions on others, and
other such dangerous matters. Thus actually had arisen a
little conspiracy, which unprincipled men had joined, who,
by forging papers and counterfeiting signatures, had perpe
trated many criminal acts, and had still more criminal mat
ters in preparation. The cousins, after whom I at last impa
tiently inquired, had been found to be quite innocent, only very
generally acquainted with those others, and not at all implicated
with them. My client, by recommending whom to my grand
father I had in fact put people on the scent, was one of the
worst, and had sued for that office chiefly that he might un
dertake or conceal certain villanies. After all this, I could at
last contain myself no longer, and asked what had become of
Gretchen, for whom I, once for all, confessed the strongest
attachment. My friend shook his head and smiled, " Make
yourself easy," replied he ; " this girl has passed her exami
nation very well, and has borne off honourable testimony to
that effect. They could discover nothing in her but what was
good and amiable, the examiners themselves were well-disposed
to her, and could not refuse her desire of removing from the
city. Even what she has confessed in respect to you, too,
my friend, does her honour ; I have read her deposition in the
secret reports myself, and seen her signature." "The signa
ture ! exclaimed I, " which makes me so happy and so
miserable. What has she confessed, then? What has she
subscribed ? My friend delayed answering ; but the cheer
fulness of his face showed me that he concealed nothing dan
gerous. " If you must know, then," replied he at last, 4k when
she was interrogated concerning you, and her intercourse
with you, she said quite frankly, k I cannot deny that I have
seen him often and with pleasure ; but I have always treated
him as a child, and my affection for him was truly that of a
sister. In many cases I have given him good advice, and
instead of instigating him to any equivocal action, I have hin
dered him from taking part in wanton tricks, which might
have brought him into trouble.

CHANGE OE FEELING TOWARDS GRETCHEN. 183

My Mend still went on making Gretchen speak like a
governess ; but I had already for some time ceased to listen to
him ; for I was terribly affronted that she had set me down
in the reports as a child, and believed myself at once cured of
all passion for her. I even hastily assured my friend that all
was now over. I also spoke no more of her, named her no
more ; but I could not leave off the bad habit of thinking about
her, and of recalling her form, her air, her demeanour, though
now, in fact, all appeared to me in quite another light. I felt
it intolerable that a girl, at the most only a couple of years
older than me, should regard me as a child, wiiile I conceived
I passed with her for a very sensible and clever youth. Her
cold and repelling manner, which had before so charmed me,
now seemed to me quite repugnant ; the familiarities which
she had allowed herself to take with me, but had not
permitted me to return, were altogether odious. Yet all
would have been well enough for me, if by subscribing that
poetical love-letter, in which she had confessed a formal
attachment to me, she had not given me a right to regard her
as a sly and selfish coquette. Her masquerading it at the
milliner s, too, no longer seemed to me so innocent ; and I
turned these annoying reflections over and over within myself
until I had entirely stripped her of all her amiable qualities.
My judgment was convinced, and I thought I must cast her
away ; but her image ! her image gave me the lie as often
as it again hovered before me, which indeed happened often
enough.

Nevertheless, this arrow with its barbed hooks was torn
out of my heart, and the question then was, how the inward
sanative power of youth could be brought to one s aid? I
really put on the man ; and the first thing instantly laid aside
was the weeping and raving, which I now regarded as childish
in the highest degree. A great stride for the better ! For I
had often, half the night through, given myself up to this grief,
with the greatest violence, so that at last, from my tears and
sobbing, 1 came to such a point that I could scarce swallow
any more, the pleasure of eating and drinking became painful
to me, and my breast, which was so nearly concerned, seemed
to suffer. The vexation which 1 had constantly felt since the
discovery, made me banish every weakness. I found it frightful,
that I had sacrificed sleep, repose and health, for the sake of

184 THUTH AND POETRY; THOM MY OWN LIFE.

a girl who was pleased to consider me a babe, and to imagine
herself, with respect to me, something very much like a nurse.
These depressing reflections, as 1 was soon convinced, were
only to be banished by activity ; but of what was I to take
hold ? I had, indeed, much to make up for in many things,
and to prepare myself, in more than one sense, for the univer
sity, which I was now to attend ; but I relished and accom
plished nothing. Much appeared to me familiar and trivial ;
for grounding myself, in several respects, I found neither
strength within nor opportunity without ; and I therefore suf
fered myself to be moved by the taste of my good room-
neighbour, to a study which was altogether new and strange
to me, and which for a long time offered me a wide field of
information and thought. My friend began, namely, to make
me acquainted with the secrets of philosophy. He had studied
in Jena, under Danes, and, possessing a well-regulated mind,
had acutely seized the relations of that doctrine, which he
now sought to impart to me. But, unfortunately, these
things would not hang together in such a fashion in my brain.
I put questions, which he promised to answer afterwards ; I
made demands, which he promised to satisfy in future. But
our most important difference was this, that I maintained a
separate philosophy was not necessary, as the whole of it was
already contained in religion and poetry. This he would by
no means allow, but rather tried to prove to me that these
must first be founded on philosophy ; which I stubbornly
denied, and at every step in the progress of our discussions,
found arguments for my opinion. For, as in poetry a certain
faith in the impossible, and as in religion a like faith in the
inscrutable, must have a place, the philosophers appeared to
me to be in a very false position who would demonstrate and
explain both of them from their own field of vision. Besides,
it was very quickly proved, from the history of philosophy,
that one always sought a ground different from that of the
other, and that the sceptic, in the end, pronounced them all
groundless and useless.

However, this very history of philosophy, which my friend
was compelled to go over with me, because I could learn
nothing from dogmatical discourse, amused me very much,
but only on this account, that one doctrine or opinion seemed
to me as good as another, so far, at least, as I was capable of

HISTOEY OF PHILOSOPHY. 185

penetrating into it. "With the most ancient men and schools I
was best pleased, because poetry, religion, and philosophy were
completely combined into one ; and I only maintained that first
opinion of mine with the more animation, when the book of Job
and the Song and Proverbs of Solomon, as well as the lays of
Chrpheus and Hesiod, seemed to bear valid witness in its favour.
My friend had taken the smaller work of Brucker as the foun
dation of his discourse ; and the further we went on, the less
I could make of it. I could not clearly see what the first
Greek philosophers would have. Socrates I esteemed as an
excellent, wise man, who in his life and death might well be
compared with Christ. His disciples, on the other hand, seemed
to me to bear a strong resemblance to the Apostles, who dis
agreed immediately after their Master s death, when each
manifestly recognised only a limited view as the right one.
Neither the keenness of Aristotle nor the fulness of Plato pro
duced the least fruit in me. For the Stoics, on the contrary, I
had already conceived some affection, and even procured Epic-
tetus, whom I studied with much interest. My friend unwil
lingly let me have my way in this one- sidedness, from which
he could not draw me ; for, in spite of his varied studies, he
did not know how to bring the leading question into a narrow
compass. He need only have said to me that in life action
is everything, and that joy and sorrow come of themselves.
However, youth should be allowed its own course ; it does
not stick to false maxims very long ; life soon tears or charms
it away again.

The season had become fine ; we often went together into
the open air, and visited the places of amusement which sur
rounded the city in great numbers. But it was precisely here
that matters went worse with me ; for I still saw the ghosts
of the cousins everywhere, and feared, now here, now there,
to see one of them step forward. Even the most indiffe
rent glances of men annoyed me. I had lost that unconscious
happiness of wandering about unknown and unblanied, and
of thinking of no observer, even in the greatest crowds.
Now hypochondriacal fancies began to torment me, as if I
attracted the attention of the people, as if their eyes were
turned on my demeanour, to fix it on their memories, to scan
and to find fault.

I therefore drew my friend into the woods, and while I

186 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWJST LIFE.

shunned the monotonous firs, I sought those fine leafy groves,
which do not indeed spread far in the district, but are yet of
sufficient compass for a poor wounded heart to hide itself.
In the remotest depth of the forest I sought out a solemn
spot, where the oldest oaks and beeches formed a large,
noble shaded space. The ground was somewhat sloping, and
made the worth of the old trunks only the more perceptible.
Round this open circle closed the densest thickets, from which
the mossy rocks mightily and venerably peered forth, and
made a rapid fall for a copious brook.

Scarcely had I compelled my friend hither, who w r ould rather
have been in the open country by the stream, among men, than
he playfully assured me that I showed myself a true German.
He related to me circumstantially, out of Tacitus, how our
ancestors found pleasure in the feelings which nature so pro
vides for us, in such solitudes, with her inartificial architec
ture. He had not been long discoursing of this, when I ex
claimed, " Oh ! why did not this precious spot lie in a deeper
wilderness ! why may we not train a hedge around it, to hal
low and separate from the world both it and ourselves!
Surely there is no more beautiful adoration of the Deity than
that which needs no image, but which springs up in our
bosom merely from the intercourse with nature ! : What I
then felt, is still present to me ; what I said, I know not how
to recall. Thus much, however, is certain, that the undeter
mined, widely-expanding feelings of youth and of uncultivated
nations are alone adapted to the sublime, which, if it is to be
excited in us through external objects, formless, or moulded
into incomprehensible forms, must surround us with a great
ness to which we are not equal.

All men, more or less, feel such a disposition of the soul,
and seek to satisfy this noble necessity in various ways. But
as the sublime is easily produced by twilight and night, when
objects are blended, it is, on the other hand, scared away by
the day, which separates and sunders everything, and so must
it also be destroyed by every increase of cultivation, if it be
not fortunate enough to take refuge with the beautiful, and
unite itself closely with it, by which both become equally un
dying and indestructible.

The brief moments of such enjoyments were still more short
ened by my meditative friend ; but when I turned back into

DRAWING FHOM NATURE. 187

the world, it was altogether in vain that I sought, among the
bright and barren objects around, again to arouse such feelings
within me ; nay, I could scarce retain even the remembrance
of them. My heart, however, was too far spoiled to be able
to compose itself; it had loved, and the object was snatched
away from it ; it had lived, and life to it was embittered. A
friend who makes it too perceptible that he designs to form
you, excites no feeling of comfort; while a woman who
is forming you, while she seems to spoil you, is adored
as a heavenly, joy-bringing being. But that form in which
the idea of beauty manifested itself to me, had vanished far
away ; it often visited me under the shade of my oak trees,
but I could not hold it fast, and I felt a powerful impulse to
seek something similar in the distance.

I had imperceptibly accustomed, nay, compelled my friend
and overseer to leave me alone ; for even in my sacred grove,
those undefined, gigantic feelings were not sufficient for me.
The eye was, above all others, the organ by which I seized
the world. I had, from childhood, lived among painters, and
had accustomed myself to look at objects, as they did, with
reference to art. Now I was left to myself and to solitude,
this gift, half natural, half acquired, made its appearance.
Wherever I looked, I saw a picture, and whatever struck me,
whatever gave me delight, I wished to fix, and began, in the
most awkward manner, to draw after nature. In this I
lacked nothing less than everything ; yet, though without any
technical means, I obstinately persisted in trying to imitate the
most magnificent things that offered themselves to my sight.
Thus, to be sure, I acquired a great attention to objects ; but
I only seized them as a whole, so far as they produced an
effect ; and, little as nature had meant me for a descriptive
poet, just as little would she grant me the capacity of a
draughtsman for details. Since, however, this was the only way
left me of expressing myself, I stuck to it with so much stub
bornness, nay, even with melancholy, that I always continued
my labours the more zealously, the less I saw they produced.

But I will not deny that there was a certain mixture of
roguery ; for I had remarked that if I chose for an irksome
study a half-shaded old trunk, to the hugely curved roots of
which clung well-lit fern, combined with twinkling maiden
hair, my friend, who knew from experience that I should not
be disengaged in less than an hour, commonly resolved to seek.

188 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

with, his books, some other pleasant little spot. Now nothing
disturbed me in prosecuting my taste, which was so much the
more active, since my paper was endeared to me by the cir
cumstance that I had accustomed myself to see in it, not so
much what stood upon it, as what I had been thinking of at
any time and hour when I drew. Thus plants and flowers
of the commonest kind may form a charming diary for us,
because nothing that calls back the remembrance of a happy
moment can be insignificant ; and even now it would be hard
for me to destroy as worthless many things of the kind that
have remained to me from different epochs, because they
transport me immediately to those times which I remember
with melancholy indeed, but not unwillingly.

But if such drawings may have had anything of interest in
themselves, they were indebted for this advantage to the
sympathy and attention of my father. He, informed by my
overseer that I had become gradually reconciled to my condi
tion, and, in particular, had applied myself passionately to
drawing from nature, was very well satisfied partly because
he himself set a high value on drawing and painting, partly
because gossip Seekatz had once said to him, that it was a pity
I was not destined for a painter. But here again the peculia
rities of the father and son came into conflict ; for it was almost
impossible for me to make use of a good, white, perfectly clean
sheet of paper ; grey old leaves, even if scribbled over on one
.side already, charmed me most, just as if my awkwardness had
feared the touchstone of a white ground. Nor were any of my
drawings quite finished ; and how should I have executed a
whole, which indeed I saw with my eyes, but did not compre
hend, and how an individual object, which I had neither skill
nor patience to follow out ? The pedagogism of my father on
this point, too, was really to be admired. He kindly asked
for my attempts, and drew lines round every imperfect sketch.
He wished, by this means, to compel me to completeness and
fulness of detail. The irregular leaves he cut straight, and thus
made the beginning of a collection, in which he wished, at some
future time, to rejoice at the progress of his son. It was
therefore by no means disagreeable to him when my wild,
restless disposition sent me roving about the country ; he
rather seemed pleased when I brought back a parcel of draw
ings on which he could exercise his patience, and in some
measure strengthen his hopes.

GOETHE S SISTER. 189

They no longer said that I might relapse into my former
attachments and connexions ; they left me by degrees perfect
liberty. By accidental inducements and in accidental society
I undertook many journeys to the mountain-range which,
from my childhood, had stood so distant and solemn before
me. Thus we visited Homburg, Kroneburg, ascended the
Feldberg, from which the prospect invited us still further and
further into the distance. Konigstein, too, was not left un-
visited ; Wiesbaden, Schwalbach, with its environs, occupied us
many days ; we reached the Rhine, which, from the heights,
we had seen winding along far off. Mentz astonished us, but
could not chain a youthful mind, which was running into the
open country ; we were delighted with the situation of Bibe-
rich ; and, contented and happy, we resumed our journey
home.

This whole tour, from w r hich my father had promised him
self many a drawing, might have been, almost without fruit ;
for what taste, what talent, what experience does it not require
to seize an extensive landscape as a picture ! I was again im
perceptibly drawn into a narrow compass, from w r hich I derived
some profit ; for I met no ruined castle, no piece of wall which
pointed to antiquity, that I did not think an object worthy of my
pencil, and imitate as well as I could. Even the monument of
Drusenstein, on the ramparts of Mentz, I copied at some risk,
and with inconveniences which every one must experience who
wishes to carry home with him some pictorial reminiscences of
his travels. Unfortunately I had again taken with me nothing but
the most miserable common paper, and had clumsily crowded
several objects into one sheet. But my paternal teacher was not
perplexed at this ; he cut the sheets apart, had the parts which
belonged to each other put together by the bookbinder, sur
rounded the single leaves with lines, and thus actually compelled
me to draw the outline of different mountains up to the margin,
and to fill up the foreground with some weeds and stones.

If his faithful endeavours could not increase my talent, never
theless this mark of his love of order had upon me a secret
influence, which afterwards manifested itself vigorously in
more ways than one.

From such rambling excursions, undertaken partly for plea
sure, partly for art, and which could be performed * in a short
time and often repeated, I was again drawn home, and that by

190 TKUTH AND POETBY; FBOM MY OWN LIFE,

a magnet which always acted upon me strongly : this was my
sister. She, only a year younger than I, had lived my whole
conscious period of life with me, and was thus bound to me by
the closest ties. To these natural causes was added a forcible
motive, which proceeded from our domestic position ; a father
certainly affectionate and well-meaning, but grave, who, be
cause he cherished within a very tender heart, externally, with
incredible consistency, maintained a brazen sternness, that
he might attain the end of giving his children the best educa
tion, and of building up, regulating, and preserving his well-
founded house ; a mother, on the other hand, as yet almost a
child, who first grew up to consciousness with and in her two
eldest children ; these three, as they looked at the world with
healthy eyes, capable of life, and desiring present enjoyment.
This contradiction floating in the family increased with years.
My father followed out his views unshaken and uninterrupted ;
the mother and children could not give up their feelings, their
claims, their wishes.

Under these circumstances it was natural that brother and
sister should attach themselves close to each other, and adhere
to their mother, that they might singly snatch the pleasures
forbidden as a whole. But since the hours of solitude and
toil were very long compared to the moments of recreation
and enjoyment, especially for my sister, who could never leave
the house for so long a time as I could, the necessity she felt
for entertaining herself with me was still sharpened by the
sense of longing with which she accompanied me to a distance.

And as, in our first years, playing and learning, growth and
education, had been quite common to both of us, so that we
might well have been taken for twins, so did this community,
this confidence, remain during the development of our physical
and moral powers. That interest of youth, that amazement at
the awakening of sensual impulses which clothe themselves in
mental forms, of mental necessities which clothe themselves in
sensual images, all the reflections upon these, which obscure
rather than enlighten us, as the fog covers over and does not illu
mine the vale from which it is about to rise, the many errors and
aberrations springing therefrom, all these the brother and
sister shared and endured hand in hand, and were the less en
lightened as to their strange condition, as the nearer they
wished to approach each other, to clear up their minds, the

GOETHE S SISTEK. 191

more forcibly did the sacred awe of their close relationship
keep them apart.

Reluctantly do I mention, in general terms, what I under
took to perform, years ago, without being able to accomplish
it. As I lost this beloved, incomprehensible being, but too
soon, I felt inducement enough to make her worth present to
me, and thus arose in me the conception of a poetic whole, in
which it might be possible to exhibit her individuality : but
for this no other form could be devised than that of the Ri-
chardsonian novels. Only by the minutest detail, by endless
particularities which bear vividly all the character of the whole,
and as they spring up from a wonderful depth give some feel
ing of that depth ; only in such a manner would it have been
in some degree possible to give a representation of this re
markable personality : for the spring can be apprehended only
while it is flowing. But from this beautiful and pious design,
as from so many others, the tumult of the world drew me back,
and nothing now remains for me but to call up for a moment
that blessed spirit, as if by the aid of a magic mirror.

She was tall, well and delicately formed, and had something
naturally dignified in her demeanour, which melted away into
a pleasing mildness. The lineaments of her face, neither strik
ing nor beautiful, indicated a character which was not and
could not be at union with itself. Her eyes were not the finest
I have ever seen, but the deepest, behind which you expected
the most ; and when they expressed any affection, any love,
their brilliancy was unequalled. And yet, properly speaking,
this expression was not tender, like that which comes from
the heart, and at the same time carries with it something of
longing and desire ; this expression came from the soul, it was
full and rich, it seemed as if it would only give, without need
ing to receive.

But what in a manner quite peculiar disfigured her face, so
that she would often appear positively ugly, was the fashion of
those times, which not only bared the forehead, but, either
accidentally or on purpose, did everything apparently or really
to enlarge it. Now, as she had the most feminine, most neatly
arched forehead, and moreover a pair of strong black eyebrows,
and prominent eyes, these circumstances occasioned a contrast,
which, if it did not repel every stranger at the first glance, at
least did not attract him. She early felt it, and this feeling

192 TKUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWX LIFE.

became constantly the more painful to her, the further she
advanced into the years when both sexes find an innocent
pleasure in being mutually agreeable.

To nobody can his own form be repugnant ; the ugliest as
well as the most beautiful has a right to enjoy his own pre
sence ; and as favour beautifies, and every one regards him
self in the looking-glass with favour, it may be asserted that
every one must see himself with complacency, even if he would
struggle against the feeling. Yet my sister had such a decided
foundation of good sense, that she could not possibly be blind
and silly in this respect ; on the contrary, she perhaps knew
more clearly than she ought, that she stood far behind her
female playfellows in external beauty, without feeling con
soled by the fact that she infinitely surpassed them in internal
advantages.

If a ]ady can be recompensed for the want of beauty, then
was she richly so by the unbounded confidence, the regard, and
love which all her female friends bore to her ; whether they
were older or younger, all cherished the same sentiments. A
very pleasant society had collected around her ; young men
were not wanting who knew how to insinuate themselves ;
nearly every girl found an admirer ; she alone had remained
without a partner. Indeed, if her exterior was in some mea
sure repulsive, the mind that gleamed through it was also
rather repelling than attractive ; for the presence of any ex
cellence throws others back upon themselves. She felt this
sensibly, she did not conceal it from me, and her love was
directed to me with so much the greater force. The case was
singular enough. As confidants to whom one reveals a love-
affair actually by genuine sympathy become lovers also, nay,
grow into rivals, and at last, perchance, transfer the passion
to themselves, so it was with us two : for, when my connexion
with Gretchen was torn asunder, my sister consoled me the
more earnestly, because she secretly felt the satisfaction of
having gotten rid of a rival ; and I, too, could riot but feel a
quiet, half- delicious pleasure, when she did me the justice to
assure me that I was the only one who truly loved, understood,
and esteemed her. If now, from time to time, my grief for
the loss of Gretchen revived, and I suddenly began to weep,
to lament, and to act in a disorderly manner, my despair for
my lost one awakened in her likewise a similar despairing im-

THE SISTEK S LOVEK. 193

patience as to the never-possessings, the failures, and miscar
riages of such youthful attachments, that we both thought
ourselves infinitely unhappy, and the more so as, in this sin
gular case, the confidants dared not change themselves into

lovers.

Fortunately, however, the capricious god of Love, who
needlessly does so much mischief, here for once interfered
beneficially, to extricate us out of all perplexity. I had much
intercourse with a young Englishman who was educated in
Pfeil s boarding-school. He could give a good account of his
own language, I practised it with him, and thus learned much
concerning his country and people. He went in and out of
our house long enough without my remarking in him a liking
for my sister, yet he may have been nourishing it in secret,
even to passion, for at last it declared itself unexpectedly and
at once. She knew him, she esteemed him, and he deserved
it. She had often made the third at our English conversations,
we had both tried to catch from his mouth the irregularities
of the English pronunciation, and thereby accustomed our
selves not only to the peculiarities of its accent and sound,
but even to what was most peculiar in the personal qualities
of our teacher ; so that at last it sounded strangely enough
when we all seemed to speak as if out of one mouth. The
pains he took to learn as much German from us in the like
manner, were to no purpose, and I think I have remarked that
even this little love-affair also, both in speaking and writing,
was carried on in the English language. Both the young
persons were very well suited to each other ; he was tall and
well-built, as she was, only still more slender ; his face, small
and compact, might really have been pretty, had it not been
too much disfigured by the small-pox ; his manner was calm,
precise, one might often have called it dry and cold ; but his
heart was full of kindness and love, his soul full of generosity,
and his attachments as lasting as they were decided and mode
rate. Now this serious pair, who had but lately formed an
attachment, were quite peculiarly distinguished among the
others, who, being already better acquainted with each other,
of more frivolous character, and careless as to the future, roved
about with levity in these connexions, which commonly pass
away as the mere fruitless prelude to subsequent and more
serious ties, and very seldom produce a lasting effect upon life.

o

194 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

The fine weather and the beautiful country did not remain
uiienjoyed by so lively a company ; water excursions were fre
quently arranged, because these are the most sociable of all
parties of pleasure. Yet whether we were moving on water
or on land, the individual attracting powers immediately
showed themselves ; each couple kept together, and for some
men who were not engaged, of whom I was one, there re
mained either no conversation with the ladies at all, or only
such as no one would have chosen for a day of pleasure. A
friend who found himself in this situation, and who might
have been in want of a partner chiefly for this reason, that
with the best humour he lacked tenderness, and with much
intelligence, that delicate attention, without which connexions
of this kind are not to be thought of ; this man, after often
humorously and wittily lamenting his condition, promised at
the next meeting to make a proposal which would benefit him
self and the whole company. Nor did he fail to perform his
promise : for, when after a brilliant trip by water, and a very
pleasant walk, reclining on the grass between shady knolls, or
sitting on mossy rocks and roots of trees, we had cheerfully
and happily consumed a rural meal, and our friend saw us all
cheerful and in good spirits, he, with a waggish dignity, com
manded us to sit close round him in a semicircle, before
which he stepped, and began to make an emphatic peroration
as follows :

"Most worthy friends of both sexes, paired and unpaired!
It was already evident, from this adolress, how necessary it
was that a preacher of repentance should arise and sharpen
the conscience of the company. " One part of my noble
friends is paired, and they may find themselves quite happy ;
another unpaired, and these find themselves in the highest
degree miserable, as I can assure you from my own experience ;
and although the loving couples are here in the majority, yet
I would have them consider whether it is not a social duty to
take thought for the whole ? Why do so many of us unite
together but to take a mutual interest in each other? and how
can that be done when so many little secessions are to be seen
in our circle ? Far be it from me to insinuate anything against
such sweet connexions, or even to wish to disturb them ; but
* there is a time for all things ! an excellent great saying, of
which, indeed, nobody thinks when his own amusement is
sufficiently provided for."

HUMOROUS OBATION. 195

He then went on with constantly increasing liveliness and
gaiety to compare the social virtues with the tender senti
ments. " The latter," said he, " can never fail us ; we always
carry them about with us, and every one becomes a master in
them without practice ; but we must go in quest of the former,
we must take some trouble about them, and though we pro
gress in them as much as we will, we have never done learning
them." Now he went into particulars. Many felt themselves
hit off, and they could not help casting glances at each other;
yet our friend had this privilege, that nothing he did was taken
ill, and so he could proceed without interruption.

" It is not enough to discover deficiencies ; indeed, it is un
just to do so, if at the same time one cannot contrive to give
the means for bettering the state of affairs. I will not, there
fore, my friends, something like a preacher in Passion- week,
exhort you in general terms to repentance and amendment ;
I rather wish all amiable couples the longest and most endur
ing happiness, and to contribute to it myself in the surest
manner, I propose to sever and abolish these most charming
little segregations during our social hours. I have," he con
tinued, " already provided for the execution of my project, if
it should meet your approbation. Here is a bag in which are
the names of the gentlemen; now draw, my fair ones, and be
pleased to favour as your servant, for a week, him whom fate
shall send you. This is binding only within our circle; as
soon as that is broken up, these connexions are also abolished,
and the heart may decide who shall attend you home."

A large part of the company had been delighted with this
address, and the manner in which he delivered it, and seemed
to approve of the notion; yet some couples looked at each
other as if they thought they would not find their account in
it : he therefore cried with humorous vehemence :

" Truly ! it surprises me that some one does not spring up,
and, though others hesitate, extol my plan, explain its advan
tages, and spare me the pain of being my own encomiast. I
am the oldest among you ; may God forgive me for that !
Already have I a bald pate, which is owing to my great medi
tation,"

Here he took off his hat

" But I would expose it to view with joy and honour if my
lucubrations, which dry up my skin, and rob me of my finest

o 2

196 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

ornament, could only be in some measure beneficial to myself
and others. We are young, my friends, that is good ; we
shall grow older, that is bad ; we take little offence at each
other, that is right, and in accordance with the season. But
soon, my friends, the days will come when we shall have much
to be displeased at in ourselves ; then let every one see that
he makes all right with himself; but, at the same time, others
will take things ill of us, and 011 what account we shall not
understand ; for this we must prepare ourselves ; this shall
now be done."

He had delivered the whole speech, but especially the last
part, with the tone and gesture of a Capuchin ; for as he was
a catholic, he might have had abundant opportunity to study
the oratory of these fathers. He now appeared out of breath,
wiped his youthful bald head, which really gave him the look
of a priest, and by these drolleries put the light-hearted com
pany in such good humour that every one was eager to hear
him longer. But instead of proceeding, he drew open the
bag, and turned to the nearest lady " Now for a trial of it !
exclaimed he ; " the work will do credit to the master. If in
a week s time we do not like it, we will give it up, and stick
to the old plan."

Half willingly, half on compulsion, the ladies drew their
tickets, and it was easy to see that various passions were in
play during this little affair. Fortunately it happened that
the merry-minded were separated, while the more serious re
mained together ; and so, too, my sister kept her Englishman,
which, on both sides, they took very kindly of the god of Love
and Luck. The new chance-couples were immediately united
by the Antistes, their healths were drank, and to all the more
joy was wished, as its duration was to be but short. This
was certainly the merriest moment that our company had
enjoyed for a long time. The young men to whose share no
lady had fallen, held, for this week, the office of providing
for the mind, the soul, and the body, as our orator expressed
himself, but especially, he hinted, for the soul, since both the
others already knew how to help themselves.

These masters of ceremonies, who wished at once to do
themselves credit, brought into play some very pretty new
games, prepared at some distance a supper, which we had not
reckoned on, and illuminated the yacht on our return at night,

SECOND ORATION. 197

although there was no necessity for it in the bright moonlight ;
but they excused themselves by saying that it was quite con
formable to the new social regulation to outshine the tender
glances of the heavenly moon by earthly candles. The moment
we touched the shore, our Solon cried, u Ite, missa est . r
Each one now handed out of the vessel the lady who had
fallen to him by lot, and then surrendered her to her proper
partner, on receiving his own in exchange.

At our next meeting this weekly regulation was established
for the summer, and the lots were drawn once more. There
was no question but that this pleasantry gave a new and un
expected turn to the company, and every one was stimulated
to display whatever of wit and grace was in him, and to pay
court to his temporary fair one in the most obliging manner,
since he might depend on having a sufficient store of com
plaisance for one week at least.

We had scarcely settled ourselves, than, instead of thank
ing our orator, we reproached him for having kept to himself
the best part of his speech the conclusion. He thereupon
protested that the best part of a speech was persuasion
and that he who did not aim at persuasion should make
no speech; for, as to conviction, that was a ticklish busi
ness. As, however, they gave him no peace, he began a
Capuchinade on the spot, more comical than ever, perhaps,
for the very reason that he took it into his head to speak on
the most serious subjects. For, with texts out of the Bible
which had nothing to do with the business with similes
which did not fit with allusions which illustrated nothing
he carried out the proposition, that whosoever does not know
how to conceal his passions, inclinations, wishes, purposes
and plans, will come to no good in the world, but will be dis
turbed and made a butt in every end and corner ; and that
especially if one would be happy in love, one must take pains
to keep it a most profound secret.

This thought ran through the whole, without, properly
speaking, a single word of it being said. If you would form a
conception of this singular man, let it be considered that,
being born with a good foundation, he had cultivated his
talents, and especially his acuteness, in Jesuit schools, and
had amassed an extensive knowledge of the world and of men,
but only on the bad side. He was some two-and-twenty

198 TRUTH AXD POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

years old, and would gladly have made me a proselyte to his
contempt for mankind ; but this would not take with me, as
I always had a great desire to be good myself, and to find
good in others. Meanwhile I was by him made attentive to
many things.

To complete the dramatis persona of every merry company,
an actor is necessary, who feels pleasure when the others, to
enliven many an indifferent moment, point the arrows of their
wit at him. If he is not merely a stuffed Saracen, like those
on whom the knights used to practise their lances in mock
battles, but understands himself how to skirmish, to rally and
to challenge, how to wound lightly, and recover himself again,
and, while he seems to expose himself, to give others a thrust
home, nothing more agreeable can be found. Such a man we
possessed in our friend Horn, whose name, to begin with,
gave occasion for all sorts of jokes, and who, on account of
his small figure, was called nothing but Hornchen (little
Horn). He was, in fact, the smallest in the company, of a
stout, but pleasing form; a pug-nose, a mouth somewhat
pouting, little sparkling eyes, made up a swarthy countenance,
which always seemed to invite laughter. His little com
pact skull was thickly covered with curly black hair; his
beard was prematurely grey, and he would have liked to let
it grow, that, as a comic mask, he might always keep the
company laughing. For the rest, he was neat and nimble,
but insisted that he had bandy legs, which everybody granted,
since he was bent on having it so, but about which many a
joke arose ; for since he was in request as a very good dancer,
he reckoned it among the peculiarities of the fair sex, that
they always liked to see bandy legs on the floor. His cheer
fulness was indestructible, and his presence at every meeting
indispensable. We two kept more together because he was
to follow me to the university ; and he well deserves that I
should mention him with all honour, as he adhered to me for
many years with infinite love, faithfulness, and patience.

By my ease in rhyming, and in winning from common
objects a poetical side, he had allowed himself to be seduced
into similar labours. Our little social excursions, parties of
pleasure, and the contingencies that occurred in them, we
decked out poetically, and thus by the description of an event,
a new event always arose. But as such social jests commonly

COMIC HEBOICAL POETRY. 199

degenerate into personal ridicule, and my friend Horn, with his
burlesque representations, did not always keep within proper
bounds, many a misunderstanding arose, which, however,
could soon be softened down and effaced.

Thus, also, he tried his skill in a species of poetry which
was then very much the order of the day the comic heroical
poem. Pope s Rape of the Lock had called forth many imita
tions ; Zacharia cultivated this branch of poetry on German
soil, and it pleased every one, because the ordinary subject of
it was some awkward fellow, of whom the genii made game,
while they favoured the better one.

It is not wonderful, but yet it excites wonder, when, in
contemplating a literature, especially the German, one ob
serves how a whole nation cannot get free from a subject
which has been once given, and happily treated in a certain
form, but will have it repeated in every manner, until, at
last, the original itself is covered up, and stifled by the
heaps of imitations.

The heroic poem of my friend was a voucher for this re
mark. At a great sledging party, an awkward man has
assigned to him a lady who does not like him; comically
enough there befalls him, one after another, every accident
that can happen on such an occasion, until at last, as he is
entreating for the sledge-driver s right (a kiss), he falls from
the back seat ; for just then, as was natural, the genii tripped
him up. The fair one seizes the reins, and drives home alone,
where a favoured friend receives her. and triumphs over his
presumptuous rival. As to the rest, it was very prettily con
trived that the four different kinds of spirits should worry him
in turn, till at the end the gnomes hoist him completely out
of the saddle. The poem, written in Alexandrines, and founded
on a true story, highly delighted our little public, and we
were convinced that it could well be compared with the
Walpurgisnight of Loven, or the Renommist of Zacharia.*

While, now, our social pleasures required but an evening,
and the preparations for them only a few hours, I had enough
time to read, and, as I thought, to study. To please my
father, I diligently repeated the smaller work of Hopp, and
could stand an examination in it forwards and backwards, by

This word, which signifies something like our " bully/ is specially
used to designate a fighting student. Trans.

200 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

which means I made myself complete master of the chief con
tents of the Institutes. But a restless eagerness for know
ledge urged me further; I lit upon the history of ancient
literature, and from that fell into an encyclopedism, in which
I read through Gessners Isagoge and Morhov s Polyhistor,
and thus gained a general notion of how many strange things
might have happened in learning and life. By this perse
vering and rapid industry, continued day and night, I more
confused than instructed myself; but I lost myself in a still
greater labyrinth when I found Bayle in my father s library,
and plunged deep into him.

But a leading conviction, which was continually revived
within me, was that of the importance of the ancient tongues ;
since from amidst this literary hurly-burly, thus much con
tinually forced itself upon me, that in them were preserved
all the models of oratory, and at the same time everything
else of worth that the world has ever possessed. Hebrew,
together with biblical studies, had retired into the back
ground, and Greek likewise, since my acquaintance with it
did not extend beyond the New Testament. I therefore the
more zealously kept to Latin, the master-pieces in which lie
nearer to us, and which, besides its splendid original produc
tions, offers us the other wealth of all ages in translations, and
the works of the greatest scholars. I consequently read much in
this language, with great ease, and was bold enough to believe
I understood the authors, because I missed nothing of the
literal sense. Indeed I was very indignant when I heard
that Grotius had insolently declared, " he did not read Terence
as boys do." Happy narrow-mindedness of youth ! nay, of
men in general, that they can, at every moment of their
existence, fancy themselves finished, and inquire after neither
the true nor the false, after neither the high nor the deep, but
merely after that which is suited to them.

I had thus learned Latin, like German, French, and
English, merely by practice, without rules, and without con
ception. Whoever knows the condition of school instruction
then, will not think it strange that I skipped grammar as well
as rhetoric ; all seemed to me to come together naturally ; I
retained the words, their forms and inflexions, in my ear and
mind, and used the language with ease in writing and in
chattering.

DISGUST AT FBANKFORT. 201

Michaelmas, the time when I was to go to the university,
was approaching, and my mind was excited quite as much about
my life as about my learning. I grew more and more clearly
conscious of an aversion to my native city. By Gretchen s
removal, the heart had been broken out of the boyish and
youthful plant ; it needed time to bud forth again from its
sides, and surmount the first injury by a new growth. My
ramblings through the streets had ceased ; I now, like others,
only went such ways as were necessary. I never went again
into Gretchen s quarter of the city, not even into its vicinity ;
and as my old walls and towers became gradually disagreeable
to me, so also was I displeased at the constitution of the
city ; all that hitherto seemed so worthy of honour, now ap
peared to me in distorted shapes. As grandson of the Schul-
theiss, the secret defects of such a republic had not remained
unknown to me ; the less so, as children feel quite a peculiar
surprise, and are excited to busy researches, as soon as some
thing which they have hitherto implicitly revered becomes in
any degree suspicious to them. The fruitless indignation of
upright men, in opposition to those who are to be gained
and even bribed by factions, had become but too plain to me ;
I hated every injustice beyond measure ; for children are all
moral rigorists. My father, who was concerned in the affairs
of the city only as a private citizen, expressed himself with
very lively indignation about much that had failed. And did
I not see him, after so many studies, endeavours, pains, travels,
and so much varied cultivation, between his four walls, leading
a solitary life, such as I could never desire for myself? All
this put together, lay as a horrible load on my mind, from
which I could only free myself by trying to contrive a plan of
life altogether different from that which had been marked out
for me. In thought, I threw away my legal studies, and de
voted myself solely to the languages, to antiquities, to history,
and to all that flows from them.

Indeed, at all times, the poetic imitation of what I had per
ceived in myself, in others, and in nature, afforded me the
greatest pleasure. I did it with ever-increasing facility, be
cause it came by instinct, and no criticism, had led me astray ;
and if I did not feel full confidence in my productions, I could
certainly regard them as defective, but not such as to be ut
terly rejected. Was this or that censured in them, I still

202 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

retained in private my conviction that I could not but gra
dually improve, and that some time I might be honourably
named along with Hagedorn, Gellert, and other such men. But
such a distinction alone seemed to me too empty and inade
quate ; I wished to devote myself professionally and with zeal
to those aforesaid fundamental studies, and while I thought
to advance myself more rapidly in my own works by a more
thorough insight into antiquity, to qualify myself for a uni
versity professorship, which seemed to me the most desirable
thing for a young man who intended to cultivate himself and
to contribute to the cultivation of others.

With these intentions, I always had my eye upon Gottin-
gen. My whole confidence rested upon men like Heyne,
Michaelis, and so many others ; my most ardent wish was to
sit at their feet, and attend to their instructions. But my
father remained inflexible. However, some family friends,
who were of my opinion, tried to influence him ; he persisted
that I must go to Leipzig. I was now resolved, contrary
to his views and wishes, to choose a line of studies and of life
for myself, by way of self-defence. The obstinacy of my
father, who, without knowing it, opposed himself to my plans,
strengthened me in my impiety, so that I made no scruple to
listen to him by the hour, while he described and repeated to
me the course of study and of life which I should pursue at
the universities and in the world.

Since all hopes of Gottingen were cut off, I now turned my
eyes towards Leipzig. There Ernesti appeared to me as a
brilliant light ; Morus, too, already awakened much confi
dence. I planned for myself in secret an opposition-course,
or rather I built a castle in the air, on a tolerably solid foun
dation ; and it seemed to me quite romantically honourable to
mark out my own path of life, which appeared the less vision
ary, as Griesbach had already made great progress in a similar
way, and was commended for it by every one. The secret joy
of a prisoner, when he has unbound the fetters and rapidly filed
through the bars of his gaol- window, cannot be greater than
was mine as I saw day after day disappear, and October draw
nigh. The inclement season and the bad roads, of which
everybody had something to tell, did not frighten me. The
thought of paying my entrance-fee in a strange place, and in
winter, did not make me sad ; suffice it to say, that I only

DEPABTITEE FOR LEIPZIG. 203

saw my present situation was gloomy, and represented to
myself the other unknown world as light and cheerful. Thus
I formed my dreams, to which I gave myself up exclusively,
and promised myself nothing but happiness and content in
the distance.

Closely as I kept these projects a secret from every one
else, I could not hide them from my sister, who, after being
very much alarmed about them at first, was finally consoled
when I promised to send after her, so that she could enjoy
with me the brilliant station I was to obtain, and share my
comfort with me.

Michaelmas, so longingly expected, came at last, when I set
out with delight, in company with the bookseller Fleischer
and his wife (whose maiden name was Triller, and who was
going to visit her father in Wittemberg) ; and I left behind
me the worthy city in which I had been born and bred, with
indifference, as if I wished never to set foot in it again.

Thus, at certain epochs, children part from parents, ser
vants from masters, proteges from their patrons ; and whether
it succeed or not, such an attempt to stand on one s own feet,
to make one s self independent, to live for one s self, is always
in accordance with the will of nature.

We had driven out through the Allerheiligen (All Saints]
gate, and had soon left Hanau behind us, after which we
reached scenes which aroused my attention by their novelty,
if, at this season of the year, they offered little that was
pleasing. A continual rain had completely spoiled the roads,
which, generally speaking, were not then in such good order
as we find them now ; and our journey was thus neither plea
sant nor happy. Yet I was indebted to this damp weather
for the sight of a natural phenomenon which must be exceed
ingly rare, for I have seen nothing like it since, nor have I
heard of its being observed by others. At night, namely, we
were driving up a rising ground between Hanau and Gel-
hausen, and, although it was dark, we preferred walking to
exposing ourselves to the danger and difficulty of that part of
the road. All at once, in a ravine on the right-hand side of
the way, I saw a sort of amphitheatre, wonderfully illuminated.
In a funnel-shaped space there were innumerable little lights
gleaming, ranged step-fashion over one another, and they shone
so brilliantly that the eye was dazzled. But what stiU more

204 TKTJTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

confused the sight was, that they did not keep still, but jumped
about here and there, as well downwards from above as vice
versa, and in every direction. The most of them, however,
remained stationary, and beamed on. It was only with the
greatest reluctance that I suffered myself to be called away
from this spectacle, which I could have wished to examine
more closely. On interrogating the postillion, he indeed knew
nothing about such a phenomenon, but said that there was in
the neighbourhood an old stone-quarry, the excavation of which
was filled with water. Now whether this was a pandemonium
of will-o -the-wisps, or a company of shining creatures, I
will not decide.

The roads through Thuringia were yet worse, and unfortu
nately, at night-fall, our coach stuck fast in the vicinity of
Auerstadt. We were far removed from all mankind, and did
everything possible to work ourselves out. I failed not to exert
myself zealously, and might thereby have overstrained the
ligaments of my chest ; for soon afterwards I felt a pain, which
went off and returned, and did not leave me entirely until after
many years.

Yet on that same night, as if it had been destined for alter
nate good and bad kick, I was forced, after an unexpectedly
fortunate incident, to experience a teazing vexation. We met,
in Auerstadt, a genteel married couple, who had also just
arrived, having been delayed by a similar accident ; a pleasing,
dignified man, in his best years, with a very handsome wife.
They politely persuaded us to sup in their company, and I felt
very happy when the excellent lady addressed a friendly word
to me. But when I was sent out to accelerate the soup which
had been ordered, not having been accustomed to the loss of
rest and the fatigues of travelling, such an unconquerable
drowsiness overtook me, that actually I fell asleep while walk
ing, returned into the room with my hat on my head, and
without remarking that the others were saying grace, placed
myself with quiet unconsciousness behind the chair, and never
dreamed that by my conduct I had come to disturb their de
votions in a very droll way. Madame Fleischer, who lacked
neither spirit nor wit, nor tongue, entreated the strangers,
before they had seated themselves, not to be surprised at any
thing they might see here ; for that their young fellow-traveller
had in his nature much of the peculiarity of the Quakers, who

LEIPZIG. 205

believe that they cannot honour God and the king better than
with covered heads. The handsome lady, who could not re
strain her laughter, looked prettier than ever in consequence,
and I would have given everything in the world not to have
been the cause of a merriment which was so beautifully becom
ing in her countenance. I had, however, scarcely laid aside
my hat, than these persons, in accordance with their polished
manners, immediately dropped the joke, and with the best
wine from their bottle-case completely extinguished sleep,
chagrin, and the memory of all past troubles.

I arrived in Leipzig just at the time of the fair, from which I
derived particular pleasure : for here I saw before me the conti
nuation of a state of things belonging to my native city, familiar
wares and traders; only in other places, and in a different
order. I rambled about the market and the booths with much
interest, but my attention was particularly attracted by the
inhabitants of the Eastern countries in their strange dresses, the
Poles and Russians, and above all, the Greeks, for the sake of
whose handsome forms and dignified costume I often went to
the spot.

But this animating bustle was soon over, and now the city
itself appeared before me, with its handsome, high, and uni
form houses. It made a very good impression upon me, and
it cannot be denied, that in general, but especially in the silent
moments of Sundays and holidays, it has something imposing ;
and when in the moonlight the streets were half in shadow,
half- illuminated, they often invited me to nocturnal promenades.

In the meantime, as compared with that to which I had
hitherto been accustomed, this new state of affairs was by no
means satisfactory. Leipzig calls up before the spectator no
antique time ; it is a new, recently elapsed epoch, testifying
commercial activity, comfort and wealth, which announces
itself to us in these monuments. Yet quite to my taste were
the huge-looking buildings, which, fronting two streets, and
embracing a citizen- world within their large court-yards, built
round with lofty walls, are like large castles, nay, even half-
cities. In one of these strange places I quartered myself,
namely, in the Bombshell Tavern (Teuerkugel), between the
Old and the New Newmarket (Neumarkt). A couple of pleasant
rooms looking out upon a court-yard, which, on account of the
thoroughfare, was not without animation, were occupied by the

206 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

i30okseller Fleischer during the fair ; and by me taken for the
rest of the time at a moderate price. As a fellow-lodger I
found a theological student, who was deeply learned in his
professional studies, a sound thinker, but poor, and suffering
much from his eyes, which caused him great anxiety for the
future. He had brought this affliction upon himself by his
inordinate reading till the latest dusk of the evening, and even
by moonlight, to save a little oil. Our old hostess showed
herself benevolent to him, always friendly to me, and careful
for us both.

I now hastened with my letters of introduction to Hofrath
Bohme, who once a pupil of Maskow, and now his successor,
was professor of history and public law. A little, thick-set,
lively man, received me kindly enough, and introduced me to
his wife. Both of them, as well as the other persons whom I
waited on, gave me the pleasantest hopes as to my future resi
dence ; but at first I let no one know of the design I entertained,
although I could scarcely wait for the favourable moment when
I should declare myself free from jurisprudence, and devoted
to the study of the classics. I cautiously waited till the
Fleischers had returned, that my purpose might not be too
prematurely betrayed to my family. But I then went, with
out delay, to Hofrath Bohme, to whom, before all, I thought
I must confide the matter, and with much self-importance and
boldness of speech disclosed my views to him. However, I
found by no means a good reception of my proposition. As
professor of history and public law, he had a declared hatred
for everything that savoured of the belles lettres. Unfortu
nately he did not stand on the best footing with those who
cultivated them, and Gellert in particular, in whom I had,
awkwardly enough, expressed much confidence, he could not
even endure. To send a faithful student to those men, there
fore, while he deprived himself of one, and especially, under
such circumstances, seemed to him altogether out of the ques
tion. He therefore gave me a severe lecture on the spot, in
which he protested that he could not permit such a step with
out the permission of my parents, even if he approved of it
himself, which was not the case in this instance. He then
passionately inveighed against philology and the study of lan
guages, but still more against poetical exercises, which I had
indeed allowed to peep out in the back-ground. He finally

GELLERT. 207

concluded that, if I wished to enter more closely into the study
of the ancients, it could be done much better by the way of
jurisprudence. He brought to my recollection many elegant
jurists, such as Eberhard, Otto, and Heineccius, promised me
mountains of gold from Roman antiquities and the history of
law, and showed me, clear as the sun, that I should here be
taking no roundabout way, even if afterwards, on more mature
deliberation, and with the consent of my parents, I should
determine to follow out my own plan. He begged me, in a
friendly manner, to think the matter over once more, and to
open my mind to him soon, as it would be necessary to come
to a determination at once, on account of the impending com
mencement of the lectures.

It was, however, very polite of him not to press me on the
spot. His arguments, and the weight with which he advanced
them, had already convinced my pliant youth, and I now first
saw the difficulties and doubtfulness of a matter which I had
privately pictured to myself as so feasible. Frau Hofrath
Bohme invited me to see her shortly afterwards. I found her
alone. She was no longer young, and had very delicate health,
was gentle and tender to an infinite degree, and formed a de
cided contrast to her husband, whose good-nature was even
blustering. She spoke of the conversation her husband had
lately had with me, and once more placed the subject before
me, in all its bearings, in so cordial a manner, so affectionately
and sensibly, that I could not help yielding ; the few reserva
tions on which I insisted were also agreed upon by the other
side.

Thereupon her husband regulated my hours : for I was to
hear lectures on philosophy, the history of law, the Institutes,
and some other matters. I was content with this ; but I car
ried my point so as to attend Gellert s history of literature
(with Stockhauseii for a text-book), and his Practicwn besides.

The reverence and love with which Gellert was regarded by
all young people was extraordinary. I had already visited him,
and had been kindly received by him. Not of tall stature,
elegant without being lean, soft and rather pensive eyes, a very
fine forehead, a nose aquiline, but not too much so, a delicate
mouth, a face of an agreeable oval, all made his presence
pleasing and desirable. It cost some trouble to reach him.
His two Famuli appeared like priests who guard a sanctuary,

208 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

the access to which is not permitted to everybody, nor at every
time ; and such a precaution was very necessary : for he would
have sacrificed his whole time, had he been willing to receive
and satisfy all those who wished to become intimate with him.

At first I attended my lectures assiduously and faithfully :
but the philosophy would not enlighten me at all. In the logic
it seemed strange to me that I had so to tear asunder, isolate,
and, as it were, destroy those operations of the mind which I
had performed with the greatest ease from my youth upwards,
and this in order to see into the right use of them. Of the
thing itself, of the world, and of God, I thought I knew about
as much as the professor himself, and in more places than
one the affair seemed to me to come into a tremendous strait.
Yet all went on in tolerable order till towards Shrovetide,
when, in the neighbourhood of Professor "Winkler s house on
the Thomas-place, the most delicious fritters came hot out of
the pan just at the hour of lecture, and these delayed us so
long, that our note-books became disordered, and the conclu
sion of them, towards spring, melted away, together with the
snow, and was lost.

It was soon, quite as bad with the law lectures : for I already
knew just as much as the professor thought good to commu
nicate to us. My stubborn industry in writing down the lec
tures at first, was paralyzed by degrees, for I found it exces
sively tedious to pen down once more that which, partly by
question, partly by answer, I had repeated with my father often
enough to retain it for ever in my memory. The harm which
is done when young people at school are advanced too far in
many things, was afterwards manifested still more when time
and attention, were diverted from exercises in the languages,
and a foundation in what are, properly speaking, preparatory
4 studies, in order to be applied to what are called " Realities,"
which dissipate more than they cultivate, if they are not me
thodically and thoroughly taught.

I here mention, by the way, another evil by which students
are much embarrassed. Professors, as well as other men in
office, cannot all be of the same age ; but when the younger
ones teach, in fact, only that they may learn, and moreover, if
they have talent, anticipate their age, they acquire their own
cultivation altogether at the cost of their hearers, since these
are not instructed in what they really need, but in that which

DOMESTIC TAILORING. 209

the professor finds it necessary to elaborate for himself. Among
the oldest professors, on the contrary, many are for a long
time stationary ; they deliver on the whole only fixed views,
and, in the details, much that time has already condemned as
useless and false. Between the two arises a sad conflict, in
which young minds are dragged hither and thither, and which
can scarcely be set right by the middle-aged professors, who,
though sufficiently instructed and cultivated, always feel Avithin
themselves an active endeavour after knowledge and reflection.

Now as in this way I learned to know much more than I
could digest, whereby a constantly increasing uncomfortable-
ness was forced upon me, so also from life I experienced many
disagreeable trifles, as indeed one must always pay the entrance-
fee when one changes one s place and comes into a new posi
tion. The first thing that the ladies blamed in me related
to my dress ; for I had come from home to the university
lather oddly equipped.

My father, who detested nothing so much as when some
thing happened in vain, when any one did not know how to
make use of his time, or found no opportunity for turning it
to account, carried his economy of time and abilities so far,
that nothing gave him greater pleasure than to kill two birds
with one stone. * He had therefore never engaged a servant
who could not be useful to the house in something else. Now,
as he had always written everything with his own hand, and
had, latterly, the convenience of dictating to the young inmate
of the house, he found it most advantageous to have tailors
for his domestics, who were obliged to make good use of their
time, as they not only had to make their own liveries, but the
clothes for my father and the children, besides doing all the
mending. My father himself took pains to have the best
cloths and stuffs, by getting fine wares of the foreign merchants
at the fair, and laying them up in store. I still remember
well that he always visited the Herrn von Lowenicht, of Aix-
la-Chapelle, and from my earliest youth made me acquainted
with these and other eminent merchants.

Care was also taken for the fitness of the stuff, and there

was a plentiful stock of different kinds of cloth, serge, and

Getting stuff, besides the requisite lining, so that, as far as the

materials were concerned, we might well venture to be seen.

* Literally : " to strike two flies with, one flapper." Trans.

P

210 TRCTTH AND POETHY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

But the form spoiled almost everything. For if one of our home-
tailors was anything of a clever hand at sewing and making up
a coat which had been cut out for him in masterly fashion, he
was now obliged also to cut out the dress for himself, which
did not always succeed to perfection. In addition to this my
father kept whatever belonged to his clothing in very good
and neat order, and preserved more than used it for many years.
Thus he had a predilection for certain old cuts and trimmings,
by which our dress sometimes acquired a strange appearance.

In this same way had the wardrobe which I took with me
to the university been furnished : it was very complete and
handsome, and there was even a laced suit amongst the rest.
Already accustomed to this kind of attire, I thought myself
sufficiently well dressed ; but it was not long before my female
friends, first by gentle raillery, then by sensible remonstrances,
convinced me that I looked as if I had dropped down out of
another world. Much as I felt vexed at this, I did not at first
see how I could help myself. But when Herr von Masuren,
the favourite poetical country squire, once entered the theatre
in a similar costume, and was heartily laughed at, more by
reason of his external than his internal absurdity, I took
courage, and ventured at once to exchange my whole wardrobe
for a new-fashioned one, suited to the place, by which, however,
it shrunk considerably.

After this trial was surmounted, a new one was to make its
appearance, which proved to be far more unpleasant, because
it concerned a matter which one does not so easily put off and
exchange.

I had been born and bred in the Upper- German dialect, and
although my father always laboured after a certain purity of
language, and, from our youth upwards, had made us children
attentive to what may be really called the defects of that idiom,
and so prepared us for a better manner of speaking, I retained
nevertheless many deeper-seated peculiarities, which, because
they pleased me by their naivete, I was fond of making con
spicuous, and thus every time I used them incurred a severe
reprimand from my new fellow- townsmen. The Upper-Ger
man, and perhaps chiefly he who lives by the Rhine and Maine
(for great rivers, like the sea-coast, always have something
animating about them), expresses himself much in similes and
allusions, and makes use of proverbial sayings with a native

PROVINCIAL DIALECT. 211

common-sense aptness. In both cases he is often blunt, but
when one sees the drift of the expression, it is always appro
priate ; only something, to be sure, may often slip in, which
proves offensive to a more delicate ear.

Every province loves its own dialect: for it is, properly
speaking, the element in which the soul draws its breath.
But every one knows with what obstinacy the Misnian dialect
has contrived to domineer over the rest, and even, for a long
time, to exclude them. We have suffered for many years
under this pedantic tyranny, and only by reiterated struggles
have all the provinces again established themselves in their
ancient rights. What a lively young man had to endure from
this continual tutoring, may be easily inferred by any one who
reflects that modes of thought, imagination, feeling, native
character, must be sacrificed with the pronunciation which
one at last consents to alter. And this intolerable demand
was made by men and women of education, whose convictions
I could not adopt, whose injustice I believed I felt, though I
was unable to make it plain to myself. Allusions to the pithy
biblical texts were to be forbidden me, as well as the use of
the honest-hearted expressions from the Chronicles. I had to
forget that I had read the Kaiser von Kaisersberg, and eschew
the use of proverbs, which nevertheless, instead of much fiddle-
faddle, just hit the nail upon the head ; all this, which I had
appropriated to myself with youthful ardour, I was now to do
without ; I felt myself paralyzed to the core, and scarcely
knew any more how I had to express myself on the commonest
things. I was told, besides, that one should speak as one
writes, and write as one speaks ; while, to me, speaking and
writing seemed once for all two different things, each of which
might well maintain its own rights. And even in the Misnian
dialect had I to hear many things which would have made no
great figure on paper.

Every one who perceives in this the influence which men
aiid women of education, the learned, and other persons who
take pleasure in refined society, so decidedly exercise over a
young student, would be immediately convinced that we were
in Leipzig, even if it had not been mentioned. Each one of
the German universities has a particular character : for, as no
universal cultivation can pervade our fatherland, every place
adheres to its own fashion, and carries out, even to the last,

212 TKUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

its own characteristic peculiarities; exactly the same thing
holds good of the universities. In Jena and Halle roughness
had been carried to the highest pitch : bodily strength, skill
in fighting, the wildest self-help was there the order of the
day ; and such a state of affairs can only be maintained and
propagated by the most universal riot. The relations of the
students to the inhabitants of those cities, various as they
might be, nevertheless agreed in this, that the wild stranger
had no regard for the citizen, and looked upon himself as a
peculiar being, privileged to all sorts of freedom and insolence-.
In Leipzig, on the contrary, a student could scarcely be
anything else than polite, as soon as he wished to stand on
any footing at all with the rich, well-bred, and punctilious
inhabitants.

All politeness, indeed, when it does not present itself as the
flowering of a great and comprehensive mode of life, must ap
pear restrained, stationary, and from some points of view,
perhaps, absurd ; and so those wild huntsmen from the Saale *
thought they had a great superiority over the tame shepherds
on the Pleisse.f Zacharia s Renommist will always be a valu
able document, from which the manner of life and thought at
that time rises visibly forth ; as in general his poems must be

welcome to every one who wishes to form for himself a con-

/

ceptioii of the then prevailing state of social life and manners,
which \vas indeed feeble, but amiable on account of its in
nocence and childlike simplicity.

All manners which result from the given relations of a
common existence are indestructible, and, in my time, many
things still reminded us of Zacharia s epic poem. Only one
of our fellow- academicians thought himself rich and indepen
dent enough to snap his fingers at public opinion. He drank
acquaintance with all the hackney-coachmen, whom he allowed
to sit inside the coach as if they were gentlemen, while he
drove them 011 the box, thought it a great joke to upset
them now and then, and contrived to satisfy them for their
smashed vehicles as well as for their occasional bruises ; but
otherwise he did no harm to any one, seeming only to make
a mock of the public en masse. Once, on a most beautiful
promenade- day, he and a comrade of his seized upon the don-

* The river on which Halle is built. Trans.
f The river that flows by Leipzig. Trans

STUDENT-LIFE AT LEIPZIG. 213

keys of the miller in St. Thomas s-square ; well-dressed, and in
their shoes and stockings, they rode around the city with the
greatest solemnity, stared at by all the promenaders, with
whom the glacis was swarming. When some sensible persons
remonstrated with him on the subject, he assured them, quite
unembarrassed, that he only wanted to see how the Lord

V

Christ might haye looked in a like case. Yet he found no
imitators, and few companions.

For the student of any wealth and standing had every
reason to show himself attentive to the mercantile class, and
to be the more solicitous about the proper external forms, as the
colony* exhibited a model of French manners. The profes
sors, opulent both from their private property and from, their
liberal salaries, were not dependent upon their scholars, and
many subjects of the state, educated at the Government
schools or other gymnasia, and hoping for preferment, did
not venture to throw off the traditional customs. The neigh
bourhood of Dresden, the attention paid to us from thence,
and the true piety of the superintendent of the course of study,
could not be without a moral, nay, a religious influence.

At first this kind of life was not repugnant to me ; my
letters of introduction had given me the entree into good
families, whose circle of relatives also received me well. But
as I was soon forced to feel that the company had much to find
fault with in me, and that after dressing myself in their fashion,
I must now talk according to their tongue also, and as, more
over, I could plainly see that I was, on the other hand, but
little benefited by the instruction and mental improvement I
had promised myself from my academical residence, I began to
be lazy, and to neglect the social duties of visiting, and other
attentions, and indeed I should have sooner withdrawn, from
all such connexions, had not fear and esteem bound me fast to
Hofrath Bohme, and confidence and affection to his wife.
The husband, unfortunately, had not the happy gift of dealing
with young people, of winning their confidence, and of guid
ing them, for the moment, as occasion might require. When
I visited him I never got any good by it ; his wife, on the
contrary, showed a genuine interest in me. Her ill health

* Leipzig was so called, because a large and influential portion of its
citizens were sprung from a colony of Huguenots, who settled there after
the revocation of the edict of Nantes. American Note.

214 TRUTH AND POETBY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

kept her constantly at home. She invited me to spend many
an evening with her, and knew how to direct and improve me
in many little external particulars ; for my manners were good,
indeed, but I was not yet master of what is properly termed
etiquette. Only one female friend spent the evenings with her ;
but she was more dictatorial and pedantic, for which reason
she displeased me excessively, and, out of spite to her, I often
resumed those unmannerly habits from which the other had
already weaned me. Nevertheless she always had patience
enough with me, taught me piquet, ombre, and similar games,
the knowledge and practice of which is held indispensable in
society.

But it was in the matter of taste that Madame Bohme had
the greatest influence upon me ; in a negative way truly, yet
one in which she agreed perfectly with the critics. The
Gottsched waters* had inundated the German world with a
true deluge, which threatened to rise up even over the highest
mountains. It takes a long time for such a flood to subside
again, for the mire to dry away ; and as in any epoch there
are numberless aping poets, so the imitation of the flat and
watery produced a chaos, of which now scarcely a notion
remains. To find out that trash was trash was hence the
greatest sport, yea, the triumph of the critics of those days.
Whoever had only a little common sense, was superficially ac
quainted with the ancients, and was somewhat more familiar
with the moderns, thought himself provided with a standard
scale which he could everywhere apply. Madame Bohme
was an educated woman, who opposed the trivial, weak, and
commonplace ; she was, besides, the wife of a man who lived
on bad terms with poetry in general, and would not even allow
that of which she perhaps might have somewhat approved.
She listened, indeed, for some time, with patience, when I ven
tured to recite to her the verse or prose of famous poets, who
already stood in good repute, for then, as always, I knew by
heart everything that chanced in any degree to please me ;
but her complaisance was not of long duration. The first
whom she outrageously abused were the poets of the Weisse
school, who were just then often quoted with great applause,
and had delighted me very particularly. If I looked more

* That is to say, the influence of Gottsched on German literature, of
which more is said in the next book. Trans.

GERMAN POETRY. 215

closely into the matter, I could not say she was wrong. I had
sometimes even ventured to repeat to her, though anony
mously, some of my own poems ; but these fared no better
than the rest of the set. And thus, in a short time, the beau
tiful variegated meadows at the foot of the German Parnassus,
where I was fond of luxuriating, were mercilessly mowed
down, and I was even compelled to toss about the drying hay
myself, and to ridicule that as lifeless which, a short time
before, had given me such lively joy.

Without knowing it, Professor Morns came to strengthen
her instructions. He was an uncommonly gentle and friendly
man, with whom I became acquainted at the table of Hofrath
Ludwig, ond who received me very pleasantly when I begged
the privilege of visiting him. Now while making inquiries of
him concerning antiquity, I did not conceal from him what
delighted me among the moderns ; when he spoke about such
things with more calmness, but, what was still worse, with
more profundity than Madame Bohme ; and he thus opened
my eyes, at first to my greatest chagrin, but afterwards to my
surprise, and at last to my edification.

Besides this, there came the Jeremiads, with which Gel-
lert, in his Practicum, was wont to warn us against poetry.
He wished only for prose essays, and always criticised these
first. Verses he treated as a sorry addition, and what was
the worst of all, even my prose found little favour in his eyes ;
for, after my old fashion, I used always to lay, as the foundation,
a little romance, which I loved to work out in the epistolary
form. The subjects were impassioned, the style went beyond
ordinary prose, and the contents probably did not display
any very deep knowledge of mankind in the author ; and so
I stood in very little favour with our professor, although he
carefully looked over my labours as well as those of the
others, corrected them with red ink, and here and there added
a moral remark. Many leaves of this kind, which I kept for
a long time with satisfaction, have unfortunately, in the course
of years, at last disappeared from among my papers.

If elderly persons wish to play the pedagogue properly,
they should neither prohibit nor render disagreeable to a
young man anything which gives him pleasure, of whatever
kind it may be, unless, at the same time, they have something
else to put in its place, or can contrive a substitute. Every-

216 TRUTH AJN T D POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIPE.

body protested against my tastes and inclinations ; and, on
the other hand, what they commended to me, lay either so
far from me that I could not perceive its excellencies, or stood
so near me that I thought it not a whit better than what they
inveighed against. I thus became thoroughly perplexed on
the subject, and promised myself the best results from a lec
ture of Emesti s on Cicero de Oratore. I learned something,
indeed, from this lecture, but was not enlightened on the
subject which particularly concerned me. I required a
standard of opinion, and thought I perceived that nobody
possessed it ; for no one agreed with another, even when they
brought forward examples ; and where were we to get a set
tled judgment, when they managed to reckon up against a
man like Wieland so many faults in his amiable writings,
which so completely captivated us younger folks ?

Amid this manifold distraction, this dismemberment of my
existence and my studies, it happened that I took my dinners
at Hofrath Ludwig s. He was a medical man, a botanist,
and his company, with the exception of Morus, consisted of
physicians just commencing or near the completion of their
studies. Now during these hours I heard no other conversa
tion than about medicine or natural history, and my imagina
tion was drawn over into quite a new field. I heard the
names of Haller, Linnseus, Buffon, mentioned with great
respect ; and even if disputes often arose about mistakes into
which it was said they had fallen, all agreed in the end to
honour the acknowledged abundance of their merits. The
subjects were entertaining and important, and enchained my
attention. By degrees I became familiar with many names
and a copious terminology, which I caught up the more wil
lingly as I was afraid to write down a rhyme, however spon
taneously it presented itself, or to read a poem, for I was
fearful that it might please me at the time, and that perhaps
immediately afterwards, like so much else, I should be forced
to pronounce it bad.

This uncertainty of taste and judgment disquieted me
more and more every day, so that at last I fell into despair.
I had brought with me those of my youthful labours which
I thought the best, partly because I hoped to get some credit
by them, partly that I might be able to test my progress with
greater certainty ; but I found myself in the miserable situation

DESTRUCTION OF JUVENILE POEMS. 217

in which one is placed when a complete change of mind is
required, a renunciation of all that one has hitherto loved and
found good. However, after some time, and many struggles,
I conceived so great a contempt for my labours, begun and
ended, that one day I burnt up poetry and prose, plans,
sketches, and projects all together on the kitchen hearth,
and threw our good old landlady into no small fright and
anxiety by the smoke which filled the whole house.

SEVENTH BOOK.

ABOUT the condition of German literature at that time so
much has been written, and that so sufficiently, that every one
who takes any interest in it can be completely informed ; the
judgments of it are now pretty well agreed ; and what at pre
sent I intend to say piece-meal and disconnectedly concerning
it, relates not so much to how it was constituted in itself, as
to how it stood towards me. I will therefore first speak of
those things by which the public is particularly excited ; of
those two hereditary foes of all comfortable life, and of all
cheerful, self-sufficient, living poetry: I mean, satire and
criticism.

In quiet times every one will live after his own fashion ; the
citizen will carry on his trade or his business, and enjoy the
fruits of it afterwards ; thus will the author too willingly com
pose something, publish his labours, and since he thinks he has
done something good and useful, hope for praise, if not reward.
In this tranquillity the citizen is disturbed by the satirist, the
author by the critic, and peaceful society is thus put into a
disagreeable agitation.

The literary epoch in which I was born was developed out
of the preceding one by opposition. Germany, so long inun
dated by foreign people, interpenetrated by other nations,
directed to foreign languages in learned and diplomatic trans
actions, could not possibly cultivate her own. Together with
so many new ideas, innumerable strange words were obtruded
necessarily and unnecessarily upon her, and even for objects
already known, people were induced to make use of foreign
expressions and turns of language. The German, having run
wild for nearly two hundred years in an unhappy tumultuary
state, went to school to the French to learn mariners, and to
the Romans in order to express himself properly. But this
was to be done in the mother-tongue, when the literal appli
cation of those idioms, and their half-Germanization, made
both the social and business style ridiculous. Besides this,

USKOW. 219

v

they adopted without moderation the similes of the southern
languages, and employed them most extravagantly. Just so
they transferred the stately deportment of the prince-like citi
zens of Rome to the learned German small-town officers, and
were at home nowhere, least of all with themselves.

But as in this epoch works of genius had already appeared,
the German sense of freedom and joy also began to stir itself.
This, accompanied by a genuine earnestness, insisted that men
should write purely and naturally, without the intermixture of
foreign words, and as common intelligible sense dictated. By
these praiseworthy endeavours, however, the doors and gates
were thrown open to an extended national insipidity, nay, the
dike was dug through by which the great deluge was shortly
to rush in. Meanwhile, a stiff pedantry long stood its ground
in all the four faculties, until at last, much later, it fled for
refuge from one of them into another.

Men of parts, children of nature looking freely about them,
had therefore two objects on which they could exercise them
selves, against which they could labour, and, as the matter
was of no great importance, give a vent to their petulance ;
these were : a language disfigured by foreign words, forms,
and turns of speech on the one hand, and the worthlessness of
such writings as had been careful to keep themselves free from
those faults on the other, though it occurred to nobody, that
while they were battling against one evil, the other was called
on for assistance.

LISKOW, a daring young man, first ventured to attack by
name a shallow, silly writer, whose awkward demeanour soon
gave him an opportunity to proceed still more severely. He
then went further, and constantly aimed his scorn at particular
persons and objects, whom he despised and sought to render
despicable, nay, even persecuted them with passionate hatred.
But his career was short ; for he soon died, and was gradually
forgotten as a restless, irregular youth. The talent and cha
racter shown in what he did, although he had accomplished
little, may have seemed valuable to his countrymen : for the
Germans have always shown a peculiar pious kindliness to
talents of good promise, when prematurely cut off*. Suffice it
to say, that Liskow was very early praised and recommended
to us as an excellent satirist, who could have attained a rank
even above the universally-beloved Rabener. Here, indeed,

220 TRUTH AiS D POETKY ; FKOM MY OWN LIFE.

we saw ourselves no better off than before : for we could dis
cover nothing in his writings, except that he had found the
silly, silly, which seemed to us quite a matter of course.

RABENER, well educated, grown, up under good scholastic in
struction, of a cheerful, and by no means passionate or malicious
disposition, took up general satire. His censure of the so-
called vices and follies springs from the clear views of a quiet
common sense, and from a fixed moral conception of what the
world ought to be. His demmciation of faults and failings is
harmless and cheerful ; and in order to excuse even the slight
boldness of his writings, it is supposed that the improving of
fools by ridicule is no fruitless undertaking.

Rabener s personal character will not easily appear again.
As an able, punctual man of business, he does his duty, and
thus gains the good opinion of his fellow-townsmen and the
confidence of his superiors ; along with which, he gives him
self up, by way of recreation, to a want of esteem for all that
immediately surrounds him. Pedantic literati, vain youngsters,
every sort of narrowness and conceit, he banters rather than
satirizes, and even his banter expresses no contempt. Just in
the same way does he jest about his own condition, his mis
fortune, his life, and his death.

There is little of the aesthetic in the manner in which this
writer treats his subjects. In external forms he is indeed
varied enough, but throughout he makes too much use of direct
irony, namely, in praising the blameworthy and blaming the
praiseworthy, whereas this figure of speech should be used but
extremely seldom ; for, in the long run, it becomes annoying to
clear-sighted men, perplexes the weak, while indeed it pleases
the great middle class, who, without any special expense of
mind, can fancy themselves more knowing than others. But
all that he brings before us, and however he does it, alike bears
witness to his rectitude, cheerfulness, and equanimity, so that
we always feel prepossessed in his favour. The unbounded
applause of his own times was a consequence of such moral
excellencies.

That people looked for originals to his general descriptions
and found them, was natural ; that individuals complained of
him, followed from the above ; his over-long apologies that
his satire is not personal, prove the spite which has been pro
voked. Some of his letters crown, him at once as a man and

KABENER. 221

an author. The confidential epistle in which he describes the
siege of Dresden, and how he loses his house, his effects, his
writings, and his wigs, without having his equanimity in the
least shaken or his cheerfulness clouded, is highly valuable,
although his contemporaries and fellow- citizens could not for
give him his happy turn of mind. The letter where he speaks
of the decay of his strength and of his approaching death is in
the highest degree worthy of respect, and Rabener deserves to
be honoured as a saint by all cheerful intelligent men, who
cheerfully resign themselves to earthly events.

I tear myself away from him reluctantly, yet I would make
this remark : his satire refers throughout to the middle- class ;
he lets us see here and there that he is also well acquainted
with the higher ranks, but does not hold it advisable to come
in contact with them. It may be said, that he has had no
successor, that no one has been found who could consider him
self equal, or even similar to him.

Now for criticism ! and first of all for the theoretic attempts.
It is not going too far when we say that the ideal had, at that
time, escaped out of the world into religion ; it scarcely even
made its appearance in moral philosophy ; of a highest prin
ciple of art no one had a notion. They put Gottsched s Critical
Art of Poetry into our hands ; it was useful and instructive
enough, for it gave us a historical information of all the kinds
of poetry, as well as of rhythm and its different movements ;
the poetic genius was presupposed! But besides that the
poet was to have acquirements and even learning, he should
possess taste, and everything else of that kind. They directed
us at last to Horace s Art of Poetry ; we gazed at single golden
maxims of this invaluable work, but did not know in the least
what to do with it as a whole, or how we should use it.

The Swiss stepped forth as Gottsched s antagonists ; they
must take it into their heads to do something different, to
accomplish something better : accordingly we heard that they
were, in fact, superior. BKEITINGER S Critical Art of Poetry
was taken in hand. Here we reached a wider field, but, pro
perly speaking, only a greater labyrinth, which was so much
the more tiresome, as an able man, in whom we had confidence,
was driving us about in it. Let a brief review justify these
words.

For poetry in itself they had been able to find no funda-

222 TBUTH AND POETRY ; TEOM MY OWN LIFE.

mental axiom ; it was too spiritual and too volatile. Painting,
an art which one could hold fast with one s eyes, and follow
step by step with the external senses, seemed more favourable
for such an end ; the English and French had already theorized
about plastic art, and by a comparison drawn from this, it was
thought that poetry might be grounded. The former placed
images before the eyes, the latter before the fancy ; poetical
images, therefore, were the first thing which was taken into
consideration. People began with comparisons, descriptions
followed, and only that was expressed which had always been
apparent to the external senses.

Images, then ! But where should these images be got ex
cept from nature ? The painter professedly imitated nature ;
why not the poet also? But nature, as she lies before us,
cannot be imitated : she contains so much that is insignificant
and worthless, that one must make a selection ; but what de
termines the choice ? one must select that which is important ;
but what is important ?

To answer this question the Swiss may have taken a long
time to consider : for they came to a notion, which is indeed
singular, but clever, and even comical, inasmuch as they say,
the new is always the most important : and after they have
considered this for a while, they discover that the marvellous
is always newer than everything else.

They had now pretty well collected their poetical requisi
tions ; but they had still to consider that the marvellous might
also be empty and without relation to man. But this relation,
demanded as necessary, must be a moral one, from which the
improvement of mankind should manifestly follow, and thus a
poem had reached its utmost aim when, with everything else
accomplished, it was useful besides. They now wished to test
the different kinds of poetry according to all these requisites ;
those which imitated nature, besides being marvellous, and at
the same time of a moral aim and use, were to rank as the first
and highest. And after much deliberation this great pre
eminence was at last ascribed, with the highest degree of con
viction, to JEsop s fables !

Strange as such a deduction may now appear, it had the
most decided influence on the best minds. That GELLERT
and subsequently LICHTWEB devoted themselves to this de
partment, that even LESSING attempted to labour in it, that

BODMER -BREITINGEE GTJENTHER. 223

so many others turned their talents towards it, speaks for the
confidence which this species of poetry had gained. Theory
and practice always act upon each other; one can see from
their works what is the men s opinion; and, from their opinions,
predict what they will do.

Yet we must not dismiss our Swiss theory without doing it
justice. BODMER, with all the pains he took, remained theo
retically and practically a child all his life. BREITINGEE, was
an able, learned, sagacious man, whom when he looked rightly
about him, the essentials of a poem did not all escape ; nay, it
can be shown that he may have dimly felt the deficiencies of his
system. Remarkable, for instance, is his query : " Whether
a certain descriptive poem by Konig, on the Review-camp
of Augustus the Second, is properly a poem ?" and the answer
to it displays good sense. But it may serve for his complete
justification that he, starting from a false point, on a circle
almost run out already, still struck upon the main principle, and
at the end of his book finds himself compelled to recommend
as additions, so to speak, the representation of manners, cha
racter, passions, in short, the whole inner man ; to which,
indeed, poetry pre-eminently belongs.

It may well be imagined into what perplexity young minds
felt themselves thrown by such dislocated maxims, half- under
stood laws, and shivered up dogmas. We adhered to examples,
and there, too, were no better off; foreigners as well as the
ancients stood too far from us, and from the best native poets
always peeped out a decided individuality, to the good points
of which we could not lay claim, and into the faults of which
we could not but be afraid of falling. For him who felt any
thing productive in himself it was a desperate condition.

When one considers closely what was wanting in the Ger
man poetry, it was a material, and that, too, a national one ;
there was never a lack of talent. Here we make mention
only of GUENTHEB, who may be called a poet in the full sense
of the word. A decided talent, endowed with sensuousness,
imagination, memory, the gifts of conception and representa
tion, productive in the highest degree, ready at rhythm, inge
nious, witty, and of varied information besides ; he pos
sessed, in short, all the requisites for creating, by means of
poetry, a second life within life, even within common real life.
We admire the great facility with which, in his occasional

224 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN UFE.

poems, lie elevates all circumstances by the feelings, and
embellishes them with suitable sentiments, images, and his
torical and fabulous traditions. Their roughness and wild-
ness belong to his time, his mode of life, and especially to his
character, or if one would have it so, his want of fixed cha
racter. He did not know how to curb himself, and so his life,
like his poetry, melted away from him.

By his vacillating conduct, Giinther had trifled away the
good fortune of being appointed at the court of Augustus the
Second, where, in addition to every other species of ostenta
tion, they were also looking about for a court-poet, who could
give elevation and grace to their festivities, and immortalize
a transitory pomp. VON KOENIG was more mannerly and
more fortunate ; he filled this post with dignity and applause.

In all sovereign states the material for poetry comes down
wards from above, and the Review-camp at Miililberg (Das
Lustlager bei Miililberg) was, perhaps, the first worthy object,
provincial, if not national, which presented itself to a poet.
Two kings saluting one another in the presence of a great host,
their whole courts and military state around them, well-
appointed troops, a mock-fight, fetes of all kinds, this is
business enough for the outward sense, and overflowing mate
rial for delineating and descriptive poetry.

This subject had, indeed, the internal defect, that it was
only pomp and show, from which no real action could result.
None except the very first distinguished themselves, and even
if they had done so, the poet could not render any one con
spicuous ]est he should offend the others. He had to consult
the Court and State Calendar, and the delineation of the per
sons therefore went off pretty drily ; nay, even his contem
poraries very strongly reproached him with having described
the horses better than the men. But should not this redound
to his credit, that he showed his art just where an object for
it presented itself? The main difficulty, too, seems soon to
have manifested itself to him since the poem never advanced
bevond the first canto.

%/

Amidst such studies and reflections, an unexpected event
surprised me, and frustrated my laudable design of becoming
acquainted with our new literature from the beginning. My
countryman, JOHN GEORGE SCHLOSSER, after spending his
academical years with industry and exertion, had repaired to

SCHLOSSER. 225

Frankfort-on-the-Maine, in the customary profession of an
advocate ; but his mind, aspiring and seeking after the uni
versal, could not reconcile itself to this situation for many
reasons. He accepted, without hesitation, an office as private
secretary to the Duke LUDWTG of WURTEMBEBG, who re
sided in Treptow; for the Prince was named among those
great men who, in a noble and independent manner, purposed
to enlighten themselves, their families, and the world, and to
unite for higher aims. It was this Prince Ludwig who, to
ask advice about the education of his children, had written to
Rousseau, whose well-known answer began with the suspicious-
looking phrase " Si favais le malheur d etre ne prince"

Not only in the affairs of the Prince, but also in the educa
tion of his children, Schlosser was now willingly to assist in
word and deed, if not to superintend them. This noble young
man, who harboured the best will, and laboured after a perfect
purity of morals, would have easily kept men from him by a
-certain dry austerity, if his fine and rare literary cultivation, his
knowledge of languages, and his facility at expressing himself
by writing, both in verse and prose, had not attracted every
one, and made living with him more agreeable. It had been
announced to me that he would pass through Leipzig, and I
expected him with longing. He came and put up at a little
inn or wine-house that stood in the EruTil (Marsh), and the
host of which was named Schonkopf. This man had a Frank
fort woman for his wife, and although he entertained few
persons during the rest of the year, and could lodge no guests
in his little house, yet at fair-time he was visited by many
Prankforters, who used to eat, and, in case of need, even take
quarters there also. Thither I hastened to seek after Schlosser,
w r hen he had sent to inform me of his arrival. I scarcely
remembered having seen him before, and found a young, well-
formed man, with a round, compressed face, without the fea
tures losing their sharpness on that account. The form of his
rounded forehead, between black eyebrows and locks, indi
cated earnestness, sternness, and perhaps obstinacy. He
was, in a certain measure, the opposite of myself, and this
very thing doubtless laid the foundation of our lasting Mend-
ship. I had the greatest respect for his talents, the more so as
I very well saw that in the certainty with which he acted and
produced, he was completely my superior. The respect and

Q

226 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

the confidence which I showed him confirmed his affection,
and increased the indulgence he was compelled to have for
my lively, impetuous, and ever-excitable disposition, in such
contrast with his own. He studied the English writers dili
gently ; Pope, if not his model, was his aim, and in opposition
to that author s Essay on Man, he had written a poem in like
form and measure, which was to give the Christian religion
the triumph over the deism of the other work. From the
great store of papers which he carried with him, he showed
me poetical and prose compositions in all languages, which,
as they challenged me to imitation, once more gave me infinite
disquietude. Yet I contrived to help myself immediately by
activity. I wrote German, French, English and Italian poems,
addressed to him, the subject-matter of which I took from our
conversations, which were always important and instructive.

Schlosser did not wish to leave Leipzig without having seen
face to face the men who had a name. I willingly took him
to those I knew ; with those whom I had not yet visited, I in
this way became honourably acquainted, since he was received
with distinction as a well-informed man of education, of
already established character, and well knew how to pay for
the outlay of conversation. I cannot pass over our visit to
GOTTSCHED, as it exemplifies the character and manners of that
man. He lived very respectably in the first story of the
Golden Bear, where the elder Breitkopf, on account of the
great advantage which Gottsched s writings, translations, and
other aids had brought to the trade, had promised him a
lodging for life.

We were announced. The servant led us into a large
chamber, saying his master would come immediately. Now
whether we misunderstood a gesture which he made, I cannot
say ; it is enough, we thought he directed us into an adjoin
ing room. We entered, and to a singular scene ; for, on the
instant, Gottsched, that tall, broad, gigantic man, came in at
the opposite door in a morning-gown of green damask lined
with red taffeta ; but his monstrous head was bald and un
covered. This, however, was to be immediately provided for ;
the servant sprang in at a side-door with a great full-bottomed
wig in his hand (the curls came down to the elbows), and
handed the head- ornament to his master with gestures of
terror. Gottsched, without manifesting the least vexation,

TELLOW-BOAHDEBS AT LEIPZIG. 227

raised the wig from the servant s arm with his left hand,
and while he very dexterously swung it up on his head, gave
the poor fellow such a box on the ear with his right paw, that
the latter, as often happens in a comedy, went spinning out
at the door; whereupon the respectable old grandfather
invited us quite gravely to be seated, and kept up a pretty
long discourse with good grace.

As long as Schlosser remained in Leipzig, I dined daily
with him, and became acquainted with a very pleasant set of
boarders. Some Livonians, and the son of HERMANN (chief
court-preacher in Dresden), afterwards burgermaster in Leip
zig, and their tutors; HOFRATH PFEIL, author of the Count
von P., a continuation of Gellert s Swedish Countess ; Z AC HA
BILE, a brother of the poet ; and KREBEL, editor of geogra
phical and genealogical manuals ; all these were polite, cheer
ful, and friendly men. Zacharia was the most quiet ; Pfeil,
an elegant man, who had something almost diplomatic about
him, yet without affectation, and with great good-humour;
Krebel, a genuine Falstaff. tall, corpulent, fair, with pro
minent, merry eyes, as bright as the sky, always happy and in
good spirits. These persons all treated me in the most hand
some manner, partly on Schlosser s account partly, too, on
account of my own frank good-humour and obliging disposition;
and it needed no great persuasion to make me partake of their
table in future. In fact, I remained with them after Schlos
ser s departure, deserted Ludwig s table, and found myself so
much the better off in this society, which was limited to a
certain number, as I was very well pleased with the daughter
of the family, a very neat, pretty girl, and had opportunities
to exchange friendly glances with her, a comfort which I had
neither sought nor found by accident since the mischance with
Gretchen. I spent the dinner-hours with my friends cheer
fully and profitably. Krebel, indeed, loved me, and continued
to teaze me and stimulate me in moderation ; Pfeil, on the
contrary, showed his earnest affection for me by trying to
guide and settle my judgment upon many points.

During this intercourse, I perceived through conversation,
through examples, and through my own reflections, that the
first step in delivering ourselves from the wishy-washy, long-
winded, empty epoch, could be taken only by defmiteness,
precision, and brevity. In the style which had hitherto pre-

Q2

228 TKTJTH AND POETKY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

vailed, one could not distinguish the commonplace from what
was better, since all were brought down to a level with each
other. Authors had already tried to escape from this wide
spread disease, with more or less success. HALLER and
RAMLER were inclined to compression by nature ; LESSING
and WJELAND were led to it by reflection. The former be
came by degrees quite epigrammatical in his poems, terse in
Minna, laconic in Emilia Galotti, it was not till afterwards
that he returned to that serene naivete which becomes him so
well in Nathan. Wieland, who had been occasionally prolix
in Agathon, Don Sylvio, and the Comic Tales, becomes con
densed and precise to a wonderful degree, as well as exceed
ingly graceful, in Musarion and Idris. KLOPSTOCK, in the first
cantos of the Messiah, is not without diffuseness ; in his Odes
and other minor poems he appears compressed, as also in his
tragedies. By his emulation of the ancients, especially Tacitus,
he sees himself constantly forced into narrower limits, by which
he at last becomes obscure and unpalatable. GERSTENBERG,
a fine but eccentric talent, also distinguishes himself; his
merit is appreciated, but on the whole he gives little pleasure.
GLEIM, diffuse and easy by nature, is scarcely once concise
in his war-songs. RAMLER is properly more a critic than
a poet. He begins to collect what the Germans have accom
plished in lyric poetry. He now finds that scarcely one poem
fully satisfies him ; he must leave out, arrange, and alter, that
the things may have some shape or other. By this means he
makes himself almost as many enemies as there are poets and
amateurs, since every one, properly speaking, recognizes him
self only in his defects ; and the public interests itself sooner
for a faulty individuality than for that which is produced or
amended according to a universal law of taste. Rhythm lay
yet in the cradle, and no one knew of a method to shorten its
childhood. Poetical prose came into the ascendant. GESSNER,
and KLOPSTOCK excited many imitators ; others, again, still
demanded an intelligible metre, and translated this prose into
rhythm. But even these gave nobody satisfaction ; for they
were obliged to omit and add, and the prose original always
passed for the better of the two. But the more, with all this,
conciseness is aimed at, the more does a judgment become pos
sible, since that which is important, being more closely com
pressed, allows a certain comparison at last. It happened,

WIELAND. 229

also, at the same time, that many kinds of truly poetical forms
arose ; for as they tried to represent only what was necessary
in the objects they wished to imitate, they were forced to do
justice to every one of these ; and in this manner, though no
one did it consciously, the modes of representation multiplied
themselves, among which, indeed, were some which were really
caricatures, while many an attempt proved unsuccessful.

Without question, WIELAISTD possessed the finest natural
gifts of all. He had early cultivated himself thoroughly in
those ideal regions where youth so readily lingers ; but when,
by what is called experience, by the events of the world and
women, these were rendered distasteful to him, he threw him
self on the side of the actual, and pleased himself and others
with the contest of the two worlds, where, in light skirmish
ing between jest and earnest, his talent displayed itself most
beautifully. How many of his brilliant productions fall into the
time of my academic years ! Musarion had the most effect upon
me, and I can yet remember the place and the very spot where
I got sight of the first proof-sheet, which Oeser gave me.
Here it was that I believed I saw antiquity again living and
fresh. Everything that is plastic in Wieland s genius here
showed itself in its highest perfection ; and when that Phanias-
Timon, condemned to an unhappy insipidity, finally reconciles
himself to his mistress and to the world, one can well, with
him, live through the misanthropical epoch. For the rest, we
willingly conceded to these works a cheerful aversion from those
exalted sentiments, which, by reason of their easy misapplica
tion to life, are often open to the suspicion of dreaminess.
We pardoned the author for prosecuting with ridicule what
we held as true and reverend, the more readily, as he thereby
gave us to understand that it caused him continual trouble.

How miserably criticism then received such labours may
be seen from the first volumes of the Universal German
Library. Of the Comic Tales there is honourable mention ;
but there is no trace of any insight into the character of the
kind of poetry. The reviewer, like every one at that time,
had formed his taste on examples. He never takes it into
consideration that, in a judgment of such parodistical works,
one must first of all have before one s eyes the original noble,
beautiful object, in order to see whether the parodist has really
gotten from it a weak and comical side, whether he has bor-

230 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

rowed anything from it, or, under the appearance of such an
imitation, has perhaps given us an excellent invention of his
own. Of all this there is not a notion, but that poems are
praised and blamed by passages. The reviewer, as he himself
confesses, has marked so much that pleased him. that he can
not quote it all in print. When they even meet the highly
meritorious translation of Shakspeare with the exclamation :
" By rights, a man like Shakspeare should not have been trans
lated at all ! it will be understood, without further remark,
how infinitely the Universal German Library was behind
hand in matters of taste, and that young people, animated by
true feeling, had to look about them for other guiding stars.
The material which, in this manner, more or less determined
the form, the Germans sought everywhere. They had handled
few national subjects, or none at all. Schlegel s Hermann
only showed the way. The idyllic tendency extended itself
without end. The want of distinctive character with Gessner,
with all his great gracefulness and childlike heartiness, made
every one think that he could do something of the same kind.
Just in the same manner, out of the more generally human,
some snatch those poems which should have portrayed a fo
reign nationality, as, for instance, the Jewish pastoral poems,
those on the patriarchs altogether, and whatever else related
to the Old Testament. Bodmer s Noachide was a perfect
symbol of the watery deluge that swelled high around the
German Parnassus, and which abated but slowly. The lead
ing-strings of Anacreon likewise allowed innumerable mediocre
geniuses to reel about at large. The precision of Horace com
pelled the Germans, though but slowly, to conform to him.
Comic heroic poems, mostly after the model of Pope s Rape
of the Lock, did not serve to bring in a better time.

Yet I must here mention a delusion, which operated as se
riously as it must be ridiculous when one examines it more
closely. The Germans had now sufficient historical knowledge
of all the kinds of poetry in which the different nations had
distinguished themselves. This pigeon-hole work, which, pro
perly speaking, totally destroys the inner conception of poetry,
had been already pretty completely hammered together by
Gottsched in his Critical Art of Poetry, and it had been shown
at the same time that German poets, too, had already known
how to fill up all the rubrics with excellent works. And thus

POPULAH PHILOSOPHY. 231

it ever went on. Each year the collection was more consider
able, but every year one work pushed another out of the place
in which it had hitherto shone. We now possessed, if not
Homers, yet Yirgils and Miltons ; if not a Pindar, yet a Ho
race ; of Theocrituses there was no lack ; and thus they
weighed themselves by comparisons from without, whilst the
mass of poetical works always increased, so that at last there
could be a comparison from within.

Now, though matters of taste stood on a very uncertain foot
ing, there could be no dispute but that, within the Protestant
part of Germany and of Switzerland, what is generally called
common- sense began to bestir itself briskly at that epoch. The
scholastic philosophy which always has the merit of pro
pounding according to received axioms, in a favourite order,
and under fixed rubrics, everything about which man can at
all inquire, had, by the frequent darkness and apparent use-
lessness of its subject-matter, by its unseasonable application
of a method in itself respectable, and by its too great extension
over so many subjects, made itself foreign to the mass, unpa
latable, and at last dispensable. Many a one became con
vinced that nature had endowed him with as great a portion
of good and straightforward sense as, perchance, he required
to form such a clear notion of objects that he could manage
them and turn them to his own profit, and that of others,
without laboriously troubling himself about the most universal
problems, and inquiring how the most remote things which do
not particularly affect us may hang together. Men made the
trial, opened their eyes, looked straight before them, observant,
industrious, active, and believed that when one decides upon
and acts correctly in one s own circle, one may well presume to
speak of other things also, which lie at a greater distance.

In accordance with such a notion, every one was now en
titled, not only to philosophize, but also by degrees to consider
himself a philosopher. Philosophy, therefore, was more or
less sound and practised common sense, which ventured to
enter upon the universal, and to decide upon inner and outer
experiences. A clear-sighted acuteness and an especial mode
ration, while the middle path and fairness to all opinions was
held to be right, procured respect and confidence for writings
and oral statements of the sort, and thus at last philosophers
were found in all the faculties, nay, in all classes and trades.

232 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

In this way the theologians could not help inclining to what
is called natural religion, and when the discussion was how far
the light of nature may suffice to advance us in the knowledge
of God and the improving and ennobling of ourselves, they
commonly ventured to decide in its favour without much
scruple. According to the same principle of moderation, they
then granted equal rights to all positive religions, by which
they all became alike indifferent and uncertain. For the rest,
they let everything stand, and since the Bible is so full of
matter, that, more than any other book, it offers material for
reflection and opportunity for meditation on human affairs, it
could still, as before, be always laid as the foundation of all
sermons and other religious treatises.

But over this work, as well as over the whole body of pro
fane writers, was impending a singular fate, which, in the lapse
of time, was not to be averted. Hitherto it had been received
as a matter of implicit faith, that this book of books was com
posed in one spirit ; that it was even inspired, and, as it were,
dictated by the Divine Spirit. Yet already for a long time
the discrepancies of the different parts of it had been now
cavilled at, now apologized for, by believers and unbelievers.
English, French, and Germans had attacked the Bible with
more or less violence, acuteness, audacity, and wantonness ;
and just as often had it been taken under the protection of
earnest, sound-thinking men of each nation. As for myself, I
loved and valued it : for almost to it alone did I owe my moral
culture, and the events, the doctrines, the symbols, the similes,
had all impressed themselves deeply upon me, and had influ
enced me in one way or another. These unjust, scoffing, and
perverting attacks, therefore, disgusted me ; but people had
already gone so far as very willingly to admit, partly as a main,
ground for the defence of many passages, that God had accom
modated himself to the modes of thought and power of com
prehension in men ; that even those moved by the Spirit had
not on that account been able to renounce their character,
their individuality, and that Amos, a cow-herd, did not wield
the language of Isaiah, who is said to have been a prince.

Out of such views and convictions, especially with a con
stantly increasing knowledge of languages, was very naturally
developed that kind of study by which it was attempted to
examine more accurately the oriental localities, nationalities^

STATE OP THEOLOGY. 233

natural products, and phenomena, and in this manner to make
present to one s-self that ancient time. Michaelis employed
the whole strength of his talents and his knowledge on this
side. Descriptions of travels became a powerful help in ex
plaining the Holy Scriptures, and later travellers, furnished
with numerous questions, were made, by the answers to them,
to bear witness for the prophets and apostles.

But whilst they were on all sides busied to bring the Holy
Scriptures to a natural intuition, and to render peculiar modes
of thought and representation in them more universally com
prehensible, that by this historico- critical aspect many an
objection might be removed, many offensive things effaced,
and many a shallow scoffing be made ineffective, there appeared
in some men just the opposite disposition, since these chose
the darkest, most mysterious writings as the subject of their
meditations, and wished, if not to elucidate them, yet to con
firm them through internal evidence, by means of conjectures,
calculations, and other ingenious and strange combinations,
and so far as they contained prophecies, to prove them by the
results, and thus to justify a faith in what was next to be
expected.

The venerable BEN GEL had procured a decided reception
for his labours on the Revelations of St. John, from the fact
that he was known as an intelligent, upright, God-fearing,
blameless man. Deep minds are compelled to live in the past
as well as in the future. The ordinary movements of the world
can be of no importance to them, if they do not, in the course
of ages up to the present, revere prophecies which have been
revealed, and in the immediate, as well as in the most remote
futurity, predictions still veiled. Hence arises a connexion
that is wanting in history, which seems to give us only an
accidental wavering backwards and forwards in a necessarily
limited circle. Doctor CBUSIUS was one of those whom the
prophetic part of Scripture suited more than any other, since
it brings into action the two most opposite qualities of human
nature, the affections, and the acuteness of the intellect. Many
young men had devoted themselves to this doctrine, and already
formed a respectable body, which attracted the more attention,
as ERNESTI with his friends threatened, not to illuminate, but.
completely to disperse the obscurity in which these delighted.
Hence arose controversies, hatred, persecution and much that

234 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

was unpleasant. I attached myself to the lucid party, and
sought to appropriate to myself their principles and advan
tages, although I ventured to forebode, that by this extremely
praiseworthy, intelligent method of interpretation, the poetic
contents of the writings must at last be lost along with the
prophetical.

But those who devoted themselves to German literature and
the belles lettres were more nearly concerned with the efforts of
such men, who, as JERUSALEM, ZOLLIKOFER, and SPALD-
IKG, tried, by means of a good and pure style in their sermons
and treatises, to gain even among persons of a certain degree
of sense and taste, applause and attachment for religion, and
for the moral philosophy which is so closely related to it. A
pleasing manner of writing began to be everywhere necessary;
and since such a manner must, above all, be comprehensible,
so did writers arise, on many sides, who undertook to write
about their studies and their professions clearly, perspicu
ously, and impressively, and as well for the adepts as for the
multitude.

After the example of Tissot, a foreigner, the physicians also
now began to labour zealously for the general cultivation.
HALLER, UNZER, ZIMMERMAN had a very great influence,
and whatever may be said against them in detail, especially
the last, they produced a very great effect in their time. And
mention should be made of this in history, but particularly in
biography : for a man remains of consequence, not so far as he
leaves something behind him, but so far as he acts and enjoys,
and rouses others to action and enjoyment.

The jurists, accustomed from their youth upwards to an ab
struse style, which, in all legal papers, from the petty court of
the Immediate Knight up to the Imperial Diet at Ratisbon, was
still maintained in all its quaintness, could not easily elevate
themselves to a certain freedom, the less so as the subjects of
which they had to treat were most intimately connected with
the external form, and consequently also with the style. Yet
the younger YON MOSER had already shown himself an inde
pendent and original writer, and PUTTER, by the clearness of
his delivery, had also brought clearness into his subject, and
the style in which he was to treat it. All that proceeded from
his school was distinguished by this. And even the philo
sophers, in order to be popular, now found themselves com-

THE "IMAGE-HUNT." 235

pelled to write clearly and intelligibly. MENDELSOHN and
GARVE appeared, and excited universal interest and admiration.
With the cultivation of the German language and style in
every department, the capacity for forming a judgment also
increased, and we admire the reviews then published of works
upon religious and moral, as well as medical subjects ; while,
on the contrary, we remark that the judgments of poems, and
of whatever else may relate to the belles lettres, will be found,
if not pitiful, at least very feeble. This holds good of the
Literary Epistles (Liter aturbriefeti), and of the Universal Ger
man Library, as well as of the Library of the Belles Lettres^
notable instances of which could easily be produced.

No matter in how motley a manner all this might be con
fused, still for every one who contemplated producing anything
from himself, who would not merely take the words and phrases
out of the mouths of his predecessors, there was nothing further
left but, early and late, to look about him for some subject-matter
which he might determine to use. Here, too, we were much led
astray. People were constantly repeating a saying of KLEIST,
which we had to hear often enough. He had sportively, in
geniously, and truly replied to those who took him to task on
account of his frequent lonely walks : " that he was not idle
at such times, he was going to the image hunt." This simile
was very suitable for a nobleman and soldier, who by it placed
himself in contrast with the men of his rank, who did not
neglect going out, with their guns on their shoulders, hare-
hunting and patridge-shooting, as often as an opportunity
presented itself. Hence we find in Kleist s poems many such
individual images, happily seized, although not always happily
elaborated, which in a kindly manner remind us of nature.
But now they also recommended us, quite seriously, to go out
on the image -hunt, which did not at last leave us wholly with
out fruit, although Apel s Garden, the kitchen-gardens, the
Rosenthal, Golis, Raschwitz and Konnewitz, would be the
oddest ground to beat up poetical game in. And yet I was
often induced by that motive to contrive that my walk should
be solitary, and, because many objects neither beautiful nor
sublime met the eye of the beholder, and in the truly splendid
Rosenthal, the gnats, in the best season of the year, allowed
no tender thoughts to arise, so did I, by unwearied, persever
ing endeavour, become extremely attentive to the small life of

236 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

nature, (I would use this word after tlie analogy of " stiil
life,") and since the pretty events which one perceives within
this circle represent but little in themselves, so I accustomed
myself to see in them a significance, which inclined now to
wards the symbolical, now towards the allegorical side, accord
ingly as intuition, feeling, or reflection had the preponderance.
I will relate one incident, in place of many.

I was, after the fashion of humanity, in love with my name,
and, as young uneducated people commonly do, I wrote it
down everywhere. Once I had carved it very handsomely
and accurately on the smooth bark of a linden-tree of mode
rate age. The following autumn, when my affection for An
nette was in its fullest bloom, I took the trouble to cut hers
above it. Towards the end of the winter, in the meantime,
like a capricious lover, I had wantonly sought many opportu
nities to teaze her and cause her vexation ; in the spring I
chanced to visit the spot, and the sap, which was rising
strongly in the trees, had welled out through the incisions
which formed her name, and which were not yet crusted over,
and moistened with innocent vegetable tears the already
hardened traces of my own. Thus to see her here weeping
over me, me, who had so often called up her tears by my
ill-conduct, filled me with confusion. At the remembrance of
my injustice and of her love, even the tears came into my
eyes, I hastened to implore pardon of her, doubly and trebly,
and I turned this incident into an idyl*, which I never could
read to myself without affection, or to others without emotion.

While I now, like a shepherd on the Pleisse, was absorbed
childishly enough in such tender subjects, and always chose
only such as I could easily recall into my bosom, provision
from a greater and more important side had long been made
for German poets.

The first true and really vital material of the higher order
came into German poetry through Frederick the Great and
the deeds of the Seven Years War. All national poetry must
be shallow or become shallow which does not rest on that
which is most universally human, upon the events of nations
and their shepherds, when both stand for one man. Kings
are to be represented in war and danger, where, by that very
means, they appear as the first, because they determine and

* This idyl is lost. Trans.

GLEIM RAMLEK. 237

share the fate of the very least, and thus become much more
interesting than the gods themselves, who, when they have
once determined the fates, withdraw from all participation in
them. In this view of the subject, every nation, if it would
be worth anything at all, must possess an epopee, to which
the precise form of the epic poem is not necessary.

The war-songs started by Gleim maintain so high a rank
among German poems, because they arose with and in the
achievements which are their subject, and because, moreover,
their felicitous form, just as if a fellow-combatant had pro
duced them in the loftiest moments, makes us feel the most
complete effectiveness.

Ramler sings the deeds of his king in a different and most
noble manner. All his poeins are full of matter, and occupy
us with great, heart-elevating objects, and thus already main
tain an indestructible value.

For the internal matter of the subject worked is the begin
ning and end of art. It will not, indeed, be denied that
genius, that thoroughly cultivated artistical talent, can make
everything out of everything by its method of treatment, and
can subdue the most refractory material. But when closely
examined, the result is rather a trick of art than a work of
art, which should rest upon a worthy object, that the treat
ment of it by skill, pains, and industry, may present to us
the dignity of the subject-matter only the more happily and
splendidly.

The Prussians, and with them Protestant Germanv, ac-

t> 7

quired thus for their literature a treasure which the opposite
party lacked, and the want of which they have been a,ble to
supply by no subsequent endeavours. Upon the great idea
which the Prussian writers could well entertain of their
king, they first established themselves, and the more zealously
as he, in whose name they did it all, wished once for all to
know nothing about them. Already before this, through the
French colony, afterwards through the king s predilection for
the literature of that nation, and for their financial institu
tions, had a mass of French civilization come into Prussia,
which was highly advantageous to the Germans, since by it
they were challenged to contradiction and resistance; thus
the very aversion of Frederick from German was a fortunate
thing for the formation of its literary character. They did

238 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

everything to attract the king s attention, not indeed to be
honoured, but only noticed by him ; yet they did it in Ger
man fashion, from an internal conviction ; they did what they
held to be right, and desired and wished that the king should
recognize and prize this German uprightness. That did not
and could not happen ; for how can it be required of a king,
who wishes to live and enjoy himself intellectually, that he
shall lose his years in order to see what he thinks barbarous
developed and rendered palatable too late? In matters of
trade and manufacture, he might indeed force upon himself,
but especially upon his people, very moderate substitutes
instead of excellent foreign wares ; but here everything comes
to perfection more rapidly, and it needs not a man s fife-time
to bring such things to maturity.

But I must here, first of all, make honourable mention of
one work, the most genuine production of the Seven Years
War, and of perfect North German nationality ; it is the first
theatrical production caught from the important events of life,
one of specific temporary value, and one which therefore pro
duced an incalculable effect, Minna von Barnhelm. Lessiiig,
who, in opposition to Klopstock and Gleim, was fond of cast
ing off his personal dignity, because he was confident that he
could at any moment seize it and take it up again, delighted
in a dissipated life in taverns and the world, as he always
needed a strong counterpoise to his powerfully labouring inte
rior ; and for this reason also he had joined the suite of Gene
ral Tauentzien. One easily discovers how the above-men
tioned piece was generated betwixt war and peace, hatred
and affection. It was this production which happily opened
the view into a higher, more significant world, from the
literary and citizen world in which poetic art had hitherto
moved.

The intense hatred in which the Prussians and Saxons
stood towards each other during this war, could not be re
moved by its termination. The Saxon now first felt, with
true bitterness, the wounds winch the upstart Prussian had
inflicted upon him. Political peace could not immediately
re-establish a peace between their dispositions. But this was
to be brought about symbolically by the above-mentioned
drama. The grace and amiability of the Saxon ladies con
quer the worth, the dignity, and the stubbornness of the

GOETHE S PECULIAR TENDENCY. 239

Prussians, and, in the principal as well as in the subordinate
characters, a happy union of bizarre and contradictory ele
ments is artistically represented.

If I have put my reader in some perplexity by these cur
sory and desultory remarks on German literature, I have suc
ceeded in giving them a conception of that chaotic condition
in which my poor brain found itself, when, in the conflict of
two epochs so important for the literary fatherland, so much
that was new crowded in upon me before I could come to
terms with the old, so much that was old yet made me feel
its right over me, when I believed I had already cause to
venture on renouncing it altogether. I will at present try to
impart, as well as possible, the way I entered on to extricate
myself from this difficulty, if only step by step.

The period of prolixity into which my youth had fallen,
I had laboured through with genuine industry, in company
with so many worthy men. The numerous quarto volumes of
manuscript which I left behind with my father might serve
for sufficient witnesses of this ; and what a mass of essays, rough
draughts, and half-executed designs, had, more from despon
dency than conviction, gone up in smoke! Now, through
conversation, through instruction in general, through so many
conflicting opinions, but especially through my fellow-boarder
Hofrath Pfeil, I learned to value more and more the import
ance of the subject-matter, and the conciseness of the treat
ment ; without, however, being able to make it clear. to myself
where the former was to be sought, or how the latter was to
be attained. For, what with the great narrowness of my
situation, what with the indifference of my companions, the
reserve of the professors, the exclusiveness of the educated
inhabitants, and what with the perfect insignificance of the
natural objects, I was compelled to seek for everything within
myself. If I now desired a true basis in feeling or reflection
for my poems, I was forced to grasp into my own bosom ; if I
required for my poetic representation an immediate intuition of
an object or an event, I could not step outside the circle which
was fitted to teach me and inspire me with an interest. In
this view I wrote at first certain little poems, in the form of
songs or in a freer measure ; they are founded on reflection,
treat of the past, and for the most part take an epigrammatic
turn.

240 TKITTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

And thus began that tendency from which I could not
deviate my whole life through ; namely, the tendency to turn
into an image, into a poem, everything that delighted or
troubled me, or otherwise occupied me, and to come to some
certain understanding with myself upon it, that I might both
rectify my conceptions of external things, and set my mind at
rest about them. The faculty of doing this was necessary to
no one more than to me, for my natural disposition whirled
me constantly from one extreme to the other. All, therefore,
that has been confessed by me, consists of fragments of a great
confession, and this little book is an attempt which I have
ventured on to render it complete.

My early affection for Gretchen I had now transferred
to one Annette (Aennchen), of whom I can say nothing
more than that she was young, handsome, sprightly, loving,
and so agreeable that she well deserved to be set up for a time
in the shrine of the heart as a little saint, that she might
receive all that reverence which it often causes more pleasure
to bestow than to receive. I saw her daily without hindrance ;
she helped to prepare the meals which I enjoyed, she brought,
in the evening at least, the wine which I drank, and indeed
our select club of noon-day boarders was a warranty that the
little house, which was visited by few guests except during
the fair, well merited its good reputation. Opportunity and
inclination were found for various kinds of amusement. But
as she neither could nor dared go much out of the house, the
pastime was somewhat limited. We sang the songs of Zacha-
ria, played the Duke Michael of Kriiger, in which a knotted
handkerchief had to take the place of the nightingale ; and
so, for a while, it went on quite tolerably. But since such
connexions, the more innocent they are, afford the less
variety in the long run, so was I seized with that wicked dis
temper which seduces us to derive amusement from the tor
ment of a beloved one, and to domineer over a girl s devoted-
ness with wanton and tyrannical caprice. My ill-humour at
the failure of my poetical attempts, at the apparent impossi
bility of coming to a clear understanding about them, and at
everything else that might pinch me here and there, I thought
I might vent on her, because she truly loved me with all her
heart, and did whatever she could to please me. By un
founded and absurd fits of jealousy, I destroyed our most

DIE LAI7NE DES TEELIEBTEN. 241

delightful days both for myself and her. She endured it for
a time with incredible patience, which I was cruel enough
to try to the uttermost. But to my shame and despair I was
at last forced to remark that her heart was alienated from me,
and that I might now have good ground for the madness in
which I had indulged without necessity and without cause.
There were also terrible scenes between us, in which I gained
nothing ; and I then first felt that I had truly loved her, and
could not bear to lose her. My passion grew, and assumed
all the forms of which it is capable under such circumstances ;
nay, at last I even took up the role which the girl had hitherto
played. I sought everything possible in order to be agreeable
to her, even to procure her pleasure by means of -others ; for
I could not renounce the hope of winning her again. But it
was too late ! I had lost her really, and the frenzy with which
I revenged my fault upon myself, by assaulting in various
frantic ways my physical nature, in order to inflict* some hurt
on my moral nature, contributed very much to the bodily
maladies under which I lost some of the best years of my life ;
indeed I should perchance have been completely ruined by
this loss, had not my poetic talent here shown itself parti
cularly helpful with its healing power.

Already, at many intervals before, I had clearly enough
perceived my ill-conduct. I really pitied the poor child,
when I saw her so thoroughly wounded by me, without
necessity. I pictured to myself so often and so circumstan
tially, her condition and my own, and, as a contrast, the con
tented state of another couple in our company, that at last I
could not forbear treating this situation dramatically, as a
painful and instructive penance. Hence arose the oldest of
my extant dramatic labours, the little piece entitled, Die
Laune des Verliebten ( The Lover s Caprice) ; in the simple
nature of which one may at the same time perceive the
impetus of a boiling passion.

But before this, a deep, significant, impulsive world had
already interested me. Through my adventure with Gretchen
and its consequences, I had early looked into the strange
labyrinths by which civil society is undermined. Keli-
gion, morals, law, rank, connexions, custom, all rule only
the surface of city existence. The streets, bordered by
splendid houses, are kept neat, and every one behaves him-

242 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIEE.

self there properly enough; but indoors, it often seems
only so much the more disordered; and a smooth exterior,
like a thin coat of mortar, plasters over many a rotten wall
that tumbles together overnight, and produces an effect the
more frightful, as it comes into the midst of a condition of
repose. How many families, far and near, had I not already
seen, either overwhelmed in ruin or kept miserably hanging
on the brink of it, by means of bankruptcies, divorces,
seduced daughters, murders, house-robberies, poisonings ; and
young as I was, I had often, in such cases, lent a hand for
help and preservation. For as my frankness awakened con
fidence, as my secresy was proved, as my activity feared no
sacrifice, and loved best to exert itself in the most dangerous
affairs, I had often enough found opportunity to mediate, to hush
up, to divert the lightning-flash, with every other assistance of
the kind ; in the course of which, as well in my own person
as through others, I could not fail to come to the knowledge
of many afflicting and humiliating facts. To relieve myself
I designed several plays, and wrote the arguments * of most of
them. But since the intrigues were always obliged to be
painful, and almost all these pieces threatened a tragical con
clusion, I let them drop one after another. Die Mitschuldigen
(The Accomplices} is the only one that was finished, the
cheerful and burlesque tone of which upon the gloomy family-
ground appears as if accompanied by somewhat of apprehen
sion, so that on the whole it is painful in representation,
although it pleases in detached passages. The illegal deeds,
harshly expressed, wound the aesthetic and moral feeling, and
the piece could therefore find no favour on the German stage,
although the imitations of it, which steered clear of those
rocks, were received with applause.

Both the above-mentioned pieces were however written from
a more elevated point of view, without my having been aware
of it. They direct us to a considerate forbearance in casting
moral imputations, and in somewhat harsh and coarse touches
sportively express that most Christian maxim : Let him who
is without sin among you, cast the first stone.

Through this earnestness, which cast a gloom over my first

* " Exposition" in a dramatic sense, properly means a statement of
the events which take place before the action of the play commences.
Trans.

YOUTHFUL PBASTKS. 243

pieces, I committed the fault of neglecting very favourable
materials which lay quite decidedly in my natural disposition.
In the midst of these serious, and for a young man, fearful
experiences, was developed in me a reckless humour, which
feels itself superior to the moment, and not only fears no
danger, but rather wantonly courts it. The ground of this lay
in the exuberance of spirits in which the vigorous time of
life so much delights, and which, if it manifests itself in a
frolicsome way, causes much pleasure, both at the moment and
in remembrance. These things are so usual that in the
vocabulary of our young university friends they are called
Suites^ and on account of the close similarity of signification,
to say "play suites" means just the same as to "play
pranks. "#

Such humorous acts of daring, brought on the theatre
with wit and sense, are of the greatest effect. They are
distinguished from intrigue, inasmuch as they are momentary,
and that their aim, whenever they are to have one, must not
be remote. Beaumarchais has seized their full value, and the
effects of his Figaro spring pre-eminently from this. If now
such good-humoured roguish and half-knavish pranks are
practised with personal risk for noble ends, the situations
which arise from them are aesthetically and morally con
sidered of the greatest value for the theatre ; as for instance
. the opera of the Water- Carrier treats perhaps the happiest
subject which we have ever yet seen upon the stage.

To enliven the endless tedium of daily life, I played off 1
numberless tricks of the sort, partly without any aim at all,
partly in the service of my friends whom I liked to please.
For myself, I could not say that I had once acted in this
designedly, nor did I ever happen to consider a feat of the
kind as a subject for art. Had I, however, seized upon and
elaborated such materials, which were so close at hand, my
earliest labours would have been more cheerful and available.
Some incidents of this kind occur indeed later, but isolated
and without design. For since the heart always lies nearer
to us than the head, and gives us trouble when the latter
knows well how to help itself, so the affairs of the heart had

The real meaning of the passage is that the idiom " Possen reissen,"
is used also with the university word " Suite," so that one can say " Suiten
reissen." Trans.

244 TittiTH AND POETKY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

always appeared to me as the most important. I was never
weary of reflecting upon the transient nature of attachments,,
the mutability of human character, moral sensuality, and all
the heights and depths, the combination of which in our
nature may be considered as the riddle of human life.
Here, too, I sought to get rid of that which troubled me, in
a song, an epigram, in some kind of rhyme, which, since they
referred to the most private feelings and the most peculiar
circumstances, could scarcely interest any one but myself.

In the meanwhile, my external position had very much
changed after the lapse of a short time. Madame Bohme,
after a long and melancholy illness, had at last died ; she had
latterly ceased to admit me to her presence. Her husband
could not be particularly satisfied with me ; I seemed to him
not sufficiently industrious, and too frivolous. He especially
took it very ill of me, when it was told him that, at the
lectures on German Public Law, instead of taking proper
notes, I had been drawing on the margin of my note-book
the personages presented to our notice in them, such as the/
President of the Chamber, the Moderators and Assessors, in
strange wigs ; and. by this drollery had disturbed my atten
tive neighbours and set them laughing. After the loss of his
wife he lived still more retired than before, and at last I
shunned him in order to avoid his reproaches. But it was
peculiarly unfortunate that Gellert would not use the power
which he might have exercised over us. Indeed he had not
time to play the father- confessor, and to inquire after the cha
racter and faults of everybody ; he therefore took the matter
very much in the lump, and thought to curb us by means of
the church forms. For this reason, commonly, when he once
admitted us to his presence, he used to lower his little head,
and, in his weeping, winning voice, to ask us whether we
went regularly to church, who was our confessor, and whether
we took the holy communion? If now we came off badly
at this examination we were dismissed with lamentations ;
we were more vexed than edified, yet could not help loving-
the man heartily.

On this occasion, I cannot forbear recalling somewhat of
my earlier youth, in order to make it obvious that the great
affairs of the ecclesiastical religion must be carried on with,
order and coherence, if they are to prove as fruitful as is-

SACRAMENTS OF THE CHtTRCH. 245

expected. The Protestant service has too little fulness and
consistency to be able to hold the congregation together;
hence, it easily happens that members secede from it, and
either form little congregations of their own, or, without-
ecclesiastical connexion, quietly carry on their citizen-life side
by side. Thus for a considerable time complaints were made
that the church-goers were diminishing from year to year,
and, just in the same ratio, the persons who partook of the
Lord s Supper. With respect to both, but especially the
latter, the cause lies close at hand ; but who dares to speak
it out ? We will make the attempt.

In moral and religious, as well as in physical and civil
matters, man does not like to do anything on the spur of the
moment; he needs a sequence from which results habit;
what he is to love and to perform, he cannot represent to
himself as single or isolated, and if he is to repeat anything
willingly, it must not have become strange to him. If the
Protestant worship lacks fulness in general, so let it be in
vestigated in detail, and it will be found that the Protestant
has too few sacraments, nay, indeed he has only one in which
he is himself an actor, the Lord s Supper : for baptism he
sees only when it is performed on others, and is not greatly
edified by it. The sacraments are the highest part of religion,
the symbols to our senses of an extraordinary divine favour
and grace. In the Lord s Supper earthly lips are to receive
a divine Being embodied, and partake of an heavenly under
the form of an earthly nourishment. This sense is just the
same in all Christian churches; whether the Sacrament is
taken with more or less submission to the mystery, with more
or less accommodation as to that which is intelligible; it
always remains a great holy thing, which in reality takes the
place of the possible or the impossible, the place of that which
man can neither attain nor do without. But such a sacrament
should not stand alone ; no Christian can partake of it with
the true joy for which it is given, if the symbolical or sacra
mental sense is not fostered within him. He must be accus
tomed to regard the inner religion of the heart and that of the
external church as perfectly one, as the great universal sacra
ment, which again divides itself into so many others, and
communicates to these parts its holiness, indestructibleness,
and eternity.

J246 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

Here a youthful pair give their hands to one another, not
for a passing salutation or for the dance; the priest pro
nounces his blessing upon them, and the bond is indissoluble.
It is not long before this wedded pair bring a likeness to the
threshold of the altar; it is purified with holy water, and so
incorporated into the church, that it cannot forfeit this benefit
but through the most monstrous apostacy. The child in the
course of life practises himself in earthly things of his own
accord, in heavenly things he must be instructed. Does it
prove on examination that this has been fully done, he is now
received into the bosom of the church as an actual citizen, as
a true and voluntary professor, not without outward tokens
of the weightiness of this act. Now is he first decidedly a
Christian, now for the first time he knows his advantages, and
also his duties. But, in the meanwhile, much that is strange
has happened to him as a man; through instruction and
affliction he has come to know how critical appears the state
of his inner self, and there will constantly be a question of
doctrines and of transgressions ; but punishment shall no
longer take place. For here, in the infinite confusion in
which he must entangle himself, amid the conflict of natural
and religious claims, an admirable expedient is given him, in
confiding his deeds and misdeeds, his infirmities and doubts,
to a worthy man, appointed expressly for that purpose, who
knows how to calm, to warn, to strengthen him, to chasten
him likewise by symbolical punishments, and at last by a com
plete washing away of his guilt, to render him happy and to
give him back, pure and cleansed, the tablet of his manhood.
Thus prepared, and purely calmed to rest by several sacra
mental acts, which, on closer examination, branch forth again
into minuter sacramental traits, he kneels down to receive the
host; and that the mystery of this high act may be still
enhanced, he sees the chalice only in the distance ; it is no
common eating and drinking that satisfies, it is a heavenly
least, which makes him thirst after heavenly drink.

Yet let not the youth believe that this is all he has to do ;
let not even the man believe it. In earthly relations we are
at last accustomed to depend on ourselves, and, even there,
knowledge, understanding, and character, will not always
suffice ; in heavenly things, on the contrary, we have never
finished learning. The higher feeling within, us. which often

CATHOLIC SACKAMENTS. 247

finds itself not even truly at home, is, besides, oppressed by
so much from without, that our own power hardly administers
all that is necessary for counsel, consolation, and help. But,
to this end, that remedy is instituted for our whole life, and
an intelligent, pious man is continually waiting to show the
right way to the wanderers, and to relieve the distressed.

And what has been so well tried through the whole life,
is now to show forth all its healing power with tenfold
activity at the gate of Death. According to a trustful cus
tom, inculcated from youth upwards, the dying man receives
with fervour those symbolical, significant assurances, and
there, where every earthly warranty fails, he is assured, by
a heavenly one, of a blessed existence for all eternity. He
feels himself perfectly convinced that neither a hostile element
nor a malignant spirit can hinder him from clothing himself
with a glorified body, so that, in immediate relation with the
Godhead, he may partake of the boundless happiness which
flows forth from Him.

Then in conclusion, that the whole may be made holy, the
feet also are anointed and blessed. They are to feel, even in
the event of possible recovery, a repugnance to touching this
earthly, hard, impenetrable soil. A wonderful nimbleness is
to be imparted to them, by which they spurn from under them
the clod of earth which hitherto attracted them. And so,
through a brilliant circle of equally holy acts, the beauty of
which we have only briefly hinted at, the cradle and the
grave, however far asunder they may chance to be, are bound
in one continuous circle.

But all these spiritual wonders spring not, like other fruits,
from the natural soil, where they can neither be sown, nor
planted, nor cherished. We must supplicate for them from
another region, a thing which cannot be done by all persons,
nor at all times. Here we meet the highest of these symbols,
derived from pious tradition. We are told that one man can
be more favoured, blessed, and sanctified from above than
another. But that this may not appear as a natural gift, this
great boon, bound up with a heavy duty, must be communi
cated to others by one authorized person to another ; and the
greatest good that a man can attain, without his having to
obtain it by his own wrestling or grasping, must be preserved
and perpetuated on earth by spiritual heirship. In the very

248 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

ordination of the priest, is comprehended all that is necessary
for the effectual solemnizing of those holy acts, by which the
multitude receive grace, without any other activity being
needful on their part, than that of faith and implicit con
fidence. And thus the priest steps forth in the line of his
predecessors and successors, in the circle of those anointed
with him, representing the highest source of blessings, so
much the more gloriously, as it is not he, the priest, whom
we reverence, but his office ; it is not his nod to which we
bow the knee, but the blessing which he imparts, and which
seems the more holy, and to come the more immediately from
heaven, because the earthly instrument cannot at all weaken,
or invalidate it by its own sinful, nay, wicked nature.

How is this truly spiritual connexion shattered to pieces in
Protestantism, by part of the above-mentioned symbols being
declared apocryphal, and only a few canonical ; and how,
by their indifference to one of these, will they prepare us for
the high dignity of the others ?

In my time I had been confided to the religious instruction
of a good old infirm clergyman, who had been confessor of
the family for many years. The Catechism, a Paraphrase of
it, and the Scheme of Salvation, I had at my fingers ends, I
lacked not one of the strongly proving biblical texts, but from
all this I reaped no fruit ; for as they assured me that the
honest old man arranged his chief examination according to
an old set form, I lost all pleasure and inclination for the
business, spent the last week in all sorts of diversions, laid in
mv hat the loose leaves borrowed from an older friend, who

w

had gotten them from the clergyman, and unfeelingly and
senselessly read aloud all that I should have known how to
utter with feeling and conviction.

But I found my good- will and my aspirations in this im
portant matter still more paralyzed by a dry, spiritless routine,
when I was now to approach the confessional. I was indeed
conscious to myself of many failings, but of no great faults ;
and that very consciousness diminished them, since it directed
me to the moral strength which lay within me, and which,
with resolution and perseverance, was at last to become
master over the old Adam. We were taught that we were
much better than the catholics for this very reason : that we
were not obliged to acknowledge anything in particular in the

IlELIGIOTJS APPREHENSIONS. 249

confessional, nay, that this would not be at all proper, even if
we wished to do it. This last did not seem right to me ; for
I had the strangest religious doubts, which I would readily
have had cleared up on such an occasion. Now as this was
not to be done, I composed a confession for myself, which,
while it well expressed my state of mind, was to confess to
an intelligent man, in general terms, that which I was for
bidden to tell him in detail. But when I entered the old choir
of the Barefoot Friars, when I approached the strange latticed
closets in which the reverend gentlemen used to be found for
that purpose, when the sexton opened the door for me, when
I now saw myself shut up in the narrow place face to face
with my spiritual grandsire, and he bade me welcome with
his weak nasal voice, all the light of my mind and heart was
extinguished at once, the well- conned confession-speech would
not cross my lips ; I opened, in my embarrassment, the book
which I had in hand, and read from it the first short form I
saw, which was so general, that anybody might have spoken
it with quite a safe conscience. I received absolution, and
withdrew neither warm nor cold ; went the next day with
my parents to the Table of the Lord, and, for a few days,
behaved myself as was becoming after so holy an act.

In the sequel, however, there came over me that evil, which
from the fact of our religion being complicated by various
dogmas, and founded on texts of scripture which admit of
several interpretations, attacks scrupulous men in such a man
ner, that it brings on a hypochondriacal condition, and raises
this to its highest point, to fixed ideas. I have known several
men who, though their manner of thinking and living was
perfectly rational, could not free themselves from thinking
about the sin against the Holy Ghost, and from the fear that
they had committed it. A similar trouble threatened me on the
subject of the communion, for the text that one who unworthily
partakes of the Sacrament eateth and drinketh damnation to
himself, had, very early, already made a monstrous impression
upon me. Every fearful thing that I had read in the histories
of the middle ages, of the judgments of God, of those most
strange ordeals, by red-hot iron, flaming fire, swelling water,
and even what the Bible tells us of the draught which agrees
well with the innocent, but puffs up and bursts the guilty,
ail this pictured itself to my imagination ; and formed itself

250 TKUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

into the most frightful combinations, since false vows, hy
pocrisy, perjury, blasphemy, all seemed to weigh down the
unworthy person at this most holy act, which was so much
the more horrible, as no one could dare to pronounce himself
worthy, and the forgiveness of sins, by which everything was
to be at last done away, was found limited by so many con
ditions, that one could not with certainty dare appropriate it
to oneself.

This gloomy scruple troubled me to such a degree, and the
expedient which they would represent to me as sufficient,
seemed so bald and feeble, that it gave the bugbear only a
more fearful aspect, and, as soon as I had reached Leipzig, I
tried to free myself altogether from my connexion with the
church. How oppressive then must have been to me the ex
hortations of Gellert, whom, considering the generally laconic
style with which he was obliged to repel our obtrusiveness, I
was unwilling to trouble with such singular questions, and the
less so as in my more cheerful hours I was myself ashamed of
them; and at last left completely behind me this strange
anguish of conscience, together with church and altar.

Gellert, in accordance with his pious feelings, had composed
for himself a course of ethics, which from time to time he
publicly read, and thus in an honourable manner acquitted
himself of his duty to the public. Gellert s writings had
already, for a long time, been the foundation of German
moral culture, and every one anxiously wished to see that
work printed ; but as this was not to be done till after the
good man s death, people thought themselves very fortunate
to hear him deliver it himself in his lifetime. The philosophi
cal auditorium* was at such times crowded, and the beautiful
soul, the pure will, and the interest of the noble man in. our
welfare, his exhortations, warnings, and entreaties, uttered in
a somewhat hollow and sorrowful tone, made indeed an im
pression for the moment, but this did not last long, the less
so, as there were many scoffers, who contrived to make us
suspicious of this tender, and, as they thought, enervating
manner. I remember a Frenchman travelling through the
town, who inquired after the maxims and opinions of the
man who attracted such an immense concourse. When we

* The lecture-room. The word is also used in university language to
denote a professor s audience.

DECLINE OF GELLERT S AUTHORITY. 251

had given him the necessary information, he shook his head
and said, smiling, Laissez lefaire, il nous forme des dupes.

And thus also did good society, which cannot easily endure
anything estimable in its neighbourhood, know how to spoil
on occasion the moral influence which Gellert might have had
upon us. Now it was taken ill of him that he instructed the
Danes of distinction and wealth, who were particularly recom
mended to him, better than the other students, and had a
marked solicitude for them ; now he was charged with selfish
ness and nepotism for causing a table d hote to be established
for these young men at his brother s house. This brother, a
tall, good-looking, blunt, unceremonious and somewhat rude
man, had, it was said, been a fencing-master, and notwith
standing the too great lenity of his brother, the noble boarders
were often treated harshly and roughly; hence the people
thought they must again take the part of these young folks,
and pulled about the good reputation of the excellent Gellert to
such a degree, that, in order not to be mistaken about him, we
became indifferent towards him, and visited him no more ;
yet we always saluted him in our best manner when he came
riding along on his tame grey horse. This horse the Elector
had sent him, to oblige him to take an exercise so necessary

for his health : a distinction which was not easily forgiven
, . *

him.

And thus, by degrees, the epoch approached when all
authority was to vanish from before me, and I was to become
suspicious, nay, to despair, even of the greatest and best indi
viduals whom I had known or imagined.

Frederick the Second still stood at the head of all the
distinguished men of the century, in my thoughts, and it
must therefore have appeared very surprising to me, that I
could praise him as little before the inhabitants of Leipzig
as formerly in my grandfather s house. They had felt the
hand of war heavily, it is true, and therefore they were not
to blame for not thinking the best of him who had begun and
continued it. They therefore were willing to let him pass
as a distinguished, but by no means as a great man. " There
was no art," they said, "in performing something with great
means; and if one spares neither lands, nor money, nor
blood, one may well accomplish one s purpose at last. Frede
rick had shown himself great in none of his plans, and in

TRUTH AND .POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

nothing that he had, properly speaking, undertaken. So long
as it depended on himself, he had only gone on making blunders,
and what was extraordinary in him, had only come to light
when he was compelled to make these blunders good again. It
was purely from this that he had obtained his great reputation,
since every man wishes for himself that same talent of making
good, in a clever way, the blunders which he frequently com
mits. If one goes through the Seven Years War, step by step,
it will be found that the king quite uselessly sacrificed his
fine army, and that it was his own fault that this ruinous feud
Jiad been protracted to so great a length. A truly great man
.and general would have got the better of his enemies much
sooner." In support of these opinions they could cite infinite
details, which I did not know how to deny ; and I felt the
unbounded reverence which I had devoted to this remarkable
prince, from my youth upwards, gradually cooling away.

As the inhabitants of Leipzig had now destroyed for me the
pleasant feeling of revering a great man, so did a new friend
whom I gained at the time very much diminish the respect
which I entertained for my present fellow-citizens. This
friend was one of the strangest fellows in the world. He was
named Behrisch, and was tutor to the young Count Lindenau.
Even his exterior was singular enough. Lean and well-built,
far advanced in the thirties, a very large nose, and altogether
marked features ; he wore from morning till night a scratch
which might well have been called a peruke, but dressed him
self very neatly, and never went out but with his sword by
his side, and his hat under his arm. He was one of those
men who have quite a peculiar gift of killing time, or rather,
who know how to make something out of nothing, in order to
pass time away. Everything that he did must be done with
slowness, and a certain deportment which might have been
called affected, if Behrisch had not even by nature had some
thing affected in his manner. He resembled an old French
man, and also spoke and wrote French very well and easily.
His greatest delight was to busy himself seriously about drol
leries, and to follow up without end any silly notion. Thus he
was constantly dressed in grey, and as the different parts of his
.attire were of different stuffs, and also of different shades, he
could reflect for whole days as to how he should procure one
grey more for his body, and was happy when he had succeeded

BEHKISCH. 253

in this, and could put to shame us who had doubted it, or
had pronounced it impossible. He then gave us long severe
lectures, about our lack of inventive power, and our want of
faith in his talents.

For the rest, he had studied well, was particularly versed in
the modern languages and their literature, and wrote an
excellent hand. He was very well disposed to me, and I,
having been always accustomed and inclined to the society of
older persons, soon attached myself to him. My intercourse,
too, served him for a special amusement, since he took plea
sure in taming my restlessness and impatience, with which,
on the other hand, I gave him enough to do. In the art of
poetry he had what is called taste, a certain general opinion
about the good and bad, the mediocre and tolerable ; but his
judgment was rather censorious, and he destroyed even the
little faith in contemporary writers which I cherished within
me, by unfeeling remarks, which he knew how to advance
with wit and humour, about the writings and poems of this
man and that. He received my own affairs with indulgence,
and let me have my way, but only on the condition that I
should have nothing printed. He promised me, on the other
hand, that he himself would copy those pieces which he
thought good, and would present me with them in a hand
some volume. This undertaking now afforded an opportunity
for the greatest possible waste of time. For before he could
find the right paper, before he could make up his mind as to
the size, before he had settled the breadth of the margin, and
the form of handwriting, before the crow- quills were pro
vided and cut into pens, and Indian ink was rubbed, whole
weeks passed, without the least bit having been done. With
just as much ado he always set about his writing, and really,
by degrees, put together a most charming manuscript. The
title of the poems was in German text, the verses themselves
in a perpendicular Saxon hand, and at the end of every poem
was an analogous vignette, which he had either selected some
where or other, or had invented himself, and in which he
contrived to imitate very neatly the hatching of the wood-cuts
and tail-pieces which are used for such purposes. To show
me these things as he went on, to celebrate beforehand in a
comico-pathetical manner my good fortune in seeing myself
immortalized in such exquisite handwriting, and that in a

254 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

style which no printing-press could attain, gave another
occasion for passing the most agreeable hours. In the mean
time, his intercourse was always secretly instructive, by reason
of his liberal acquirements, and, as he knew how to subdue
my restless impetuous disposition, was also quite wholesome
for me in a moral sense. He had, too, quite a peculiar
abhorrence of roughness, and his jests were always quaint,
without ever falling into the coarse or the trivial. He in
dulged himself in a distorted aversion from his countrymen,
and described with ludicrous touches even what they were
able to undertake. He was particularly inexhaustible in a
comical representation of individual persons, as he found some
thing to find fault with in the exterior of every one. Thus,
when we lay together at the window, he could occupy him
self for hours criticising the passers-by, and when he had
censured them long enough, in showing exactly and circum
stantially how they ought to have dressed themselves, ought to
have walked, and ought to have behaved to look like orderly
people. Such attempts, for the most part, ended in something
improper and absurd, so that we did not so much laugh at how
the man looked, but at how, perchance, he might have looked,
had he been mad enough to caricature himself. In all such
matters, Behrisch went quite unmercifully to work, without
being in the slightest degree malicious. On the other hand,
we knew bow to teaze him, on our side, by assuring him that,
to judge from his exterior, he must be taken, if not for a
French dancing-master, at least for the academical teacher of
the language. This reproval was usually the signal for dis
sertations an hour long, in which he used to set forth the
difference, wide as the heavens, which there was between him
and an old Frenchman. At the same time he commonly
imputed to us all sorts of awkward attempts, that we might
possibly have made for the alteration and modification of his
wardrobe.

The direction of my poetizing, which I only carried on the
more zealously as the transcript went on becoming more beau
tiful and more careful, now inclined altogether to the natural
and the true ; and if the subjects could not always be impor
tant, I nevertheless always endeavoured to express them clearly
and pointedly, the more so as my friend often gave me to un
derstand, what a great thing it was to write down a verse on

PROFESSOR CLODIUS. 255

Dutch paper, with the crow-quill and Indian ink ; what time,
talent, and exertion it required, which ought not to be squan
dered on anything empty and superfluous. At the same time,
he commonly used to open a finished parcel and circum
stantially to explain what ought not to stand in this or that
place, or congratulate us that it actually did not stand there.
He then spoke, with great contempt, of the art of printing,
mimicked the compositor, ridiculed his gestures and his hur
ried picking out of letters here and there, and derived from
this manoeuvre all the calamities of literature. On the other
hand, he extolled the grace and the noble posture of a writer,
and immediately sat down himself to exhibit it to us, while
he rated us at the same time for not demeaning ourselves at
the writing-table precisely after his example and model. He
now returned to the contrast with the compositor, turned a
begun letter upside down, and showed how unseemly it would
be to write anything from the bottom to the top, or from the
right to the left, with other things of like kind with which
whole volumes might have been filled.

With such harmless fooleries we lavished away our precious
time, while it could have occurred to none of us, that anything
would chance to proceed out of our circle, which would
awaken a general sensation and bring us into not the best
repute.

Gellert may have taken little pleasure in his Practicum,
and if, perhaps, he took pleasure in giving some direc
tions as to prose and poetical style, he did it most privately
only to a few, among whom we could not number ourselves.
Professor Clodius thought to fill the gap which thus arose in
the public instruction. He had gained some renown in litera
ture, criticism, and poetry, and as a young, lively, obliging
man, found many friends both in the university and in the
city. Gellert himself referred us to the lectures now com
menced by him, and, as far as the principal matter was con
cerned, we remarked little difference. He, too, only criticised
details, corrected likewise with red ink, and one found oneself
in company with mere blunders, without a prospect as to where
the right was to be sought. I had brought to him some of
my little labours, which he did not treat harshly. But just
at this time they wrote to me from home, that I must without
fail furnish a poem for my uncle s wedding. I felt myself far

256 TUTTTH AND POETKY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

from that light and frivolous period in which a similar thing
would have given me pleasure, and since I could get nothing
out of the actual circumstance itself, I determined to trick out
my work in the best manner, with extraneous ornament. I
therefore convened all Olympus to consult about the marriage
of a Frankfort lawyer ; and seriously enough, to be sure, as
well became the festival of such an honourable man. Venus
and Themis had quarrelled for his sake ; but a roguish prank
which Amor played the latter, gained the suit for the former,
and the gods decided in favour of the marriage.

My work by no means displeased me. I received from
home a handsome letter in its praise, took the trouble to have
another fair copy, and hoped to extort some applause from my
professor also. But here I had missed my aim. He took
the matter severely, and as he did not notice the tone of
parody, which nevertheless lay in the notion, he declared the
great expenditure of divine means for such an insignificant
human end, in the highest degree reprehensible; inveighed
against the use and abuse of such mythological figures, as a
false habit originating in pedantic times ; found the expression
now too high, now too low, and in divers particulars had
indeed not spared the red ink, though he asserted that he had
yet done too little.

Such pieces were read out and criticised anonymously, it
is true ; but we used to watch each other, and it remained
no secret that this unfortunate assembly of the gods was my
work. Yet since his critique, when I took his point of view,
seemed to be perfectly just, and those divinities more nearly
inspected were in fact only hollow shadow-forms ; I cursed
all Olympus, flung the whole mythic Pantheon away, and from
that time Amor and Luna have been the only divinities which
at all appear in my little poems.

Among the persons whom Behrisch had chosen as the butts
of his wit, Clodius stood just at the head ; nor was it hard to
find a comical side in him. As a little, rather stout, thick-set
figure, he was violent in his motions, somewhat impetuous in
his utterances, and restless in his demeanour. In all this he
differed from his fellow-citizens, who, nevertheless, willingly
put up with him on account of his good qualities and the fine
promise which he gave.

He was usually commissioned with the poems which had

[RIDICULE OF CLODITJS. 257

become necessary on festal occasions. In the so-called Ode,
he followed the manner used by Ramler, whom, however, it
alone suited. But Clodius, as an imitator, had especially
marked the foreign words by means of which the poems of Ram-
ler come forth with a majestic pomp, which, because it is con
formable to the greatness of his subject and the rest of his
poetic treatment, produces a very good effect on the ear,
feelings, and imagination. In Clodius, on the contrary,
these expressions had a heterogeneous air, since his poetry
was in other respects not calculated to elevate the mind in
any manner.

Now we had often been obliged to see such poems printed
and highly lauded in our presence, and we found it highly
offensive, that he who had sequestered the heathen gods
from us, now wished to hammer together another ladder to
Parnassus out of Greek and Roman word-rungs. These
oft-recurring expressions stamped themselves firmly on our
memory, and in a merry hour, when we were eating some
most excellent cakes in the Kitchen-gardens (Kohlparten),
it all at once struck me to put together these words of might
and power, in a poem on the cake-baker Hendel. No sooner
thought than done ! And let it stand here, too, as it was
written on the wall of the house with a lead-pencil.

" O Hendel, dessen Ruhm vom Sud zum Norden reicht,
Vernimm den P dan der zu deinen Ohren steigt
Du backst was Gallien und Britten emsig suchen,
Mit schopfrischen Genie, originelle Kuchen.
Des Kaffee s Ocean, der sich vor dir ergiesst,
1st siisser als der Saft der vom Hymettus fliesst.
Dein Haus ein Monument, wie wir den Kunsten lohnen
Umhangen mit Troph dn, erzahlt den Nationen :
Auch ohne Diadem fand Hendel hier sein Gliick
Und raubte dem Cothurn gur manch Achtgroschenstiick.
Glanzt deine Urn dereinst in majestats chen Pompe,
Dann weint der Patriot un deinem Katacombe.
Doch leb ! dein Torus sey von edler Brut ein Nest,
Steh hoch wie der Olymp, wie der Parnassus fest !
Kein Phalanx Griechenland mit Romischen Ballisten
Vermog Germanien und Hendel zu verwusten.
Dein Wohl is unser Stolz, dein Leiden unser Schmerz
Und HendeFs Tempel ist der Musensohne Herz.*"

* The humour of the above consists, not in the thoughts, but in the
particular words employed. These have no remarkable effect in English,

&

258 TEUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

*>

This poem stood a long time among many others which
disfigured the walls of that room, without being noticed, and
we, who had sufficiently amused ourselves with it, forgot it
altogether amongst other things. A long time afterwards,
Clodius came out with his Medon, whose wisdom, magnani
mity and virtue we found infinitely ridiculous, much as the
first representation of the piece was applauded. That evening,
when we met together in the wine-house, I made a prologue in
doggerel verse, in which Harlequin steps out with two great
sacks, places them on each side of the proscenium, and after
various preliminary jokes, tells the spectators in confidence, that
in the two sacks moral aesthetic dust is to be found, which the
actors will very frequently throw into their eyes. One, to
wit, was filled with good deeds, that cost nothing, and the
other with splendidly expressed opinions, that had no mean
ing behind them. He reluctantly withdrew, and sometimes
came back, earnestly exhorted the spectators to attend to
his warning and shut their eyes, reminded them that he had
always been their friend, and meant well with them, with
many more things of the kind. This prologue was acted in the
room, on the spot, by friend Horn, but the jest remained
quite among ourselves, not even a copy had been taken, and
the paper was soon lost. However, Horn, who had per-

as to us the words of Latin origin are often as familiar as those which
have Teutonic roots, and these form the chief peculiarity of the style. We
have therefore given the poem in the original language, with the peculiar
words (as indicated by Gothe) in italics, and subjoin a literal translation.
It will be observed that we have said that the peculiarity consists chiefly,
not solely, in the use of the foreign words, for there are two or three in
stances of unquestionably German words, which are italicised on account
of their high-sounding pomp.

" Oh Hendel, whose fame extends from south to north, hear the Paean
which ascends to thine ears. Thou bakest that which Gauls and Britons
industriously seek, (thou bakest) with creative genius original cakes. The
ocean of coffee which pours itself out before thee, is sweeter than the juice
which flows from Hymettus. Thy house, a monument, how we reward
the arts, hung round with trophies, tells the nations : Even without a
diadem, Hendel formed his fortune here, and robbed the Cothurnus of many
an eight-groschen-piece. When thine urn shines hereafter in majestic
pomp, then will the patriot weep at thy catacomb. But live ! let thy bed
(torus) be the nest of a noble brood, stand high as Olympus, and firm as
Parnassus. May no phalanx of Greece with Roman ballistce be able to
destroy Germania and Hendel. Thy weal is our pride, thy suffering our
pain, and HendeFs temple is the heart of the sons of the Muses. 9 Trans*

ECCENTRICITIES OF BEHEISCH. 259

formed the Harlequin very prettily, took it into his head to
enlarge my poem to Hendel by several verses, and then to
make it refer to Medon. He read it aloud to us, and we
could not take any pleasure in it, for we did not find the
additions even ingenious, while the first poem, being written
for quite a different purpose, seemed to us disfigured. Our
friend, out of humour at our indifference, or rather cen
sure, may have shown it to others, who found it new and
amusing. Copies were now made of it, to which the reputa
tion of Clodius s Medon gave at once a rapid publicity. Uni
versal disapproval was the consequence, and the originators
(it was soon found out that the poem had proceeded from our
clique) were severely censured : for nothing of the sort had
been seen since Cronegk s and Kost s attacks upon Gottsched.
We had besides already secluded ourselves, and now found
ourselves quite in the case of the owl with respect to the
other birds. In Dresden, too, they did not like the affair, and
it had for us serious, if not unpleasant consequences. For
some time, already, Count Lindenau had not been quite
satisfied with his son s tutor. For, although the young man
was by no means neglected, and Behrisch kept himself either
in the chamber of the young Count, or at least close to it, when
the instructors gave their daily lessons, regularly frequented the
lectures with him, never went out in the day-time without
him, and accompanied him in all his walks ; yet the rest of
us were always to be found in Apel s house, and joined them
whenever they went on a pleasure ramble ; this already
excited some attention. Behrisch, too, accustomed himself
to our society, and at last, towards nine o clock in the even
ings, generally transferred his pupil into the hands of the
valet de chambre, and went in quest of us to the wine-house,
whither, however, he never used to come but in shoes and
stockings, with his sword by his side, and commonly his hat
under his arm. The jokes and fooleries, which he generally
started, went on ad itifinitum. Thus, for instance, one of our
friends had a habit of going away precisely at ten, because he
had a connexion with a pretty girl, with whom he could con
verse only at that hour. We did not like to lose him ; and
one evening, when we sat very happily together, Behrisch
secretly determined that he would not let him off this time.
At the stroke of ten, the other arose and took leave. Behrisch

s 2

260 TKTJTH AND POETBY ; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

called after him and begged him. to wait a moment, as he
was just going with him. He now began, in the most
amusing manner, first to look after his sword, which stood
just before his eyes, and in buckling it on behaved awk
wardly, so that he could never accomplish it. He did this,
too, so naturally, that no one took offence at it. But when, to
vary the theme, he at last went further, so that the sword
came now on the right side, now between his legs, an univer
sal laughter arose, in which the man in a hurry, who was
likewise a merry fellow, chimed in, and let Behrisch have his
own way till the happy hour was past, when, for the first
time, there followed general pleasure and agreeable conversa
tion till deep into the night.

Unfortunately Behrisch, and we through him, had a certain
other propensity for some girls who were better than their
reputation ; by which our own reputation could not be im
proved. We had often been seen in their garden, and we
directed our walks thither, even when the young Count was
with us. All this may have been treasured up, and at last
communicated to his father ; enough, he sought, in a gentle
manly manner, to get rid of the tutor, to whom the event
proved fortunate. His good exterior, his knowledge and
talents, his integrity, which no one could call in question, had
won him the affection and esteem of distinguished persons, on
whose recommendation he was appointed tutor to the heredi
tary prince of Dessau ; and at the court of a prince, excellent
in every respect, found a solid happiness.

The loss of a friend like Behrisch was of the greatest conse
quence to me. He had spoiled, while he cultivated me, and
his presence was necessary, if the pains he had thought good
to spend upon me were in any degree to bring forth fruit for
society. He knew how to engage me in all kinds of pretty and
agreeable things, in whatever was just appropriate, and to
bring out my social talents. But as I had gained no self-
dependence in such things, so when I was alone again, I im
mediately relapsed into my confused and crabbed disposition,
which always increased, the more discontented I was with
those about me, since I fancied that they were not contented
with me. With the most arbitrary caprice, I took offence at
what I might have reckoned as an advantage to me ; thus
alienated many with whom I had hitherto stood on a tolerable

WHAT IS EXPERIENCE? 261

footing ; and, on account of the many disagreeable conse
quences which I had drawn on myself and others, whether by
doing or leaving undone, by doing too much or too little,
was obliged to hear the remark from my well-wishers, that
I lacked experience. The same thing was told me by every
person of sound sense who saw my productions, especially
when these referred to the external world. I observed this
as well as I could, but found in it little that was edifying,
and was still forced to add enough of my own to make it only
tolerable. I had often pressed my friend Behrisch, too, that he
would make plain to me what experience might be ? But,
because he was full of nonsense, he put me off with fair
words from one day to another, and at last, after great pre
parations, disclosed to me, that true experience was properly
when one experiences how an experienced man must expe
rience in experiencing his experience. Now when we scolded
him outrageously, and called him to account for this, he
assured us that a great mystery lay hidden behind these
words, which we could not comprehend until we had expe
rienced . . . and so on without end ; for it cost him
nothing to talk on in that way by the quarter of an hour ;
since the experience would always become more experienced,
and at last come to true experience. When, we were falling
into despair at such fooleries, he protested that he had learned
this way of making himself intelligible and impressive from
the latest and greatest authors, who had made us observe
how one can rest a restful rest, and how silence, in being
silent, can constantly become more silent.

By chance an officer, who came among us on furlough, was
praised in good company as a remarkable sound-minded and
experienced man, who had fought through the Seven Years
War, and had gained universal confidence. It was not diffi
cult for me to approach him, and we often went walking with
each other. The idea of experience had almost become fixed
in my brain, and the craving to make it clear to me pas
sionate. Open-hearted as I was, I disclosed to him the
uneasiness in which I found myself. He smiled, and was
kind enough to tell me, as an answer to my question, some
thing of his own life, and generally of the world immediately
about us ; from, which, indeed, little better was to be gathered
than that experience convinces us that our best thoughts,

262 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

wishes and designs are unattainable, and that he who fosters
such vagaries and advances them with eagerness, is especially
held to be an inexperienced man.

Yet, as he was a gallant, good fellow, he assured me that
he had himself not quite given up these vagaries, and felt
himself tolerably well off with the little faith, love, and hope
which remained. He then felt obliged to tell me a great
deal about war, about the sort of life in the field, about skir
mishes and battles, especially so far as he had taken part in
them ; when these vast events, by being considered in relation
to a single individual, gained a very odd aspect. I then led
him on to an open narration of the late situation of the court,
which seemed to me quite like a tale. I heard of the
bodily strength of Augustus the Second, of his many chil
dren and his vast expenses, then of his successor s love of
art and of making collections, of Count Bruhl and his bound
less love of magnificence, which in detail appeared almost
absurd, of his numerous banquets and gorgeous amusements,
which were all cut off by Frederick s invasion of Saxony.
The royal castles now lay in ruins, Bruhl s splendours were
annihilated, and, of the whole, a glorious land, much injured,
alone remained.

When he saw me astonished at that mad enjoyment of
fortune, and then grieved by the calamity that followed, and
informed me that one expects from an experienced man
exactly this, that he shall be astonished at neither the one
nor the other, nor take too lively an interest in them, I felt
a great desire still to remain awhile in the same inexperience
as hitherto ; in which desire he strengthened me, and very
urgently entreated me, for the present at least, always to
cling to agreeable experiences, and to try to avoid those that
wre disagreeable as much as possible, if they should intrude
themselves upon me. But once, when the discussion was
again about experience in general, and I related to him those
ludicrous phrases of my friend Behrisch, he shook his head,
smiling, and said, " There, one sees how it is with words
which are only once uttered ! These sound so comical, nay,
so silly, that it would seem almost impossible to put a rational
meaning into them ; and yet, perhaps, the attempt might be
made."
And when I pressed him, he replied in his intelligent,

WHAT IS EXPERIENCE? 263

cheerful manner, " If you will allow me, while commenting
on and completing your friend, to go on after his fashion, I
think he meant to say, that experience is nothing else than
that one experiences what one does not wish to experience ;
which is what it amounts to for the most part, at least in this
world."

EIGHTH BOOK

ANOTHER man, although infinitely different from Behrisch in
every respect, might yet be compared with him in a certain
sense ; I mean OESEH, who was also one of those men who
dream away their lives in a comfortable state of being busy.
His friends themselves secretly acknowledged that, with very
fine natural powers, he had not spent his younger years in
sufficient activity ; for which reason, he never went so far as
to practise his art with perfect technicality. Yet a certain
diligence appeared to be reserved for his old age, and, during
the many years which I knew him, he never lacked invention
or laboriousness. From the very first moment he had much
attracted me ; even his residence, strange and portentous, was
highly charming to me. In the old castle Pleissenburg, at
the right-hand corner, one ascended a repaired, cheerful, wind
ing staircase. The saloons of the Academy of Design, of which
he was director, were found to the left, and were light and
roomy ; but he himself could only be reached through a nar
row, dark passage, at the end of which one first sought the
entrance into his apartments, having just passed between the
whole suite of them and an extensive granary. The first
apartment was adorned with pictures from the later Italian
school, by masters whose grace he used highly to commend.
As I, with some noblemen, had taken private lessons of him,
we were permitted to draw here, and we often penetrated into
his adjoining private cabinet, which contained at the same
time his few books, collections of art and natural curiosities,
and whatever else might have most interested him. Every
thing was arranged with taste, simply, and in such a manner
that the little space held a great deal. The furniture, presses,
and portfolios were elegant, without affectation or superfluity.
Thus also the first thing which he recommended to us, and
to which he always recurred, was simplicity in everything
that art and manual labour united are called upon to pro
duce. As a sworn foe of the scroll-and-shell style, and of
the whole taste for quaintness, he showed us in copper-

OESER. 265

plates and drawings old patterns of the sort, contrasted
with better decorations and simpler forms of furniture, as
well as with other appurtenances of a room ; and, because
everything about him corresponded with these maxims, his
words and instructions made a good and lasting impression
on us. Besides this, he had an opportunity to let us see his
opinions in practice, since he stood in good consideration both
with private and with official persons, and was asked for
advice when there were new buildings and alterations. He
seemed in general to be more fond of preparing anything on
occasion, for a certain end and use, than of undertaking and
completing things which exist for themselves and require a
greater perfection ; he was therefore always ready and at hand
when the publishers needed larger and smaller copper-plates
for any work ; thus the vignettes to Winckelmann s first writ
ings were etched by him. But he often made only very sketchy
drawings, to which Geyser knew very well how to adapt him
self. His figures had throughout something general, not to
say ideal. His women were pleasing and agreeable, his chil
dren naive enough ; only he could not succeed with the men,
who, in his spirited but always cloudy and at the same time
foreshortening manner, had for the most part the look of Laz-
zaroni. Since he designed his composition less with regard
to form than to light, shade, and masses, the general effect was
good ; as indeed all that he did and produced was attended by
a peculiar grace. As he at the same time neither could nor
would control a deep-rooted propensity to the significant and
the allegorical to that which excites a secondary thought,
so his works always furnished something to reflect upon, and
were complete through a conception, even where they could
not be so from art and execution. This bias, which is always
dangerous, frequently led him to the very bounds of good taste,
if not beyond them. He often sought to attain his views by
the oddest notions, and by whimsical jests ; nay, his best
works always have a touch of humour. If the public were
not always satisfied with such things, he revenged himself
by a new and even stranger drollery. Thus he afterwards
exhibited in the ante-room of the great concert-hall, an ideal
female figure, in his own style, who was raising a pair of
snuffers to a taper, and he was extraordinarily delighted when
he was able to cause a dispute on the question : whether this

266 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

singular muse meant to snuff the light or to extinguish it ? when
he roguishly allowed all sorts of bantering by-thoughts to peep
forth.

But the building of the new theatre, in my time, made the
greatest noise ; in which his curtain, when it was still quite
new, had certainly an uncommonly charming effect. Oeser
had taken the Muses out of the clouds, upon which they
usually hover on such occasions, and set them upon the earth.
The statues of Sophocles and Aristophanes, around whom
all the modern dramatic writers were assembled, adorned a
vestibule to the Temple of Fame. Here, too, the goddesses
of the arts were likewise present, and all was dignified and
beautiful. But now comes the oddity! Through the open
centre was seen the portal of the distant temple, and a man
in a light jerkin was passing between the two above-men
tioned groups, and without troubling himself about them,
directly up to the temple ; he was seen from behind, and was
not particularly distinguished. Now this man was to repre
sent Shakspeare, who, without predecessors or followers, with
out concerning himself about models, went to meet immortality
in his own way. This work was executed on the great floor
over the new theatre. We often assembled round him there,
and in that place I read aloud to him the proof-sheets of
Musarion.

As to myself, I by no means advanced in the practice of the
art. His instructions worked upon our mind and our taste ;
but his own drawing was too undefined to guide me, who had
only glimmered along by the objects of art and of nature, to a
severe and decided practice. Of the faces and bodies he gave
us rather the aspect than the forms, rather the postures than
the proportions. He gave us the conceptions of the figures,
and desired that we should impress them vividly upon our
minds. That might have been beautifully and properly done, if
he had not had mere beginners before him. If, on this account,
a pre-eminent talent for instruction may be well denied him,
it must, on the other hand, be acknowledged that he was very
discreet and politic, and that a happy adroitness of mind quali
fied him very peculiarly for a teacher in a higher sense. The
deficiencies under which each one laboured he clearly saw ;
but he disdained to reprove them directly, and rather hinted
his praise and censure indirectly and very laconically. One

INFLUENCE OF OESER. 267

was now compelled to think over the matter, and soon came
to a far deeper insight. Thus, for instance, I had very care
fully executed, after a pattern, a nosegay on blue paper, with
white and black crayon, and partly with the stump, partly by
hatching it up, had tried to give effect to the little picture.
After I had been long labouring in this way, he once came
behind me and said: " More paper! upon which he imme
diately withdrew. My neighbour and I puzzled our heads as
to what this could mean : for my bouquet, on a large half-sheet,
had plenty of space around it. After we had reflected a long
while, we thought, at last, that we had hit his meaning, when
we remarked that, by working together the black and the
white, I had quite covered up the blue ground, had destroyed
the middle tint, and, in fact, with great industry, had pro
duced a disagreeable drawing. As to the rest, he did not fail
to instruct us in perspective, and in light and shade, sufficiently
indeed, but always so that we had to exert and torment our
selves to find the application of the principles communicated.
Probably his view with regard to us who did not intend to
become artists, was only to form the judgment and taste, and
to make us acquainted with the requisites of a work of art,
without precisely requiring that we should produce one. Since,,
moreover, patient industry was not my talent, for nothing gave
me pleasure except what came to me at once, so by degrees I
became discouraged, if not lazy, and as knowledge is more
comfortable than doing, I was quite content to follow wherever
he chose, after his own fashion, to lead us.

At this time the Lives of the Painters, by D Argenville, was
translated into German ; I obtained it quite fresh, and studied
it assiduously enough. This seemed to please Oeser, and he
procured us an opportunity of seeing many a portfolio out of
the great Leipzig collections, and thus introduced us to the
history of the art. But even these exercises produced in me
an effect different from that which he probably had in mind.
The manifold subjects which I saw treated by artists awakened
the poetic talent in me, and as one easily makes an en
graving for a poem, so did I now make poems to the engrav
ings and drawings, by contriving to present to myself the
personages introduced in them, in their previous and subse
quent condition, and sometimes to compose a little song which,
might have suited them ; and thus accustomed myself to con-

268 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

sider the arts in connexion with each other. Even the mistakes
which I made, so that my poems were often descriptive, were
useful to me in the sequel, when I came to more reflection, by
making me attentive to the differences between the arts. Of
such little things many were in the collection which Behrisch
had arranged ; but there is nothing left of them now.

The atmosphere of art and taste in wiiich Oeser lived, and
into which one was drawn, provided one visited him fre
quently, was the more and more worthy and delightful, because
lie was fond of remembering departed or absent persons, with
whom he had been, or still continued to be, on good terms ;
for if he had once given any one his esteem, he remained un
alterable in his conduct towards him, and always showed
himself equally friendly.

After we had heard CAYLTJS pre-eminently extolled among
the French, he made us also acquainted with Germans of
activity in this department. Thus we learned that Professor
CHRIST, as an amateur, a collector, a connoisseur, a fellow-
labourer, had done good service for art ; and had applied his
learning to its true improvement. HEINECKE, on the con
trary, could not be honourably mentioned, partly because he
devoted himself too assiduously to the ever-childish beginnings
of German art, which Oeser little valued, partly because he
had once treated Winckelmann shabbily, which could never
be forgiven him. Our attention, however, was strongly drawn
to the labours of LIPPERT, since our instructor knew how to
set forth his merits sufficiently. " For," he said, " although
single statues and larger groups of sculpture remain the foun
dation and the summit of all knowledge of art. yet either as
originals or as casts they are seldom to be seen ; on the con
trary, by Lippert, a little world of gems is made known, in
which the more comprehensible merit of the ancients, their
happy invention, judicious composition, tasteful treatment, are
made more striking and intelligible, while, from the great
number of them, comparison is much more possible." While
now we were busying ourselves with these as much as was
allowed, WINCKELMANN s lofty life of art in Italy was pointed
out, and we took his first writings in hand with devotion: for
Oeser had a passionate reverence for him, which he was able
easily to instil into us. The problematical part of those little
treatises, which are, besides, confused even from their irony,

FEELING FOR ART IN LEIPZIG. 269

and from their referring to opinions and events altogether
peculiar, we were, indeed, unable to decipher ; but as Oeser
had great influence over us, and incessantly gave them out to
us as the gospel of the beautiful, and still more of the tasteful
and the pleasing, we found out the general sense, and fancied
that with such interpretations we should go on the more
securely, as we regarded it no small happiness to draw from
the same fountain from which Winckelmann had allayed his
earliest thirst.

No greater good fortune can befall a city, than when several
educated men, like-minded in what is good and right, live
together in it. Leipzig had this advantage, and enjoyed it the
more peacefully, as so many differences of judgment had not
yet manifested themselves. HTJBER, a print collector, and a
well-experienced connoisseur, had furthermore the gratefully
acknowledged merit of having determined to make the worth
of German literature known to the French ; KRETJCHATJF, an
amateur with a practised eye, who, as the friend of the whole
society of art, might regard all collections as his own ; WINK-
LEU, who much loved to share with others the intelligent de
light which he cherished for his treasures ; many more who
were added to the list, all lived and laboured with one feeling,
and often as I was permitted to be present when they exa
mined works of art, I do not remember that a dispute ever
arose : the school from which the artist had proceeded, the
time in which he lived, the peculiar talent which nature had
bestowed on him, and the degree of excellence to which he had
brought it in his performances, were always fairly considered.
There was no prejudice for spiritual or terrestrial subjects, for
landscape or for city views, for animate or inanimate ; the
question was always about the accordance with art.

Now although from their situation, mode of thought, abili
ties, and opportunities, these amateurs and collectors inclined
more to the Dutch school, yet, while the eye was practised on
the endless merits of the north-western artist, a look of reve
rential longing was always turned towards the south-east.

And so the university, where I neglected the ends both of
my family and myself, was to ground me in that in which I
afterwards found the greatest satisfaction of my life ; the im
pression of those localities, too, in which I received such
important incitements, has always remained to me most dear

270 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

and precious. The old Pleissenburg, the rooms of the Aca
demy, but, above all, the abode of Oeser, and no less the col
lections of Winkler and Richter, I have always vividly present
before me.

But a young man who, while older persons are conversing
with each other on subjects already familiar to them, is in
structed only incidentally, and for whom the most difficult part
of the business, tl^it of rightly arranging all, yet remains, must
find himself in a very painful situation. I therefore, as well
as others, looked about with longing for some new light,
which was indeed to come to us from a man to whom we owed
so much already.

The mind can be highly delighted in two ways, by percep
tion and conception. But the former demands a worthy object,
which is not always at hand, and a proportionate culture,
which one does not immediately attain. Conception, on the
other hand, requires only susceptibility ; it brings its subject-
matter with it, and is itself the instrument of culture. Hence
that beam of light was most welcome to us which that most
excellent thinker brought down to us through dark clouds.
One must be a young man to render present to oneself the
effect which Lessing s Laocoon produced upon us, by trans
porting us out of the region of scanty perceptions into the
open fields of thought. The so long misunderstood ut pictura
poesis was at once laid aside, the difference between plastic
and speaking art* was made clear, the summits of the two now
appeared sundered, however near their bases might border on
each other. The plastic artist was to keep himself within the
bounds of the beautiful, if the artist of language, who cannot
dispense with the significant in any kind, is permitted to
ramble abroad beyond them. The former labours for the outer
sense, which is satisfied only by the beautiful ; the latter for
the imagination, which may even reconcile itself to the ugly.
All the consequences of this splendid thought were illumined
to us as by a lightning flash ; all the criticism which had hitherto
guided and judged was thrown away like a worn-out coat ; we
considered ourselves freed from all evil, and fancied we might
yenture to look down with some compassion upon the other-

* " Bildende und Redende Kunst." The expression " speaking art " is
used to produce a corresponding antithesis, though " belles lettres" would
be the ordinary rendering. Tram.

LESSING S IAOCOON. 271

wise so splendid sixteenth century, when, in German sculptures
and poems, they knew how to represent life only under the
form of a fool hung with bells, death under the misformed
shape of a rattling skeleton, and the necessary and accidental
evils of the world under the image of the caricatured devil.

We were the most enchanted with the beauty of that
thought, that the ancients had recognised death as the brother
of sleep, and had represented them similar even to confusion,
as becomes Mena3chmi. Here we could first do high honour to
the triumph of the beautiful, and banish the ugly of every kind
into the low sphere of the ridiculous in the kingdom of art,
since it could not be utterly driven out of the world.

The splendour of such leading and fundamental concep
tions appears only to the mind upon which they exercise their
infinite activity appears only to the age in which, after
being longed for, they come forth at the right moment. Then
do those to whom such nourishment is offered, fondly occupy
whole periods of their lives with it, and rejoice in an over
abundant growth ; while men are not wanting, meanwhile,
who resist such an effect on the spot, nor others who after
wards haggle and cavil at its high meaning.

But as conception and perception mutually require each
other, I could not long work up these new thoughts, without
an infinite desire arising within me to see important works of
art, once and away, in great number. I therefore determined
to visit Dresden without delay. I was not in want of the
necessary cash ; but there were other difficulties to overcome,
which I needlessly increased still further, through my wliim-
sical disposition ; for I kept my purpose a secret from every
one, because I wished to contemplate the treasures of art
there quite after my own way, and, as I thought, to allow 110
one to perplex me. Besides tins, so simple a matter became
more complicated by still another eccentricity.

We have weaknesses, both by birth and by education, and it
may be questioned which of the two gives us the most trouble.
Willingly as I made myself familiar with all sorts of condi
tions, and many as had been my inducements to do so, an ex
cessive aversion from all inns had nevertheless been instilled
into me by my father. This feeling had rooted itself firmly
in him on his travels through Italy, France, and Germany.
Although he seldom spoke in images, and only called them to

272 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

his aid when he was very cheerful, yet he used often to repeat
that he always fancied he saw a great cobweb spun across the
gate of an inn, so ingeniously that the insects could indeed fly
in, but that even the privileged wasps could not fly out again
unplucked. It seemed to him something horrible, that one
should be obliged to pay immoderately for renouncing one s
habits and all that was dear to one in life, and living after the
manner of publicans and waiters. He praised the hospitality
of the olden time, and reluctantly as he otherwise endured
even anything unusual in the house, he yet practised hospitality,
especially towards artists and virtuosi ; thus gossip Seekatz
always had his quarters with us, and Abel, the last musician
who handled the viol di gamba with success and applause, was
well received and entertained. With such youthful impres
sions, which nothing had as yet rubbed off, how could I have
resolved to set foot in an inn in a strange city ? Nothing
would have been easier than to find quarters with good
friends. Hofrath Krebel, Assessor Hermann, and others had
often spoken to me about it already ; but even to these my
trip was to remain a secret, and I hit upon a most singular
notion. My next-room neighbour, the industrious theologian,
whose eyes unfortunately constantly grew weaker and weaker,
had a relation in Dresden, a shoemaker, with whom from
time to time he corresponded. For a long while already this
man had been highly remarkable to me on account of his ex
pressions, and the arrival of one of his letters was always
celebrated by us as a holiday. The mode in which he replied
to the complaints of his cousin, who feared blindness, was
quite peculiar ; for he did not trouble himself about grounds
of consolation, which are always hard to find ; but the
cheerful way in which he looked upon his own narrow, poor,
toilsome life, the merriment which he drew even from evils
and inconveniences, the indestructible conviction that life is
in itself and on its own account a blessing, communicated itse]f
to him who read the letter, and, for the moment at least, trans
posed him into a like mood. Enthusiastic as I was, I had often
sent my compliments to this man, extolled his happy natural
gift, and expressed the wish to become acquainted with him.
All this being premised, nothing seemed to me more natural
than to seek him out, to converse with him, nay, to lodge
with him, and to learn to know him intimately. My good

THE DRESDEN SHOEMAKER. 273

Candidate, after some opposition, gave me a letter, written
with difficulty, to carry with me, and, full of longing, I went
to Dresden in the yellow coach, with my matriculation in my
pocket.

I looked for my shoemaker, and soon found him in the
suburb (Vorstadt]. He received me in a friendly manner,
sitting upon his stool, and said smiling, after he had read the
letter, " I see from this, young Sir, that you are a whimsical
Christian." "How so, master? 7 replied L "No offence
meant by whimsical, he continued ; " one calls every one so
who is not consistent with himself; and I call you a whimsical
Christian because you acknowledge yourself a follower of our
Lord in one thing, but not in another." On my requesting
him to enlighten me, he said further : "It seems that your
view is to announce glad tidings to the poor and lowly ; that
is good, and this imitation of the Lord is praiseworthy ; but
you should reflect besides, that he rather sat down to table
with prosperous rich folks, where there was good fare, and
that he himself did not despise the sweet scent of the oint
ment, of which you will find the opposite in my house."

This pleasant beginning put me at once in good-humour,
and we rallied each other for some time. His wife stood
doubting how she should board and lodge such a guest. On
this point, too, he had notions which referred not only
to the Bible, but also to Gottfried s Chronicle, and when we
were agreed that I was to stay, I gave my purse, such as it
was, into the charge of my hostess, and requested her to fur
nish herself from it, if anything should be necessary. When
he would have declined it, and somewhat waggishly gave me
to understand that he was not so burnt out as he might
appear, I disarmed him by saying, "Even if it were only
to change water into wine, such a well-tried domestic re
source would not be out of place, since there are no more
miracles now-a-days." The hostess seemed to find iny con
duct less and less strange ; we had soon accommodated our
selves to each other, and spent a very merry evening. He
remained always the same, because all flowed from one source.
His peculiarity was an apt common-sense, which rested upon
a cheerful disposition, and took delight in uniform habitual
activity. That he should labour incessantly was his first and
most necessary care, that he regarded everything else as

T

274 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

secondary, this kept up his comfortable state of mind ; and
I must reckon him before many others in the class of those
who are called practical unconscious philosophers.*

The hour when the gallery was to open, after being expected
with impatience, appeared. I entered into this sanctuary,
and my astonishment surpassed every conception which I had
formed. This saloon, returning into itself, in which splendour
and neatness reigned, together with the deepest stillness,
the dazzling frames, all nearer to the time in which they had
been gilded, the floor polished with bees -wax, the spaces
more trodden by spectators than used by copyists, imparted
a feeling of solemnity, unique of its kind, which so much the
more resembled the sensation with which one treads a church,
as the adornments of so many a temple, the objects of so much
adoration, seemed here again set up only for the sacred pur
poses of art. I readily put up with the cursory description
of my conductor ; only I requested that I might be allowed
to remain in the outer gallery. Here, to my comfort, I found
myself really at home. I had already seen the works of seve
ral artists, others I knew from engravings, others by name.
I did not conceal this, and I thus inspired my conductor with
some confidence ; nay, the rapture which I expressed at pieces
where the pencil had gained the victory over nature, delighted
him; for such were the things which principally attracted
me, where the comparison with known nature must necessa
rily enhance the value of art.

When I again entered my shoemaker s house to dinner, I
scarcely believed my eyes ; for I fancied I saw before me a
picture by Ostade, so perfect that one could only hang it up
in the gallery. The position, of the objects, the light, the
shadow, the brownish tint of the whole, the magical keeping,
everything that one admires in those pictures, I here saw in
reality. It was the first time that I perceived, in so high a
degree, the faculty which I afterwards exercised with more
consciousness, namely, that of seeing nature with the eyes of
this or that artist, to whose works I had devoted a particular
attention. This faculty has afforded me much enjoyment,

* " Pratische thilosophen, bewusstlose Weltweisen." It is impossible
to give two substantives, as in the original, since this is effected by using
first the word of Greek, then the word of German origin, whereas we
have but one. Trans.

COUNSELLOR HIEDEL. 275

but has also increased the desire zealously to abandon myself,
from time to time, to the exercise of a talent which nature
seemed to have denied me.

I visited the gallery at all permitted hours, and continued
to express too loudly my ecstacy at many precious works.
I thus frustrated my laudable purpose of remaining unknown
and unnoticed ; and whereas only one of the under-keepers
had hitherto had intercourse with me, the gallery-inspector,
Counsellor Kiedel, now also took notice of me, and made me
attentive to many things which seemed chiefly to lie within
my sphere. I found this excellent man just as active and
obliging then, as when I afterwards saw him during many
years, and as he shows himself to this day. His image has,
for me, interwoven itself so closely with those treasures of
art, that I can never regard the two apart ; the remembrance
of him has even accompanied me to Italy, where, in many
large and rich collections, his presence would have been very
desirable.

Since, even with strangers and unknown persons, one cannot
gaze on such works silently and without mutual sympathy, nay,
since the first sight of them is rather adapted, in the highest
degree, to open hearts towards each other, I fell there into
conversation with a young man who seemed to be residing at
Dresden, and to belong to some embassy. He invited me to
come in the evening to an inn where a lively company met,
and where, by each one s paying a moderate reckoning, one
could pass some very pleasant hours.

I repaired thither, but did not find the company ; and the
waiter somewhat surprised me when he delivered the compli
ments of the gentleman who made the appointment with me,
by which the latter sent an excuse for coming somewhat later,
with the addition that I must not take offence at anything
that might occur ; also, that I should have nothing to pay
beyond my own score. I knew not what to make of these
words ; my father s cobwebs came into my head, and I com
posed myself to await whatever might befall. The company
assembled, my acquaintance introduced me, and I could not
be attentive long, without discovering that they were aiming
at the mystification of a young man, who showed himself
a novice by an obstreperous, assuming deportment ; I there
fore kept very much on my guard, so that they might not

T 2

276 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

find delight in selecting me as his fellow. At table this
intention became more apparent to everybody, except to
himself. They drank deeper and deeper, and when a vivat
in honour of sweethearts was started, every one solemnly
swore that there should never be another out of those glasses ;
they flung them behind them ; and this was the signal for
far greater follies. At last I withdrew, very quietly, and the
waiter, while demanding quite a moderate reckoning, re
quested me to come again, as they did not go on so wildly
every evening. I was far from my lodgings, and it was near
midnight when I reached them. I found the doors unlocked,
everybody was in bed, and one lamp illuminated the narrow
domestic household, where my eye, more and more practised,
immediately perceived the finest picture by Schalken, from
which I could not tear myself away, so that it banished from
me all sleep.

The few days of my residence in Dresden were solely de
voted to the picture-gallery. The antiquities still stood in
the pavilion of the great garden, but I declined seeing them,
as well as all the other precious things which Dresden con
tained ; being but too full of the conviction that, even in and
about the collection of paintings much must yet remain hid
den from me. Thus I took the excellence of the Italian mas
ters more on trust and in faith, than by pretending to any
insight into them. What I could not look upon as nature,
put in the place of nature, and compare with a known object,
was without effect upon me. It is the material impression
which makes the beginning even to every more elevated
amateurship.

With my shoemaker I lived on very good terms. He was
witty and varied enough, and we often outvied each other in
merry conceits ; nevertheless, a man who thinks himself happy,
and desires others to do the same, makes us discontented;
indeed, the repetition of such sentiments produces weariness.
I found myself well occupied, entertained, excited, but
by no means happy ; and the shoes from his last would not
fit me. We parted, however, as the best friends ; and even
my hostess, on my departure, was not dissatisfied with me.

Shortly before my departure, something else very plea
sant was to happen. By the mediation of that young man,
who wished to restore himself to some credit with me, I was

STATE OF DRESDEN. 277

introduced to the Director Von Hagedorn, who with great
kindness showed me his collection, and was highly delighted
with the enthusiasm of the young lover of art. He himself,
as becomes a connoisseur, was quite peculiarly in love with
the pictures which he possessed, and therefore seldom found
in others an interest such as he wished. It gave him parti
cular satisfaction that I was beyond measure pleased with a
picture by Schwanefeld, and that I was not tired of praising
and extolling it in every single part ; for landscapes, which
again reminded me of the beautiful clear sky under which I
had grown up of the vegetable luxuriance of those spots
and of whatever other favours a warmer climate offers to man,
were just the things that most affected me in the imitation,
while they awakened in me a longing remembrance.

These precious experiences, preparing both mind and sense
for true art, were nevertheless interrupted and damped by one
of the most melancholy sights, by the destroyed and desolate
condition of so many of the streets of Dresden through which
I took my way. The Mohrenstrasse in ruins, and the Church
(Kreuzkirche) of the Cross, with its shattered tower, impressed
themselves deeply upon me, and still stand like a gloomy spot
in my imagination. From the cupola of the Lady Church
(Fraukirche) I saw these pitiable ruins scattered about amid
the beautiful order of the city. Here the clerk commended
to me the art of the architect, who had already fitted up
church and cupola for so undesirable an event, and had built
them bomb-proof. The good sacristan then pointed out to me
the ruins on all sides, and said doubtfully and laconically,
" The enemy hath done this !

Now then, at last, though unwillingly, I returned back to
Leipzig, and found my friends, who were not used to such
digressions in me, in great astonishment, busied with all sorts
of conjectures as to what might be the import of my mysterious
journey. When upon this I told them my story quite in
order, they declared it was only a made-up tale, and saga
ciously tried to get at the bottom of the riddle which I had
been waggish enough to conceal under my shoemaker-
lodgings.

But could they have looked into my heart, they would have
discovered no waggery there ; for the truth of that old pro
verb, " He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow," had

278 TKUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

struck me with all its force ; and the more I struggled to
arrange and appropriate to myself what I had seen, the less
I succeeded. I had at last to content myself with a silent
after-operation. Ordinary life carried me away again, and I
at last felt myself quite comfortable when a friendly inter
course, improvement in branches of knowledge which were
suitable for me, and a certain practice of the hand, engaged
me in a manner less important, but more in accordance with
my strength.

Very pleasant and wholesome for me was the connexion
which I formed with the Breitkopf family. BERN HARD
CHRISTOPH BREITKOPF, the proper founder of the family,
who had come to Leipzig as a poor journeyman printer, was
yet living, and occupied the Golden Bear, a respectable house
in the new Newmarket, with Gottsched as an inmate. The
son, Johann Gottlob Immanuel, had already been long mar
ried, and was the father of many children. They thought
they could not spend a part of their considerable wealth better
than in putting up, opposite the first house, a large new one,
the Silver Bear, which they built higher and more extensive
than the original house itself. Just at the time of the build
ing I became acquainted with the family. The eldest son
might have been some years older than I was, a well-formed
young man, devoted to music, and practised to play skilfully
on both the piano and the violin. The second, a true, good soul,
likewise musical, enlivened the concerts which were often got
up, no less than his elder brother. They were both kindly dis
posed towards me, as well as their parents and sisters. I lent
them a helping-hand during the building up and the finishing,
the furnishing and the moving in, and thus formed a concep
tion of much that belongs to such an affair ; I also had an
opportunity of seeing Oeser s instructions put in practice. In
the new house, which I had thus seen erected, I was often a
visitor. We had many pursuits in common, and the eldest
son set some of my songs to music, which, when printed, bore
his name, but not mine, and have been little known. I have
selected the best, and inserted them among my other little
poems. The father had invented or perfected musical type.
lie permitted me the use of a fine library, which related
principally to the origin and progress of printing, and , thus I
gained some knowledge in that department. I found there,

TASTE FOR ETCHING. 279

moreover, good copper-plates, which exhibited antiquity, and
advanced on this side also my studies, which were still further
promoted by the circumstance that a considerable collection
of sulphurs had fallen into disorder in moving. I set them
right again as well as I could, and in doing so was compelled
to search Lippert and other authorities. A physician, Doctor
REICHEL, likewise an inmate of the house, I consulted from
time to time when I felt, if not sick, yet unwell, and thus we
led together a quiet, pleasant life.

I was now to enter into another sort of connexion in this
house ; for the copper-plate engraver, STOCK, had moved into
the attic. He was a native of Nuremberg, a very industrious
man, and, in his labours, precise and methodical. He also,
like Geyser, engraved, after Oeser s designs, larger and
smaller plates, which came more and more into vogue for
novels and poems. He etched very neatly, so that his work
came out of the aquafortis almost finished, and but little
touching-up remained to be done with the graver, which he
handled very well. He made an exact calculation how long
a plate would occupy him, and nothing could call him off
from his work if he had not completed the daily task he had
set himself. Thus he sat at a broad work-table, by the great
gable-window, in a very neat and orderly chamber, where his
wife and two daughters afforded him a domestic society. Of
these last, one is happily married, and the other is an excel
lent artist ; they have continued my friends all my life long.
I now divided my time between the upper and lower stories,
and attached myself much to the man, who, together with his
persevering industry, possessed an excellent humour, and was
good- nature itself.

The technical neatness of this branch of art charmed me,
and I associated myself with him to execute something of the
kind. My predilection was again directed towards landscape,
which, while it amused me in my solitary walks, seemed in
itself more attainable and more comprehensible for works of
art than the human figure, which discouraged me. Under his
directions, therefore, I etched, after THIELE and others,
various landscapes, which, although executed by an unprac
tised hand, produced some effect, and were well received.
The grounding (varnishing) of the plates, the putting in the
high lights, the etching, and at last the biting with aquafortis,

280 TETJTH AND POETEY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

gave me variety of occupation, and I soon got so far that I
could assist my master in many things. I did not lack the
attention necessary for the biting, and I seldom failed in any
thing ; but I had not care enough in guarding against the
deleterious vapours which are generated on such occasions,
and these may have contributed to the maladies which after
wards troubled me for a long time. Amidst such labours,
that everything might be tried, I often made wood-cuts also.
I prepared various little printing-blocks after French patterns,
and many of them were found fit for use.

Let me here make mention of some other men who resided
in Leipzig, or tarried there for a short time. WEISSE, the
custom-house collector of the district, in his best years, cheer
ful, friendly, and obliging, was lo^ed and esteemed by us.
We would not, indeed, allow his theatrical pieces to be models
throughout, but we suffered ourselves to be earned away by
them, and his operas, set to music by Hiller in an easy style,
gave us much pleasure. SCHIEBLEE, of Hamburgh, pursued
the same track ; and his Lisuard and Dariolette was likewise
favoured by us. ESCHENBUKG, a handsome young man, but
little older than we were, distinguished himself advantageously
among the students. ZACHAKI^E was pleased to spend some
weeks with us, and being introduced by his brother, dined
every day with us at the same table. We rightly deemed it
an honour to gratify our guest in return, by a few extra
dishes, a richer dessert, and choicer wine ; for, as a tall, well-
formed, comfortable man, he did not conceal his love of good
eating. LESSING came at a time when we had I know not
what in our heads ; it was our good pleasure to go nowhere
on his account, nay, even to avoid the places to which he
came, probably because we thought ourselves too good to
stand at a distance, and could make no pretension to obtain a
closer intimacy with him. This momentary absurdity, which,
however, is nothing rare in presuming and freakish youth,
proved, indeed, its own punishment in the sequel ; for I have
never set eyes on that eminent man, who was most highly
esteemed by me.

Notwithstanding all our efforts relative to art and anti
quity, we each of us always had WINCKELMANN before our
eyes, whose ability was acknowledged in his fatherland with
enthusiasm. We read his writings diligently, and tried to

DEATH OP WINCKELMANN. 281

make ourselves acquainted with the circumstances tinder
which he had written the first of them. We found in them
many views which seemed to have originated with Oeser,
even jests and whims after his fashion, and we did not rest
until we had formed some general conception of the occasion
on whicli these remarkable and sometimes so enigmatical
writings had arisen, though we were not very accurate ; for
youth likes better to be excited than instructed, and it was
not the last time that I was to be indebted to Sibylline leaves
for an important step in cultivation.

It was then a fine period in literature, when eminent men
were yet treated with respect, although the disputes of Klotz
and Lessing s controversies, already indicated that this epoch
would soon close. Winckelmann enjoyed an universal, unas-
sailed reverence, and it is known how sensitive he was with
regard to anything public which did not seem commensurate
with his deeply felt dignity. All the periodical publications
joined in his praise, the better class of tourists came back from
him instructed and enraptured, and the new views which he
gave extended themselves over science and life. The Prince
of Dessau had raised himself up to a similar degree of respect.
Young, well and nobly minded, he had on his travels and at
other times show r n himself truly desirable. Winckelmann was
in the highest degree delighted with him, and, whenever he
mentioned him, loaded him with the handsomest epithets.
The laying out of a park, then unique, the taste for architec
ture, which Von Erdmannsdorf supported by his activity, every
thing spoke in favour of a prince, who, while he was a shining
example for the rest, gave promise of a golden age for his
servants and subjects. We young people now learned with
rejoicings that Winckelmann would return back from Italy,
visit his princely friend, call on Oeser by the way, and so come
within our sphere of vision. We made no pretensions to speak
ing with him, but we hoped to see him ; and as at that time
of life one willingly changes every occasion into a party of
pleasure, we had already agreed upon a journey to Dessau,
where, in a beautiful spot, made glorious by art, in a land well
governed, and at the same time externally adorned, we thought
to lie in wait now here, now there, in order to see with our
own eyes these men so highly exalted above us walking about.
Oeser himself was quite elated if he only thought of it, and
the news of Winckelmann s death fell down into the midst

282 TRUTH AND POETHY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

of us like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. I still remember

%>

the place where I first heard it ; it was in the court of the
Pleissenburg, not far from the little gate through which one
used to go up to Oeser s residence. One of my fellow-pupils
met me and told me that Oeser was not to be seen, with the
reason why. This monstrous event * produced a monstrous
effect ; there was an universal mourning and lamentation, and
Winckelmann s untimely death sharpened the attention paid to
the value of his life. Perhaps, indeed, the effect of his activity,
if he had continued it to a more advanced age, would probably
not have been so great as it now necessarily became, when, like
many other extraordinary men, he was distinguished by fate
through a strange and calamitous end.

Now, while I was infinitely lamenting the death of Winckel-
mann, I did not think that I should soon find myself in the
case of being apprehensive about my own life : since, during
all these events, my bodily condition had not taken the most
favourable turn. I had already brought with me from home a
certain touch of hypochondria, which, in this new sedentary
and lounging life, was rather strengthened than diminished.
The pain in the breast, which I had felt from time to time
ever since the accident at Auerstadt, and which after a fall
from horseback had perceptibly increased, made me dejected.
By an unfortunate diet, I destroyed my powers of digestion ;
the heavy Merseburg beer clouded my brain ; the coffee, which
gave me a peculiarly melancholy tone, especially when taken
with milk after dinner, paralysed my bowels, and seemed com
pletely to suspend their functions, so that I experienced great
uneasiness on this account, yet without being able to embrace
a resolution for a more rational mode of life. My natural dis
position, supported by the sufficient strength of youth, fluctu
ated between the extremes of unrestrained gaiety and melan
choly discomfort. Besides this, the epoch of the cold water
bath, which was unconditionally recommended, had then begun.
One was to sleep on a hard bed, only slightly covered, by which
all the usual perspiration was suppressed. These and other
follies, in consequence of some misunderstood suggestions of
Bousseau, would, it was promised, bring us nearer to nature,
and deliver us from the corruption of morals. Now, all the
above, without discrimination, applied with injudicious alter
nation, were felt by many most injuriously, and I irritated my
* Winckelmann was assassinated. Trans.

DK. HEKMANN. 283

happy organization to such a degree, that the particular sys
tems contained within it necessarily broke out at last into a
conspiracy and revolution, in order to save the whole.

One night I awoke with a violent haemorrhage, and had just
strength and presence of mind enough to waken my next room
neighbour. Dr. Reichel was called in, who assisted me in the
most friendly manner, and thus for many days I wavered
betwixt life and death; and even the joy of a subsequent
improvement was embittered by the circumstance that, during
that eruption, a tumour had formed on the left side of the
neck, which, after the danger was past, they now first found
time to notice. Eecovery is, however, always pleasing and
delightful, even though it takes place slowly and painfully ;
and since nature had helped herself with me, I appeared now
to have become another man : for I had gained a greater
cheerfulness of mind than I had known for a long time, and I
was rejoiced to feel my inner self at liberty, although externally
a wearisome affliction threatened me.

But what particularly set me up at this time was, to see
how many eminent men had, undeservedly, given me their
affection. Undeservedly, I say : for there was not one among
them to whom I had not been troublesome through contradic
tory humours, not one whom I had not more than once wounded
by morbid absurdity, nay, whom I had not stubbornly avoided
for a long time, from a feeling of my own injustice. All this
was forgotten ; they treated me in the most affectionate man
ner, and sought, partly in my chamber, partly as soon as I
could leave it, to amuse and divert me. They drove out with
me, entertained me at their country-houses, and I seemed soon
to recover.

Among these friends I name first of all Doctor HEEMAKK,
then senator, afterwards burgomaster of Leipzig. He was
among those boarders with whom I had become acquainted
through Schlosser, the one with whom an always equable and
enduring connexion was maintained. One might well reckon
him the most industrious of his academical fellow- citizens.
He attended his lectures with the greatest regularity, and his
private industry remained always the same. Step by step,
without the slightest deviation, I saw him attain his Doctor s
degree, and then raise himself to the assessor ship, without any
thing of all this appearing arduous to him, or his having in the
least hurried or been too late with anything. The gentleness

284 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

of his character attracted me, his instructive conversation held
me fast; indeed I really believe that I took delight in his
methodical industry especially for this reason, because I
thought, by acknowledgments and high esteem, to appropriate
to myself at least a part of a merit of which I could by no
means boast.

He was just as regular in the exercise of his talents and the
enjoyment of his pleasures as in his business. He played the
harpsichord with great skill, drew from nature with feeling,
and stimulated me to do the same ; when, in his manner, on
grey paper and with black and white chalk, I used to copy
many a willow-plot on the Pleisse, and many a lovely nook of
those still waters, and at the same time longingly to indulge
in my fancies. He knew how to meet my sometimes comical
disposition with merry jests, and I remember many pleasant
hours which we spent together when he invited me, with mock
solemnity, to a tete-a-tete supper, where, with some dignity,
by the light of waxen candles, we ate what they call a council-
hare, which had run into his kitchen as a perquisite of his
place, and with many jokes in the manner of Behrisch, were
pleased to season the meat and heighten the spirit of the wine.
That this excellent man, who is still constantly labouring in
his respectable office, rendered me the most faithful assistance
during a disease, of which there was indeed a foreboding, but
which had not been foreseen in its full extent, that he bestowed
every leisure hour upon me, and by remembrances of former
happy times, contrived to brighten the gloomy moment, I still
acknowledge with the sincerest thanks, and rejoice that after
so long a time I can give them publicly.

Besides this worthy friend, GROENING of Bremen particu
larly interested himself in me. I had made his acquaintance
only a short time before, and first discovered his good feeling
towards me during my misfortune ; I felt the value of this
favour the more warmly, as no one is apt to seek a closer con
nexion with invalids. He spared nothing to give me pleasure,
to draw me away from musing on my situation, to hold up to
my view and promise me recovery and a wholesome activity in
the nearest future. How often have I been delighted, in the
progress of life, to hear how this excellent man has in the
weightiest affairs shown himself useful, and indeed a blessing
to his native city.

Here, too, it was that friend HORN uninterruptedly brought

285

into action his love and attention. The whole Breitkopf house
hold, the Stock family, and many others, treated me like a near
relative ; and thus, through the good- will of so many friendly
persons, the feeling of my situation was soothed in the tenderest
manner.

I must here, however, make particular mention of a man,
with whom I first became acquainted at this time, and whose
instructive conversation so far blinded me to the miserable
state in which I was, that I actually forgot it. This was LAN-
GER, afterwards librarian at Wolfenbuttel. Eminently learned
and instructed, he was delighted at my voracious hunger after
knowledge, which, with the irritability of sickness, now broke
out into a perfect fever. He tried to calm me by perspicuous
summaries, and I have been very much indebted to his acquaint
ance, short as it was, since he understood how to guide me in
various ways, and made me attentive whither I had to direct
myself at the present moment. I found myself the more
obliged to this important man, as my intercourse exposed him
to some danger : for when, after Behrisch, he got the situation
of tutor to the young Count Lindenau, the father made it an
express condition with the new Mentor that he should have
no intercourse with me. Curious to become acquainted with
such a dangerous subject, he contrived to see me frequently
by assignation. I soon gained his affection, and he, more pru
dent than Behrisch, called for me by night, we went walking
together, conversed on interesting things, and at last I accom
panied him to the very door of his mistress ; for even this ex-
ternally severe, earnest, scientific man had not kept free from
the toils of a very amiable lady.

German literature, and with it my own poetical undertak
ings, had already for some time become strange to me, and as
is usually the result in such an auto-didactic circular course, I
turned back towards the beloved ancients who still constantly,
like distant blue mountains, distinct in their outlines and
masses, but indiscernible in their parts and internal relations,
bounded the horizon of my intellectual wishes. I made an
exchange with Langer, in which I at last played the part of
Glaucus and Diomedes ; I gave up to him whole baskets of
German poets and critics, and received in return a number of
Greek authors, the reading of whom was to give me recreation,
even during the most tedious convalescence.

286 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

The confidence which new friends repose in each other
usually developes itself by degrees. Common occupation and
tastes are the first things in which a mutual harmony shows
itself ; then the mutual communication generally extends over
past and present passions, especially over love affairs ; but it is
a lower depth which opens itself, if the connexion is to be
perfected ; the religious sentiments, the affairs of the heart
which relate to the imperishable, are the things which both
establish the foundation and adorn the summit of a friendship.

The Christian religion was wavering between its own histo
rically positive base and a pure deism, w r hich, grounded on
morality, was in its turn to lay the foundation of ethics. The
diversity of characters and modes of thought here showed itself
in infinite gradations, especially when a leading difference was
brought into play by the question arising as to how great a share
the reason, and how great a share the feelings could and should
bear a part in such convictions. The most lively and inge
nious men showed themselves, in this instance, like butterflies,
who, quite regardless of their caterpillar state, throw away the
chrysalis veil in which they have grown up to their organic
perfection. Others, more honestly and modestly minded, might
be compared to the flowers, which, although they unfold them
selves to the most beautiful bloom, yet do not tear themselves
from the root, from the mother stalk, nay, rather through this
family connexion first bring the desired fruit to maturity. Of
this latter class was Langer ; for, although a learned man, and
eminently versed in books, he would yet give the Bible a pecu
liar pre-eminence over the other writings which have come
down to us, and regard it as a document from which alone we
could prove our moral and spiritual pedigree. He belonged
to those who cannot conceive an immediate connexion with
the great God of the universe ; a mediation, therefore, was
necessary for him, an analogy to which he thought he could
find everywhere, in earthly and heavenly things. His discourse,
which was pleasing and consistent, easily found a hearing with
a young man who, separated from worlcUy things by an annoy
ing illness, found it highly desirable to turn the activity of his
mind towards the heavenly. Grounded as I was in the Bible,
all that was wanted was merely the faith to explain as divine
that which I had hitherto esteemed in human fashion, a be
lief, the easier for me, since I had made my first acquaintance

EIOT AT LEIPZIG. 287

with, that book as a divine one. To a sufferer, to one who felt
himself delicate, nay, weak, the gospel was therefore welcome,
and even though Langer, with all his faith, was at the same
time a very sensible man, and firmly maintained that one
should not let the feelings prevail, should not let oneself be led
astray into mysticism, I could not have managed to occupy
myself with the New Testament without feeling and enthusiasm.

In such conversations we spent much time, and he grew
so fond of me as an honest and well-prepared proselyte, that
he did not scruple to sacrifice to me many of the hours destined
for his fair one, and even to run the risk of being betrayed and
looked upon unfavourably by his patron, like Behrisch. I re
turned his affection in the most grateful manner ; and if what
he did for me would have been of value at any time, I could
not but regard it, in my present condition, as worthy of the
highest honour.

But as when the concert of our souls is most spiritually
attuned, the rude shrieking tones of the world usually break in
most violently and boisterously, and the contrast which has
gone on exercising a secret control affects us so much the more
sensibly when it comes forward all at once ; thus was I not to
be dismissed from the peripatetic school of my Langer without
having first witnessed an event, strange at least for Leipzig,
namely, a tumult which the students excited, and that on the
following pretence. Some young people had quarrelled with
the city soldiers, and the affair had not gone off without vio
lence. Many of the students combined together to revenge
the injuries inflicted. The soldiers resisted stubbornly, and
the advantage was not on the side of the very discontented
academical citizens. It was now said that respectable persons
had commended and rewarded the conquerors for their valiant
resistance, and by this, the youthful feeling of honour and re
venge was mightily excited. It was publicly said that on the
next evening windows would be broken in, and some friends
who brought me word that this was actually taking place, were
obliged to carry me there, for youth and the multitude are
always attracted by danger and tumult. There really began
a strange spectacle. The otherwise open street was lined on
one side with men who, quite quiet, without noise or move
ment, were waiting to see what would happen. About a dozen
young fellows were walking singly up and down the empty

288 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

side-walk, with the greatest apparent composure, but as soon
as they came opposite the marked house, they threw stones at
the windows as they passed by, and this repeatedly as they re
turned backwards and forwards, as long as the panes would
rattle. Just as quietly as this was done, all at last dispersed,
and the affair had no further consequences.

With such a ringing echo of university exploits, I left Leip
zig in the September of 1 768, in a comfortable hired coach,
and in the company of some respectable persons of my acquaint
ance. In the neighbourhood of Auerstadt I thought of that
previous accident ; but I could not forebode that which many
years afterwards would threaten me from thence with still
greater danger ; just as little as in Gotha, where we had the
castle shown to us, I could think in the great hall adorned with
stucco figures, that so much favour and affection would befall
me on that very spot.

The nearer I approached my native city, the more I recalled
to myself doubtingly the circumstances, prospects, and hopes
with which I had left home, and it was a very disheartening
feeling that I now returned, as it were, like one shipwrecked.
Yet since I had not very much with which to reproach myself,
I contrived to compose myself tolerably well ; however, the
welcome was not without emotion. The great vivacity of my
nature, excited and heightened by sickness, caused an impas
sioned scene. I might have looked worse than I myself knew,
since for a long time I had not consulted a looking-glass ; and
who does not become used to himself? Enough, they silently
resolved to communicate many things to me only by degrees,
and before all things to let me have some repose both bodily
and mental.

My sister immediately associated herself with me, and as
previously, from her letters, so I could now more in detail
and accurately understand the circumstances and situation of
the family. My father had, after my departure, concentrated
all his didactic taste upon my sister, and in a house completely
shut up, rendered secure by peace, and even cleared of lodgers,
he had cut off from her almost every means of looking about
and recreating herself abroad. She had by turns to pursue
and work at French, Italian, and English, besides which he
compelled her to practise a great part of the day 011 the harp
sichord. Her writing also could not be neglected, and I had

STATE OF GOETHE S FAMILY. 289

already remarked that he had directed her correspondence with
me, and had let his doctrines come to me through her pen.
My sister was and still continued to be an undefinable being-,
the most singular mixture of strength and weakness, of stub
bornness and pliability, which qualities operated now united,
now isolated by will and inclination. Thus she had, in a man
lier which seemed to me fearful, turned the hardness of her
character against her father, whom she did not forgive for hav
ing hindered or embittered to her so many innocent joys for
these three years, and of his good and excellent qualities she
would not acknowledge even one. She did all that he com
manded and arranged, but in the most unamiable manner in.
the world. She did it in the established routine, but nothing
more and nothing less. From love or a desire to please she
accommodated herself to nothing, so that this was one of the
first things ahout which my mother complained in a private
conversation with me. But since love was as essential to my
sister as to any human being, she turned her affection wholly
on me. Her care in nursing and entertaining me absorbed all
her time ; her female companions, who were swayed by her
without her intending it, had likewise to contrive all sorts of
things to be pleasing and consolatory to me. She was inven
tive in cheering me up, and even developed some germs of
comical humour which I had never known in her, and which
became her very well. There soon arose between us a coterie-
language, by which we could converse before all people without
their understanding us, and she often used this gibberish with
great pertness in the presence of our parents.

My father was personally in tolerable comfort. He was in
good health, spent a great part of the day in the instruction of
my sister, wrote at the description of his travels, and was longer
in tuning his lute than in playing on it. He concealed at the
same time, as well as he could, his vexation at finding instead
of a stout active son, who ought now to take his degree and
run through the prescribed course of life, an invalid who seemed
to suffer still more in soul than in body. He did not conceal
his wish that they would be expeditious with my cure ; but
one was forced to be specially on one s guard in his presence
against hypochondriacal expressions, because he could then be
come passionate and bitter.

My mother, by nature very lively and cheerful, spent under

u

290 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

these circumstances very tedious days. Her little housekeep
ing was soon provided for. The mind of the good lady, inter
nally never unoccupied, wished to find an interest in something,
and that which was nearest at hand was religion, which she
embraced the more fondly as her most eminent female friends
were cultivated and hearty worshippers of God. At the head
of these stood Fraulein von Klettenberg. She is the same
person from whose conversations and letters arose the " Con
fessions of a Beautiful Soul," which are found inserted in
" Wilhelm Meister." She was slenderly formed, of the middle
size ; a hearty natural demeanour had been made still more
pleasing by the manners of the world and the court. Her very
neat attire reminded of the dress of the Hernhutt ladies.
Her serenity and peace of mind never left her. She looked
upon her sickness as a necessary element of her transient
earthly existence ; she suffered with the greatest patience, and,
in painless intervals, was lively and talkative. Her favourite,
nay, indeed, perhaps her only conversation, was on the moral
experiences which a man who observes himself can form in
himself; to which was added the religious views which, in a
very graceful manner, nay, with genius, came under her con
sideration as natural and supernatural. It scarcely needs more
to recall back to the friends of such representations, that com
plete delineation composed from the very depths of her soul.
Owing to the very peculiar course which she had taken from her
youth upwards, the distinguished rank in which she had been
born and educated, and the liveliness and originality of her
mind, she did not agree very well with the other ladies who had
set out on the same road to salvation. Frau Griesbach, the chief
of them, seemed too severe, too dry, too learned ; she knew,
thought, comprehended more than the others, who contented
themselves with the development of their feelings, and she was
therefore burdensome to them, because every one neither could
nor would carry with her so great an apparatus on the road to
bliss. But for this reason the most of them were indeed some
what monotonous, since they confined themselves to a certain
terminology which might well have been compared to that of
the later sentimentalists. Fraulein von Klettenberg led her
way between both extremes, and seemed, with some self-com
placency, to see her own reflection in the image of Count Zin-
zendorf, whose opinions and actions bore witness to a higher

PRAETJLEIN TON KLETTENBERG. 291

birth and more distinguished rank. Now she found in me what
she needed, a lively young creature, striving after an unknown
happiness, who, although he could not think himself an extra
ordinary sinner, yet found himself in no comfortable condition,
and was perfectly healthy neither in body nor soul. She was
delighted with what nature had given me, as well as with
much which I had gained for myself. And if she conceded to
me many advantages, this was by no means humiliating to her :
for, in the first place, she never thought of emulating one of
the male, sex, and secondly, she believed that in regard to reli
gious culture she was very much in advance of me. My dis
quiet, my impatience, my striving, my seeking, investigating,
musing, and wavering, she interpreted in her own way, and
did not conceal from me her conviction, but assured me in plain
terms that all this proceeded from my having no reconciled God.
Now I had believed from my youth upwards that I stood on
very good terms with my God, nay, I even fancied to myself,
according to various experiences, that He might even be in
arrears to me ; and I was daring enough to think that I had
something to forgive Him. This presumption was grounded on
my infinite good- will, to w r hich, as it seemed to me, He should
have given better assistance. It may be imagined how often.
I and my female friend fell into disputes on this subject, which,
however, always terminated in the friendliest way, and often,
like my conversations with the old rector, with the remark :
" that I was a foolish fellow, for whom many allowances must
be made."

I was much troubled with the tumour in my neck, as the
physician and surgeon wished first to disperse this excrescence,
afterwards, as they said, to draw it to a head, and at last
thought good to open it ; so for a long time I had to suffer
more from inconvenience than pain, although towards the end
of the cure, the continual touching with lunar caustic and other
corrosive substances could not but give me very disagreeable
prospects for every fresh day. The physician and surgeon
both belonged to the Pious Separatists, although both were of
highly different natural characters. The surgeon, a slender,
well-built man, of easy and skilful hand, was unfortunately
somewhat hectic, but endured his condition with truly Chris
tian patience, and did not suffer his disease to perplex him. in
his profession. The physician was an inexplicable, sly-look-

292 TKTJTH AND POETUY ; PHOM MY OWN LIFE.

ing, friendly-speaking, and, moreover, abstruse man, who had
gained himself quite a peculiar confidence in the pious circle.
Active and attentive, he was consoling to the sick ; but, more
than by all this, he extended his practice by the gift of show
ing in the background some mysterious medicines prepared by
himself, of which no one could speak, since, with us, the phy
sicians were strictly prohibited from making up their own pre
scriptions. With certain powders, which may have been some
kind of digestive, he was not so reserved ; but that powerful
salt, which could only be applied in the greatest danger, was
only mentioned among believers, although no one had yet seen
it or traced its effects. To excite and strengthen our faith in
the possibility of such an universal remedy, the physician,,
wherever he found any susceptibility, had recommended cer
tain chemico-alchemical books to his patients, and given them
to understand that by one s own study of them, one could well
attain this treasure for oneself; which was the more neces
sary, as the mode of its preparation, both for physical and
especially for moral reasons, could not be well communicated ;
nay, that in order to comprehend, produce and use this great
work, one must know the secrets of nature in connexion, since it
was not a particular but an universal remedy, and could indeed
be produced under different forms and shapes. My friend had
listened to these enticing words. The health of the body was too
nearly allied to the health of the soul ; and could a greater
benefit, a greater mercy be shown towards others, than by appro
priating to oneself a remedy by which so many sufferings could
be assuaged, so many a danger averted ? She had already secretly
studied Welling s Opus mago-cabalisticum, for which, however,
as the author himself immediately darkens and removes the
light he imparts, she was looking about for a friend who, in this
alternation of glare and gloom, might bear her company. It
needed small incitement to inoculate me also with this disease.
I procured the work, which, like all writings of this kind,
-could trace its pedigree in a direct line up to the Neo-Platonic
school. My chief labour in this book was most accurately to
notice the dark hints by which the author refers from one pas-
sage to another, and thus promises to reveal what he conceals;
and to mark down on the margin the number of the page where
such passages as should explain each other were to be found.
But even thus the book still remained dark and unintelligible

ALCHEMICAL TUHN. 293

enough ; except that one at last studied oneself into a cer
tain terminology, and, by using it according to one s own fancy,
believed that one was at any rate saying, if not understanding,
something. The before-mentioned work makes very honourable
mention of its predecessors, and we were incited to investigate
those original sources themselves. We turned to the works of
Theophrastus, Paracelsus and Basilius Valentinus ; as well as
to those of Helmont, Starkey, and others whose doctrines and
directions, resting more or less on nature and imagination, we
endeavoured to see into and follow out. I was particularly
pleased with the Aurea Catena Homeri, in which nature,
though perhaps in fantastical fashion, is represented in a beau
tiful combination ; and thus sometimes by ourselves, sometimes
together, we employed much time on these singularities, and
spent the evenings of a long winter, during which I was com
pelled to keep my chamber, very agreeably, since we three,
my mother being included, were more delighted with these
secrets than we could have been at their elucidation.

In the meantime a very severe trial was preparing for me ;
for a disturbed, and one might even say, for certain moments,
destroyed digestion, excited such symptoms that, in great tri
bulation, I thought I should lose my life, and none of the
remedies applied would produce any further effect. In this
last extremity, my distressed mother constrained the embar
rassed physician with the greatest vehemence to come out
with his universal medicine ; after a long refusal, he hastened
home at the dead of night, and returned with a little glass of
crystallized dry salt, which was dissolved in water, and swal
lowed by the patient. It had a decidedly alkaline taste. The
salt was scarcely taken than my situation appeared relieved,
and from that moment the disease took a turn which, by
degrees, led to my recovery. I cannot say how far this
strengthened and enhanced our faith in our physician, and
our industry to make ourselves partakers of such a treasure.

My friend, who, without parents or brothers and sisters, lived
in a large, well-situated house, had already before this begun
to purchase herself a little air-furnace, alembics and retorts of
moderate size ; and, in accordance with the hints of Welling,
and the significant signs of our physician and master, ope
rated principally on iron, in which the most healing powers
were said to be concealed, if one onlv knew how to open it.

294 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

And as the volatile salt which must be produced made a great
figure in all the writings with which we were acquainted, so,
for these operations, alkalies also were required, which, while
they flowed away into the air, were to unite with these super-
terrestrial things, and at last produce per se, a mysterious and
excellent neutral salt.

Scarcely was I in some measure recovered, and, favoured
by the change in the season, able once more to occupy my old
gable- chamber, than I also began to provide myself with a
little apparatus. A small air-furnace with a sand-bath was
prepared, and I very soon learned to change the glass alem
bics, with a piece of burning match-cord, into vessels in which
the different mixtures were to be evaporated. Now were
the strange ingredients of the macrocosm and microcosm
handled in an odd, mysterious manner, and before all I at
tempted to produce neutral salts in an unheard-of way. But
what busied me most, for a long time, was the so-called
Liquor Silicum (flint- juice), which is made by melting down
pure quartz-flint with a proper proportion of alkali, whence
results a transparent glass, which melts away on exposure to
the air, and exhibits a beautiful clear fluidity. Whoever
has once prepared this himself, and seen it with his own eyes,
will not blame those who believe in a maiden earth, and in
the possibility of producing further effects upon it by means
of it. I had acquired a peculiar dexterity in preparing this
Liquor Silicum ; the fine white flints which are found in the
Maine furnished a perfect material for it ; and I was not want
ing in the other requisites, nor in diligence. But I became
weary at last, because I could not but remark that the flinty
substance was by no means so closely combined with the salt
as I had philosophically imagined ; for it very easily separated
itself again, and this most beautiful mineral fluidity, which,
to my greatest astonishment, had sometimes appeared in the
form of an animal jelly, always deposited a powder, which I
was forced to pronounce the finest flint dust, but which gave
not the least sign of anything productive in its nature, from
which one could have hoped to see this maiden earth pass
into the maternal state.

Strange and unconnected as these operations were, I yet
learned many things from them. I paid strict attention to
all the crystallizations that might occur, and became acquainted

CHARACTER OF THE LETTERS 1FR01M LEIPZIG. 295

with, the external forms of many natural things, and inasmuch
as I well knew that in modern times chemical subjects Avere
treated more methodically, I wished to get a general con
ception of them, although, as a half-adept, I had very
little respect for the apothecaries and all those who operated
with common fire. However, the chemical Compendium of
Boerhaave attracted me powerfully, and led me on to read
several of his writings, in which (since, moreover, my tedious
illness had inclined me towards medical subjects,) I found
an inducement to study also the Aphorisms of this excellent
man, which I was glad to stamp upon my mind and in my
memory.

Another employment, somewhat more human, and by far
more useful for my cultivation at the moment, was reading
through the letters which I had w r ritten home from Leipzig.
Nothing reveals more with respect to ourselves, than when
we again see before us that which has proceeded from us years
before, so that we can now consider ourselves as an object of
contemplation. Only, in truth, I was then too young, and the
epoch which was represented by those papers was still too
near. As in our younger years we do not in. general easily
cast off a certain self-complacent conceit, this especially
shows itself in despising what we have been but a little time
before ; for while, indeed, we perceive, as we advance from
step to step, that those things which we regard as good and
excellent in ourselves and others do not stand their ground,
we think we can best extricate ourselves from this dilemma
by ourselves throwing away what we cannot preserve. So
it was with me also. For as in Leipzig I had gradually
learned to set little value on my childish labours, so now my
academical course seemed to me likewise of small account,
and I did not understand that for this very reason it must be
of great value to me, as it elevated me to a higher degree of
observation and insight. My father had carefully collected
and sewed together my letters to him, as well as those to my
sister ; nay, he had even corrected them with attention, and
improved the mistakes both in writing and in grammar.

What first struck me in these letters was their exterior ;
I was shocked at an incredible carelessness in the handwriting,
which extended from October, 1765, to the middle of the fol
lowing January. But, in the middle of March, there appeared

296 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

all at once a quite compressed, orderly hand, such as I used
formerly to employ in writing for a prize. My astonishment
at this resolved itself into gratitude towards the good Gellert,
who, as I now well remembered, whenever we handed in our
essays to him, represented to us, in his hearty tone of voice,
that it was our sacred duty to practise our hand as much,
nay, more than our style. He repeated this as often as any
scrawled, careless writing came into his sight ; on which occa
sion he often said that he would much like to make a good
hand of his pupils the principal end in his instructions ; the
more so as he had often remarked that a good hand led the
way to a good style.

I could further notice that the French and English passages
in my letters, although not free from blunders, were never
theless written with facility and freedom. These languages
I had likewise continued to practise in my correspondence
with George Schlosser, who was still at Treptow, and I had
remained in constant communication with him, by which I
was instructed in many secular affairs (for things did not
always turn out with him quite as he had hoped), and acquired
an ever increasing confidence in his earnest, noble way of
thinking.

Another consideration which could not escape me in read
ing through these letters, was that my good father, with the
best intentions, had done me a special mischief, and had led
me into that odd way of life into which I had fallen at last.
He bad, namely, repeatedly warned me against card-playing ;
but Frau Hofrath Bohme, as long as she lived, contrived to
persuade me, after her own fashion, by declaring that my
lather s warnings were only against the abuse. Now as I
likewise saw the advantages of it in society, I easily suffered
myself to be led by her. I had indeed the sense of play, but
not the spirit of play ; I learned all games easily and rapidly,
but I could never keep up the proper attention for a whole
evening. Therefore, when 1 began very well, I invariably
failed at the end, and made myself and others lose ; through
which I went off, always out of humour, either to the supper-
table or out of J;he company. Scarcely was Madame Bohme
dead, who, moreover, had no longer kept me in practice
during her tedious illness, than my father s doctrine gained
force - y I at first excused myself from the card- tables, and as

TASTE FOR DRAWING REVIVED. 29?

they now did not know what else to do with me, I became
even more of a burden to myself than to others, and declined
the imitations, which then became more rare, and at last
ceased altogether. Play, which is much to be recommended
to young people, especially to those who have a practical
sense, and wish to look about in the world for themselves,
could never, indeed, become a passion with me ; for I never
got further, though I might play as long as I w r ould. Had
any one given me a general view of the subject, and made me
observe how here certain signs and more or less of chance
form a kind of material on which judgment and activity
can exercise themselves had any one made me see several
games at once, I might sooner have become reconciled. With
all this, at the time of which I am now speaking, I had come
to the conviction, from the above considerations, that one
should not avoid social games, but should rather strive after a
certain dexterity in them. Time is infinitely long, and each /
day is a vessel into which a great deal may be poured, if one
will actually fill it up.

Thus variously was I occupied in my solitude ; the more
so, as the departed spirits of the different tastes to which
I had from time to time devoted myself, had an opportunity
to reappear. I thus went again to drawing ; and as I always
wished to labour directly from nature, or rather from reality,
I made a picture of my chamber, with its furniture, and the
persons who were in it ; and when this no more amused me,
I represented all sorts of town-tales, which were told at the
time, and in which interest was taken. All this was not
without character and a certain taste, but unfortunately the
figures lacked proportion and the proper vigour, besides which
the execution was extremely misty. My father, who continued
to take pleasure in these things, wished to have them more
distinct ; everything must be finished and properly completed.
He therefore had them mounted and surrounded with ruled
lines ; nay, the painter Morgenstern, his domestic artist the
same who afterwards made himself known, and indeed famous,
by his church- views had to insert the perspective lines of the
rooms and chambers, which then, indeed, stood in pretty harsh
contrast with those cloudy-looking figures. In this manner
he thought constantly to compel me to greater accuracy, and,
to please him, I drew various objects of still life, in which,

. s -/ j // ** /* cf I / i,

f+-ls U>*i&iLm M*> ) r\st-V(

J&S J* ^V -*/

298 TEUTH AND POETRY; FEOM MY OWX LIFE.

since the originals stood as patterns before me, I could work with
more distinctness and precision. At last I took it into my head
to etch once more. I had composed a tolerably interesting
landscape, and felt myself very happy when I could look out
for the old receipts given me by Stock, and could, at my work,
call to mind those pleasant times. I soon bit the plate and
had a proof taken. Unluckily the composition was without
light and shade, and I now tormented myself to bring in
both ; but as it was not quite clear to me what was really
the essential point, I could not finish. Up to this time I
had been quite well, after my own fashion; but now a
disease attacked me which had never troubled me before.
My throat, namely, had become completely sore, and particu
larly what is called the uvula very much inflamed; I could only
swallow with great pain, and the physicians did not know what
to make of it. They tormented me with gargles and hair-
pencils, but could not free me from my misery. At last it
struck me that I had not been careful enough in the biting
of my plates, and that by often and passionately repeating it,
I had contracted this disease, and had always revived and in
creased it. To the physicians this cause was plausible and very
soon certain on my leaving my etching and biting, and that so
much the more readily as the attempt had by no means turned
out well, and I had more reason to conceal than to exhibit my
labours ; for which I consoled myself the more easily, as I
very soon saw myself free from the troublesome disease.
Upon this I could not refrain from the reflection that my simi
lar occupations at Leipzig might have greatly contributed to
those diseases from which I. had suffered so much. It is, in
deed, a tedious, and withal a melancholy business to take too
much care of ourselves, and of what injures and benefits us ;
but there is no question but that with the wonderful idiosyn
crasy of human nature on the one side, and the infinite variety
in the mode of life and pleasure on the other, it is a wonder that
the human race has not worn itself out long ago. Human nature
appears to possess a peculiar kind of toughness and many-
sidedness, since it subdues everything which approaches it, or
which it takes into itself, and if it cannot assimilate, at least
makes it indifferent. In case of any great excess, indeed, it
must yield to the elements in spite of all resistance, as the
many endemic diseases and the effects of brandy convince

SURVEY OF WORKS WRITTEN AT LEIPZIG. 299

us. Could \ve, without being morbidly anxious, keep watch
over ourselves as to what operates favourably or unfavourably
upon us in our complicated civil and social life, and would we
leave off what is actually pleasant to us as an enjoyment, for
the sake of the evil consequences, we should thus know how
to remove with ease many an inconvenience which, with a
constitution otherwise sound, often troubles us more than even
a disease. Unfortunately, it is in dietetics as in morals;
we cannot see into a fault till we have got rid of it; by
which nothing is gained, for the next fault is not like the
preceding one, and therefore cannot be recognised under the
same form.

In reading through those letters which had been written
from Leipzig to my sister, this remark, among others, could
not escape me, that from the very beginning of my academical
course, I had esteemed myself very clever and wise, since, as
soon as I had learned anything, I put myself in the place of the
professor, and so became didactic on the spot. I was amused
to see how I had immediately applied to my sister whatever
Gellert had imparted or advised in his lectures, without seeing
that both in life and in books, a thing may be proper for a young
man without being suitable for a young lady ; and we both
together made merry over these mimicries. The poems also
which I had composed in Leipzig were already too poor for
me ; and they seemed to me cold, dry, and in respect to that
which was meant to express the state of the human heart or
mind, too superficial. This induced me, now that I was to
leave my father s house once more, and go to a second univer
sity, again to decree a great high auto dafe against rny labours.
Several commenced plays, some of which had reached the
third or the fourth act, while others had only the plot fully
made out, together with many other poems, letters, and
papers, were given over to the fire, and scarcely anything
was spared except the manuscript by Behrisch, Die Laune des
Verliebten and Die Mitschuldigen, which last I constantly went
on improving with peculiar affection, and, as the piece was
already complete, I again worked over the plot, to make it
more bustling and intelligible. Lessing, in the first two acts
of his Minna, had set up an unattainable model of the way
in which a drama should be developed, and nothing was to
me of greater concern than to enter thoroughly into his mind
and his views.

300 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

The recital of whatever moved, excited, and occupied me
at this time, is already circumstantial enough; but I must
nevertheless again recur to that interest with which super-
sensuous things had inspired me, of which I, once for all, so
far as might be possible, undertook to form some notion.

I experienced a great influence from an important work
that fell into my hands ; it was Arnold s History of the Church
and of Heretics. This man is not merely a reflective histo
rian, but at the same time pious and feeling. His sentiments
chimed in very well with mine, and what particularly de
lighted me in his work was, that I received a more favourable

i

notion of many heretics, who had been hitherto represented to
me as mad or impious. The spirit of contradiction and the love
of paradoxes stick fast in us all. I diligently studied the differ
ent opinions, and as I had often enough heard it said that
every man has his own religion at last, so nothing seemed
more natural to me than that I should form mine too, and this
I did with much satisfaction. The Neo-Platonism lay at the
foundation ; the hermetical, the mystical, the cabalistic, also
contributed their share, and thus I built for myself a world
that looked strange enough.

I could well represent to myself a Godhead which has gone
on producing itself from all eternity ; but as production can
not be conceived without multiplicity, so it must of neces
sity have immediately appeared to itself as a Second, which we
recognise under the name of the Son ; now these two must
continue the act of producing, and again appear to themselves
in a Third, which was just as substantial, living, and eternal as
the Whole. With these, however, the circle of the Godhead was
complete, and it would not have been possible for them to pro
duce another perfectly equal to them. But since, however, the
work of production always proceeded, they created a fourth,
which already fostered in himself a contradiction, inasmuch as
it was, like them, unlimited, and yet at the same time was to
be contained in them and bounded by them. Now this was
Lucifer, to whom the whole power of creation was committed
from this time, and from whom all other beings were to pro
ceed. He immediately displayed his infinite activity by creat
ing the whole body of angels ; all, again, after his own likeness,
unlimited, but contained in him and bounded by him. Sur
rounded by such a glory, he forgot his higher origin, and

CONCOCTION OF A SYSTEM OE THEOLOGY. 301

\

believed that lie could find himself in himself, and from this
first ingratitude sprang all that does not seem to us in accord
ance with the will and purposes of the Godhead. Now the
more he concentrated himself within himself, the more painful
must it have become to him, as well as to all the spirits whose
sweet uprising to their origin he had embittered. And so that
happened which is intimated to us under the form of the Fall
of the Angels. One part of them concentrated itself with Lu
cifer, the other turned itself again to its origin. From this
concentration of the whole creation, for it had proceeded out
of Lucifer, and was forced to follow him, sprang all that we
perceive under the form of matter, which we figure to ourselves
as heavy, solid, and dark, but which, since it is descended, if
not even immediately, yet by filiation, from the Divine Being,
is just as unlimited, powerful, and eternal as its sire and grand-
sire. Since now the whole mischief, if we may call it so,
merely arose through the one-sided direction of Lucifer, the
better half was indeed wanting to this creation ; for it pos
sessed all that is gained by concentration, while it lacked all
that can be effected by expansion alone ; and so the whole
creation could have destroyed itself by everlasting concentra
tion, could have annihilated itself with its father Lucifer, and
have lost all its claims to an equal eternity with the Godhead.
This condition the Elohim contemplated for a time, and they
had their choice, to wait for those .^Eons, in which the field
would again have become clear, and space would be left them
for a new creation ; or, if they w r ould, to seize upon that which
existed already, and supply the want, according to their own
eternity. Now they chose the latter, and by their mere will
supplied in an instant the whole want which the consequence
of Lucifer s undertaking drew after it. They gave to the
Eternal Being the faculty of expanding itself, of moving itself
towards them ; the peculiar pulse of life was again restored,
and Lucifer himself could not avoid its effects. This is the
epoch when that appeared which we know as light, and when
that began which we are accustomed to designate by the word
creation. Greatly now as this multiplied itself by progressive
degrees, through the continually working vital power of the
Elohim, still a being was wanting who might be able to restore
the original connexion with the Godhead ; and thus man was
produced, who in all things was to be similar, yea, equal to

302 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

the Godhead ; but thereby, in effect, found himself once more
in the situation of Lucifer, that of being at once unlimited and
bounded ; and, since this contradiction was to manifest itself in
him through all the categories of existence, and a perfect con
sciousness, as well as a decided will, was to accompany his
various conditions, it was to be foreseen that he must be at
the same time the most perfect and the most imperfect, the
most happy and the most unhappy creature. It was not long
before he, too, completely played the part of Lucifer. True
ingratitude is the separation from the benefactor, and thus
that fall was manifest for the second time, although the whole
creation is nothing and was nothing but a falling from and
returning to the original.

One easily sees how the Redemption is not only decreed
from eternity, but is considered as eternally necessary, nay,
that it must ever renew itself through the whole time of gene
ration* and existence. In this view of the subject, nothing is
more natural than for the Divinity himself to take the form of
man, which had already prepared itself as a veil, and to share
his fate for a short time, in order, by this assimilation, to
enhance his joys and alleviate his sorrows. The history of all
religions and philosophies teaches us that this great truth, indis
pensable for man, has been handed down by different nations,
in different times, in various ways, and even in strange fables
and images, in accordance with their limited knowledge ;
enough, if it only be acknowledged that we find ourselves in
a condition which, even if it seems to drag us down and oppress
us, yet gives us opportunity, nay, even makes it our duty, to
raise ourselves up, and to fulfil the purposes of the Godhead
in this manner, that while we are compelled on the one hand
to concentrate ourselves (uns zu verselbsten\ we, on the other
hand, do not omit to expand ourselves (uns zu entselbstigeri) in
regular pulsation.f

" Das Werden," the state of becoming, as distinguished from that of
being. The word, which is most useful to the Germans, can never be ren
dered properly in English. Trans.

f If we could make use of some such verbs as " inself " and " unself,"
we should more accurately render this passage. Trans.

NINTH BOOK.

" THE heart is often affected, moreover, to tlie advantage of
different, but especially of social and refined virtues, and the
more tender sentiments are excited and nnfolded in it. Many
touches, in particular, will impress themselves, which give
the young reader an insight into the more hidden corner
of the human heart and its passions a knowledge which is
more worth than all Latin and Greek, and of which Ovid was
a very excellent master. But yet it is not on this account
that the classic poets, and therefore Ovid, are placed in the
hands of youth. We have from the kind Creator a variety of
mental powers, to which we must not neglect giving their
proper culture in our earliest years, and which cannot be
cultivated either by logic or metaphysics, Latin or Greek.
We have an imagination, before which, since it should not
seize upon the very first conceptions that chance to present
themselves, we ought to place the fittest and most beautiful
images, and thus accustom and practise the mind to recognise
and love the beautiful everywhere, and in nature itself, under
its determined, true, and also in its finer features. A great
quantity of conceptions and general knowledge is necessary
to us, as well for the sciences as for daily life, which can be
learned out of no compendium. Our feelings, affections, and
passions should be advantageously developed and purified/

This important passage, which is found in the Universal
German Library r , was not the only one of its kind. Similar
principles and similar views manifested themselves in many
directions. They made upon us lively youths a very great
impression, which had the more decided effect, as it was
strengthened besides by Wieland s example ; for the works
of his second brilliant period clearly showed that he had
formed himself according to such maxims. And what more
could we desire ? Philosophy, with its abstruse questions,
was set aside the classic languages, the acquisition of which
is accompanied by so much drudgery, one saw thrust into the

304 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN I.TPE.

background the compendiurns, about the sufficiency of which
Hamlet had already whispered a doubtful word into the ear,
came more and more into suspicion. We were directed to
the contemplation of an active life, which we were so fond of
leading, and to the knowledge of the passions which we partly
felt, partly anticipated, in our own bosoms, and which, if
though they had been rebuked formerly, now appeared to us as
something important and dignified, because they were to be the
chief object of our studies, and the knowledge of them was ex
tolled as the most excellent means of cultivating our mental
powers. Besides this, such a mode of thought was quite in
accordance with my own conviction, nay, with my poetical
mode of treatment. I therefore, without opposition, after I
had thwarted so many good designs, and seen so many fair
hopes vanish, reconciled myself to rny father s intention of
sending me to Strasburg, where I was promised a cheerful,
gay life, while I should prosecute my studies, and at last take
my degree.

In spring I felt my health, but still more my youthful
spirits, again restored, and once more longed to be out of my
father s house, though with reasons far different from those on
the first time. The pretty chambers and spots where I had
suffered so much had become disagreeable to me, and with
2ny father himself there could be no pleasant relation. I
could not quite pardon him for having manifested more impa
tience than was reasonable at the relapse of my disease, and
at my tedious recovery ; nay, for having, instead of comfort
ing me by forbearance, frequently expressed himself in a cruel
manner, about that which lay in no man s hand, as if it de
pended only on the will. And he, too, was in various ways
Kurt and offended by me.

For young people bring back from the university general
ideas, which, indeed, is quite right and good; but because
they fancy themselves very wise in this, they apply them as
a standard to the objects that occur, which must then, for the
most part, lose by the comparison. Thus I had gained a general
notion of architecture, and of the arrangement and decoration
of houses, and imprudently, in conversation, had applied this
to our own house. My father had designed the whole arrange
ment of it, and carried through the building with great per
severance, and, considering that it was to be exclusively a

ARRIVAL AT STRASBURG. 305

residence for himself and his family, nothing could be objected
to it ; in this taste, also, very many of the houses in Frank
fort were built. An open staircase ran up through the house,
and touched upon large ante-rooms, which might very well
have been chambers themselves, as, indeed, we always passed
the fine season in them. But this pleasant, cheerful existence
for a single family this communication from above to below
became the greatest inconvenience as soon as several parties
occupied the house, as we had but too well experienced on
the occasion of the French quartering. For that painful
scene with the king s lieutenant would not have happened,
nay, my father would even have felt all those disagreeable
matters less, if, after the Leipzig fashion, our staircase had
run close along the side of the house, and a separate door had
been given to each story. This style of building I once
praised highly for its advantages, and showed my father the
possibility of altering his staircase also ; whereupon he fell
into an incredible passion, which was the more violent as, a
short time before, I had found fault with some scrolled look
ing-glass frames, and rejected certain Chinese hangings. A
scene ensued, which, indeed, was again hushed up and
smothered, but it hastened my journey to the beautiful Alsace,
which I- accomplished in the newly-contrived comfortable
diligence, without delay, and in a short time.

I alighted at the Ghost (Geisf) tavern, and hastened at
once to satisfy my most earnest desire and to approach the
minster, which had long since been pointed out to me by
fellow-travellers, and had been before my eyes for a great
distance. When I first perceived this Colossus through the
narrow lanes, and then stood too near before it, in the truly
confined little square, it made upon me an impression quite of
its own kind, which I, being unable to analyse it on the spot,
carried with me only indistinctly for this time, as I hastily
ascended the building, so as not to neglect the beautiful mo
ment of a high and cheerful sun, which was to disclose to nie
at once the broad, rich land.

And now, from the platform, I saw before me the beautiful
region in which I should for a long time live and reside : the
handsome city, the wide-spreading meadows around it, thickly
set and interwoven with magnificent trees, that striking
richness of vegetation which follows in the windings of the

X

306 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

Rhine, marks its banks, islands, and aits. Nor is the level
ground, stretching down from the south, and watered by
the Iller, less adorned with varied green. Even westward,
towards the mountains, there are many low grounds which
afford quite as charming a view of wood and meadow-growth,
just as the northern and more hilly part is intersected by in
numerable little brooks, which promote a rapid vegetation
everywhere. If one imagines, between these luxuriant out
stretched meads, between these joyously scattered groves, all
land adapted for tillage, excellently prepared, verdant, and
ripening, and the best and richest spots marked by hamlets
and farm-houses, and this great and immeasurable plain, pre
pared for man, like a new paradise, bounded far and near by
mountains partly cultivated, partly overgrown with woods;
one will then conceive the rapture with which I blessed my
fate, that it had destined me, for some time, so beautiful a
dwelling-place.

Such a fresh glance into a new land in which we are to abide
for a time, has still the peculiarity, both pleasant and fore
boding, that the whole lies before us like an unwritten tablet.
As yet no sorrows and joys which relate to ourselves are re
corded upon it ; this cheerful, varied, animated plain is still
mute for us ; the eye is only fixed on the objects so far as
they are intrinsically important, and neither affection nor pas
sion have especially to render prominent this or that spot.
But a presentiment of the future already disquiets the young
heart, arid an unsatisfied craving; secretly demands that which

v

is to come and may come, and which, at all events, whether for
good or ill, will imperceptibly assume the character of the
spot in which we find ourselves.

Descended from the height, I still tarried awhile before the
face of the venerable pile ; but what I could not quite clearly
make out, either the first or the following time, was that I
regarded this miracle as a monster, which must have terrified
me, if it had not, at the same time, appeared to me compre
hensible by its regularity, and even pleasing in its finish.
Yet I by no means busied myself with meditating on this con
tradiction, but suffered a monument so astonishing quietly to
work upon me by its presence.

I took small, but well-situated and pleasant lodgings, on
the summer side of the Fish-market, a fine long street, where

MEYEK. 307

the everlasting motion came to the assistance of every unoc
cupied moment. I then delivered my letters of introduction,
and found among my patrons a merchant who, with his family,
was devoted to those pious opinions sufficiently known to me,
although, as far as regarded external worship, he had not
.separated from the Church. He was a man of intelligence
withal, and by no means hypocritical in his actions. The
company of boarders which was recommended to me, and,
indeed, I to it, was very agreeable and entertaining. A couple
of old maids had long kept up this boarding-house with regu
larity and good success ; there might have been about ten
persons, older and younger. Of these latter, one named
MEYEH, a native of Lindau, is most vividly present to me.
From his form and face he might have been considered one of
the handsomest of men, if, at the same time, he had not had
something of the sloven in his whole appearance. In like
manner his splendid natural talents were deformed by an in
credible levity, and his excellent temper by an unbounded
dissoluteness. He had an open, joyous face, more round than
oval; the organs of the senses, the eyes, nose, mouth, and
ears, could be called rich ; they showed a decided fulness,
without being too large. The mouth was particularly charm
ing, from the curling lips, and his whole physiognomy had the
peculiar expression of a rake, from the circumstance that his
eyebrows met across his nose, which, in a handsome face,
always produces a pleasant expression of sensuality. By his
jovialness, sincerity, and good-nature, he made himself be
loved by all. His memory was incredible ; attention at the
lectures cost him nothing ; he retained all that he heard, and
was intellectual enough to take some interest in everything,
and this the more easily, as he was studying medicine. All
impressions remained lively with him, and his waggery in
repeating the lectures and mimicking the professors often
went so far, that when he had heard three different lectures
in one morning, he would, at the dinner- table, interchange
the professors with each other, paragraphwise, and often even
more abruptly, which parti-coloured lecture frequently enter
tained us, but often, too, became troublesome.

The rest were more or less polite, steady, serious people.
A pensioned knight of the order of St. Louis was one of
these ; but the majority were students, all really good and

308 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

well-disposed, only they were not allowed to go beyond their
usual allowance of wine. That this should not be easily done
was the care of our president, one Doctor SALZMANN. Already
In the sixties and unmarried, he had attended this dinner-
table for many years, and maintained its good order and
respectability. He possessed a handsome property, kept him
self close and neat in his exterior, even belonging to those
who always go in shoes and stockings, and with their hat
under their arm. To put on the hat, was with him an extra
ordinary action. He commonly carried an umbrella, wisely
reflecting that the finest summer- days often bring thunder
storms and passing showers over the country.

With this man I talked over my design of continuing to
study jurisprudence at Strasburg, so as to be able to take my
degree as soon as possible. Since he was exactly informed of
everything, I asked him about the lectures I should have to
hear, and what he generally thought of the matter. To this
lie replied, that it was not in Strasburg as in the German uni
versities, where they try to educate jurists in the large and
learned sense of the term. Here, in conformity with the
relation towards France, all was really directed to the practical,
and managed in accordance with the opinions of the French,
who readily stop at what is given. They tried to impart
to every one certain general principles and preliminary know
ledge, they compressed as much as possible, and communi
cated only what was most necessary. Hereupon he made
me acquainted with a man, in whom, as a Repetent ,* great con
fidence was entertained ; which he very soon managed to gain
from me also. By way of introduction, I began to speak with
him on subjects of jurisprudence, and he wondered not a
little at my swaggering ; for during my residence at Leipzig,
I had gained more of an insight into the requisites for the
law than I have hitherto taken occasion to state in my narra
tive, though all I had acquired could only be reckoned as a

* A Repetent is one of a class of persons to be found in the German,
universities, and who assist students in their studies. They are some
what analogous to the English Tutors, but not precisely ; for the latter
render their aid before the recitation, while the Repetent repeats with the
student, in private, the lectures he has previously heard from the pro
fessor. Hence his name, which might be rendered Repeater, had we any
corresponding class of men in England or America, which would justify
an English word, American Note*

TASTE FOE. MEDICAL STUDIES. 309

general encyclopedical survey, and not as proper definite
knowledge. University life, even if in the course of it we may
not have to boast of our own proper industry, nevertheless
affords endless advantages in every kind of cultivation, be
cause w r e are always surrounded by men who either possess
or are seeking science, so that, even if unconsciously, we are
constantly drawing some nourishment from such an atmo
sphere.

My repetent, after he had had patience with my rambling
discourse for some time, gave me at last to understand that I
must first of all keep my immediate object in view, which was,
to be examined, to take my degree, and then, perchance, to
commence practice. " In order to stand the first," said he,
" the subject is by no means investigated at large. It is in
quired how and when a law arose, and what gave the internal
or external occasion for it ; there is no inquiry as to how it
has been altered by time and custom, or how far it has perhaps
been perverted by false interpretation or the perverted usage of
the courts. It is in such investigations that learned men quite
peculiarly spend their lives ; but we inquire after that which
exists at present, this we stamp firmly on our memory, that it
may always be ready when we wish to employ it for the use
and defence of our clients. Thus we qualify our young people
for their future life, and the rest follows in proportion to their
talents and activity." Hereupon he handed me his pamphlets,
which were written in question and answer, and in which I
could have stood a pretty good examination at once, for Hopp s
smaller law-catechism was yet perfectly in my memory ; the
rest I supplied with some diligence, and, against my will,
qualified myself in the easiest manner as a candidate.

But since in this way all my own activity in the study was
cut off, for I had no sense for anything positive, but wished
to have everything explained historically, if not intelligibly
I found for my powers a wider field, which I employed in
the most singular manner by devoting myself to a matter of
interest which was accidently presented to me from without.

Most of my fellow-boarders w r ere medical students. These,
as is well known, are the only students who zealously converse
about their science and profession even out of the hours of
study. This lies in the nature of the case. The objects of their
endeavours are the most obvious to the senses, and at the same

310 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

time the highest, the most simple and the most complicated.
Medicine employs the whole man, for it occupies itself with the
whole man. All that the young man learns refers directly to an
important, dangerous indeed, but yet in many respects lucrative
practice. He therefore devotes himself passionately to what
ever is to be known and to be done, partly because it is inter
esting in itself, partly because it opens to him the joyous
prospect of independence and wealth.

At table then I heard nothing but medical conversations, just
as formerly in the boarding-house of Hofrath Ludwig. In our
walks and in our pleasure-parties likewise not much else was
talked about ; for my fellow-boarders, like good fellows, had
also become my companions at other times, and they were
always joined on all sides by persons of like minds and like
studies. The medical faculty in general shone above the others,
with respect both to the celebrity of the professors and the
number of the students, and I was the more easily borne along
by the stream, as I had just so much knowlege of all these
things that my desire for science could soon be increased and
inflamed. At the commencement of the second half-year,
therefore, I attended a course on chemistry by Spielmann, an
other on anatomy by Lobstein, and proposed to be right indus
trious, because by my singular preliminary or rather extra
knowledge, I had already gained some respect and confidence
in our society.

Yet this dissipation and dismemberment of my studies was
not enough, they were to be once more seriously disturbed ;
for a remarkable political event set everything in motion, and
procured us a tolerable succession of holidays. Marie An
toinette, Archduchess of Austria and Queen of France, was to
pass through Strasburg on her road to Paris. The solemnities
by which the people are made to take notice that there is great
ness in the world, were busily and abundantly prepared, and
especially remarkable to me was the building which stood on
an island in the Rhine between the two bridges, erected for
her reception and for surrendering her into the hands of her
husband s ambassadors. It was but slightly elevated above the
ground, had in the centre a grand saloon, on each side smaller
ones: then followed other chambers, which extended some
what backwards. Enough, had it been more durably built, it
might have answered very well as a pleasure-house for persons

PKEPABATIONS FOE, RECEPTION OF MAHIE ANTOINETTE. 311

of rank. But that which particularly interested me, and
for which I did not grudge many a busel (a little silver coin
then current) in order to procure a repeated entrance from the
porter, was the embroidered tapestry with which they had
lined the whole interior. Here, for the first time, I saw a
specimen of those tapestries worked after Raffaelle s cartoons,
and this sight was for me of very decided influence, as I be-*
came acquainted with the true and the perfect on a large scale,
though only in copies. I went and came, and came and went,
and could not satiate myself with looking ; nay, a vain endea
vour troubled me, because I would willingly have compre
hended what interested me in so extraordinary a manner. I
found these side-chambers highly delightful and refreshing,
but the chief saloon so much the more shocking. This had
been hung with many larger, more brilliant and richer hang
ings, which were surrounded with crowded ornaments, worked
after pictures by the modern French.

Now I might perhaps have reconciled myself to this style
also, as my feelings, like my judgment, did not readily reject
anything entirely ; but the subject was excessively revolting
to me. These pictures contained the history of Jason, Medea,
and Creusa, and therefore an example of the most unhappy
marriage. To the left of the throne was seen the bride strug
gling with the most horrible death, surrounded by persons full
of sympathizing woe ; to the right was the father, horrified at
the murdered babes before his feet ; whilst the Fury, in her
dragon-car, drove along into the air. And that the horrible
and atrocious should not lack something absurd, the white tail
of that magic bull nourished out on the right-hand from be
hind the red velvet of the gold-embroidered back of the throne,
while the fire-spitting beast himself, and the Jason, who was
fighting with him, were completely covered by the sumptuous
drapery.

Here all the maxims which I had made my own. in Oeser s
school were stirring within my bosom. It was without proper
selection and judgment, to begin with, that Christ and the
apostles were brought into the side-halls of a nuptial building,
and doubtless the size of the chambers had guided the royal
tapestry-keeper. This, however, I willingly forgave, because
it had turned out so much to my advantage ; but a blunder like
that in the grand saloon put me altogether out of my self-posses-

312 TRUTH AND POETIIY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

sion, and with animation and vehemence T called on my com
rades to witness such a crime against taste and feeling.
"What!" cried I, without regarding the bystanders, "is it
permitted so thoughtlessly to place before the eyes of a young
queen, at her first setting foot in her dominions, the represen
tation of the most horrible marriage that perhaps was ever
consummated ! Is there then among the French architects,
decorators, upholsterers, not a single man who understands
that pictures represent something, that pictures work upon
the mind and feelings, that they make impressions, that they
excite forebodings ! It is just the same as if they had sent the
most ghastly spectre to meet this beauteous and pleasure-lov
ing lady at the very frontiers !" I know not what I said besides ;
enough, my comrades tried to quiet me and to remove me out
of the house, that there might be no offence. They then
assured me that it was not everybody s concern to look for
significance in pictures ; that to themselves, at least, nothing
of the sort would have occurred, while the whole population of
Strasburg and the vicinity which was to throng thither, would
no more take such crotchets into their heads than the queen
herself and her court.

I yet remember well the beauteous and lofty mien, as cheer
ful as it was imposing, of this youthful lady. Perfectly visible
to us all in her glass carriage, she seemed to be jesting with
her female attendants, in familiar conversation, about the
throng that poured forth to meet her train. In the evening
we roamed through the streets to look at the various illumi
nated buildings, but especially the glowing spire of the minster,
with which, both near and in the distance, we could not suffi
ciently feast our eyes.

The queen pursued her way ; the country people dispersed,
and the city was soon quiet as ever. Before the queen s
arrival, the very rational regulation had been made, that no
deformed persons, no cripples nor disgusting invalids, should
show themselves on her route. People joked about this, and
I made a little French poem in which I compared the advent
of Christ, who seemed to wander upon the world particularly
on account of the sick and the lame, with the arrival of the
queen, who scared these unfortunates away. My friends let
it pass ; a Frenchman, on the contrary, who lived with us,
criticised the language and metre very unmercifully, although,

DREADFUL ACCIDENT AT PARIS. 313

as it seemed, with too much foundation, and I do not remem
ber that I ever made a French poem afterwards.

Scarcely had the news of the queen s happy arrival rung
from the capital, than it was followed by the horrible intelli
gence that, owing to an oversight of the police during the
festal fireworks, an infinite number of persons, with horses and
carriages, had been destroyed in a street obstructed by build
ing materials, and that the city, in the midst of the nuptial
solemnities, had been plunged into mourning and sorrow.
They attempted to conceal the extent of the misfortune, both
from the young royal pair and from the world, by burying the
dead in secret, so that many families were convinced only by
the ceaseless absence of their members that they, too, had been
swept off by this awful event. That, on this occasion, those
ghastly figures in the grand saloon again came vividly before
my mind, I need scarcely mention ; for every one knows how
powerful certain moral impressions are, when they embody
themselves, as it were, in those of the senses.

This occurrence was, however, destined moreover to place
my friends in anxiety and trouble by means of a prank in which
I indulged. Among us young people w r ho had been at Leip
zig, there had been maintained ever afterwards a certain itch
for imposing on and in some way mystifying one another.
With this wanton love of mischief I wrote to a friend in
Frankfort (he was the one who had amplified my poem on
the cake-baker Hendel, applied it to Medon, and caused its
general circulation), a letter dated from Versailles, in which I
informed him of my happy arrival there, my participation in
the solemnities, and other things of the kind, but at the same
time enjoined the strictest secrecy. I must here remark that,
from the time of that trick which had caused us so much annoy
ance, our little Leipzig society had accustomed itself to perse
cute him from time to time with mystifications, and this espe
cially as he was the drollest man in the world, and was never
more amiable than when he was discovering the cheat into
which he had deliberately been led. Shortly after I had written
this letter, I went on a little journey and remained absent about
a fortnight. Meanwhile the news of that disaster had reached
Frankfort ; my friend believed me in Paris, and his affection
led him to apprehend that I might have been involved in the
calamity. He inquired of my parents and other persons to

314 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

whom I was accustomed to write, whether any letters had ar
rived, and as it was just at the time when my journey kept me
from sending any, they were altogether wanting. He went
about in the greatest uneasiness, and at last told the matter in
confidence to our nearest friends, who were now in equal
anxiety. Fortunately this conjecture did not reach my parents
until a letter had arrived, announcing my return to Strasburg.
My young friends were satisfied to learn that I was alive, but re
mained firmly convinced that I had been at Paris in the interim.
The affectionate intelligence of the solicitude they had felt on
my account affected me so much that I vowed to leave off such
tricks for ever, but, unfortunately, I have often since allowed
myself to be guilty of something similar. Real life frequently
loses its brilliancy to such a degree, that one is many a time
forced to polish it up again with the varnish of fiction.

This mighty stream of courtly magnificence had now flowed
by, and had left in me no other longing than after those
tapestries of Raffaelle, which I would willingly have gazed at,
revered, nay, adored, every day and every hour. Fortunately,
my passionate endeavours succeeded in interesting several per
sons of consequence in them, so that they were taken down
and packed up as late as possible. We now gave ourselves
up again to our quiet, easy routine of the university and society,
and in the latter the Actuary Salzmann, president of our table,
continued to be the general pedagogue. His intelligence,
complaisance, and dignity, which he always contrived to main
tain amid all the jests, and often even in the little extravagances
which he allowed us, made him beloved and respected by the
whole company, and I could mention but few instances where
he showed his serious displeasure, or interposed with authority
in little quarrels and disputes. Yet among them all I was the
one who most attached myself to him, and he was not less
inclined to converse with me, as he found me more variously
accomplished than the others, and not so one-sided in judg
ment. I also followed his directions in external matters, so
that he could, without hesitation, publicly acknowledge me as
his companion and comrade : for although he only filled an
office which seems to be of little influence, he administered it
in a mariner which redounded to his highest honour. He was
actuary to the Court of Wards (Pupillen- Collegium*), and there,
indeed, like the perpetual secretary of an university, he had,

STEASBUHG MANNERS. 315

properly speaking, the management of affairs in his own hands.
Now as he had conducted this business with the greatest exact
ness for many years, there was no family, from the first to the
last, which did not owe him its gratitude ; as indeed scarcely
any one in the whole administration of government can earn
more blessings or more curses than one who takes charge of
the orphans, or, on the contrary, squanders or suffers to be
squandered their property and goods.

The Strasburgers are passionate walkers, and they have a
good right to be so. Let one turn one s steps as one will, one
finds pleasure-grounds, partly natural, partly adorned by art
in ancient and modern times, all of them visited and enjoyed
by a cheerful, merry little people. But what made the sight
of a great number of pedestrians still more agreeable here than
in other places, was the various costume of the fair sex. The
middle class of city girls yet retained the hair twisted up and
secured by a large pin ; as well as a certain close style of dress,
in which anything like a train would have been unbecoming ;
and the pleasant part of it was, that this costume did not differ
violently according to the rank of the wearer ; for there were
still some families of opulence and distinction, who would not
permit their daughters to deviate from this costume. The rest
followed the French fashion, and this party made some prose
lytes every year. Salzmann had many acquaintances and an
entrance everywhere ; a very pleasant circumstance for his
companion, especially in summer, for good company and re
freshment were found in all the public gardens far and near,
and more than one invitation for this or that pleasant day was
received. On one such occasion I found an opportunity to
recommend myself very rapidly to a family which I was visit
ing for only the second time. We were invited, and arrived
at the appointed hour. The company was not large ; some
played and some walked as usual. Afterwards, when they
were to go to supper, I saw our hostess and her sister speaking
to each other with animation, and as if in a peculiar embar
rassment. I accosted them and said : " I have indeed no right,
ladies, to force myself into your secrets ; but perhaps I may
be able to give you good council, or even to serve you." Upon
this they disclosed to me their painful dilemma : namely, that
they had invited twelve persons to table, and that just at that
moment a relation had returned from a journey, who now, as the

316 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

thirteenth, would be a fatal memento mori, if not for himself,
yet certainly for some of the guests. " The case is very easily
mended," replied I ; " permit me to take my leave, and stipu
late for indemnification." As they were persons of consequence
and good-breeding, they would by no means allow this, but
sent about in the neighbourhood to find a fourteenth. I
suffered them to do so, yet when I saw the servant coming in at
the garden-gate without having effected his errand, I stole
away and spent my evening pleasantly under the old linden-
trees of the Wanzenau. That this self-denial was richly repaid
me was a very natural conseauence.

*/ JL

A certain kind of general society is not to be thought of
without card-playing. Salzmaiin renewed the good instruc
tions of Madame Bohme, and I was the more docile as I had
really seen that by this little sacrifice, if it be one, one may
procure oneself much pleasure, and even a greater freedom
in society than one would otherwise enjoy. The old piquet,
which had gone to sleep, was again looked out ; I learned
whist; I made myself, according to the directions of my Mentor,
a card-purse, which was to remain untouched under all cir
cumstances ; and I now found opportunity to spend most of
iny evenings with my friend in the best circles, where, for the
most part, they wished me well, and pardoned many a little
irregularity, to which, nevertheless, my friend, though kindly
enough, used to call my attention.

But that I might experience symbolically how much one,
even in externals, has to adapt oneself to society, and direct
oneself according to it, I was compelled to something which
seemed to me the most disagreeable thing in the world. I had
really very fine hair, but my Strasburg hair- dresser at once
assured me that it was cut much too short behind, and that it
would be impossible to make a frizure. of it in which I could
show myself, since nothing but a few short curls in front were
decreed lawful, and all the rest, from the crown, must be tied
up in a queue or a hair-bag. Nothing was left but to put up
with false hair till the natural growth was again restored
according to the demands of the time. He promised me that
nobody should ever remark this innocent cheat (against which
I objected at first very earnestly), if I could resolve upon it
immediately. He kept his word, and I was always looked upon
as the young man who had the best and the best-dressed head

JUNG- STILLING. 317

of hair. But as I was obliged to remain thus propped up and
powdered from early in the morning, and at the same time to
take care not to betray my false ornament by heating myself
or by violent motions, this restraint in fact contributed much to
my behaving for a time more quietly and politely, and accus
tomed me to going with my hat under my arm, and conse
quently in shoes and stockings also ; however I did not venture
to neglect wearing understockings of fine leather, as a defence
against the Rhine gnats, which, on the fine summer evenings,
generally spread themselves over the meadows and gardens.
If now, under these circumstances, a violent bodily motion was
denied me, our social conversations certainly became more and
more animated and impassioned ; indeed they were the most
interesting in which I had hitherto ever borne part.

With my way of feeling and thinking, it cost me nothing
to let every one pass for what he was, nay, for that which he
wished to pass for, and thus the frankness of a fresh youthful
heart, which manifested itself almost for the first time in its
full bloom, made me many friends and adherents. Our com
pany of boarders increased to about twenty persons, and as
Salzmann kept up his accustomed order, everything con
tinued in its old routine ; nay, the conversation was almost
more decorous, as every one had to be on his guard before
several. Among the new comers, was a man who particu
larly interested me ; his name was JUNG, the same who after
wards became known under the name of STILLING. In spite
of an antiquated dress, his form had something delicate about
it, with a certain sturdiness. A bag- wig did not disfigure
his significant and pleasing countenance. His voice was
mild, without being soft and weak ; it became even melodious
and powerful as soon as his ardour was roused, which w r as
very easily done. On learning to know him better, one
found in him a sound common-sense, which rested on feeling,
and therefore took its tone from the affections and passions,
and from this very feeling sprang an enthusiasm for the good,
the true, and the just, in the greatest possible purity. For
the course of this man s life had been very simple, and yet
crowded with events and with manifold activity. The element
of his energy was an indestructible faith in God, and in an
assistance flowing immediately from him, which evidently
manifested itself in an uninterrupted providence, and in an

318 TRUTH AND POETHY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

unfailing deliverance out of all troubles and from every evil.
Jung had made many such experiences in his life, and they
had often been repeated of late in Strasburg, so that, with
the greatest cheerfulness, he led a life frugal indeed, but free
from care ; and devoted himself most earnestly to his studies,
although he could not reckon upon any certain subsistence from
one quarter to another. In his youth, when on a fair way to
become a charcoal burner, he took up the trade of a tailor, and
after he had instructed himself, at the same time, in higher
matters, his knowledge-loving mind drove him to the occupa
tion of schoolmaster. This attempt failed, and he returned
to his trade, from which, however, since every one felt for
him confidence and affection, he was repeatedly called away,
again to take a place as private tutor. But for his most in
ternal and peculiar training he had to thank that wide-spread
class of men who sought out their salvation on their own re-
sponsibilty, and who, while they strove to edify themselves by
reading the Scriptures and good books, and by mutual exhorta
tion and confession, thereby attained a degree of cultivation
which must excite surprise. For while the interest which always
accompanied them and which maintained them in fellowship,
rested on the simplest foundation of morality, well-wishing
and well-doing, the deviations which could take place with
men of such limited circumstances were of little importance,
and hence their consciences, for the most part, remained clear,
and their minds commonly cheerful ; so there arose no artifi
cial, but a truly natural culture, which yet had this advantage
over others, that it was suitable to all ages and ranks, and
was generally social by its nature. For this reason, too, these
persons were, in their own circle, truly eloquent, and capable
of expressing themselves appropriately and pleasingly on all the
tenderest and best concerns of the heart. Now the good Jung
was in this very case. Among a few persons, who, if not
exactly like-minded with himself, did not declare themselves
averse from his mode of thought, he was found not only talka
tive but eloquent; in particular, he related the history of
his life in the most delightful manner, and knew how to
make all the circumstances plainly and vividly present to his
listeners. I persuaded him to write them down, and he
promised he would do so. But because in his way of ex
pressing himself he was like a somnambulist, whom one dare

LEHSE. 319

not call, lest he should fall from his elevation, or like a gentle
stream, to which one dare oppose nothing, lest it should foam,
so was he often forced to feel uncomfortable in a more nume
rous company. His faith tolerated no doubt, and his convic
tion no jest. And if in friendly communication he was inex
haustible, everything came to a standstill with him when he
suffered contradiction. I usually helped him tlirough on such
occasions, for which he repaid me with honest affection.
Since his mode of thought was nothing strange to me, but on
the contrary I had already become accurately acquainted with
it in my very best friends of both sexes, and since, moreover,
it generally interested me with its naturalness and naivete, he
found, himself on the very best terms with me. The bent of his
mind was pleasing to me, and his wondrous faith in miracles,
which was so useful to him, I left unmolested. Salzmann
likewise behaved towards him with forbearance, I say with
forbearance, for Salzmann, in conformity with his character,
his natural disposition, his age and circumstances, could not
but stand and continue on the side of the rational, or rather
the common- sense Christians, whose religion properly rested
on the rectitude of their characters, and a manly indepen
dence, and who therefore did not like to meddle or have any
thing to do with feelings which might easily have led them
into gloom, or with mysticism, which might easily have led
them into the dark. This class, too, was respectable and
numerous ; all men of honour and capacity understood each
other, and were of the like persuasion, as well as of the
same mode of life.

LERSE, likewise our fellow-boarder, also belonged to this
number ; a perfectly upright young man, and, with limited
gifts of fortune, frugal and exact. His manner of life and
housekeeping was the closest I ever knew among students.
He dressed himself the neatest of us all, and yet always ap
peared in the same clothes ; but he managed his wardrobe
with the greatest care, kept everything about him. clean, and
required all things in ordinary life to go according to his
example, He never happened to lean anywhere, or to prop
his elbow on the table ; he never forgot to mark his table-
napkin, and it always went ill with the maid when the chairs
were not found perfectly clean. With all this, he had nothing
stiff in his exterior. He spoke cordially, with precise and

320 TRUTH AND POETBY ; FHOM MY OWST LIFE.

dry liveliness, in which a light - ironical joke was very be
coming. In figure, he was well-built, slender, and of fair
height, his face was pock-pitted and homely, his little blue
eyes cheerful and penetrating. As he had cause to tutor us
in so many respects, we let him be our fencing-master besides ;
for he drew a very fine rapier, and it seemed to give him
sport to play off upon us, on this occasion, all the pedantry of
this profession. Moreover, we really profited by him, and had
to thank him for many sociable hours, which he induced us to
spend in good exercise and practice.

By all these peculiarities, Lerse completely qualified himself
for the office of arbitrator and umpire in all the small and
great quarrels which happened, though but rarely, in our
circle, and which Salzmann could not hush up in his fatherly
way. Without the external forms, which do so much mischief
in universities, we represented a society bound together by
circumstances and good-feeling, which others might occasion
ally touch, but into which they could not intrude. Now, in
his judgment of internal piques, Lerse always showed the
greatest impartiality, and when the affair could no longer be
settled by words and explanations, he knew how to con
duct the desired satisfaction, in an honourable way, to a
harmless issue. In this no man was more clever than he ;
indeed, he often used to say, that since heaven had destined
him. for a hero neither in war nor in love, he would be con
tent, both in romances and fighting, with the part of second.
Since he remained the same throughout, and might be re
garded as a true model of a good and steady disposition, the
conception of him stamped itself as deeply as amiably upon
me ; and when I wrote Gotz von Berlichingen, I felt myself
induced to set up a memorial of our friendship, and to give
the gallant fellow, who knew how to subordinate himself in
so dignified a manner, the name of Franz Lerse.

While now, by his constant humorous dryness, he con
tinued always to remind us of what one owed to oneself and
to others, and how one ought to behave in order to live at
peace with men as long as possible, and thus gain a certain
position towards them, I had to fight, both inwardly and out
wardly, with quite different circumstances and adversaries,
being at strife with myself, with the cfbjects around me, and even
with the elements. I found myself in a state of health which

SUBJUGATION OE NATURAL ANTIPATHIES. 321

farthered me sufficiently in all that I would and should under
take ; only there was a certain irritability left behind, which
did not always let me be in equilibrium. A loud sound was dis
agreeable to me, diseased objects awakened in me loathing and
horror. But I was especially troubled by a giddiness which
came over me every time that I looked down from a height.
All these infirmities I tried to remedy, and, indeed, as I wished
to lose no time, in a somewhat violent way. In the evening,
when they beat the tattoo, I went near the multitude of drums,
the powerful rolling and beating of which might have made
one s heart burst in one s bosom. All alone I ascended the
highest pinnacle of the minster spire, and sat in what is called
the neck, under the nob or crown, for a quarter of an hour,
before I would venture to step out again into the open air,
where, standing upon a platform scarce an ell square, without
any particular holding, one sees the boundless prospect before,
while the nearest objects and ornaments conceal the church,
and everything upon and above which one stands. It is exactly
as if one saw oneself carried up into the air in a balloon. Such
troublesome and painful sensations I repeated until the im
pression became quite indifferent to me, and I have since then
derived great advantage from this training, in mountain travels
and geological studies, and on great buildings, where I have
vied with the carpenters in running over the bare beams and the
cornices of the edifice, and even in Rome, where one must run
similar risks to obtain a nearer view of important works of
art. Anatomy, also, was of double value to me, as it taught
me to tolerate the most repulsive sights, while I satisfied my
thirst for knowledge. And thus I attended, also, the clinical
course of the elder Doctor Ehrmann, as well as the lectures
of his son on obstetrics, with the double view of becoming
acquainted with all conditions, and of freeing myself from all
apprehension as to repulsive things. And I have actually
succeeded so far, that nothing of this kind could ever put me
out of my self-possession. But I sought to steel myself not
only against these impressions on the senses, but also against
the infections of the imagination. The awful and shuddering
impressions of the darkness in churchyards, solitary places,
churches and chapels by night, and whatever may be connected
with them, I contrived to render likewise indifferent ; and
in this, also, I went so far that day and night, and every

Y

822 TR1JTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWK LIFE.

locality, were quite the same to me ; so that even when, in
later times, a desire came over me once more to feel in such
scenes the pleasing shudder of youth, I could scarcely force
this, in any degree, by the strangest and most fearful images
which I called up.

In my efforts to free myself from the pressure of the too-
gloomy and powerful, which continued to rule within me,
and seemed to me sometimes as strength, sometimes as weak
ness, I was thoroughly assisted by that open, social, stirring
manner of life, which attracted me more and more, to which
I accustomed myself, and which I at last learned to enjoy
with perfect freedom. It is not difficult to remark in the
world, that man feels himself most freely and most perfectly
rid of his own failings , when he represents to himself the
faults of others, and expatiates upon them with complacent
censoriousness. It is a tolerably pleasant sensation even to
set ourselves above our equals by disapprobation and misre
presentation, for which reason good society, whether it con
sists of few or many, is most delighted with it. But nothing
equals the comfortable self-complacency, when we erect
ourselves into judges of our superiors, and of those who are
set over us, of princes and statesmen, when we find public
Institutions unfit and injudicious, only consider the possible
and actual obstacles, and recognise neither the greatness of
the invention, nor the co-operation which is to be expected
from time and circumstances in every undertaking.

Whoever remembers the condition of the French kingdom,
and is accurately and circumstantially acquainted with it from
later writings, will easily figure to himself how, at that time,
In the Alsatian semi-France, people used to talk about the king
and his ministers, about the court and court-favourites.
These were new subjects for my love of instructing myself,
and very welcome ones to my pertness and youthful conceit.
I observed everything accurately, noted it down industriously,
and I now see, from the little that is left, that such accounts,
although only put together on the moment, out of fables and
uncertain general rumours, always have a certain value in
after-times, because they serve to confront and compare the
secret made known at last with what was then already dis
covered and public, and the judgments of contemporaries,
true or false, with the convictions of posterity.

EXPULSION OF THE JESUITS. 323

Striking, and daily before the eyes of us street-loungers,
was the project for beautifying the city ; the execution of
which, according to draughts and plans, began in the strangest
fashion to pass from sketches and plans into reality. Inten-
dant Gayot had undertaken to new-model the angular and
uneven lanes of Strasburg, and to lay the foundations of a
respectable, handsome city, regulated by line and level.
Upon this, Blondel, a Parisian architect, drew a plan, by
which an hundred and forty householders gained in room,
eighty lost, and the rest remained in their former condition.
This plan, which was accepted, but was not to be put into
execution at once, was now to approach completion in the
course of time, and, meanwhile, the city oddly enough
wavered between form and formlessness. If, for instance, a
crooked side of a street was to be straightened, the first man
who felt disposed to build moved forward to the appointed line ;
perhaps, too, his next neighbour ; but perhaps, also, the third
or fourth resident from him, by which projections the most
awkward recesses were left, like front court-yards, before the
houses in the background. They would not use force, yet with
out compulsion they would never have got on ; on which account
no man, when his house was once condemned, ventured to
improve or replace anything that related to the street. All
these strange accidental inconveniences gave to us rambling
idlers the most welcome opportunity of practising our ridi
cule, of making proposals, in the manner of Behrisch, for
accelerating the completion, and of constantly doubting the
possibility of it, although many a newly-erected handsome
building should have brought us to other thoughts. How
far that project was advanced by the length of time, I cannot
say.

Another subject on which the Protestant Strasburgers liked
to converse was the expulsion of the Jesuits. These fathers,
as soon as the city had fallen to the share of the French, had
made their appearance and sought a domicilium. But they
soon extended themselves and built a magnificent college,
which bordered so closely on the minster that the back of the
ehurch covered a third part of its front. It was to be a com
plete quadrangle, and have a garden in the middle; three
sides of it were finished. It is of stone, and solid, like all the
buildings of these fathers. That the Protestants were pushed

324 TKUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

hard, if not oppressed by them, lay in the plan of the society,
which made it a duty to restore the old religion in its whole
compass. Their fall, therefore, awakened the greatest satis
faction in the opposite party, and people saw, not without
pleasure, how they sold their wines, carried away their books,
and the building was assigned to another, perhaps less active
order. How glad are men when they get rid of an opponent,
or only of a guardian ; and the herd does not reflect that where
there is no dog, it is exposed to wolves.

Now, since every city must have its tragedy, at which
children and children s children shudder, so in Strasburg fre
quent mention was made of the unfortunate Prsetor Kling-
ling, who, after he had mounted the highest step of earthly
felicity, ruled city and country with almost absolute power,
and enjoyed all that wealth, rank, and influence could afford,
had at last lost the favour of the court, and was dragged up
to answer for all in which he had been indulged hitherto ;
nay, was even thrown into prison, where, more than seventy
years old, he died an ambiguous death.

This and other tales, that knight of St. Louis, our fellow-
boarder, knew how to tell with passion and animation, for
which reason I was fond of accompanying him in his walks,
unlike the others, who avoided such invitations, and left me
alone with him. As with new acquaintances I generally
suffered myself to go on for a long time without thinking
much about them or the effect which they were exercising
upon me, so I only remarked gradually that his stories and
opinions rather unsettled and confused, than instructed and
enlightened me. I never knew what to make of him, al
though the riddle might easily have been solved. He be
longed to the manv to whom life offers no results, and who

!/

therefore, from first to last, exert themselves on individual
objects. Unfortunately he had, with this, a decided desire,
nay, evtn passion for meditating, without having any capacity
for thinking ; and in such men a particular notion easily fixes
itself fast, which may be regarded as a mental disease. To
euch a fixed view he always came back again, and was thus
in the long-run excessively tiresome. He used bitterly to
complain of the decline of his memory, especially with regard
to the latest events, and maintained by a logic of his own, that
virtue springs from a good memory, and all vice ; on the

THE KNIGHT OP ST. LOUIS. 325

contrary, from forgetfulness. This doctrine he contrived to
cany out with much acuteness ; as, indeed, everything can be
maintained when one permits oneself to use words altogether
vaguely, and to employ and apply them in a sense now wider,
now narrower, now closer, now more remote.

At first it was amusing to hear him ; nay, his persuasive
ness even astonished us. We fancied we were standing before
a rhetorical sophist, who for jest and practice knew how to give
a fair appearance to the strangest things. Unfortunately this
first impression blunted itself but too soon ; for at the end of
every discourse, manage the thing as I would, the man came
back again to the same theme. He was not to be held fast
to older events, although they interested him, -although he
had them present to his mind with their minutest circum
stances. Indeed he was often, by a small circumstance,
snatched out of the middle of a wild historical narrative, and
thrust into his detestable favourite thought.

One of our afternoon walks was particularly unfortunate in
this respect; the account of it may stand here instead of
similar cases, which might weary, if not vex the reader.

On the way through the city we were met by an old female
mendicant, who by her beggings and importunities disturbed
him in his story. " Pack yourself off, old witch! said he,
and walked by. She shouted after him the well-known
retort, only somewhat changed, since she saw well that the
unfriendly man was old himself, " If you did not wish to be
old, you should have had yourself hanged in your youth!
He turned round violently, and I feared a scene. " Hanged !
cried he, " have myself hanged ! No, that could not have
been ; I was too honest a fellow for that ; but hang myself
hang up my own self that is true that I should have done ;
I should have turned a charge of powder against myself, that
I might not live to see that I am not even worth that any
more." The woman stood as if petrified ; but he continued,
" You have said a great truth, witch-mother ! and as they have
neither drowned nor burned you yet, you shall be paid for
your proverb." He handed her a btisel, a coin not usually
given to a beggar.

We had crossed over the first Rhine-bridge, and were going
to the inn where we meant to stop, and I was trying to lead
him back to our previous conversation, when, unexpectedly,

326 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

a very pretty girl met us on the pleasant foot-path, remained
standing before us, bowed prettily and cried : " Eh, eh !
captain, where are you going?" and whatever else is usually
said on such an occasion. " Mademoiselle," replied he, some
what embarrassed, " I know not " " How?" said she,

with graceful astonishment, " do you forget your friends so
soon?" The word " forget" fretted him; he shook his head
and replied, peevishly enough, " Truly, mademoiselle, I did

not know ! She now retorted with some humour, yet

very temperately : " Take care, captain, I may mistake you
another time ! And so she hurried past, taking huge strides,
without looking round. At once my fellow-traveller struck
his forehead with both his fists : "0 what an ass I am!" ex
claimed he, " what an old ass I am ! Now, you see whether I
am right or not." And then, in a very violent manner, he
went on with his usual sayings and opinions, in which this case
still more confirmed him. I cannot and would not repeat what
a philippic discourse he held against himself. At last he turned
to me and said : " I call you to witness ! You remember that
small- ware woman at the corner, who is neither young nor
pretty ? I salute her every time we pass, and often exchange
a couple of friendly words with her ; and yet it is thirty years
ago since she was gracious to me. But now I swear it is not
four weeks since this young lady showed herself more complai
sant to me than was reasonable, and yet I will not recognise
her, but insult her in return for her favours ! Do I not always
say that ingratitude is the greatest of vices, and no man would
be ungrateful if he were not forgetful!

We went into the inn, and nothing fcut the tippling, swarm
ing crowd in the ante -rooms stopped the invectives which he
rattled off against himself and his contemporaries. He was
silent, and I hoped pacified, when we stepped into an upper
chamber, where we found a young man pacing up and down
alone, whom the captain saluted by name. I was pleased to
become acquainted with him ; for the old fellow had said
much good of him to me, and had told me that this young man,
being employed in the war-bureau, had often disinterestedly
done him very good service when the pensions were stopped.
I was glad that the conversation took a general turn, and while
we were carrying it on we drank a bottle of wine. But here,
unluckily, another infirmity which my knight had in common

THE KKIGHT OF ST. LOUIS. 327

with obstinate men, developed itself. For as, on the whole,
he could not get rid of that fixed notion, so did he stick fast
to a disagreeable impression of the moment, and suffer his
feelings to run on without moderation. His last vexation,
about himself had not yet died away, and now was added
something new, although of quite a different kind. He had
not long cast his eyes here and there before he noticed on the
table a double portion of coffee and two cups, and might be
sides, being a man of gallantry, have traced some other indi
cation that the young man had not been so solitary all the
time. And scarcely had the conjecture arisen in his mind,
and ripened into a probability, that the pretty girl had been,
paying a visit here, than the most outrageous jealousy added
itself to that first vexation, so as completely to perplex him.

Now before I could suspect anything, for I had hitherto
been conversing quite harmlessly with the young man, the
captain, in an unpleasant tone, which I well knew, began to
be satirical about the pair of cups, and about this and that.
The young man, surprised, tried to turn it off pleasantly and
sensibly, as is the custom among men of good-breeding ; but
the old fellow continued to be unmercifully rude, so that there
was nothing left for the other to do but to seize his hat and cane,
and at his departure to leave behind him a pretty unequivocal
challenge. The fury of the captain now burst out the more
vehemently, as he had in the interim drunk another bottle of
wine almost by himself. He struck the table with his fist,
and cried more than once : " I strike him dead ! ; It was not,
however, meant quite so badly as it sounded, for he often used
this phrase when any one opposed or otherwise displeased him.
Just as unexpectedly the business grew worse on our return :
for I had the want of foresight to represent to him his ingrati
tude towards the young man, and to remind him how strongly
he had praised to me the ready obligingness of this official
person. No ! such rage of a man against himself I never saw
again ; it was the most passionate conclusion to that beginning
to which the pretty girl had given occasion. Here I saw sorrow
and repentance carried into caricature, as all passion supplies
the place of genius, and is really full of genius. He then went
over all the incidents of our afternoon ramble again, employed
them rhetorically for his own self-reproach, brought up the
old witch at last before him once more, and perplexed himself

328 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

to such a degree, that I could not help fearing he would throw
himself into the Rhine. Could I have been sure of fishing him
out again quickly, like Mentor his Telemachus, he might have
made the leap, and I should have brought him home cooled
down for this occasion.

I immediatelv confided the affair to Lerse, and we went the

tt

next morning to the young man, whom my friend in his dry
way set laughing. We agreed to bring about an accidental
meeting, where a reconciliation should take place of itself.
The drollest thing about it was, that this time the captain too
had slept off his rudeness, and found himself ready to apologize
to the young man, to whom petty quarrels were of some con
sequence. All was arranged in one morning, and, as the affair
had not been kept quite secret, I did not escape the jokes of
my Mends, who might have foretold me, from their own expe
rience, how troublesome the friendship of the captain could
become upon occasion.

But now, while I am thinking what should be imparted next,
there comes again into my thoughts, by a strange play of me
mory, that reverend minster-building, to which in those days
I devoted particular attention, and which, in general, con
stantly presents itself to the eye both in the city and in the
country.

The more I considered the facade, the more was that first
impression strengthened and developed, that here the sublime
has entered into alliance with the pleasing. If the vast, when
it appears as a mass before us, is not to terrify ; if it is not to
confuse, when we seek to investigate its details, it must enter
into an unnatural, apparently impossible connexion, it must
associate to itself the pleasing. But now, since it will be im
possible for us to speak of the impression of the minster except
by considering both these incompatible qualities as united, so
do we already see, from this, in what high value we must hold
this ancient monument, and we begin in earnest to describe
how such contradictory elements could peaceably interpene
trate and unite themselves.

First of all, without thinking of the towers, we devote our con
siderations to the facade alone, which powerfully strikes the eye as
an upright, oblong parallelogram. If we approach it at twilight,
in the moonshine, on a starlight night, when the parts appear
more or less indistinct and at last disappear, we see only a colos-

STRASBUEG MINSTER. 329

sal wall, the height of which bears an advantageous proportion
to the breadth. If we gaze on it by day, and by the power of the
mind abstract from the details, we recognise the front of a
building which not only incloses the space within, but also
covers much in its vicinity. The openings of this monstrous
surface point to internal necessities, and according to these we
can at once divide it into nine compartments. The great
middle door, which opens into the nave of the church, first
meets the eye. On both sides of it lie two smaller ones, be
longing to the cross-ways. Over the chief door our glance falls
upon the wheel-shaped window, which is to spread an awe-
inspiring light within the church and its vaulted arches. At
its sides appear two large, perpendicular, oblong openings,
which form a striking contrast with the middle one, and indi
cate that they belong to the base of the rising towers. In the
third story are three openings in a row, which are designed for
belfries and other church necessities. Above them one sees
the whole horizontally closed by the balustrade of the gallery,
instead of a cornice. These nine spaces described, are sup
ported, enclosed, and separated into three great perpendicular
divisions by four pillars rising up from the ground.

Now as one cannot deny to the whole mass a fine proportion
of height to breadth, so also in the details it maintains a some
what uniform lightness by means of these pillars and the nar
row compartments between them.

But if we keep to our abstraction, and imagine to ourselves
this immense wall without ornaments, with firm buttresses,
with the necessary openings in it, but only so far as necessity
requires them, we even then must allow that these chief divi
sions are in good proportion : thus the whole will appear solemn
and noble indeed, but always heavily unpleasant, and, being
without ornament, unartistical. For a work of art, the whole
of which is conceived in great, simple, harmonious parts, makes
indeed a noble and dignified impression, but the peculiar en
joyment which the pleasing produces can only find place in
the consonance of all developed details.

And it is precisely here that the building which we are ex
amining satisfies us in the highest degree : for we see all the
ornaments fully suited to every part which they adorn ; they
are subordinate to it, they seem to have grown out of it. Such
a manifoldness always gives great pleasure, since it flows of its

330 TBUTH AND POETRY; PKOM MY OWN LIFE.

own accord from the suitable, and therefore at the same time
awakens the feeling of unity. It is only in such cases that the
execution is prized as the summit of art.

By such means, now, was a solid piece of masonry, an im
penetrable wall, which had moreover to announce itself as the
base of two heaven-high towers, made to appear to the eye as
if resting on itself, consisting in itself, but at the same time
light and adorned, and, though pierced through in a thousand
places, to give the idea of indestructible firmness.

This riddle is solved in the happiest manner. The openings
in the wall, its solid parts, the pillars, everything has its pecu
liar character, which proceeds from its particular destination ;
this communicates itself by degrees to the subdivisions ; hence
everything is adorned in proportionate taste, the great as well
as the small is in the right place, and can be easily compre
hended, and thus the pleasing presents itself in the vast. I
would refer only to the doors sinking in perspective into the
thickness of the wall, and adorned without end in their columns
and pointed arches ; to the window with its rose springing out
of the round form, to the outline of its frame -work, as well as
to the slender reedlike pillars of the perpendicular compart
ments. Let one represent to himself the pillars retreating
step by step, accompanied by little, slender, light-pillared.,
pointed structures, likewise striving upwards, and furnished
with canopies to shelter the images of the saints, and how at
last every rib, every boss, seerns like a flower-head and row of
leaves, or some other natural object transformed into stone.
One may compare, if not the building itself, yet representations
of the whole and of its parts, for the purpose of reviewing and
giving life to what I have said. It may seem exaggerated to
many, for I myself, though transported into love for this work
at first sight, required a long time to make myself intimately
acquainted with its value.

Having grown up among those who found fault with Gothic
architecture, I cherished my aversion from the abundantly
overloaded, complicated ornaments which, by their capricious-
ness, made a religious, gloomy character highly adverse. I
strengthened myself in this repugnance, since I had only met
with spiritless works of this kind, in which one could perceive
neither good proportions nor a pure consistency. But here I
thought I saw a new revelation of it, since what was objec-

STRASBUEG MINSTER. 331

tionable by no means appeared, but the contrary opinion rather
forced itself upon my mind.

But the longer I looked and considered, I all the while
thought I discovered yet greater merits beyond that which I
have already mentioned. The right proportion of the larger
divisions, the ornamental, as judicious as rich, even to the
minutest, were found out ; but now I recognised the connexion
of these manifold ornaments amongst each other, the transition
from one leading part to another, the enclosing of details,
homogeneous indeed, but yet greatly varying in form, from
the saint to the monster, from the leaf to the dental. The
more I investigated, the more I was astonished ; the more I
amused and wearied myself with measuring and drawing, so
much the more did my attachment increase, so that I spent
much time, partly in studying what actually existed, partly in
restoring, in my mind and on paper, what was wanting and
unfinished, especially in the towers.

Since now I found that this building had been based on
old German ground, and grown thus far in genuine German
times, and that the name of the master, on his modest grave
stone, was likewise of native sound and origin, I ventured,
being incited by the worth of this work of art, to change the
hitherto decried appellation of " Gothic architecture," and
to claim it for our nation as " German architecture ;" nor
did I fail to bring my patriotic views to light, first orally, and
afterwards in a little treatise, dedicated to D. M. Erwini a
Steinbach.

If my biographical narrative should come down to the epoch
when the said sheet appeared in print, which Herder after
wards inserted in his pamphlet : Von Deutscher Art und Kimst,
(Of German Manner and Art^) much more will be said on this
weighty subject. But before I turn myself away from it this
time, I will take the opportunity to vindicate the motto pre
fixed to the present volume, with those who may have enter
tained some doubt about it. I know indeed very well, that in
opposition to this honest, hopeful old German saying : " What
ever one wishes in youth, one has abundance in old age ! " many
would quote contrary experience,, and many trifling comments
might be made ; but much also is to be said in its favour, and
I will explain my own thoughts on the matter.

Our wishes are presentiments of the capabilities which lie

332 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

within us, and harbingers of that which we shall be in a con
dition to perform. Whatever we are able and would like to do,
presents itself to our imagination, as without us and in the
future ; we feel a longing after that which we already possess
in secret. Thus a passionate anticipating grasp changes the
truly possible into a dreamed reality. Now if such a bias lies
decidedly in our nature, then, with every step of our develop
ment will a part of the first wish be fulfilled under favourable
circumstances in the direct wav, under unfavourable in the

*/ *

circuitous way, from which we always come back again to the
other. Thus we see men by perseverance attain to earthly
wealth ; they surround themselves with riches, splendour, and
external honour. Others strive yet more certainly after intel
lectual advantages, acquire for themselves a clear survey of
things, a peacefulness of mind, and a certainty for the present
and the future.

But now there is a third direction, which is compounded of
both, and the issue of which must be the most surely success
ful. When, namely, the youth of a man falls into a pregnant
time, when production overweighs destruction, and a pre
sentiment is early awakened within him as to what such an
epoch demands and promises, he will then, being forced by
outward inducements into an active interest, take hold now
here, now there, and the wish to be active on many sides will
be lively within him. But so many accidental hindrances are
associated with human limitation, that here a thing, once
begun, remains unfinished, there that which is already grasped
falls out of the hand, and one wish after another is dissipated.
But had these wishes sprung out of a pure heart, and in con
formity with the necessities of the times, one might composedly
let them lie and fall right and left, and be assured that these
must not only be found out and picked up again, but that also
many kindred things, which one has never touched and never
even thought of, will come to light. If now, during our own
lifetime, we see that performed by others, to which we our
selves felt an earlier call, but had been obliged to give it up,
with much besides ; then the beautiful feeling enters the mind,
that only mankind together is the true man, and that the indi
vidual can only be joyous and happy when he has the courage
to feel himself in the whole.

This contemplation is here in the right place ; for when I

STUDY OF GERMAN AKCHITECTTTKE. 333

reflect on the affection which drew me to these antique edifices,
when I reckon up the time which I devoted to the Strasburg
minster alone, the attention with which I afterwards examined
the cathedral at Cologne, and that at Freyburg, and more and
more felt the value of these buildings, I could even blame
myself for having afterwards lost sight of them altogether,
nay, for having left them completely in the background, being
attracted by a more developed art. But when I now, in the
latest times, see attention again turned to those objects, when
I see affection and even passion for them appearing and flou
rishing, when I see able young persons seized with this passion,
recklessly devoting powers, time, care, and property, to these
memorials of a past world, then am I reminded with pleasure
that what I formerly would and wished had a value. With
satisfaction I see that they not only know how to prize what
was done by our forefathers, but that from existing unfinished
beginnings they try to represent, in pictures at least, the
original design, so as thus to make us acquainted with the
thought, which is ever the beginning and end of all under
takings ; and that they strive with considerate zeal to clear
up and vivify what seems to be a confused past. Here I
especially applaud the gallant Sulpiz Boisseree, who is inde-
fatigably employed in a magnificent series of copper-plates to
exhibit the cathedral of Cologne as the model of those vast
conceptions, the spirit of which, like that of Babel, strove up to
heaven, and which were so out of proportion to earthly means,
that they were necessarily stopped fast in their execution. If
we have been hitherto astonished that such buildings proceeded
only so far, we shall learn with the greatest wonder what was
really designed to be done.

May the literary- artistical undertakings of this kind be duly
patronized by all who have power, wealth, and influence, that
the great and gigantic views of our forefathers may be pre
sented to our contemplation, and that we may be able to form
a conception of what they dared to desire. The insight result
ing from this will not remain fruitless, and the judgment will,
for once at least, be in a condition to exercise itself on these
works with justice. Nay, this will be done most thoroughly ; ,
if our active young friend, besides the monograph devoted to
the cathedral of Cologne, follows out in detail the history of
our mediaeval architecture. When whatever is to be known

334 THUTH AND POETKY ; FBOM MY OWN LIFE.

about the practical exercise of this art is further brought to
light, when the art is represented in all its fundamental features
by a comparison with the Greece-Roman and the oriental
Egyptian, little can remain to be done in this department.
And I, when the results of such patriotic labours lie before
the world, as they are now known in friendly private commu
nications, shall be able, with true content, to repeat that motto
in its best sense : " Whatever one wishes in youth, in old age
one has abundance."

But if, in operations like these, which belong to centuries,
one can trust oneself to time, and wait for opportunity, there
are, on the contrary, other things which in youth must be
enjoyed at once, fresh, like ripe fruits. Let me be permitted,
with this sudden turn, to mention dancing, of which the ear
is reminded, as the eye is of the minster, every day and every
hour in Strasburg and all Alsace. From early youth my lather
himself had given my sister and me instruction in dancing,
a task which must have comported strangely enough with so
stern a man ; but he did not suffer his composure to be put
out by it ; he drilled us in the positions and steps in a manner
the most precise, and when he had brought us far enough to
dance a minuet, he played for us something easily intelligible
in three-four time, on a flute-douce, and we moved to it as
well as we could. On the French theatre, likewise, I had
seen from my youth upwards, if not ballets, yet pas seuls and
pas de deux, and had noticed in them various strange motions
of the feet, and all sorts of springs. When now we had enough
of the minuet, I begged my father for other dancing music,
of which our music-books, in their jigs and nmrkies,* offered
us a rich supply; and I immediately found out, of myself,
the steps and other motions for them, the time being quite
suitable to my limbs, and, as it were, born with them. This
pleased my father to a certain degree ; indeed, he often, by
way of joke for himself and us, let the " monkies " dance in
this way. After my misfortune with Gretchen, and during
the whole of my residence in Leipzig, I did not make my
appearance again on the floor ; on the contrary, I still remem
ber that when, at a ball, they forced me into a minuet, both
measure and motion seemed to have abandoned my limbs, and

* A " murki " is defined as an old species of short composition for the
hftrpsichord, with a lively murmuring accompaniment in the bass. Trans.

THE DANCING-MASTER S DATJGHTEKS. 335

I could no more remember either the steps or the figures, so
that I should have been put to disgrace and shame if the
greater part of the spectators had not maintained that my
awkward behaviour was pure obstinacy, assumed with the
view of depriving the ladies of all desire to invite me and
draw me into their circle against my will.

During my residence in Frankfort, I was quite cut off from
such pleasures ; but in Strasburg, with other enjoyments of
life, there soon arose in my limbs the faculty of keeping time.
On Sundays and w r eek-days, one sauntered by no pleasure-
ground without finding there a joyous crowd assembled for
the dance, and for the most part revolving in the circle.
Moreover, there were private balls in the country-houses, and
people were already talking of the brilliant masquerades of
the coming winter. Here, indeed, I should have been out of
my place, and useless to the company ; when a friend, who
waltzed very well, advised me to practise myself first in par
ties of a lower rank, so that afterwards I might be worth
something in the highest. He took me to a dancing-master,
who was well known for his skill; this man promised me
that, when I had in some degree repeated the first elements,
and made myself master of them, he would then lead me
further. He was one of the dry, ready French characters,
and received me in a friendly manner. I paid him a month
in advance, and received twelve tickets, for which he agreed
to give me certain hours instruction. The man was strict
and precise, but not pedantic ; and as I already had some
previous practice, I soon gave him satisfaction and received
his commendation.

One circumstance, however, greatly facilitated the instruc
tion of this teacher ; he had two daughters, both pretty, and
both yet under twenty. Having been instructed in this art
from their youth upwards, they showed themselves very skil
ful, and might have been able, as partners, soon to help
even the most clumsy scholars into some cultivation. They
were both very polite, spoke nothing but French, and I, on
my part, did my best, that I might not appear awkward or
ridiculous before them. I had the good fortune that they like
wise praised me, and were always willing to dance a minuet
to their father s little violin, and, what indeed was more diffi
cult for them, to initiate me, by degrees, into waltzing and

336 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

whirling. Their father did not seem to have many customers,
and they led a lonely life. For this reason they often asked
me to remain with them after my hour, and to chat away the
time a little ; which I the more willingly did, as the younger
one pleased me well, and generally they both altogether be
haved very becomingly. I often read aloud something from
a novel, and they did the same. The elder, who was as hand
some, perhaps even handsomer, than the second, but who
did not correspond with my taste so well as the latter, always
conducted herself towards me more obligingly, and more
kindly in every respect. She was always at hand during the
hour, and often protracted it; hence I sometimes thought
myself bound to offer back a couple of tickets to her father,
which, however, he did not accept. The younger one, on
the contrary, although she did nothing unfriendly towards
me, was yet rather reserved, and waited till she was called by
her father before she relieved the elder.

The cause of this became manifest to me one evening. For
when, after the dance was done, I was about to go into the
sitting-room with the elder, she held me back and said, " Let
us remain here a little longer ; for I will confess to you that
my sister has with her a woman who tells fortunes from cards,
and who is to reveal to her how matters stand with an absent
lover, on whom her whole heart hangs, and upon whom she
lias placed all her hope. Mine is free," she continued, " and
I must accustom myself to see it despised." I thereupon said
sundry pretty things to her, replying that she could at once
convince herself on that point by consulting the wise woman
likewise ; that I would do so myself, for I had long wished
to learn something of the kind, but lacked faith. She blamed
me for this, and assured me that nothing in the world was
surer than the responses of this oracle, only it must be con
sulted, not out of sport and mischief, but solely in real affairs.
However, I at last compelled her to go with me into that
room, as soon as she had ascertained that the consultation was
over. We found her sister in a very cheerful humour, and
even towards me she was kinder than usual, sportive, and
almost witty ; for since she seemed to be secure of an absent
friend, she may have thought it no treachery to be a little
gracious with a present friend of her sister s, which she
thought me to be. The old woman was now flattered, and

THE POBTTJNE-TELLER. 337

good payment was promised her, if she would tell the truth
to the elder sister and to me. With the usual preparations
and ceremonies she began her business, in order to tell the
fair one s fortune first. She carefully considered the situation
of the cards, but seemed to hesitate, and would not speak out
what she had to say. " I see now," said the younger, who
was already better acquainted with the interpretation of such
a magic tablet, " you hesitate, and do not wish to disclose
anything disagreeable to my sister ; but that is a cursed card !
The elder one turned pale, but composed herself, and said,
"Only speak out; it will not cost one s head! The old
woman, after a deep sigh, showed her that she was in love,
that she was not beloved, that another person stood in the
way, and other things of like import. We saw the good
girl s embarrassment. The old woman thought somewhat to
improve the affair by giving hopes of letters and money.
" Letters," said the lovely child, " I do not expect, and money
I do not desire. If it is true, as you say, that I love. I de
serve a heart that loves me in return." " Let us see if it
will not be better," replied the old woman, as she shuffled the
cards and laid them out a second time ; but before the eyes of
all of us, it had only become still worse. The fair one stood
not only more lonely, but surrounded with many sorrows ; her
lover had moved somewhat farther, and the intervening figures
nearer. The old woman wished to try it the third time, in
hopes of a better prospect ; but the beautiful girl could restrain
herself no longer, she broke out into uncontrollable weeping,
her lovely bosom heaved violently, she turned round, and
rushed out of the room. I knew not what I should do. In
clination kept me with the one present ; compassion drove me
to the other ; my situation, was painful enough. " Comfort
Lucinda," said the younger; "go after her." I hesitated;
how could I comfort her without at least assuring her of some
sort of affection, and could I do that at such a moment in
a cool, moderate manner? "Let us go together," said I to
Emilia. " I know not whether my presence will do her good,"
replied she. Yet we went, but found the door bolted. Lu
cinda made no answer ; we might knock, shout, entreat, as
w r e would. "We must let her have her own way," said
Emilia ; " she will not have it otherwise now ! " And, in
deed, when I called to my mind her manner from our very

z

338 TRtJTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

first acquaintance, she always had something violent and un
equal about her, and chiefly showed her affection for me by
not behaving to me with rudeness. What should I do?
I paid the old woman richly for the mischief she had caused,
and was about to go, when Emilia said, " I stipulate that the
cards shall now be cut for you too." The old woman was
ready. " Do not let me be present," cried I, and hastened
down stairs.

The next day I had not courage to go there. The third
day, early in the morning, Emilia sent me word by a boy who
had already brought me many a message from the sisters, and
had carried back flowers and fruits to them in return, that I
should not fail that day. I came at the usual hour, and
found the father alone, who, in many respects, improved my
paces and steps, my goings and comings, my bearing and
behaviour, and, moreover, seemed to be satisfied with me.
The younger daughter came in towards the end of the hour,
and danced with me a very graceful minuet, in which her
movements were extraordinarily pleasing, and her father de
clared that he had rarely seen a prettier and more nimble
pair upon his floor. After the lesson, I went as usual into
the sitting-room ; the father left us alone ; I missed Lucinda.
" She is in bed," said Emilia, " and I am glad of it ; do not
be concerned about it. Her mental illness is first alleviated
when she fancies herself bodily sick ; she does not like to die,
and therefore she then does what we wish. We have certain
family medicines which she takes, and reposes ; and thus, by
degrees, the swelling waves subside. She is, indeed, too good
and amiable in such an imaginary sickness, and as she is in
reality very well, and is only attacked by passion, she ima
gines various kinds of romantic deaths, with which she
frightens herself in a pleasant manner, like children when we
tell them ghost- stories. Thus, yesterday evening, she an
nounced to me with great vehemence, that this time she should
certainly die, and that only when she was really near death,
they should bring again before her the ungrateful false friend,
who had at first acted so handsomely to her, and now treated
her so ill ; she would reproach him bitterly, and then give up
the ghost." " I know not that I am guilty," exclaimed I, "of
having expressed any sort of affection for her. I know some
body who can best bear me witness in this respect." Emilia

SCENE "WITH THE TWO SISTERS. 339

smiled and rejoined, " I understand you ; and if we are not
discreet and determined, we shall all find ourselves in a bad
plight together. What will you say if I entreat you not to
continue your lessons? You have, I believe, four tickets
yet of the last month, and my father has already declared
that he finds it inexcusable to take your money any longer,
unless you wish to devote yourself to the art of dancing in a
more serious manner ; what is required by a young man of
the world you possess already." " And do you, Emilia, give
me this advice, to avoid your house? replied I. "Yes, I
do," said she, " but not of myself. Only listen. When you
hastened away, the day before yesterday, I had the cards cut
for you, and the same response was repeated thrice, and each
time more emphatically. You were surrounded by everything
good and pleasing, by friends and great lords, and there was
no lack of money. The ladies kept themselves at some dis
tance. My poor sister in particular stood always the farthest
off; one other advanced constantly nearer to you, but never
came up to your side, for a third person, of the male sex,
always came between. I will confess to you that I thought that
I myself was meant by the second lady, and after this confes
sion you Will best comprehend my well-meant counsel. To
an absent friend I have promised my heart and my hand, and,
until now, I loved him above all ; yet it might be possible for
your presence to become more important to me than hitherto,
and what kind of a situation would you have between two
sisters, one of whom you had made unhappy by your affec
tion, and the other by your coldness, and all this ado about
nothing and only for a short time ? For if we had not known
already who you are and what are your expectations, the
cards would have placed it before my eyes in the clearest
manner. Fare you well!" said she, and gave me her hand.
I hesitated. " Now," said she, leading me towards the door,
" that it may really be the last time that we shall speak to
each other, take what I would otherwise have denied vou."

i/

She fell upon my neck, and kissed me most tenderly. I
embraced her, and pressed her to my bosom.

At this moment the side-door flew open, and her sister, in
a light but becoming night-dress, sprang out and cried, " You
shall not be the only one to take leave of him! Emilia
let me go, and Lucinda seized me, clasped herself fast to my

z 2

340 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

heart, pressed her black locks upon my cheeks, and remained
in this position for some time. And thus I found myself in
the dilemma between two sisters which Emilia had prophe
sied to me a moment before. Lucinda let me loose, and
looked earnestly into my face. I would have taken her hand
and said something friendly to her, but she turned herself
away, walked with violent steps up and down the room for
some time, and then threw herself into a corner of the sofa.
Emilia went to her, but was immediately repulsed, and here
began a scene which is yet painful to me in the recollection,
and which, although really it had nothing theatrical about it,
but was quite suitable to a lively young Frenchwoman, could
only be properly repeated in the theatre by a good and
feeling actress.

Lucinda overwhelmed her sister with a thousand reproaches.
" This is not the first heart," she cried, " that was inclining
itself to me, and that you have turned away. Was it not just so
with him who is absent, and who at last betrothed himself to
you under my very eyes ? I was compelled to look on ; I en
dured it ; but I know how many thousand tears it has cost me.
This one, too, you have now taken away from me, without
letting the other go ; and how many do you not manage to
keep at once ? I am frank and good-natured, and every one
thinks he knows me soon, and may neglect me. You are
secret and quiet, and people think wonders of what may be
concealed behind you. Yet there is nothing behind but a
cold, selfish heart that can sacrifice everything to itself; this
nobody learns so easily, because it lies deeply hidden in your
breast ; and just as little do they know of my warm, true
heart, which I carry about with me as open as my face."

Emilia was silent, and had sat down by her sister, who became
constantly more and more excited in her discourse, and let cer
tain private matters slip out, which it was not exactly proper for
me to know. Emilia, on the other hand, w T ho was trying to
pacify her sister, made me a sign from behind that I should
withdraw ; but as jealousy and suspicion see with a thousand
eyes, Lucinda seemed to have noticed this also. She sprang
up and advanced to me, but not with vehemence. She stood
before me, and seemed to be thinking of something. Then she
said, " I know that I have lost you ; I make no further pre
tensions to you. But neither shall you have him, sister I"

LTJCINDA S CXTESE. 341

With these words she grasped me very singularly by the
head, thrusting both her hands into my locks, pressing my
face to hers, and kissed me repeatedly on the mouth. " Now,"
cried she, " fear my curse ! Woe upon woe, for ever and ever,
to her who kisses these lips for the first time after me ! Dare
tto have anything more to do with him ! I know heaven hears
nne this time. And you, Sir, hasten now, hasten away as fast
as vou can !

*,

I flew down the stairs, with the firm determination never
to enter the house again.

TENTH BOOK.

THE German poets, since they, as members of a corporation,
no longer stood as one man, did not enjoy the smallest advan
tages in the citizen- world. They had neither support, stand
ing, nor respectability, except in so far as their other position
was favourable to them, and therefore it was a matter of mere
chance whether talent was born to honour or to disgrace. A
poor son of earth, with a consciousness of mind and faculties,
was forced to crawl along painfully through life, and, from the
pressure of momentary necessities, to squander the gifts which
perchance he had received from the Muses. Occasional poems,
the first and most genuine of all kinds of poetry, had become
despicable to such a degree, that the nation even now cannot
attain a conception of their high value ; and a poet, if he did
not strike altogether into Gunther s path, appeared in the world
in the most melancholy state of subserviency, as a jester and
parasite, so that both on the theatre and on the stage of life
he represented a character which any one and every one could
abuse at pleasure*

If, on the contrary, the Muse associated herself with men of
respectability, these received thereby a lustre which was
reflected back to the donor. Noblemen well versed in life,
like Hagedorn, dignified citizens, like Brockes, distinguished
men of science, like Haller, appeared among the first in the
nation, to be equal with the most eminent and the most prized.
Those persons, too, were specially honoured, who, together
with this pleasing talent, distinguished themselves as active,
faithful men of business. In this way Uz, Rabener, and
Weisse enjoyed a respect of quite a peculiar kind ; people had
here to value, when combined, those most heterogeneous
qualities which are seldom found united.

But now the time was to come when poetic genius should
become aware of itself, should create for itself its own relations,
and understand how to lay the foundation of an independent
dignity. Everything necessary to found such an epoch was

KLOPSTOCK. 343

combined in KLOPSTOCK. Considered both from the sensual
and moral side, he was a pure young- man. Seriously and
thoroughly educated, he places, from his youth upwards, a great
value upon himself and upon whatever he does, and while
considerately measuring out beforehand the steps of his life,
turns, with a presentiment of the whole strength of his internal
nature, towards the loftiest and most grateful theme. The
Messiah, a name which betokens infinite attributes, was to be
glorified afresh by him. The Redeemer was to be the hero
whom the poet thought to accompany through earthly lowli
ness and sorrows to the highest heavenly triumphs. Every
thing Godlike, angelic, and human that lay in the young soul
was here called into requisition. Brought up by the Bible
and nourished by its strength, he now lives with patriarchs,
prophets, and forerunners, as if they were present; yet all
these are only evoked from ages to draw a bright halo round
the One whose humiliation they behold with astonishment,
and in whose exaltation they are gloriously to bear a part.
For at last, after gloomy and horrible hours, the everlasting
Judge will uncloud his face, again acknowledge his Son and
fellow-God, who, on the other hand, will again lead to Him
alienated men, nay, even a fallen spirit. The living heavens
shout with a thousand angel voices round the throne, and a
radiance of love gushes out over the universe, which shortly
before had fastened its looks upon a fearful place of sacrifice.
The heavenly peace which Klopstock felt in the conception
and execution of this poem, communicates itself even now to
every one who reads the first ten cantos, without allowing
certain requisitions to be brought forward, which an advancing
cultivation does not willingly abandon.

The dignity of the subject elevated in the poet the feeling
of his own personality. That he himself would enter here
after into those choirs, that the God-Man would distinguish
him, nay, give him face to face the reward for his labours,
w r hich even here every feeling, pious heart had fondly paid in
many a pure tear these were such innocent, childlike thoughts
and hopes, as only a well-constituted mind can conceive and
cherish. Thus Klopstock gained the perfect right to regard
himself as a consecrated person, and thus in his actions he
studied the most scrupulous purity. Even in his old age it
troubled him exceedingly that he had given his earliest love

344 TRUTH AXD POETRY ; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

to a lady who, by marrying another, left him in uncertainty
whether she had really loved him or been worthy of him. The
sentiments which bound him to Meta, their hearty, tranquil
affection, their short sacred married life, the aversion of the
surviving husband from a second union, all is of that kind which
may well be remembered hereafter in the circle of the blessed.

This honourable conduct towards himself was still further
enhanced by his being favourably received for a long time in
well-minded Denmark, in the house of a great, and, humanly
speaking, excellent statesman. Here, in a higher circle, which
was exclusive indeed, but, at the same time, devoted to external
manners and attention towards the world, his tendency became
still more decided. A composed demeanour, a measured
speech, and a laconism even when he spoke openly and
decidedly, gave him, through his whole life, a certain diplo
matic ministerial consequence, which seemed to be at variance
with his tender natural feelings, although both sprang from
one source. Of all this, his first works give a clear transcript
and type, and they thus could not but gain an incredible influ
ence. That, however, he personally assisted others who were
struggling in life and poetry, has scarcely been mentioned, as
one of his most decided characteristics.

But just such a furtherance of young people in literary
action and pursuit, a hopeful pleasure in bringing forward
men not favoured by fortune, and making the way easy to
them, has rendered illustrious one German, who, in respect to
the dignity which he gave himself, may be named as the second,
but, in regard to his living influence, as the first. It will
escape no one that GLEIM is here meant. In possession of an
obscure, indeed, but lucrative office, residing in a pleasantly
situated spot, not too large, and enlivened by military, civic,
and literary activity, whence proceeded the revenues of a great
and wealthy institution, not without a part of them remaining
behind for the advantage of the place, he felt within himself
also a lively productive impulse, which, however, with all its
strength, was not quite enough for him, and therefore he
gave himself up to another, perhaps stronger impulse, namely,
that of making others produce something. Both these activities
were intertwined incessantly during his whole long life. He
could as easily have lived without taking breath, as without
writing poetry and making presents, and by helping needy

KLOPSTOCK AND GLEIM. -345

talents of all kinds through earlier or later embarrassments,
contributing to the honour of literature, he gained so many
friends, debtors, and dependents, that they willingly allowed his
diffuse verses to pass, since they could give him nothing in
return for his rich benefits but endurance of his poetry.

Now, the high idea which these two men might well form
of their own worth, and by which others were induced also
to think themselves somebody, has produced very great and
beautiful results, both in public and private. But this con
sciousness, honourable as it is, called a peculiar evil down for
themselves, for those around them, and for their time. If,
judging from their intellectual effects, both these men may
without hesitation be called great, with respect to the world
they remained but small, and considered in comparison with
a more stirring life, their external position was nought. The
day is long, and so is the night ; one cannot be always writ
ing poetry, or doing, or giving ; their time could not be filled
up like that of people of the world, and men of rank and
wealth; they therefore set too high a value on their par
ticular limited situations, attached an importance to their
daily affairs which they should only have allowed themselves
amongst each other, and took more than reasonable delight in
their own jokes, which, though they made the moment agree
able, could be of no consequence in the end. They received
praise and honour from others, as they deserved ; they gave it
back, with measure indeed, but always too profusely ; and
because they felt that their friendship was worth much, they
were pleased to express it repeatedly, and in this spared neither
paper nor ink. Thus arose those correspondences, at the defi
ciency of which in solid contents the modern world wonders, nor
can it be blamed, when it hardly sees the possibility of eminent
men delighting themselves in such an interchange of nothing,
or when it expresses the wish that such leaves might have
remained unprinted. But we may suffer these few volumes
always to stand along with so many others upon our book
shelves, if we have learned from them the fact that even the
most eminent man lives only by the day, and enjoys but a
sorry entertainment, when he throws himself too much back
upon himself, and neglects to grasp into the fulness of the
external world, where alone he can find nourishment for his
growth, and at the same time a standard for its measurement.

346 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

The activity of these men was in its finest bloom, when we
young folks began also to bestir ourselves in our own circle,
and with my younger friends, if not with older persons too, I
was pretty much in the way of falling into this sort of mutual
flattery, forbearance, raising and supporting. In my imme
diate sphere, whatever I produced could always be reckoned
good. Ladies, friends, and patrons will not consider bad that
which is imdertaken and written out of affection for them.
From such obligations at last arises the expression of an empty
satisfaction with each other, in the phrases of which a cha
racter is easily lost, if it is not from time to time steeled to
higher excellence.

And thus I had the happiness to say that, by means of an
unexpected acquaintance, all the self-complacency, love of the
looking-glass, vanity, pride, and haughtiness that might have
been resting or working within me, were exposed to a very
severe trial, which was unique in its kind, by no means in
accordance with the time, and therefore so much the more
searching and more sorely felt.

For the most important event, one that was to have the
weightiest consequences for me, was my acquaintance with
HERDER, and the nearer connexion with him which sprung
from it. He accompanied the travels of the Prince of Hol-
stein-Eutin, who was in a melancholy state of mind, and had
come with him to Strasburg. Our society, as soon as it knew
of his arrival, was seized with a great longing to approach
him, and this good fortune happened to me first, quite unex
pectedly and by chance. I had gone to the Ghost tavern to
inquire after some distinguished stranger or other. Just at
the bottom of the staircase I found a man who was on the point
of ascending, and whom I might have taken for a clergyman.
His powdered hair was put up in a queue, his black clothes
likewise distinguished him, but still more a long black silk
mantle, the skirts of which he had gathered up and stuck into
his pocket. This somewhat striking, but yet, on the whole,
polite and pleasing figure, of which I had already been told,
left me not the least doubt that he was the celebrated new
comer, and my address was to convince him at once that I
knew him. He asked my name, which could be of no conse
quence to him ; but my frankness seemed to please him, since
he returned it with great friendliness, and as we mounted the

HERDEK. 347

stairs, showed himself ready immediately for animated com
munication. I have forgotten whom we visited then ; it is
sufficient to say, that at parting I begged permission to wait
on him at his own residence, which he granted me kindly
enough. I did not neglect to avail myself repeatedly of this
favour, and was more and more attracted by him. He had
somewhat of softness in his manner, w r hich was very suitable
and becoming, without being exactly easy. A round face, an
imposing forehead, a somewhat puggish nose, a mouth some
what prominent, but highly characteristic, pleasing, and ami
able ; a pair of coal-black eyes under black eye-brows, which
did not fail of their effect, although one of them used to be red
and inflamed. By various questions he tried to make himself
acquainted with me and my situation, and his power of attrac
tion operated on me with growing strength. I was, generally
speaking, of a very confiding disposition, and with him espe
cially I had no secrets. It was not long, however, before the
repelling pulse of his nature began to appear, and placed me
in no small uneasiness. I related to him many things of my
youthful occupations and taste, and among others, of a collec
tion of seals, which I had principally gotten together through
the assistance of our family friend, who had an extensive cor
respondence. I had arranged them according to the State
Calendar, and by this means had become well acquainted with
the whole of the potentates, the greater and lesser mightinesses
and powers, even down to the nobility under them. These
heraldic insignia had often, and in particular at the ceremonies
of the coronation, been of use to my memory. I spoke of these
things with some complacency ; but he was of another opinion,
and not only stripped the subject of all interest, but also con
trived to make it ridiculous and nearly disgusting.

From this his spirit of contradiction I had much to endure ;
for he had resolved, partly because he wished to separate from
the prince, partly on account of a complaint in his eye, to re
main in Strasburg. This complaint is one of the most incon
venient arid unpleasant, and the more troublesome since it can
be cured only by a painful, highly irritating and uncertain
operation. The tear-bag is closed below, so that the moisture
contained in it cannot flow off to the nose, and so much the
less as the adjacent bone is deficient in the aperture by which
this secretion should naturally take place. The bottom of the

348 TKXJTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

tear-bag must therefore be cut open, and the bone bored
through, when a horse-hair is drawn through the lachrymal
point, then down through the opened bag, and the new canal
thus put into connexion with it, and this hair is moved back
wards and forwards every day, in order to restore the commu
nication between the two parts ; all which cannot be done or
attained, if an incision is not first made externally in that
place.

Herder was now separated from the prince, was moved into
lodgings of his own, and resolved to have himself operated
upon by Lobstein. Here those exercises by which I had
sought to blunt my sensibility did me good service ; I was
able to be present at the operation, and to be serviceable and
helpful in many ways to so worthy a man. I found here every
reason to admire his great firmness and endurance : for neither
during the numerous surgical operations, nor at the oft-repeated
painful dressings, did he show himself in any degree irritable,
and of all of us he seemed to be the one who suffered least.
But in the intervals, indeed, we had to endure the changes of
his temper in many ways. I say we, for besides myself, a
pleasant Russian, named PEGLOW, was mostly with him.
This man had been an early acquaintance of Herder s in Riga,
and though no longer a youth, was trying to perfect himself
in surgery under Lobstein s guidance. Herder could be charm
ingly prepossessing and brilliant, but he could just as easily
turn an ill-humoured side foremost. AH men, indeed, have
this attraction and repulsion, according to their nature, some
more, some less, some in longer, some in shorter pulsations ;
few can really control their peculiarities in this respect, many
in appearance. As for Herder, the preponderance of his con
tradictory, bitter, biting humour was certainly derived from his
disease and the sufferings arising from it. This case often
occurs in life ; one does not sufficiently take into consideration
the moral effect of sickly conditions, and one therefore judges
many characters very unjustly, because it is assumed that all
men are healthy, and required of them that they shall conduct
themselves accordingly.

During the whole time of this cure I visited Herder morn
ing and evening ; I even remained whole days with him, and
in a short time accustomed myself so much the more to his
chiding and fault-finding, as I daily learned to appreciate his

HEBDEK. 349

beautiful and great qualities, his extensive knowledge, and his
profound views. The influence of this good-natured blusterer
was great and important. He was five years older than
myself, which in younger days makes a great difference to
begin with ; and as I acknowledged him for what he was, and
tried to value that which he had already produced, he neces
sarily gained a great superiority over me. But the situa
tion was not comfortable ; for older persons, with whom I
had associated hitherto, had sought to form me with indul
gence, perhaps had even spoiled me by their lenity ; but from
Herder, behave as one might, one could never expect ap
proval. As now, on the one side, my great affection and
reverence for him, and on the other, the discontent which he
excited in me, were continually at strife with each other,
there arose within me an inward struggle, the first of its kind
which I had experienced in my life. Since his conversations
were at all times important, whether he asked, answered, or
communicated his opinions in any other manner, he could not
but advance me daily, nay hourly, to new views. At Leipzig,
I had accustomed myself to a narrow and circumscribed exist
ence, and my general knowledge of German literature could
not be extended by my situation in Frankfort ; nay, those
mystico-religio- chemical occupations had led me into obscure
regions, and what had been passing for some years back in
the wide literary world, had for the most part remained un
known to me. Now I was at once made acquainted by Her
der with all the new aspiration, and all the tendencies which
it seemed to be taking. He had already made himself suffi
ciently known, and by his Fragments, his Kritische Wdlder
(Critical Woods), and other works, had immediately placed
himself by the side of the most eminent men who had for a
long time drawn towards them the eyes of their country.
What an agitation there must have been in such a mind
what a fermentation there must have been in such a nature-
can neither be conceived nor described. But great was cer
tainly the concealed effort, as will be easily admitted, when one
reflects for how many years afterwards and how much he has
done and produced.

We had not lived together long in this manner when he
confided to me that he meant to be a competitor for the prize

350 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

\

which was offered, at Berlin, for the best treatise on the
origin of language. His work was already nearly com
pleted, and, as he wrote a very neat hand, he could soon com
municate to me, in parts, a legible manuscript. I had never
reflected on such subjects, for I was yet too deeply involved
in the midst of things to have thought about their beginning
and end. The question, too, seemed to me in some measure
an idle one ; for if God had created man as man, language
was just as innate in him as walking erect ; he must have
just as well perceived that he could sing with his throat, and
modify the tones in various ways with tongue, palate, and
lips, as he must have remarked that he could walk and take
hold of things. If man was of divine origin, so was also lan
guage itself; and if man, considered in the circle of nature,
was a natural being, language was likewise natural. These
two things, like soul and body, I could never separate. Sil-
berschlag, with a realism crude yet somewhat fantastically
devised, had declared himself for the divine origin, that is,
that God had played the schoolmaster to the first men. Her
der s treatise went to show that man as man could and must
have attained to language by his own powers. I read the
treatise with much pleasure, and it was of special aid in
strengthening my mind ; only I did not stand high enough
either in knowledge or thought to form a solid judgment upon
it. I therefore gave the author my applause, adding only a
few remarks which flowed from my way of viewing the sub
ject. But one was received just like the other ; there was
scolding and blaming, whether one agreed with him condi
tionally or unconditionally. The fat surgeon had less patience
than I ; he humorously declined the communication of this
prize-essay, and affirmed that he was not prepared to medi
tate on such abstract topics. He urged us in preference to a
game of ombre, which we commonly played together in the

evening.

During so troublesome and painful a cure, Herder lost
nothing of his vivacity ; but it became less and less amiable.
He could not write a note to ask for anything, that would not
be spiced with some scoff or other. Once, for instance, he
wrote to me thus :

HEUDEH S SARCASMS. 351

" If those letters of Brutus thou hast in thy Cicero s letters,
Thou, whom consolers of schools, deck d out in magnificent bindings,
Soothe from their well plan d shelves yet more by the outside than

inside,

Thou, who from gods art descended, or Goths, or from origin filthy,*
Gothe, send them to me."

It was not polite, indeed, that he should allow himself this
jest on my name ; for a man s name is not like a mantle,
which merely hangs about him, and which, perchance, may
be safely twitched and pulled ; but is a perfectly fitting gar
ment, which has grown over and over him like his very skin,
at which one cannot rake and scrape without wounding the
man himself.

The first reproach, on the contrary, was better founded.
I had brought with me to Strasburg the authors I had ob
tained, by exchange, from Langer, with various fine editions
from my father s collection besides, and had set them up on a
neat book-case, with the best intentions of using them. But
how should my time, which I split up into an hundred
different activities, suffice for that ? Herder, who was most
attentive to books, since he had need of them every moment,
perceived my fine collection at his first visit, but soon saw,
too, that I made no use of them. He, therefore, as the
greatest enemy to all false appearances and ostentation, was
accustomed, on occasion, to rally me upon the subject.

Another sarcastic poem occurs to me, which he sent me
one evening, when I had been telling him a great deal about
the Dresden gallery. I had, indeed, not penetrated into the
higher meaning of the Italian school ; but Dominico Feti, an
excellent artist, although a humorist, and therefore not of
the first rank, had interested me much. Scripture subjects
had to be painted. He confined himself to the New Testa
ment parables, and was fond of representing them with much
originality, taste, and good-humour. He brought them alto
gether into every- day life, and the spirited and naive details
of his compositions, recommended by a free pencil, had made
a vivid impression upon me. At this, my childish enthusiasm
for art. Herder sneered in the following fashion :

* The German word is " Koth," and the whole object of the line is to
introduce a play on the words " Gothe," " Gotter," " Gothen," and
" Koth." Trans.

352 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

" From sympathy,
The master I like best of all
Dominico Feti they call.
A parable from Scripture he is able
Neatly to turn into a crazy fable.
From sympathy : thou crazy parable ! "

I could mention many jokes of the kind, more or less clear
or abstruse, cheerful or bitter. They did not vex me, but
made me feel uncomfortable. Yet since I knew how to value
highly everything that contributed to my own cultivation, and
as I had often given up former opinions and inclinations, I
soon accommodated myself, and only sought, as far as it was
possible for me from my point of view, to distinguish just
blame from unjust invectives. And thus no day passed over
that had not been, in the most fruitful manner, instructive
to me.

I was made acquainted by him with poetry from quite a
different side, in another light than heretofore, and one, too,
which suited me well. The poetic art of the Hebrews, which
he treated ingeniously after his predecessor Lowth popular
poetry, the traditions of which in Alsace he urged us to
search after ; and the oldest records existing as poetry all
bore witness that poetry in general was a gift to the world
and to nations, and not the private inheritance of a few re
fined, cultivated men. I swallowed all this, and the more
eager I was in receiving, the more liberal was he in giving,
so that we spent the most interesting hours together. The
other natural studies which I had begun, I endeavoured to
continue, and as one always has time enough, if one will apply
it well, so amongst them all I succeeded in doing twice or thrice
~s much as usual. As to the fulness of those few weeks during
which we lived together, I can well say that all which Herder
has gradually produced since, was then announced in the
germ, and that I thereby fell into the fortunate condition that
I could completely attach to something higher, and expand all
that I had hitherto thought, learned, and made my own.
Had Herder been methodical, I should have found the most
precious guide for giving a durable tendency to my cultiva
tion ; but he was more inclined to examine and stimulate,
than to lead and conduct. Thus he at first made me acquainted
with Hamann s writings, upon which he set a very great value.

HERDER S DEPARTURE. 353

But instead of instructing me as to these, and making the
bias and drift of his extraordinaiy mind intelligible to me, it
generally only served him for amusement when I behaved
strangely enough, in trying to get at the meaning of such sibyl
line leaves. However, I could well feel that something in
Hamann s writings appealed to me ; and to this I gave myself
up, without knowing whence it came or whither it was leading
me.

After the cure had lasted longer than was reasonable, Lob-
stein had begun to hesitate, and to repeat himself in his treat
ment, so that the affair would not come to an end; and
Peglow, too, had confided to me in private that a favourable
Issue was hardly to be expected ; the whole position became
gloomy; Herder became impatient and out of temper, he
could not succeed in continuing his activity as heretofore,
and was obliged to restrain himself the more, as they began
to lay the blame of the surgical failure upon his too great
mental exertion, and his uninterrupted, animated, nay, merry
intercourse with us. It is sufficient to say, that after so much
trouble and suffering, the artificial tear-channel would not
form itself, and the communication intended would not take
place. It was necessary to let the wound heal over in order
that the disease should not become worse. If, now, during
the operation, one could but admire Herder s firmness under
such pains, his melancholy and even fierce resignation to the
idea that he must bear such a blot about him all his life, had
-about it something truly sublime, by which he gained for
ever the reverence of those who saw and loved him. This
disease, which disfigured so expressive a countenance, must
have been so much the more afflicting to him, as he had become
.acquainted with an excellent lady in Darmstadt, and had
gained her affections. It may have been for this cause prin
cipally that he submitted to the cure, in order, on his return,
to appear more free, more cheerful, and more handsome in the
eyes of his half- betrothed, and to unite himself more certainly
and indissolubly with her. However, he hastened away from.
Strasburg as soon as possible, and since his stay had hitherto
been as expensive as it was unpleasant, I borrowed a sum of
money for him, which he promised to refund by an appointed
clay. The time passed without the arrival of the money. My
creditor, indeed, did not dun me ; but I was for several weeks

2 A

354 TRUTH AND POETBY ; FUCXM MY OWN LIFE.

in embarrassment. At last the letter and the money came,
and even here he did not act unlike himself ; for, instead of
thanks or an apology, his letter contained nothing but satirical
tilings in doggerel verse, which would have puzzled, if not
alienated, another ; but it did not move me at all, for I had
conceived so great and powerful an idea of his worth that it
absorbed everything of an opposite nature which could have
injured it.

One should never speak, publicly at least, of one s own
faults, or those of others, if one does not hope to effect some
useful purpose by it ; on this account I will here insert cer
tain remarks which force themselves upon me.

Gratitude and ingratitude belong to those events which
appear every moment in the moral world, and about which
men can never agree among themselves. I usually distinguish
between ( noil -thankfulness, ingratitude, and aversion from
gratitude. The first is innate with men, nay, created with
them ; for it arises from a happy volatile forgetfumess of the
repulsive as well as of the delightful, by which alone the con
tinuation of life is possible. Man needs such an infinite
quantity of previous and concurrent assistances for a tolerable
existence, that if he would always pay to the sun and the
earth, to God and nature, to ancestors and parents, to friends
and companions, the thanks due to them, he would have
neither time nor feeling left to receive and enjoy new benefits.
But if the natural man suffers this volatility to get the control
in and over him, a cold indifference gains more and more the
ascendancy, and one at last regards one s benefactor as a
stranger, to whose injury, perhaps, anything may be under
taken, provided it be advantageous to ourselves. This alone
can properly be called ingratitude, which results from the
rudeness into which the uncultivated nature must necessarily
lose itself at last. Aversion from gratitude, however, the
rewarding of a benefit by ill-natured and sullen conduct, is
very rare, and occurs only in eminent men, such as, with great
natural gifts, and a presentiment of them, being born in a
lower rank of society or in a helpless condition, must, from
their youth upwards, force themselves along, step by step, and
receive, at every point, aids and supports, which are often
embittered and repulsive to them through the coarseness of
their benefactors, since that which they receive is earthly,

ARTIFICIAL GRATITUDE. 355

while that which, on the other hand, they give, is of a higher
kind, so that what is, strictly speaking, a compensation, is
out of the question. Lessing, with the fine knowledge of
earthly things which fell to his share in the best years of his
life, has in one place bluntly, but cheerfully expressed himself.
Herder, on the contrary, constantly embittered his finest days,
both, for himself and others, because he knew not how to
moderate, by strength of mind in later years, that ill-humour
which had necessarily seized him in youth.

One may well make this demand of oneself: for, to a man s
capability of cultivation, conies, with friendly aid, the light of
nature, which is always active in enlightening him about
his condition ; and generally, in many moral points of culture,
one should not construe the failings too severely, nor look
about after the most serious and remote means of correcting
them ; for certain faults may be easily and even playfully
removed. Thus, for instance, by mere habit, we can excite-
gratitude in ourselves, keep it alive, and even make it neces
sary to us.

In a biographical attempt, it is proper to speak of oneself.
I am, by nature, as little grateful as any man, and on forget
ting the benefit received, the violent feeling of a momentary
disagreement could very easily beguile me into ingratitude.

To obviate this, I accustomed myself, in the first place,
with everything that I possessed, to call to mind with pleasure
how I came bv it, from whom I received it, whether it was-

t/

by way of present, exchange, or purchase, or in any other
manner. I have accustomed myself, in showing my collec
tions, to mention the persons by whose means I obtained each
article, nay, even to do justice to the occasion, to the accident,
to the remotest cause and coincidence, by which things which
are dear and of value to me have become mine. That which
surrounds us thus receives a life ; we see in it a spiritual com
bination, full of love, reminding us of its origin ; and, by thus
making past circumstances present to us. our momentary
existence is elevated and enriched, the originators of the gifts
rise repeatedly before the imagination, we connect with their
image a pleasing remembrance, ingratitude becomes impos
sible, and a return, on occasion, becomes easy and desirable.
At the same time, we are led to the consideration of that
which is not a possession palpable to the senses, and we love

2 A2

356 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

to recapitulate to whom our higher endowments are to be
ascribed, and whence they take their date.

Before I turn my attention from that connexion with Her
der, which was so important and so rich in consequences for
me, I find yet something more to adduce. Nothing was more
natural than that I should by degrees become more and more
reserved towards Herder, in communicating those things
which had hitherto contributed to my culture, but especially
such as still seriously occupied my attention at the moment.
He had destroyed my enjoyment of so much that I had loved
before, and had especially blamed me in the strongest manner
for the pleasure I took in Ovid s Metamorphoses. I might
defend my favourite as I would, I might say that, for a youth
ful fancy, nothing could be more delightful than to linger in
those cheerful and glorious regions with gods and demi-gods,
and to be a witness of their deeds and passions ; I might cir
cumstantially quote that previously mentioned opinion of a
sober-minded man, and corroborate it by my own experience ;
all this, according to Herder, went for nothing ; there was no
immediate truth, properly so called, to be found in these
poems ; here was neither Greece nor Italy, neither a primi
tive world nor a cultivated one, everything was rather an
imitation of what had already existed, and a mannerised re
presentation, such as could be expected only from an over-
cultivated man. And if at last I would maintain, that what
ever an eminent individual produces is also nature, and that
always, in all nations, ancient and modern, the poet alone has
been the maker ; this was not allowed to pass, and I had to
endure much on this account, nay, I was almost disgusted with
my Ovid by it ; for there is no affection, no habit so strong,
that it can hold out in the long run against the animadver
sions of eminent men in whom one places confidence. Some
thing always cleaves to us, and if one cannot love uncondi
tionally, love is already in a critical condition.

I most carefully concealed from him my interest in certain
subjects which had rooted themselves within me, and were,
by little and little, moulding themselves into poetic form.
These were Gotz von Berlichingen and Faust. The biography
of the former had seized my inmost heart. The figure of a
rude, well-meaning self-helper, in a wild anarchical time,
awakened my deepest sympathy. The significant puppet-

HEKDEK S INFLUENCE ON JUNG. 357

show fable of the latter resounded and vibrated many-toned
within me. I had also wandered about in all sorts of science,
and had early enough been led to see its vanity. I had, more
over, tried ah 1 sorts of ways in real life, and had always returned
more unsatisfied and troubled. Now these things, as well as
many others, I carried about with me, and delighted myself
with them during my solitary hours, but without writing any
thing down. But most of all, I concealed from Herder my
mystico-cabalistical chemistry, and everything relating to it,
although, at the same time, I was still very fond of secretly
busying myself in working it out more consistently than it
had been communicated to me. Of my poetical labours, I
believe I laid before him Die Mitschuldigen, but I do not
recollect that on this account I received either correction
or encouragement on his part. Yet, with all this, he remained
what he was ; whatever proceeded from him had an important,
if not a cheering effect, and even his handwriting exercised a
magic power over me. I do not remember having ever torn
up or thrown away one of his letters, or even a mere envelope
from his hand ; yet, with my various changes of place and
time, not one document of those strange, foreboding, and
happy days is left.

That Herder s power of attraction operated upon others as
well as upon me, I should scarcely mention, had I not to re
mark that it extended itself particularly to JUNG, commonly
called STILLING. The true, honest striving of this man could
not but deeply interest everybody who had any feeling, and
his susceptibility must have charmed into candour every one
who was in a condition to impart anything. Even Herder
behaved towards him with more forbearance than towards the
rest of us : for his counter-action always seemed to stand in
relation with the action exerted upon him. Jung s narrowness
was accompanied by so much good-will, his urgency with so
much softness and earnestness, that a man of intelligence could
certainly not be severe against him, and a benevolent man
could not scoff at him, or turn him into ridicule. Jung was
also exhilarated to such a degree by Herder, that he felt him
self strengthened and advanced in all he did ; even his affec
tion for me seemed to lose ground in the same ratio : yet we
always remained good companions, made allowances for each
other from first to last, and mutually rendered the most friendly
services.

358 TRUTH AND POETEY ; PHOM MY OWN LIFE.

Let us now, however, withdraw ourselves from the sick
chamber of friendship, and from the general considerations
which refer rather to disorder than to health of mind ; let us
betake ourselves into the open air, to the lofty and broad gal
lery of the minster, as if the time were still present, when we
young fellows often appointed an evening meeting to greet the
departing sun with brimming goblets. Here all conversation
was lost in the contemplation of the country : here sharpness
of eye-sight was put to the proof, arid every one strove to per
ceive, nay, plainly to distinguish, the most distant objects.
Good telescopes were employed to assist us, and one friend
after another exactly pointed out the spot which had become
the most dear and precious to him ; and I also did not lack
such a little spot, which, although it did not come out with
importance in the landscape, nevertheless more than all the
rest attracted me with an amiable magic. On these occasions
the imagination was excited by relating our adventures, and
several little jaunts were concerted, nay, often undertaken on
the spur of the moment, of which I will circumstantially relate
only one instead of a number, since in many respects it was
of consequence to me.

With two worthy friends and fellow-boarders, Engelbach and
Weyland, both natives of Lower Alsace, I repaired on horse
back to Zabern, where, in the fine weather, the friendly little
place smiled pleasantly upon us. The sight of the bishop s
castle awakened our admiration ; the extent, height, and
splendour of a new set of stables bore witness to the other
comforts of the owner. The gorgeousness of the staircase
surprised us, the chambers and saloons we trode with rever
ence, only the person of the cardinal, a little wreck of a man,
whom we saw at table, made a contrast. The view of the
garden is splendid, and a canal, three quarters of a league long,
which leads straight up to the middle of the castle, gives a
high idea of the taste and resources of the former possessors.
We rambled up and down there, and enjoyed many parts of
this beautifully situated whole, which lies on the outskirts of
the magnificent plain of Alsace, at the foot of the Vosges.

After we had enjoyed ourselves at this clerical outpost of a
royal power, and had made ourselves comfortable in its region,
we arrived early next morning at a public work, which most
nobly opens the entrance into a mighty kingdom. Illumined

ZABERN BTICHSWEILEE. 359

by the beams of the rising sun, the famous Zabern-stairs, a
work of incredible labour, rose before us. A road, built ser
pentine-wise over the most fearful crags, and wide enough for
three wagons abreast, leads up hill so gently, that the ascent
is scarcely perceptible. The hardness and smoothness of the
way, the flat-topped elevations on both sides for the foot-pas
sengers, the stone channels to lead off the mountain- water, all
are executed as neatly as artistically and durably, so that they
afford a satisfactory view. Thus one gradually arrives at
Pfalzburg, a modern fortification. It lies upon a moderate
hill ; the works are elegantly built on blackish rocks, and of
the same kind of stone, and the joinings being pointed out
with white mortar, show exactly the size of the square stones,
and give a striking proof of neat workmanship. We found
the place itself, as is proper for a fortress, regular, built of
stone, and the church in good taste. When we wandered
through the streets it was nine o clock on Sunday morn
ing we heard music ; they were already waltzing in the
tavern to their hearts content, and as the inhabitants did not
suffer themselves to be disturbed in their pleasures by the
great scarcity, nay, by the threatened famine, so also our
youthful cheerfulness was not at all troubled when the baker
on the road refused us some bread, and directed us to the
tavern, where perhaps we might procure provisions at the
usual place.

We now very willingly rode down the Zabern-stairs again,
to gaze at this architectural wonder a second time, and to en
joy once more the refreshing prospect over Alsace. We soon
reached Buchsweiler, where friend Weyland had prepared for
us a good reception. To a fresh youthful mind the condition
of a small town is well suited ; family connexions are closer
and more perceptible ; domestic life, which, with moderate
activity, moves hither and thither between light official duties,
town business, agriculture and gardening, invites us to a
friendly participation; sociableness is necessary, and the
stranger finds himself very pleasantly situated in the limited
circles, if the disputes of the inhabitants, which in such places
are more palpable, do not everywhere come in contact with
him. This little town was the chief place of the county of
Hanau-Lichtenberg, belonging to the Landgrave of Darm
stadt, under French sovereignty. A regency and. board of

360 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

officers established liere made the place an important centre-
point of a very beautiful and desirable principality. We
easily forgot the unequal streets and the irregular architecture
of the place when we went out to look at the old castle and
the gardens, which are excellently laid out on a hill. Nume
rous little pleasure-woods, a preserve for tame and wild phea
sants, and the relrcs of many similar arrangements, showed
how pleasant this little residence must formerly have been.

Yet all these views were surpassed by the prospect which
met the eye, when, from the neighbouring Baschberg, one
looked over the perfectly paradisiacal region. This height,
\vholly heaped together out of different kinds of shells, attracted
my attention for the first time to such documents of antiquity ;
I had never before seen them together in so great a mass.
Yet the curious eye soon turned itself exclusively to the land
scape. You stand on the last landward* mountain-point;
towards the north lies a fruitful plain, interspersed with little
forests, and bounded by a stern row of mountains that stretches
itself westward towards Zaber, where the episcopal palace and
the abbey of St. John, lying a league beyond it, may be plainly
recognised. Thence the eye follows the more and more vanish
ing chain of the Vosges towards the south. If you turn to the
north-east you see the castle of Lichtenberg upon a rock, and
towards the south-east the eye has the boundless plain of Alsace
to scrutinize, which, afar off, withdraws itself from the sight
in the more and more misty landscape, until at last the Suabian
mountains melt away like shadows into the horizon.

Already in my limited wanderings through the world, I had
remarked how important it is in travelling to inquire after the
course of the waters, and even to ask with respect to the
smallest brook, whither in reality it runs. One thus acquires.
a general survey of every stream-region, in which one happens
to be, a conception of the heights and depths which bear rela
tion to each other, and by these leading lines, which assist the
contemplation as well as the memory, extricates oneself in the
surest manner from the geological and political labyrinth.
With these observations, I took a solemn farewell of my be
loved Alsace, as the next morning we meant to turn our steps
towards Lorraine.

* That is, towards Germany ; Germany is the Land by pre-eminence.
American Note.

SAAEBRTJCK. 361

The evening passed away in familiar conversation, in which
we tried to cheer ourselves up under a joyless present, by re
membrances of a better past. Here, as in the whole of this
small country, the name of the last Count Eeinhard von Hanau
was blessed above all others; his great understanding and
aptitude had appeared in all his actions, and many a beautiful
memorial of his existence yet remained. Such men have the
advantage of being double benefactors : once to the present,
which they make happy, and then to the future, the feeling-
of which and courage they nourish and sustain.

Now as we turned ourselves north-westward into the moun
tains, passed by Liitzelstein, an old mountain tower, in a very
hilly country, and descended into the region of the Saar and
the Moselle, the heavens began to lower, as if they would
render yet more sensible to us the condition of the more rugged
western country. The valley of the Saar, where we first found
Eockenheim, a small place, and saw opposite to it Neusaarwer-
den, which is well-built, with a pleasure- castle, is bordered on
both sides by mountains which might be called melancholy, if
at their foot an endless succession of meadows and fields, called
the Huhnau, did not extend as far as Saaralbe, and beyond it,
further than the eye can reach. Great buildings, belonging to-
the former stables of the Duke of Lorraine, here attract the eye;
they are at present used as a dairy, for which purpose, indeed,
they are very well situated. We passed through Saargemlmd
to Saarbriick, and this little residence was a bright point in a land
so rocky and woody. The town, small and hilly, but well
adorned by the last prince, makes at once a pleasing impres
sion, as the houses are all painted a greyish white, and the
different elevation of them affords a variegated view. In the
middle of a beautiful square, surrounded with handsome build
ings, stands the Lutheran church, on a small scale, but in pro
portion with the whole. The front of the castle lies on the
same level with the town ; the back, on the contrary, on the
declivity of a steep rock. This has not only been worked out
terrace-fashion, to afford easy access to the valley, but an ob
long garden-plot has also been obtained below, by turning off
the stream on one side, and cutting away the rock on the other,
after which this whole space was first filled up with earth and
planted. The time of this undertaking fell in the epoch when
they used to consult the architects about laying out gardens^

362 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIPE.

just as at present they call in the aid of the landscape-painter s
eye. The whole arrangement of the castle, the costly and the
agreeable, the rich and the ornamental, betokened a life-enjoy
ing owner, such as the deceased prince had been ; the present
sovereign was not at home. President von Gunderode received
us in the most obliging manner, and entertained us for three
days better than we had a right to expect. I made use of the
various acquaintance which we formed to instruct myself in
many respects. The life of the former prince, rich in pleasure,
gave material enough for conversation, as well as the vari
ous expedients which he hit upon to make use of the advan
tages supplied by the nature of his land. Here I was now
properly initiated into the interest for mountain countries,
and the love for those economical and technical investigations
which have busied me a great part of my life, was first awakened
within me. We heard of the rich coal-pits atDutweil, of the iron
and alum works, and even of a burning mountain, and we pre
pared ourselves to see these wonders close.

We now rode through woody mountains, which must seem
wild and dreary to him who comes out of a magnificent fertile
land, and \vhich can attract us only by the internal contents
of its bosom. We were made acquainted with one simple,
and one complicated piece of machinery, within a short dis
tance of each other ; namely, a scythe-smithy and a wire
drawing factory. If one is pleased at the first because it
supplies the place of common hands, one cannot sufficiently
admire the other, for it works in a higher organic sense, from
which understanding and consciousness are scarcely to be
separated. In the alum- works we made accurate inquiries
after the production and purifying of this so necessary mate
rial, and when we saw great heaps of a white greasy, loose,
earthy matter, and asked the use of it, the labourers answered,
smiling, that it was the scum thrown up in boiling the alum,
and that Herr Stauf had it collected, as he hoped perchance
to turn it to some profit. "Is Herr Stauf alive yet?" ex
claimed my companion in surprise. They answered in the
affirmative, and assured us that according to the plan of our
journey we should not pass far from his lonely dwelling.

Our road now led up along the channels by which the alum-
water is conducted down, and the principal horizontal works
(stollen], which they call the " landgrube" and from which the

COAL AND ALFM-WOEKS. 363

famous Dutweil coals are procured. These, when they are
dry, have the blue colour of darkly tarnished steel, and the
most beautiful succession of rainbow tints plays over the sur
face with every movement. The deep abysses of the coal-pits,
however, attracted us so much the less as their contents lay
richly poured out around us. We now reached the open mine, in
which the roasted alum-scales are steeped in ley, and soon
after, a strange occurrence surprised us, although we had been
prepared. We entered into a chasm and found ourselves in
the region of the Burning Mountain. A strong smell of sul
phur surrounded us ; one side of the cavity was almost red-
hot, covered with reddish stone burnt white ; thick fumes
arose from the crevices, and we felt the heat of the ground
through our strong boot-soles. An event so accidental, for it
is not known how this place became ignited, affords a great
advantage for the manufacture of alum, since the alum-scales
of which the surface of the mountain consists, lie there per
fectly roasted, and may be steeped in a short time and very
well. The whole chasm had arisen by the calcined scales
being gradually removed and used up. We clambered up out
of this depth, and were on the top of the mountain. A plea
sant beech-grove encircled the spot, which followed up to the
chasm and extended itself on both sides of it. Many trees
stood already dried up, some were withering near others,
which, as yet quite fresh, felt no forebodings of that fierce heat
which was approaching and threatening their roots also.

Upon this space different openings were steaming, others
had already done smoking, and this fire had thus smouldered
for ten years already through old broken-up pits and horizontal
shafts, with which the mountain is undermined. It may, too,
have penetrated to the clefts through new coal-beds : for, some
hundred paces further into the wood, they had contemplated
following up manifest indications of an abundance of coal ; but
they had not excavated far before a strong smoke burst out
against the labourers and dispersed them. The opening was
filled up again, yet we found the place still smoking as we
went on our way past it to the residence of our hermitlike
chemist. This lies amid mountains and woods ; the vallies
there take very various and pleasing windings, the soil round
about is black and of the coal kind, and strata of it frequently
come in sight. A coal philosopher -philosophus per ignem, as

364 TRUTH AND POETRY: PROM MY OWN LIFE.

they said formerly could scarcely have settled himself more
suitably.

We came before a small house, not inconvenient for a
dwelling, and found Herr Stauf, who immediately recognised
my friend, and received him with lamentations about the new
government. Indeed we could see from what he said, that
the alum- works, as w r ell as many other well-meant establish
ments, on account of external and perhaps internal circum
stances also, did not pay their expenses ; with much else of
the sort. He belonged to the chemists of that time, who,
with a hearty feeling for all that could be done with the
products of nature, took delight in abstruse investigations of
trifles and secondary matters, and with their insufficient know
ledge were not dexterous enough to do that from which pro
perly economical and mercantile profit is to be derived. Thus
the use which he promised himself from that scum lay irery
far in the distance ; thus he had nothing to show but a cake
of sal-ammoniac, with which the Burning Mountain had
supplied him.

Ready and glad to communicate his complaints to a human
ear, the lean, decrepit little man, with a shoe on one foot and
a slipper on the other, and with stockings hanging down and
repeatedly pulled up in vain, dragged himself up the mountain
to where the resin-house stands, which he himself had erected,
and now, with great grief, sees falling to ruins. Here was
found a connected row of furnaces, where coal was to be
cleansed of sulphur, and made fit for use in iron- works ; but
at the same time they wished also to turn the oil and resin to
account ; nay, they would not even lose the soot ; and thus
all failed together, on account of the many ends in view.
During the life-time of the former prince, the business had
been carried on in the spirit of an amateur, and in hope ;
now thev asked for the immediate use, w r hich was not to be

tf

shown.

After we left our adept to his solitude, we hastened for it
was now late to the glass-house in Friedrichsthal, where we
became acquainted, on our way, with one of the most impor
tant and most wonderful operations of human ingenuity.

Nevertheless, some pleasant adventures, and a surprising fire
work at night-fall, not far from Neukirch, interested us young
fellows almost more than these important experiences. For as

ZWEY-BKTTCKEN. 365

a few nights before, on the banks of the Saar, shining clouds of
glow-worms hovered around us, betwixt rock and thicket,
so now the spark- spit ting forges played their sprightly firework
towards us. We passed, in the depth of night, the smelting,
houses situated in the bottom of the valley, and were de
lighted with the strange half-gloom of these dens of plank,
which are but dimly lighted by a little opening in the glowing
furnace. The noise of the water, and of the bellows driven
by it, the fearful whizzing and shrieking of the blast of air
which, raging into the smelted ore, stuns the ears and con
fuses the senses, drove us away, at last, to turn into Neukirch,
which is built up against the mountain.

But, notwithstanding all the variety and fatigue of the day,
I could find no rest here. I left my friend to a happy sleep,
and sought the hunting-seat, which lay still further up. It
looks out far over mountain and wood, the outlines of which
were only to be recognised against the clear night-sky, but the
sides and depths of which were impenetrable to nay sight. This
well-preserved building stood as empty as it was lonely ; no
castellan, no huntsman was to be found. I sat before the
great glass doors upon the steps which run. around the whole
terrace. Here, surrounded by mountains, over a forest-grown,
dark soil, which seemed yet darker in contrast with the clear
horizon of a summer night, with the glowing starry vault
above me, I sat for a long time by myself on the deserted
spot, and thought 1 never had felt such a solitude. How
sweetly, then, was I surprised by the distant sound of a couple
of French horns, which at once, like the fragrance of balsam,
enlivened the peaceful atmosphere. Then there awakened
within me the image of a lovely being, which had retired into
the background before the motley objects of these travelling
days, but which now unveiled itself more and more, and drove
me from the spot back to my quarters, where I made prepa
rations to set off with the earliest.

The return was not used like the journey out. Thus we
hurried through Zwey-briicken (Deux-Ponts), which, as a
beautiful and notable residence, might well have deserved our
attention. We cast a glance upon the great, simple castle,
on the extensive esplanades, regularly planted with linden-trees,
and very well adapted for the training of race-horses, and on
the large stables, and the citizens houses which the prince
had built to be raffled for. All this, as well as the costume

366 TEUTH AMD POETBY ; PEOM MY OWN LIFE.

and manners of the inhabitants, especially of the matrons and
maids, had reference to a distant connexion, and made plainly
visible the relation with Paris, from which, for a long time,
nothing transrhenaiie had been able to withdraw itself. We
visited also the ducal wine-cellars, situated before the city,
which arc extensive, and furnished with large, well-made tuns.
We went on further, and at last found the country like that
in the neighbourhood of Saarbriick. Between wild and savage

O o

mountains are a few villages ; one here gets rid of the habit
of looking about for corn. We mounted up, by the side of
the Hornbach, to Bitsch, which lies on the important spot
where the waters divide, and fall, a part into the Saar, a part
into the Bhine. These last were soon to attract us towards
them. Yet we could not refuse our attention to the little city
of Bitsch, which very picturesquely winds around the moun
tain, nor to the fortress, which lies above. This is partly
built on rocks, and partly hewn out of them. The subterra
neous chambers are particularly worthy of remark; here is
not only space sufficient for the abode of a number of men
and cattle, but one even lights upon large vaults for the dril
ling of troops, a mill, a chapel, and whatever else could be
required under-ground, provided the surface were in a state
of disturbance.

We now followed the down-rushing brooks through B aren-
thal. The thick forests on both the heights remain unused
by the hand of man. Here trunks of trees lie rotting on
each other by thousands, and young scions sprout up without
number from their half-mouldered progenitors. Here, in con
versation with some companions on foot, the name Von
Dieterich again struck our ears, which we had often heard
honourably mentioned already in these woody regions. The
activity and cleverness of this man, his wealth, and the use
and applications of it, all seemed in proportion. He could
with justice take delight in the acquisitions which he increased,
and enjoy the profits he secured. The more I saw of the
world, the more pleasure I took, not only in the universally
famous names, but in those also, especially, which were men
tioned in particular regions with reverence and love : and thus
I easily learned here, by a few questions, that Yon Dieterich,
earlier than others, had known how to make successful use
of the mountain treasures, iron, coal, and wood, and had
worked his way to an ever-growing opulence.

SESEXHEOI. 367

Niederbrunn, where we now arrived, was a new proof of
this. He had purchased this little place from the Count of
Leiningen and other part-owners, to erect important iron
works in the place.

Here in these baths, already founded by the Romans, floated,
around me the spirit of antiquity, venerable relics of which,
in fragments of bas-reliefs and inscriptions, capitals and shafts,
shone out strangely towards me, from farm-houses, amidst
household lumber and furniture.

As we were ascending the adjacent Wasenburg also, I
paid my respects to a well-preserved inscription, which dis
charged a thankful vow to Mercury, and is situated upon
the great mass of rock which forms the base of the hill on
one side. The fortress itself lies on the last mountain, looking
from Bitsch towards Germany. It is the ruin of a German
castle built upon Roman remains. From the tower the whole
of Alsace was once more surveyed, and the conspicuous
minster- spire pointed out the situation of Strasburg. First
of all, however, the great forest of Hagenau extended itself,
and the towers of this town peered plainly from behind. I
was attracted thither. We rode through Reichshof, where
Von Dieterich built an imposing castle, and after we had
contemplated from the hills near Niedermoder the pleasing
course of the little river Moder, by the forest of Hagenau, I
left my friend on a ridiculous coal-mine visitation, which, at
Dutweil, might have been a somewhat more serious business,
and I then rode through Hagenau, on the direct road
already indicated by my affection to my beloved Sesenheim.

For all these views into a wild, mountain region, and then,
again, into a cheerful, fruitful, joyous land, could not rivet my
mind s eye, which was directed to an amiable, attractive
object. This time, also, the hither way seemed to me more
charming than its opposite, as it brought me again into the
neighbourhood of a lady to whom I w^as heartily devoted,
and who deserved as much respect as love. But before I lead
my friends to her rural abode, let me be permitted to men
tion a circumstance which contributed very much to enliven
and enhance my affection, and the satisfaction which it
afforded me.

How far I must have been behindhand in modern literature,
may be gathered from the mode of life which I led at Frank-

368 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

fort, and from the studies to which I had devoted myself;
nor could my residence in Strasburg have furthered me in
this respect. Now Herder came, and together with his great
knowledge brought many other aids, and the later publications
besides. Among these he announced to us the Vicar of
Wakefield as an excellent work, with the German translation
of which he would make us acquainted by reading it aloud to
us himself.

His method of reading was quite peculiar ; whoever has
heard him preach will be able to form a notion of it. He
delivered everything, this romance included, in a serious and
simple style, perfectly removed from all dramatically imitative
representation ; he even avoided that variety \vhich is not only
permitted, but even required, in an epical delivery a slight
change of tone when different persons speak, by which what
-every one says is brought into relief, and the actor is distin
guished from the narrator. Without being monotonous,
Herder let everything go on in the same tone, just as if
nothing was present before him, but all was merely historical ;
as if the shadows of this poetic creation did not act livingly
before him, but only glided gently by. Yet this manner of
delivery from his mouth had an infinite charm ; for, as he felt
all most deeply, and knew how to estimate the variety of such
a work, so the whole merit of a production appeared purely
and the more clearly, as one w r as not disturbed by details
sharply spoken out, nor interrupted in the feeling which the
whole was meant to produce.

A Protestant country clergyman is, perhaps, the most beau
tiful subject for a modern idyl ; he appears, like Melchizedek,
as priest and king in one person. To the most innocent situa
tion which can be imagined on earth, to that of a husband
man, he is, for the most part, united by similarity of occupa
tion, as well as by equality in family relationships ; he is a
father, a master of a family, an agriculturist, and thus per
fectly a member of the community. On this pure, beautiful,
earthly foundation, rests his higher calling ; to him is it given
to guide men through life, to take care of their spiritual edu
cation, to bless them at all the leading epochs of their exist
ence, to instruct, to strengthen, to console them, and, if con
solation is not sufficient for the present, to call up and guaran
tee the hope of a happier future. Imagine such a man, with

THE "YICAK OF WAKEFIELD." 369

pure human sentiments, strong enough not to deviate from
them under any circumstances, and by this already elevated
above the multitude, of whom one cannot expect purity and
firmness ; give him the learning necessary for his office, as
well as a cheerful, equable activity, which is even passionate,
as it neglects no moment to do good, and you will have
him well endowed. But at the same time add the necessary
limitation, so that he must not only pause in a small circle,
"but may also perchance pass over to a smaller; grant him
good-nature, placability, resolution, and everything else praise
worthy that springs from a decided character, and over all this
a cheerful spirit of compliance, and a smiling toleration of his
own failings and those of others, then you will have put
together pretty well the image of our excellent Wakefield.

The delineation of this character on his course of life
through joys and sorrows, the ever-increasing interest of the
story, by the combination of the entirely natural with the
strange and the singular, make this novel one of the best which
has ever been written ; besides this, it has the great advan
tage that it is quite moral, nay, in a pure sense, Christian-
represents the reward of a good will and perseverance in the
right, strengthens an unconditional confidence in God, and
attests the final triumph of good over evil ; and all this with
out a trace of cant or pedantry. The author was preserved
from both of these by an elevation of mind that shows itself
throughout in the form of irony, by which this little work
must appear to us as wise as it is amiable. The author,
Dr. Goldsmith, has without question great insight into the
moral world, into its strength and its infirmities ; but at the
same time he can thankfully acknowledge that he is an
Englishman, and reckon highly the advantages which his
country and his nation afford him. The family, with the de
lineation of which he occupies himself, stands upon one of
the last steps of citizen comfort, and yet comes in contact
with the highest; its narrow circle, which becomes still
more contracted, touches upon the great world through the
natural and civil course of things ; this little skiff floats on.
the agitated waves of English life, and in weal or woe it
has to expect injury or help from the vast fleet which sails
around it.

I may suppose that my readers know this work, and have

370 TETJTH AKD POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

it in memory ; whoever hears it named for the first time here,
as well as he who is induced to read it again, will thank me.
For the former, I would merely make the cursory remark,
that the vicar s wife is of that good, busy sort, who allows
herself and her own to want for nothing, but who is also some
what vain of herself and her own. There are two daughters, >
Olivia, handsome and more devoted to the external, and.
Sophia, charming and more given to the internal ; nor will I
omit to mention an industrious son, Moses, who is somewhat
blunt and emulous of- his father.

If Herder could be accused of any fault in his reading aloud,
it was impatience ; he did not wait until the hearer had heard
and comprehended a certain part of the progress, so as to be
able to feel and think correctly about it; hurrying on, he
would see their effect at once, and yet he was displeased even
with this when it manifested itself. He blamed the excess of
feeling which overflowed from me more and more at every
step. I felt like a man, like a young man ; everything was
living, true, and present before me. He, considering only
the intrinsic contents and form, saw clearly, indeed, that I was
overpowered by the subject-matter, and this he would not
allow. Then Peglow s reflections, which were not of the most
refined, were still worse received ; but he was especially angry
at our want of keenness in not seeing beforehand the contrasts
of which the author often makes use, and in suffering ourselves
to be moved and carried away by them without remarking the
oft-returning artifice. He would not pardon us for not seeing
at once, or at least suspecting at the very beginning, where
Burchell is on the point of discovering himself by passing ovex 4
in his narration from the third to the first person, that he him
self is the lord of whom he is speaking ; and when, finally, we
rejoiced like children at the discovery and the transformation
of the poor, needy wanderer, into a rich, powerful lord, he
immediately recalled the passage, which, according to the
author s plan, we had overlooked, and read us a powerful
lecture on our stupidity. It will be seen from this that he re
garded the work merely as a production of art, and required
the same of us, who were yet wandering in that state where it
is very allowable to let works of art affect us like productions-
of nature.

I did not suffer myself to be at all perplexed by

PLEASUKES OF TRAVELLING INCOGNITO. 371

invectives; for young people have the happiness or unhap-
piness, that, when once anything has produced an effect on
them, this effect must be wrought out within themselves ;
from which much good, as well as much mischief, arises. The
above work had left with me a great impression, for which I
could not account, but properly speaking, I felt myself in har-
monv with that ironical tone of mind which elevates itself

%

above every object, above fortune and misfortune, good and
evil, death and life, and thus attains to the possession of a truly
poetical world. I could not, indeed, become conscious of this
until later ; it was enough that it gave me much to do at the
moment ; but I could by no means have expected to be so soon
transposed from this fictitious world into a similar real one.

My fellow-boarder, Weyland, who enlivened his quiet, labo
rious life by visiting from time to time his friends and relations
in the country (for he was a native of Alsace), did me many
services on my little excursions, by introducing me to different
localities and families, sometimes in person, sometimes by re
commendations. He had often spoken to me about a country
clergyman who lived near Drusenheim, six leagues from Stras-
burg, in possession of a good benefice, with an intelligent wife
and a pair of amiable daughters. The hospitality and agree-
ableness of this family were always highly extolled. It scarcely
needed so much to draw thither a young knight who had
already accustomed himself to spend all his leisure days and
hours on horseback and in the open air. We decided there
fore upon this trip, and my friend had to promise that on
introducing me he would say neither good nor ill of me, but
would treat me with general indifference, and would allow me
to make my appearance clad, if not meanly, yet somewhat
poorly and negligently. He consented to this, and promised
himself some sport from it.

It is a pardonable whim in men of consequence, to place
their exterior advantages in concealment now and then, so as-
to allow their own internal human nature to operate with the
greater purity. For this reason the incognito of princes, and
the adventures resulting therefrom, are always highly pleas
ing ; these appear disguised divinities, who can reckon at
double its value all the good offices shown to them as indivi
duals, and are in such a position that they can either make
light of the disagreeable or avoid it. That Jupiter should be

2B 2

372 TRUTH AKD POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

well pleased in his incognito with Philemon and Baucis, and
Henry the Fourth with his peasants after a hunting party, is
quite conformable to nature, and we like it well ; but that a
young man without importance or name, should take it into
his head to derive some pleasure from an incognito, might be
construed by many as an unpardonable piece of arrogance.
Yet since the question here is not of such views and actions,
so far as they are praiseworthy or blameable, but so far as they
can manifest themselves and actually occur, we will on this
occasion, for the sake of our own amusement, pardon the
youngster his self-conceit ; and the more so, as I must here
allege, that from youth upwards, a love for disguising myself
had been excited in me even by my stern father.

This time, too, partly by some cast-off clothes of my own,
partly by some borrowed garments and by the manner of
combing my hair, I had, if not disfigured myself, yet at least
decked myself out so oddly, that my friend could not help
laughing on the way, especially as I knew how to imitate per
fectly the bearing and gestures of such figures when they sit
on horseback, and which are called " Latin riders." The fine
road, the most splendid weather, and the neighbourhood of
the Rhine, put us in the best humour. At Drusenheim we
stopped a moment, he to make himself spruce, and I to re
hearse my part, out of which I was afraid I should now and
then fall. The country here has the characteristics of all the
open, level Alsace. We rode on a pleasant foot-path over
the meadows, soon reached Sesenheim, left our horses at the
tavern, and walked leisurely towards the parsonage. " Do not be
put out," said Weyland, showing me the house from a distance,
" because it looks like an old miserable farm-house, it is so
much the younger inside." We stepped into the court-yard;
the whole pleased me well : for it had exactly that which is
called picturesque, and which had so magically interested me
in Dutch art. The effect which time produces on all human
work was strongly perceptible. House, barn, and stable were
just at that point of dilapidation where, indecisive and doubt
ful between preserving and rebuilding, one often neglects the
one without being able to accomplish the other.

As in the village, so in the court-yard, all was quiet and
deserted. We found the father, a little man, wrapped up
within himself, but friendly notwithstanding, quite alone, for

THE PASTOR S FAMILY. 373

the family were in the fields. He bade us welcome, and offered

v

us some refreshment, which, we declined. My friend hurried
away to look after the ladies, and I remained alone with our
host. " You are perhaps surprised," said he, " to find me so
miserably quartered in a wealthy village, and with a lucrative
benefice ; but," he continued, u this proceeds from irresolu
tion. Long since it has been promised me by the parish, and
even by those in higher places, that the house shall be rebuilt ;
many plans have been already drawn, examined and altered,
none of them altogether rejected, and none carried into execu
tion. This has lasted so many years, that I scarcely know how
to command my impatience." I made him an answer such as
I thought likely to cherish his hopes, and to encourage him to
pursue the affair more vigorously. Upon this he proceeded to
describe familiarly the personages on whom such matters de
pended, and although he was no great delineator of character,
I could nevertheless easily comprehend how the whole busi
ness must have been delayed. The confidential tone of the

*/

man was something peculiar ; he talked to me as if he had
known me for ten years, while there was nothing in his look
from which I could have suspected that he was directing any
attention to me. At last my friend came in with the mother.
She seemed to look at me with quite different eyes. Her
countenance was regular, and the expression of it intelligent ;
she must have been beautiful in her youth. Her figure was
tall and spare, but not more so than became her years, and
when seen from behind, she had yet quite a youthful and pleas
ing appearance. The elder daughter then came bouncing in
briskly ; she inquired after Frederica, just as both the others
had also done. The father assured them that he had not seen
her since all three had gone out together. The daughter again
went out at the door to look for her sister ; the mother brought
us some refreshment, and Weyland, with the old couple, con
tinued the conversation, which referred to nothing but known
persons and circumstances ; as, indeed, it is usually the case
when acquaintances meet after some length of time, that they
make inquiries, and mutually give each other information
about the members of a large circle. I listened, and now
learned how much I had to promise myself from this circle.

The elder daughter again came hastily back into the room,
uneasy at not having found her sister. They were anxious

374 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

about her, and blamed her for this or that bad habit ; only the
father said, very composedly, " Let her alone ; she has already
come back ! At this instant she really entered the door; and
then truly a most charming star arose in this rural heaven.
Both daughters still wore nothing but German, as they used
to call it, and this almost obsolete national costume became
Frederica particularly well. A short, white, full skirt, with a
furbelow, not so long but that the neatest little feet were
visible up to the ankle ; a tight white bodice and a black
taffeta apron, thus she stood on the boundary between
country girl and city girl. Slender and light, she tripped along
as if she had nothing to carry, and her neck seemed almost
too delicate for the large fair braids on her elegant little head.
From cheerful blue eyes she looked very plainly round, and
her pretty turned-up nose peered as freely into the air as if
there could be no care in the world ; her straw hat hung on
her arm, and thus, at the first glance, I had the delight of see
ing her, and acknowledging her at once in all her grace and
loveliness.

I now began, to act my character with moderation, half
ashamed to play a joke on such good people, whom I had time
enough to observe : for the girls continued the previous con
versation, and that with passion and some display of temper.
All the neighbours and connexions were again brought for
ward, and there seemed, to my imagination, such a swarm of
uncles and aunts, relations, cousins, comers, goers, gossips and
guests, that I thought myself lodged in the liveliest world pos
sible. All the members of the family had spoken some words
with me, the mother looked at me every time she came in or
went out, but Frederica first entered into conversation with
me, and as I took up and glanced through some music that
was lying around, she asked me if I played also ? When I
answered in the affirmative, she requested me to perform
something ; but the father would not allow this, for he main
tained that it was proper to serve the guest first with some
piece of music or a song.

She played several things with some readiness, in the style
which one usually hears in the country, and on a harpsichord,
too, that the schoolmaster should have tuned long since, if he
had only had time. She was now to sing a song also, a cer
tain tender-melancholy affair ; but she did not succeed in it.

COMPARISON WITH THE " VIGAH OF WAKEFIELD." 375

She rose up and said, smiling, or rather with that touch of
serene joy which ever reposed on her countenance, " If I sing
badly, I cannot lay the blame on the harpsichord or the school-
master ; but let us go out of doors ; then you shall hear my
Alsatian and Swiss songs ; they sound much better."

During supper, a notion which had already struck me, occu
pied me to such a degree, that I became meditative and silent,
although the liveliness of the elder sister, and the gracefulness
of the younger, shook me often enough out of my contempla
tions. My astonishment at finding myself so actually in the
"Wakefield family was beyond all expression. The father,
indeed, could not be compared with that excellent man ; but
where will you find his like ? On the other hand, all the dig
nity which is peculiar to that husband, here appeared in the
wife. One could not see her without at the same time rever
encing and fearing her. In her were remarked the fruits of a
good education ; her demeanour was quiet, easy, cheerful, and
inviting.

If the elder daughter had not the celebrated beautv of Oli-

O _ v

via, yet she was well-made, lively, and rather impetuous ; she
everywhere showed herself active, and lent a helping hand to
her mother in all things. To put Frederica in the place of
Primrose s Sophia was not difficult ; for little is said of the
latter, it is only taken for granted that she is amiable ; and
this girl was amiable indeed. Now as the same occupation
and the same situation, wherever they may occur, produce
similar, if not the same effects, so here too many things were
talked about, many things happened, which had already taken
place in the Wakefield family. But when at last a younger
son, long announced and impatiently expected by the father,
tit last sprang into the room, and boldly sat himself down by
us, taking but little notice of the guests, I could scarcely help
exclaiming, " Moses, are you here too !

The conversation at table extended my insight into this
country and family circle, since the discourse was about vari
ous droll incidents which had happened now here, now there.
Prederica, who sat by me, thence took occasion to describe to
me different localities which it was worth while to visit. As one
little story always calls forth another, I was able to mingle
so much the better in the conversation, and to relate similar
incidents, and as, besides this, a good country wine was by no

876 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

means spared, I stood in danger of slipping out of my charac
ter, for which reason my more prudent friend took advantage
of the beautiful moonlight, and proposed a walk, which was
approved at once. He gave his arm to the elder, I to the
younger, and thus we went through the wide field, paying more
attention to the heavens above us than to the earth, which lost
itself in extension around us. There was, however, nothing
of moonshine in Fredericks discourse ; by the clearness with
which she spoke she turned night into day, and there was no
thing in it which would have indicated or excited any feeling,
except that her expressions related more than hitherto to me,
since she represented to me her own situation, as well as the
neighbourhood and her acquaintances, just as far as I should
be acquainted with them ; for she hoped, she added, I would
make no exception, and would visit them again, as all strangers
had willingly done who had once stopped with them.

It was very pleasant to me to listen silently to the descrip
tion which she gave of the little world in which she moved,
and of the persons whom she particularly valued. She thereby
imparted to me a clear, and, at the same time, such an amiable
idea of her situation, that it had a very strange effect on me ;
for I felt at once a deep regret that I had not lived with her
sooner, and at the same time a truly painful envious feeling
towards all who had hitherto had the good fortune to surround
her. I at once watched closely, as if I had a right to do so,
all her descriptions of men, whether they appeared under the
names of neighbours, cousins, or gossips, and my conjectures
inclined now this way, now that ; but how could I have dis
covered anything in my complete ignorance of all the circum
stances ? She at last became more and more talkative, and I
more and more silent. It was so pleasant to listen to her,
and as I heard only her voice, while the form of her coun
tenance, as well as the rest of the world, floated dimly in the
twilight, it seemed to me as if I could see into her heart,
which I could not but find very pure, since it unbosomed
itself to me in such unembarrassed loquacity.

When my companion retired with me into the guest-cham
ber, which was prepared for us, he at once, with self-com
placency, broke out into pleasant jesting, and took great
credit to himself for having surprised me so much with the
similarity to the Primrose family. I chimed in with him by

COMPARISON WITH THE " VICAU OP WAKEFIELD." 377

showing myself thankful. " Truly," cried he, " the story is quite
complete. This family may very well be compared to that,
and the gentleman in disguise here may assume the honour of
passing for Mr. Burchell ; moreover, since scoundrels are not
so necessary in common life as in novels, I will for this time
undertake the role of the nephew, and behave myself better
than he did." However, I immediately changed this conver
sation, pleasant as it might be to me, and asked him, before
all things, on his conscience, if he had not really betrayed me ?
He answered me, " No ! " and I could believe him. They had
rather inquired, said he, after the merry table-companion who
boarded at the same house with him in Strasburg, and of whom
they had been told all sorts of preposterous stuff. I now went
to other questions : Had she ever been in love ? Was she now
in love ? Was she engaged ? He replied to all in the nega
tive. " In truth," replied I, " such a cheerfulness by nature
is inconceivable to me. Had she loved and lost, and again
recovered herself, or had she been betrothed, in both these
cases I could account for it."

Thus we chatted together far into the night, and I was
awake again at the dawn. My desire to see her once more
seemed unconquerable ; but while I dressed myself, I was
horrified at the accursed wardrobe I had so wantonly selected.
The further I advanced in putting on my clothes, the meaner
I seemed in my own eyes ; for everything had been calculated
for just this effect. My hair I might perchance have set to
rights ; but when at last I forced myself into the borrowed,
worn-out grey coat, and the short sleeves gave me the most
absurd appearance, I fell the more decidedly into despair,
as I could see myself only piecemeal, in a little looking-glass
since one part always looked more ridiculous than the other.

During this toilette my friend awoke, and with the satisfac
tion of a good conscience, and in the feeling of pleasurable
hope for the day, looked out at me from the quilted silk cover
let. I had for a long time already envied him his fine clothes,
as they hung over the chair, and had he been of my size, I
would have carried them off before his eyes, changed my dress
outside, and hurrying into the garden, left my cursed husk for
him ; he would have had good-humour enough to put himself
into my clothes, and the tale would have found a merry end
ing early in the morning. But that was not now to be thought

578 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWX LIPE.

of, no more was any other feasible accommodation. To appear
again before Frederica in the figure in which my friend could
give me out as a laborious and accomplished but poor student
of theology, before Frederica, who the evening before had
spoken so friendly to my disguised self. that was altogether
impossible. There I stood, vexed and thoughtful, and sum
moned all my power of invention ; but it deserted me ! But
now when he, comfortably stretched out, after fixing his eyes
upon me for a while, all at once burst out into a loud laugh,
find exclaimed, " No ! it is true, you do look most cursedly ! ;
I replied impetuously, " And I know what I will do. Good
bye, and make my excuses ! : "Are you mad?" cried he,
spinging out of bed and trying to detain me. But I was
already out of the door, down the stairs, out of the house and
yard, off to the tavern ; in an instant my horse was saddled,
and I hurried away in mad vexation, galloping towards Dru
senheim, then through that place, and still further on.

As I now thought myself in safety, I rode more slowly,
and now first felt how infinitely against my will I was going
away. But I resigned myself to my fate, made present to my
mind the promenade of yesterday evening with the greatest
calmness, and cherished the secret hope of seeing her soon
again. But this quiet feeling soon changed itself again into
impatience, and I now determined to ride rapidly into the
city, change my dress, take a good, fresh horse, since then, as
my passion made me believe, I could at all events return before
dinner, or, as was more probable, to the dessert, or towards
evening, and beg my forgiveness.

I was just about to put spurs to my horse to execute this
plan, when another, and, as seemed to me, a very happy thought,
passed through my mind. In the tavern at Drusenheim, the
day before, I had noticed a son of tiie landlord very nicely
dressed, who, early this morning, being busied about his rural
arrangements, had saluted me from his court-yard. He was
of my figure, and had for the moment reminded me of myself.
No sooner thought than done ! My horse was hardly turned
round, when I found myself in Drusenheim ; I brought him
into the stable, and in a few words made the fellow my pro
posal, namely, that he should lend me his clothes, as I had
something merry on foot at Sesenheim. I had no need to talk
long ; he agreed to the proposition with joy, and praised me

THE EXCHANGE OF CLOTHES. 379

for wishing to make some sport for the Mamsells ; they were,
he said, such capital people, especially Mamselle Riekchen,*
and the parents, too, liked to see everything go on merrily and
pleasantly. He considered me attentively, and as from my
appearance he might have taken me for a poor starveling,
he said, " If you wish to insinuate yourself, this is the right
way." In the meanwhile we had already proceeded far in
our toilette, and properly speaking he should not have trusted
me with his holiday clothes on the strength of mine ; but he
was honest-hearted, and, moreover, had my horse in his stable.
I soon stood there smart enough, gave myself a consequential
air, and my Mend seemed to regard his counterpart with
complacency. "Topp,f Mr. Brother!" said he, giving me
his hand, which I grasped heartily, "don t come too near
my girl ; she might make a mistake ! "

My hair, which had now its full growth again, I could part
at top, much like his, and as I looked at him repeatedly, I
found it comical moderately to imitate his thicker eyebrows
with a burnt cork, and bring mine nearer together in the
middle, so that with my enigmatical intentions, I might make
myself an external riddle likewise. "Now have you not,"
said I, as he handed me his be-ribboned hat, " something or
other to be done at the parsonage, that I might announce
myself there in a natural manner? 1 "Good!" replied he,
" but then you must wait two hours yet. There is a woman
confined at our house ; I will offer to take the cake to the
parson s wife,"! and you may carry it over. Pride must pay
its penalty, and so must a joke." I resolved to w r ait, but
these two hours were infinitely long, and I was dying of im
patience when the third hour passed before the cake came out
of the oven. At last I got it cpite hot, and hastened away
with mv credentials in the most beautiful sunshine, accom-

V

panied for a distance by my counterpart, who promised to
come after me in the evening and bring me my clothes, "f his,
however, I briskly declined, and stipulated that I should
deliver up to him his own.

I had not skipped far with my present, which I carried in a

* Abbreviation for Frederica. Trans.

f The exclamation used on striking a bargain. It is, we believe,
employed by some trades in England. Trans.

J The general custom of the country villages in Protestant Germany
on such interesting occasions. American Note.

380 TEUTH AND POETEY ; FBOM MY OWN LIFE.

neat tied-up napkin, when, in the distance, I saw my friend
coming towards me with the two ladies. My heart was uneasy,
which was certainly unsuitable under this jacket. I stood
still, took breath, and tried to consider how I should begin ;
and now I first remarked that the nature of the ground was
very much in my favour ; for they were walking on the other
side of the brook, which, together with the strips of meadow
through which it ran, kept the two footpaths pretty far apart.
When they were just opposite to me, Frederica, who had
already perceived me long before, cried, " George, what are you
bringing there ? : I was clever enough to cover my face with
my hat, which I took off, while I held up the loaded napkin
high in the air. " A christening cake! cried she at that;
"how is your sister? " Well,"* said I, for I tried to talk
in a strange dialect, if not exactly in the Alsatian. " Carry it
to the house ! : said the elder, "and if you do not find my
mother, give it to the maid ; but wait for us, we shall soon be
back, do you hear?" I hastened along my path in the
joyous feeling of the best hope that, as the beginning was so
lucky, all would go off well, and I had soon reached the par
sonage. I found nobody either in the house or in the kitchen ;
I did not wish to disturb the old gentleman, whom I might
suppose busy in the study ; I therefore sat down on the bench
before the door, with the cake beside me, and pressed my hat
upon my face.

I cannot easily recall a pleasanter sensation. To sit again
on this threshold, over which, a short time before, I had blun
dered out in despair ; to have seen her already again, to have
already heard again her dear voice, so soon after my chagrin
had pictured to me a long separation, every moment to
be expecting herself and a discovery, at which my heart
throbbed, and yet, in this ambiguous case, a discovery with
out shame ; for at the very beginning it was a merrier prank
than any of those they had laughed at so much yesterday.
Love and necessity are the best masters ; they both acted
together here, and their pupil was not unworthy of them.

But the maid came stepping out of the barn. " Now ! did

the cakes turn out well ? cried she to me ; " how is your

sister ? " All right," said I, and pointed to the cake without

looking up. She took up the napkin and muttered, " Now,

* In the original his answer is " Guet," for " Gut." Trans.

GOETHE S DISGUISE. 381

what s the matter with you to-day again ? Has Barbchen 1 ^
been looking again at somebody else ? Don t let us suffer for
that! You will make a happy couple if you carry on so !"
As she spoke pretty loud, the pastor came to the window and
asked what was the matter. She showed him to me ; I stood up
and turned myself towards him ; but still kept the hat over my
face. When he had spoken somewhat friendly to me, and had
asked me to remain, I went towards the garden, and was just
going in, when the pastor s wife, who was entering the court
yard gate, called to me. As the sun shone right in my face, r
I one more availed myself of the advantage which my hat
afforded me, and greeted her by scraping a leg ; but she went
into the house after she had bidden me not to go away without
eating something. I now walked up and down in the garden ;
everything had hitherto had the best success, yet I breathed
hard when I reflected that the young people now would soon
return. But the mother unexpectedly stepped up to me,
and was just going to ask me a question, when she looked me
in the face, so that I could not conceal myself any longer, and
the words stuck in her throat. " I am looking for George,":
said she, after a pause, "and whom do I find? Is it you,
young sir ? How many forms have you, then ? " In earnest
only one," replied I; "in sport as many as you like."
" Which sport I will not spoil," smiled she ; " go out behind
the garden into the meadow until it strikes twelve, then come
back, and I shall already have contrived the joke." I did so ;
but when I was beyond the hedges of the village gardens,
and was going along the meadows, towards me some country
people came by the footpath, and put me in some em
barrassment. I therefore turned aside into a little wood,
which crowned an elevation quite near, in order to conceal
myself there till the appointed time. Yet how strangely did
I feel when I entered it ; for there appeared before me a neat
place, with benches, from every one of which was a pretty
view of the country. Here was the village and the steeple,
here Drusenheim, and behind it the woody islands of the
Khine ; in the opposite direction was the Vosgian mountain
range, and at last the minster of Strasburg. These different
heaven-bright pictures were set in bushy frames, so that one
could see nothing more joyous and pleasing. I sat down

* Diminutive of Barbara, Trans.

382 TRUTH AND POETRY ; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

upon one of the benches, and noticed on the largest tree an
oblong little board with the inscription, " Frederick s Repose. 7
It never occurred to me that I might have come to disturb
this repose ; for a budding passion has this beauty about it,
that, as it is unconscious of its origin, neither can it have
any thought of an end, nor, while it feels itself glad and
cheerful, have any presentiment that it may also create
mischief.

I had scarcely had time to look about me and was losing
myself in sweet reveries, when I heard somebody coming ; it
was Frederica herself. " George, what are you doing here ? :
she cried from a distance. "Not George ! :> cried I, running
towards her, " but one who craves forgiveness of you a thou
sand times." She looked at me with astonishment, but soon
collected herself, and said, after fetching her breath more
deeply, "You abominable man, how you frighten me!
" The first disguise has led me into the second," exclaimed I ;
"the former would have been unpardonable if I had only
known in any degree to whom I was going ; but this one you
will certainly forgive, for it is the shape of persons whom you
treat so kindly." Her pale cheeks had coloured up with the
most beautiful rose-red. " You shall not be worse off than
George, at any rate ! But let us sit down ! I confess the
fright has gone into my limbs." I sat down beside her,
exceedingly agitated. " We know everything already, up to
this morning, from your friend," said she, "now do you tell
me the rest." I did not let her say that twice, but described
to her my horror at my yesterday s figure, and my rushing
out of the house, so comically, that she laughed heartily and
graciously ; then I went on to what followed, with all modesty,
indeed, yet passionately enough, so that it might have passed
for a declaration of love in historical form. At last I solem
nized my pleasure at finding her again, by a kiss upon her
hand, which she suffered to remain in mine. If she had taken
upon herself the expense of the conversation during yesterday
evening s moonlight walk, I now, on my part, richly repaid
the debt. The pleasure of seeing her again, and being able
to say to her everything that I had yesterday kept back, was
so great that, in my eloquence, I did not remark how medi
tative and silent she was. Once more she deeply fetched her
breath, and over and over again I begged her forgiveness for

" FKEDERICA S KEPOSE." 303

the fright which I had caused her. How long we may have
sat I know not ; but at once we heard some one call. It was
the voice of her sister. " That will be a pretty story," said
the dear girl, restored to her perfect cheerfulness ; " she is
coming hither on my side," she added, bending so as half to
conceal me ; " turn yourself away, so that you may not be
recognised at once." The sister entered the place, but not
alone ; Weyland was with her, and both, when they saw us,
stood still, as if petrified.

If we should all at once see a flame burst out violently from
a quiet roof, or should meet a monster whose deformity was at
the same time revolting and fearful, we should not be struck
with such a fierce horror as that which seizes us when, unex
pectedly, we see with our own eyes what we have believed
morailj impossible. "What is this?" cried the elder, witli
the rapidity of one who is frightened; " what is this? you with
George, hand- in-hand ! How am I to understand this?
" Dear sister," replied Frederica, very doubtfully, " the poor
fellow, he is begging something of me ; he has something to
beg of you, too, but you must forgive him beforehand." "I do
not understand I do not comprehend " said her sister, shak
ing her head and looking at Weyland, who, in his quiet way,
stood by in perfect tranquillity, and contemplated the scene-
without any kind of expression. Frederica arose and drew me
after her. " No hesitating ! " cried she ; " pardon begged and
granted! : " Now do ! said I, stepping pretty near the elder ;
* I have need of pardon! She drew back, gave a loud
shriek, and was covered with blushes ; she then threw herself
down on the grass, laughed immoderately, and seemed as if she
would never have done. Weyland smiled as if pleased, and
cried, " You are a rare youth ! Then he shook my hand in
his. He was not usually liberal with his caresses, but his shake
of the hand had something hearty and enlivening about it ; yet
he was sparing of this also.

After somewhat recovering and collecting ourselves, we set
out on our return to the village. On the way I learned how
this singular meeting had been occasioned. Frederica had at.
last parted from the promenaders to rest herself in her little
nook for a moment before dinner, and when the other tvva
came back to the house, the mother had sent them to call Fre
derica with as great haste as possible, because dinner was.
ready.

384 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

The elder sister manifested the most extravagant delight, and
when she learned that the mother had already discovered the
secret, she exclaimed, " Now we have still to deceive my
father, my brother, the servant-man and the maid." When we
were at the garden-hedge, Frederica insisted upon going first
into the house with my friend. The maid was busy in the
kitchen-garden, and Olivia (so let the elder sister be named
here) called out to her, " Stop ; I have something to tell you ! "
She left me standing by the hedge, and went to the maid. I
saw that they were speaking very earnestly. Olivia repre
sented to her that George had quarrelled with Barbara, and
seemed desirous of marrying her. The lass was not displeased
at this ; I was now called, and was to confirm what had been
said. The pretty, stout girl cast down her eyes, and remained
so until I stood quite near before her. But when, all at once,
she perceived the strange face, she too gave a loud scream and
ran away. Olivia bade me run after her and hold her fast, so
that she should not get into the house and make a noise ; while
she herself wished to go and see how it was with her father.
On the way Olivia met the servant-boy, who was in love with
the maid ; I had in the mean time hurried after the maid, and
held her fast. " Only think ! what good luck ! " cried Olivia ;
" it s all over with Barbara, and George marries Liese." " That
I have thought for a long while," said the good fellow, and
remained standing in an ill-humour.

I had given the maid to understand that all we had to do
was to deceive the father. We went up to the lad, who turned
away and tried to withdraw ; but Liese brought him back, and
he, too, when he was undeceived, made the most extraordinary
gestures. We went together to the house. The table was
covered, and the father was already in the room. Olivia, who
kept me behind her, stepped to the threshold and said,
" Father, have you any objection to George dining with us to
day ? but you must let him keep his hat on." " With all my
heart !" said the old man, " but why such an unusual thing?
Has he hurt himself ? : She led me forward as I stood with
my hat on. " No ! " said she, leading me into the room, " but
he has a bird-cage under it, and the birds might fly out and
make a deuce of a fuss ; for there are nothing but wild ones."
The father was pleased with the joke, without precisely know
ing what it meant. At this instant she took off my hat, made

GOETHE S DISGUISE. 385

a scrape, and required me to do the same. The old man looked
at me and recognised me, but was not put out of his priestly
self-possession. " Aye, aye, Mr. Candidate ! exclaimed he,
raising a threatening finger at me ; " you have changed saddles
very quickly, and in the night I have lost an assistant, who
yesterday promised me so faithfully that he would often mount
my pulpit on week-days." He then laughed heartily, bade me
welcome, and we sat down to table. Moses came in much
later ; for, as the youngest spoiled child, he had accustomed
himself not to hear the dinner-bell. Besides, he took very
little notice of the company, scarcely even when he contra
dicted them. In order to be more sure of him, they had
placed me, not between the sisters, but at the end of the table,
where George often used to sit. As he came in at the door
behind me, he slapped me smartly on the shoulder, and said,
"Good dinner to you, George! "Many thanks, squire ! :
replied I. The strange voice and the strange face startled him.
" What say you ? cried Olivia ; " does he not look very like
his brother? "Yes, from behind," replied Moses, who
managed to recover his composure immediately, " like all
folks." He did not look at me again, and merely busied him
self with zealously devouring the dishes, to make up for lost
time. Then, too, he thought proper to rise on occasion and
find something to do in the yard and the garden. At the des
sert the real George came in, and made the whole scene still
more lively. They began to banter him for his jealousy, and
would not praise him for getting rid of a rival in me ; but he
was modest and clever enough, and, in a half- confused manner,
mixed up himself, his sweetheart, his counterpart, and the
Mamsells with each other, to such a degree, that at last nobody
could tell about whom he was talking, and they were but too
glad to let him consume in peace a glass of wine and a bit of
his own cake.

At table there was some talk about going to walk ; which,
however, did not suit me very well in my peasant s clothes.
But the ladies, early on that day already, when they learned
who had run away in such a desperate hurry, had remembered
that a fine hunting-coat ( Pehesche) of a cousin of theirs, in
which, when there, he used to go sporting, was hanging in the
clothes-press. I, however, declined it, externally with all sorts
of jokes, but internally with a feeling of vanity, not wishing,

2 c

386 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

as the cousin, to disturb the good impression I had made as
the peasant. The father had gone to take his afternoon-nap ;
the mother, as always, was busy about her housewifery. But
my friend proposed that I should tell them some story, to which
I immediately agreed. We went into a spacious arbour, and I
gave them a tale which I have since written out under the title
of The New Melusina.* It bears about the same relation to
The Neiv Paris as the youth bears to the boy, and I would
insert it here, were I not afraid of injuring, by odd piaj^s of
fancy, the rural reality and simplicity which here agreeably
surround us. Enough : I succeeded in gaming the reward of
the inventors and narrators of such productions, namely, in
awakening curiosity, in fixing the attention, in provoking over-
hasty solutions of impenetrable riddles, in deceiving expecta
tions, in confusing by the more wonderful which came into the
place of the wonderful, in arousing sympathy and fear, in
causing anxiety, in moving, and at last, by the change of what
was apparently earnest into an ingenious and cheerful jest, in
satisfying the mind, and in leaving the imagination materials
for new images, and the understanding materials for further
reflection.

Should any one hereafter read this tale in print, and doubt
whether it could have produced such an effect, let him remem
ber that, properly speaking, man is only called upon to act in
the present. Writing is an abuse of language, reading silently
to oneself is a pitiful substitute for speech. Man effects all he
can upon man by his personality, youth is most powerful upon
youth, and hence also arise the purest influences. It is these
which enliven the world, and allow it neither morally nor phy
sically to perish. I had inherited from my father a certain
didactic loquacity ; from my mother the faculty of represent
ing, clearly and forcibly, everything that the imagination can
produce or grasp, of giving a freshness to known stories, of
inventing and relating others, nay, of inventing in the course
of narration. By my paternal endowment I w r as for the most
part annoying to the company ; for who likes to listen to the
opinions and sentiments of another, especially a youth, whose
judgment, from defective experience, always seems insufficient?
My mother, on the contrary, had thoroughly qualified me for
social conversation. The emptiest tale has in itself a high
* This is introduced in. Wilhdm Meister s Wanderjahre. Trans.

THE " NEW MELUSINA." 387

charm for the imagination, and the smallest quantity of solid
matter is thankfully received by the understanding.

By such recitals, which cost me nothing, I made myself be
loved by children, excited and delighted youth, and drew upon
myself the attention of older persons. But in society, such as
it commonly is, I was soon obliged to stop these exercises, and
I have thereby lost but too much of the enjoyment of life and
of free mental advancement. Nevertheless both these parental
gifts accompanied me throughout my whole life, united with a
third, namely, the necessity of expressing myself figuratively
and by comparisons. In consideration of these peculiarities,
which the acute and ingenious Doctor Gall discovered in me
according to his theory, he assured me that I was, properly
speaking, born for a popular orator. At this disclosure I was
not a little alarmed; for if it had been here well founded,
evervthinor that I undertook would have Droved a failure, from

* JL

the fact that with my nation there was nothing to harangue
about.

PART THE THIRD.

CARE IS TAKEN THAT TREES DO NOT GROW INTO THE SKYe

ELEVENTH BOOK.

AFTEB I had, in that bower of Sesenheim, finished my tale,
in which the ordinary and the impossible were so agreeably
alternated, I perceived that my hearers, who had already
shown peculiar sympathy, were now enchanted in the highest
degree by my singular narrative. They pressed me urgently
to write down the talc, that they might often repeat it by
reading it among themselves, and to others. I promised this
the more willingly, as I thus hoped to gain a pretext for
repeating my visit, and for an opportunity of forming a closer
connexion. The party separated for a moment, and all were
inclined to feel that after a day spent in so lively a manner,
the evening might fall rather flat. From this anxiety I was
freed by my friend, who asked permission to take leave at
once, in the name of us both, because, as an industrious acade
mical citizen, regular in his studies, he wished to pass the night
at Drusenheim, and to be early in the morning at Strasburg.

We both reached our night- quarters in silence ; I, because
I felt a grapple on my heart, which drew me back ; he, be
cause he had something else on his mind, which he told me
as soon as we had arrived. " It is strange," he began, " that
you should just hit upon this tale. Did not you remark that
it made quite a peculiar impression? "Nay," answered I,
" how could I help observing that the elder one laughed more
than was consistent at certain passages, that the younger
one shook her head, that all of you looked significantly at
each other, and that you yourself were nearly put out of
countenance. I do not deny that I almost felt embarrassed
myself, for it struck me that it was perhaps improper to tell
the dear girls a parcel of stuff, of which they had better been.

I

KETTTR1T TO STEASBTTRG. 389

ignorant, and to give them such a bad opinion of the male sex
as they must naturally have formed from the character of the
hero." " You have not hit it at all," said he, " and, indeed,
how should you ? These dear girls are not so unacquainted
with such matters as you imagine, for the great society around
them gives occasion for many reflections ; and there happens
to be, on the other side of the Rhine, exactly such a married
pair as you describe, allowing a little for fancy and exaggera
tion ; the husband just as tall, sturdy, and heavy, the wife
so pretty and dainty, that he could easily hold her in his
hand. Their mutual position in other respects, their history
altogether, so exactly accords with your tale, that the girls
seriously asked me whether you knew the persons, and de
scribed them in jest. I assured them that you did not, and
you will do well to let the tale remain unwritten. With the
assistance of delays and pretexts, we may soon find an excuse."

I was much astonished, for I had thought of no couple on
this or the other side of the Rhine ; nay, I could not have
stated how I came by the notion. In thought I liked to sport
with such pleasantries, without any particular reference, and
I believed that if I narrated then, it would be the same with
others.

When I returned to my occupations in the city, I felt them
more than usually wearisome, for a man born to activity
forms pl-ins too extensive for his capacity, and overburdens
himself with labour. This goes on very well till some physi
cal or moral impediment comes in the way, and clearly shows
the disproportion of the powers to the undertaking.

I pursued jurisprudence with as much diligence as was
required to take my degree with some credit. Medicine
charmed me, because it showed nature, if it did not unfold it
on every side ; and to this I was attached by intercourse and
habit. To society I was obliged to devote some time and
attention ; for in many families much had turned out both
honourably and agreeably. All this might have been carried
on, had not that which Herder had inculcated pressed upon
me with an infinite weight. He had torn down the curtain
which concealed from me the poverty of German literature ;
he had ruthlessly destroyed so many of my prejudices ; in the
sky of my fatherland there were few stars of importance left,
when he had treated all the rest as so many transient candle-

390 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

snuffs ; nay, my own hopes and fancies respecting myself he
had so spoiled, that I began to doubt my own capabilities.
At the same time, however, he dragged me on to the noble
broad way which he himself was inclined to tread, drew my
attention to his favourite authors, at the head of whom stood
Swift and Hamann, and shook me up with more force than he
had bound me down. To this manifold confusion was now added
an incipient passion, which, while it threatened to absorb me,
might indeed draw me from other relations, but could scarcely
elevate me above them. Then came besides, a corporeal
malady, which made me feel after dinner as if my throat was
closed up, and of which I did not easily get rid, till afterwards,
when I abstained from a certain red wine, which I generally
and very willingly drank in the boarding-house. This in
tolerable inconvenience had quitted me at Sesenheim, so that
I felt double pleasure in being there, but when I came back
to my town-diet it returned, to my great annoyance. All this
made me thoughful and morose ; and my outward appearance
probably corresponded with my inward feelings.

Being in a worse humour than ever, because the malady
was violent after dinner, I attended the clinical lecture. The
great care and cheerfulness with which our respected instructor
led us from bed to bed, the minute observation of important
symptoms, the judgment of the cause of complaint in general, the
fine Hippocratic mode of proceeding, by which, without theory,
and out of an individual experience, the forms of knowledge
revealed themselves, the addresses with which he usually
crowned his lectures all this attracted me towards him, and
made a strange department, into which I only looked as
through a crevice, so much the more agreeable and fascinating.
My disgust at the invalids gradually decreased, as I learned to
change their various states into distinct conceptions, by whick
recoverv and the restoration of the human form and nature

%>

appeared possible. He probably had his eye particularly upon
me, as a singular young man, and pardoned the strange
anomaly which took me to his lectures. On this occasion he
did not conclude his lecture, as usual, with a doctrine whicli
might have reference to an illness that had been observed,
but said cheerfully, " Gentlemen, there are some holidays
before us ; make use of them to enliven your spirits. Studies
must not only be pursued with seriousness and diligence, but

KETUEN TO SESENHEIM. 391

also with cheerfulness and freedom of mind. Give movement
to your bodies, and traverse the beautiful country on horse
and % foot. He who is at home will take delight in that to
which he has been accustomed, while for the stranger there
will be new impressions, and pleasant reminiscences in
future.

There were only two of us to whom this admonition could
be directed. May the recipe have been as obvious to the
other as it was to me ! I thought I heard a voice from heaven,
and made all the haste I could to order a horse and dress
myself out neatly. I sent for Weyland, but he was net to be
found. This did not delay my resolution, but the prepara
tions unfortunately went on slowly, and I could not depart so
soon as I had hoped. Fast as I rode, I was overtaken by
the night. The way was not to be mistaken, and the moon
shed her light on my impassioned project. The night was
windy and awful, and I dashed on, that I might not have to
wait till morning before I could see her.

It was already late when I put up my horse at Sesenheim.
The landlord, in answer to my question, whether there was
still light in the parsonage, assured me that the ladies had
only just gone home ; he thought he had heard they were still
expecting a stranger. This did not please me, as I wished to
have been the only one. I hastened, that, late as I was, I
might at least appear the first. I found the two sisters sit
ting at the door. They did not seem much astonished, but I
was, when Frederica whispered into Olivia s ear, loud enough
for me to hear, " Did I not say so ? Here he is ! They con
ducted me into a room, where I found a little collation set
out. The mother greeted me as an old acquaintance ; and
the elder sister, when she saw me in the light, broke out into
loud laughter, for she had little command over herself.

After this first and somewhat odd reception, the conversa
tion became at once free and cheerful, and a circumstance,
which had remained concealed from me this evening, 1 learned
on the following day. Frederica had predicted that I should
come ; and who does not feel some satisfaction at the fulfil
ment of a foreboding, even if it be a mournful one r All pre
sentiments, when confirmed by the event, give man a higher
opinion of himself, whether it be that he thinks himself in
possession of so fine a susceptibility as to feel a relation in

392 TRUTH: AND POETBY; FEOM MY own

the distance, or acute enough to perceive necessary but still
uncertain associations. Even Olivia s laugh remained no
secret ; she confessed that it seemed very comical to see me
dressed and decked out on this occasion. Frederica, on the
other hand, found it advantageous not to explain such a phe-
nomen as vanity, but rather to discover in it a wish to please
her.

Early in the morning Frederica asked me to take a walk.
Her mother and sister were occupied in preparing everything
for the reception of several guests. By the side of this
beloved girl I enjoyed the noble Sunday morning in the coun
try, as the inestimable Hebel has depicted it. She described
to me the party which was expected, and asked me to remain,
by her, that all the pleasure might, if possible, be common to
us both, and be enjoyed in a certain order. "Generally,"
she said, " people amuse themselves alone. Sport and play
is very lightly tasted, so that at last nothing is left but cards
for one part, and the excitement of dancing for the other."

We therefore sketched our plan as to what should be done
after dinner, taught each other some new social games, and
were united and happy, when the bell summoned us to church,
where, by her side, I found a somewhat dry sermon of her
father s not too long.

The presence of the beloved one always shortens time ; but
this hour passed amid peculiar reflections. I repeated to myself
the gcod qualities which she had just unfolded so freely before
me her circumspect cheerfulness, her naivete combined
with self-consciousness, her hilarity with foresight qualities
which seem incompatible, but which nevertheless were found
together in her, and gave a pleasing character to her outward
appearance. But now I had to make more serious reflections
upon myself, which were somewhat prejudicial to a free state
of cheerfulness.

Since that impassioned girl had cursed and sanctified my lips
(for every consecration involves both), I had, supers titiously
enough, taken care not to kiss any girl, because I feared that
I might injure her in some unheard-of spiritual manner,
therefore subdued every desire, by which a youth feels impelled
to win from a charming girl this favour, which says much or
little. But even in the most decorous company a heavy trial
awaited me. Those little games, as they are called, which

EFFECT OF LTTCINDA S CUESE, 393

are more or less ingenious, and by which a joyous young circle
is collected and combined, depend in a great measure upon,
forfeits, in the calling in of which kisses have no small value.
I had resolved, once for all, not to kiss, and as every want or
impediment stimulates us to an activity to which we should
otherwise not feel inclined, I exerted all the talent and humour
I possessed to help myself through, and thus to win rather
than lose, before the company, and for the company. When a
verse was desired for the redemption of a forfeit, the demand
was usually directed to me. Now I was always prepared,
and on such occasions contrived to bring out something in
praise of the hostess, or of some lady who had conducted herself
most agreeably towards me If it happened that a kiss was
imposed upon me at all events, I endeavoured to escape by
some turn, which was considered satisfactory ; and as I had
time to reflect on the matter beforehand, I was never in want
of various elegant excuses, although those made on the spur
of the moment were always most successful.

When we reached home, the guests, who had arrived from
several quarters, were buzzing merrily one with another, until
Frederica collected them together, and invited and conducted
them to a walk to that charming spot. There they found an
abundant collation, and wished to fill up with social games
the period before dinner. Here, by agreement with Frederica,
though she did not know my secret, I contrived to get up and
go through games without forfeits, and redemptions of forfeits
without kissing.

My skill and readiness were so much the more necessary,
as the company, which was otherwise quite strange to me,
seemed to have suspected some connexion between me and
the dear girl, and roguishly took the greatest pains to force
upon me that which I secretly endeavoured to avoid. For in
such circles, if people perceive a growing inclination between
two young persons, they try to make them confused, or to
bring them closer together, just as afterwards, when once a
passion has been declared, they take trouble on purpose to
part them again. Thus, to the man of society, it is totally
indifferent whether he confers j^benefit or an injury, provided
only he is amused.

This morning I could observe, with more attention, the
whole character of Frederica, so that for the whole time she

394 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

always remained to me the same. The friendly greetings of
the peasants, which were especially addressed to her, gave
me to understand that she was beneficent to them, and created
in them an agreeable feeling. The elder sister remained at
home with her mother. Nothing that demanded bodily exer
tion was required of Frederica ; but she was spared, they said,
on account of her chest.

There are women who especially please us in a room, others
who look better in the open air. Frederica belonged to the
latter. Her whole nature, her form never appeared more
charming than when she moved along an elevated footpath ;
the grace of her deportment seemed to vie with the flowery
earth, and the indestructible cheerfulness of her countenance
with the blue sky. This refreshing atmosphere which sur
rounded her she carried home, and it might soon be per
ceived that she understood how to reconcile difficulties, and
to obliterate with ease the impression made by little unplea
sant contingencies.

The purest joy which we can feel with respect to a beloved
person is to find that she pleases others. Frederica s conduct in
society was beneficent to all. In walks, she floated about, an
animating spirit, and knew how to supply the gaps which
might arise here and there. The lightness of her movements
we have already commended, and she was most graceful when
she ran. As the deer seems just to fulfil its destination,
when it lightly flies over the sprouting corn, so did her pecu
liar nature seem most plainly to express itself when she ran
with light steps over mead and furrow, to fetch something
which had been forgotten, to seek something which had been
lost, to summon a distant couple, or to order something neces
sary. On these occasions she was never out of breath, and
always kept her equilibrium. Hence the great anxiety of her
parents with respect to her chest must to many have appeared
excessive.

The father, who often accompanied us through meadows and
fields, was not always provided with a suitable companion.
On this account I joined him, and he did not fail to touch once
more upon his favourite theme, and circumstantially to tell me
about the proposed building of the parsonage. He particu
larly regretted that he could not again get the carefully
finished sketches, so as to meditate upon them, and to con-

PLAN FOR THE NEW PARSONAGE. 395

sider this or that improvement. I observed, that the loss
might be easily supplied, and offered to prepare a ground-
plan, upon which, after all, everything chiefly depended.
With this he was highly pleased, and settled that we should
have the assistance of the schoolmaster, to stir up whom he at
once hurried off, that the yard and foot-measure might be
ready early on the morrow.

When he had gone, Frederica said, "You are right to-
humour my dear father on his weak side, and not, like others,
who get weary of this subject, to avoid him, or to break it off.
I must, indeed, confess to you that the rest of us do not desire
this building ; it would be too expensive for the congregation,
and for us also. A new house, new furniture ! Our guests
would not feel more comfortable with us, now they are once
accustomed to the old building. Here we can treat them
liberally; there we should find ourselves straightened in a
wider sphere. Thus the matter stands ; but do not you fail
to be agreeable. I thank you for it, from my heart."

Another lady who joined us asked about some novels,
whether Frederica had read them. She answered in the ne
gative, for she had read but little altogether. She had grown
up in a cheerful, decorous enjoyment of life, and was culti
vated accordingly. I had the Vicar of Wakefield on the tip
of my tongue, but did not venture to propose it, the similarity
of the situations being too striking and too important. " I am
very fond of reading novels," she said; "one finds in them
such nice people, whom one would like to resemble."

The measurement of the house took place the following day.
It was a somewhat slow proceeding, as I was as little accus
tomed to such arts as the schoolmaster. At last a tolerable
project came to my aid. The good father told me his views,
and was not displeased when I asked permission to prepare
the plan more conveniently in the town. Frederica dismissed
me with joy ; she was convinced of my affection, and I of
hers ; and the six leagues no longer appeared a distance. It
was so easy to travel to Drusenheim in the diligence, and by
this vehicle, as well as by messengers, ordinary and extraor
dinary, to keep up a connexion, George being entrusted with
the despatches.

When I had arrived in the town, I occupied myself in the
earliest hours (for there was no notion of a long sleep) with

396 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN UFE.

the plan, which I drew as neatly as possible. In the mean
while I had sent Frederiea some books, accompanied by a few
kind words. I received an answer at once, and was charmed
with her light, pretty, hearty hand. Contents and style were
natural, good, amiable, as if they came from within and thus
the pleasing impression she had made upon me was ever kept
up and renewed. I but too readily recalled to myself the
endowments of her beautiful nature, and nurtured the hope
that I should see her soon, and for a longer time.

There was now no more any need of an address from our
good instructor. He had, by those words, spoken at the right
time, so completely cured me, that I had no particular inclina
tion to see him and his patients again. The correspondence
with Frederiea became more animated. She invited me to a
festival, to which also some Mends from the other side of the
Rhine would come. I was to make arrangements for a longer
time. This I did, by packing a stout portmanteau upon the
diligence, and in a few hours I was in her presence. I found
a large merry party, took the father aside, and handed him
the plan, at which he testified great delight. I talked over
with him what I had thought while completing it. He was
quite beside himself with joy, and especially praised the neat
ness of the drawing. This I had practised from my youth
upwards, and had on this occasion taken especial pains, with
the finest paper. But this pleasure was very soon marred
for our good host, when, against my counsel, and in the joy of
his heart, he laid the sketch before the company. Far from
uttering the desired sympathy, some thought nothing at all of
this precious work ; others, who thought they knew something
of the matter, made it still worse, blaming the sketch as not
artistical, and, when the old man looked off for a moment,
handled the clean sheets as if they were only so many rough
draughts, while one, with the hard strokes of a lead-pencil,
marked his plans of improvement on the fine paper, in such
a manner, that a restoration of the primitive purity was not to
be thought of.

I was scarcely able to console the extremely irritated man,
whose pleasures had been so outrageously destroyed, much as
I assured him that I myself looked upon them only as sketches,
which we would talk over, and on which we would construct
new drawings. In spite of all this he went off in a very ill-

FESTIVAL AT THE PAKSONAGE. 397

humour, and Frederica thanked me for my attention to her
father, as well as for my patience during the unmannerly
conduct of the other guests.

But I could feel no pain nor ill-humour in her presence.
The party consisted of young and tolerably noisy friends, whom,
nevertheless, an old gentleman tried to outdo, proposing even
odder stuff than they practised. Already, at breakfast, the
wine had not been spared. At a very well-furnished dinner-
table there was no want of any enjoyment, and the feast was
relished the more by everybody, after the violent bodily exer
cise during the somewhat warm weather, and if the official
gentleman went a little too far in the good things, the young
people were not left much behind him.

I was happy beyond all bounds at the side of Frederica ;
talkative, merry, ingenious, forward, and yet kept in modera
tion by feeling, esteem, and attachment. She, in a similar
position, was open, cheerful, sympathizing, and communicative.
We all appeared to live for the company, and yet lived only
for each other.

After the meal they sought the shade, social games were
begun, and the turn came to forfeits. On redeeming the for
feits, everything of every kind was carried to excess; the
gestures which were commanded, the acts which were to be
done, the problems which w r ere to be solved, all showed a mad
joy which knew no limits. I myself heightened these wild
jokes by many a comical choice, and Frederica shone by many
a droll thought ; she appeared to me more charming than ever,
all hypochondriacal superstitious fancies had vanished, and
when the opportunity offered of heartily kissing one whom I
loved so tenderly, I did not miss it, still less did I deny myself
a repetition of this pleasure.

The hope of the party for music was at last satisfied ; it was
heard, and all hastened to the dance. Allemandes, waltzing
and turning, were beginning, middle and end. All had given
up to this national dance ; even I did honour enough to my
private dancing-mistress, and Frederica, who danced as she
walked, sprang, and ran, was delighted to find in me a very-
expert partner. We generally kept together, but were soon
obliged to leave off, and she was advised on all sides not to go
on any further in this wild manner. We consoled ourselves
by a solitary walk, hand in hand, and when we had reached

398 TETJTH AND POETRY; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

that quiet spot, by the warmest embrace and the most faithful
assurance that we loved each other heartily.

Older persons, who had risen with us from the game, took
us with them. At supper people did not return to their sober
senses. Dancing went on far into the night, and there was as
little want of healths and other incitements to drinking as at
noon.

I had scarcely for a few hours slept very profoundly, when I
was awakened by a heat and tumult in my blood. It is at such
times and in such situations that care and repentance usually
attack man, who is stretched out defenceless. My imagination
at once presented to me the liveliest forms ; I saw Lucinda,
how, after the most ardent kiss, she passionately receded from
me, and, with glowing cheek and sparkling eyes, uttered that
curse, by which she intended to menace her sister only, but by
which she also unconsciously menaced innocent persons, who
were unknown to her. I saw Frederica standing opposite to
her, paralysed at the sight, pale, and feeling the consequences
of the curse, of which she knew nothing. I found myself
between them, as little able to ward off the spiritual effects of
the adventure, as to avoid the evil-boding kiss. The delicate
health of Frederica seemed to hasten the threatened calamity,
and now her love to me wore a most unhappy aspect, and I
wished myself further.

But something still more painful to me, which lay in the
background, I will not conceal. A certain conceit kept that
superstition alive in me; my lips, whether consecrated or
cursed, appeared to me more important than usual, and with
no little complacency was I aware of my self-denying conduct,
in renouncing many an innocent pleasure, partly to preserve
my magical advantage, partly to avoid injuring a harmless
being by giving it up.

But now all was lost and irrevocable : I had returned into
a mere common position, and I thought that I had harmed,
irretrievably injured, the dearest of beings. Thus, far from
my being freed from the curse, it was flung back from my lips
into mv own heart.

/

All this together raged in my blood, already excited by love
and passion, wine and dancing, confused my thoughts and tor
tured my feelings, so that, especially as contrasted with the
joys of the day before, I felt myself in a state of despair which

COEKESPOKDENCE WITH PEEDEKICA. 399

seemed unbounded. Fortunately daylight peered in upon me
through a chink in the shutter, and the sun stepping forth and
vanquishing all the powers of night, set me again upon my
feet ; I was soon in the open air, and refreshed, if not restored.

Superstition, like many other fancies, very easily loses in
power, when, instead of nattering our vanity, it stands in its
way, and would fain produce an evil hour to this delicate being.
We then see well enough that we can get rid of it when \ve
choose ; we renounce it the more easily, as all of which we
deprive ourselves turns to our own advantage. The sight of
Frederica, the feeling of her love, the cheerfulness of every,
thing around me all reproved me, that in the midst of the
happiest days I could harbour such dismal night-birds in my
bosom. The confiding conduct of the dear girl, which became
more and more intimate, made me thoroughly rejoiced, and I
felt truly happy, when, at parting, she openly gave a kiss to
me, as well as the other friends and relations.

In the city many occupations and dissipations awaited me,
from the midst of which I collected myself for the sake of my
beloved, by means of a correspondence, which we regularly
established. Even in her letters she always remained the
same ; whether she related anything new, or alluded to well-
known occurrences, lightly described or cursorily reflected, it
was always as if, even with her pen, she appeared going, com
ing, running, bounding with a step as light as it was sure. I
also liked very much to write to her, for the act of rendering
present her good qualities increased my affection even during
absence, so that this intercourse was little inferior to a personal
one, nay, afterwards became pleasanter and dearer to me.

For that superstition had been forced to give way altogether.
It was indeed based upon the impressions of earlier years, but
the spirit of the day, the liveliness of youth, the intercourse
with cold sensible men, all was unfavourable to it, so that it
would not have been easy to find among all who surrounded
me a single person to whom a confession of my whims would
not have been perfectly ridiculous. But the worst of it was,
that the fancy, while it fled, left behind it a real contemplation
of that state in which young people are placed, whose early
affections can promise themselves 110 lasting result. So little
was I assisted in getting free from error, that understanding
and reflection used me still worse in this instance. My passion

400 TEUTH AND POETRY ; THOM MY OWN LIFE.

increased the more I learned to know the virtue of the excel
lent girl, and the time approached when I was to lose, perhaps
for ever, so much that was dear and good.

We had quietly and pleasantly passed a long time together,
when friend Weyland had the waggery to bring with him to
Sesenheim the Vicar of Wakefield, and when they were talking
of reading aloud, to hand it over to me unexpectedly, as if
nothing further was to be said. I managed to collect myself,
and read with as much cheerfulness and freedom as I could.
Even the faces of my hearers at once brightened, and it did not
seem unpleasant to them to be again forced to a comparison.
If they had found comical counterparts to Raymond and Melu-
sina, they here saw themselves in a glass which by no means
gave a distorted likeness. They did not openly confess, but
they did not deny, that they were moving among persons akin
both by mind and feeling.

All men of a good disposition feel, with increasing cultiva
tion, that they have a double part to play in the world, a real
one and an ideal one, and in this feeling is the ground of every
thing noble to be sought. The real part which has been
assigned to us we experience but too plainly ; with respect to
the second, we seldom come to a clear understanding about it.
Man may seek his higher destination on earth or in heaven, in
the present or in the future, he yet remains on this account
exposed to an eternal wavering, to an influence from without
which ever disturbs him, until he once for all makes a resolution
to declare that that is right which is suitable to himself.

Among the most venial attempts to acquire something
higher, to place oneself on an equality with something higher,
may be classed the youthful impulse to compare oneself with
the characters in novels. This is highly innocent, and what
ever may be urged against it, the very reverse of mischievous.
It amuses at times when we should necessarily die of ennui, or
grasp at the recreation of passion.

How often is repeated the litany about the mischief of novels
-and yet what misfortune is it if a pretty girl or a handsome
young man put themselves in the place of a person who fares
better or worse than themselves ? Is the citizen life worth so
much ? or do the necessities of the day so completely absorb
the man, that he must refuse every beautiful demand which
is made upon him ?

RESULTS OF NOVEL-HEADING. 401

The historico-poetical Christian names which have intruded
into the German church in the place of the sacred names, not
unfrequently to the annoyance of the officiating clergyman,
are without doubt to be regarded as small ramifications of the
romantico-poetical pictures. This very impulse to honour one s
child by a well-sounding name even if the name has nothing
further behind it is praiseworthy, and this connexion of an
imaginary world with the real one diffuses an agreeable lustre
over the whole life of the person. A beautiful child, whom
with satisfaction we call " Bertha," we should think we offended
if we were to call it " Urselblandine." With a cultivated man,
not to say a lover, such a name would certainly falter on the
lips. The cold world, which judges only from one side, is not
to be blamed if it sets down as ridiculous and objectionable all
that comes forward as imaginary, but the thinking connoisseur
of mankind must know how to estimate it according to its
worth.

For the instruction of the lovers on the lovely bank of the
Rhine, this comparison, to which a wag had compelled them,
produced the most agreeable results. We do not think of our
selves when we look in a mirror, but we feel ourselves, and
allow ourselves to pass. Thus is it also with those moral imi
tations, in which we recognise our manners and inclinations,
our habits and peculiarities, as in a silhouette, and strive to
grasp it and embrace it with brotherly affection.

The habit of being together became more and more con
firmed, and nothing else was known but that I belonged to
this circle. The affair was allowed to take its course without
the question being directly asked as to what was to be the re
sult. And what parents are there who do not find themselves
compelled to let daughters and sons continue for a while in
such a wavering condition, until accidentally something is con
firmed for life, better than it could have been produced by a
long arranged plan.

It was thought that perfect confidence could be placed both
in Frederica s sentiments and in my rectitude, of which, on
account of my forbearance even from innocent caresses, a
favourable opinion had been entertained. We were left unob
served, as was generally the custom, there and then, and it
depended on ourselves to go over the country, with a larger or
smaller party, and to visit the friends in the neighbourhood.

2D

402 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

On both sides of the Rhine, in Hagenau, Fort-Louis, Philipps-
burg, the Ortenan, I found dispersed those persons whom I
had seen united at Sesenheim, every one by himself, a friendly,
hospitable host, throwing open kitchen and cellar just as wil
lingly as gardens and vineyards, nay, the whole spot. The
islands on the Rhine were often a goal to our water-expedi
tions. There, without pity, we put the cool inhabitants of the
clear Rhine into the kettle, on the spit, into the boiling fat,
and would here perhaps, more than was reasonable, have
settled ourselves in the snug fishermen s huts, if the abomin
able Rhine-gnats (Ithem-schnaken) had not, after some hours,
driven us away. At this intolerable interruption of one of our
most charming parties of pleasure, when everything else was
prosperous, when the affection of the lovers seemed to increase
with the good success of the enterprise, and we had neverthe
less come home too soon, unsuitably and inopportunely, I
actually, in the presence of the good reverend father, broke
out into blasphemous expressions, and assured him that these
gnats alone were sufficient to remove from me the thought that
a good and wise Deity had created the world. The pious old
gentleman, by way of reply, solemnly called me to order, and
explained to me that these gnats and other vermin had not
arisen until after the fall of our first parents, or that if there
were any of them in Paradise, they had only pleasantly hummed
there, and had not stung. I certainly felt myself calmed at
once, for an angry man may easily be appeased if we can suc
ceed in making him smile ; but I nevertheless asserted that
there was no need of the angel with the burning sword to drive
the guilty pair out of the garden ; my host, I said, must rather
allow me to think that this was effected by means of great
gnats on the Tigris and the Euphrates. And thus I again
made him laugh ; for the old man understood a joke, or at any
rate let one pass.

However, the enjoyment of the day-time and season in this
noble country was more serious and more elevating to the heart.
One had only to resign oneself to the present, to enjoy the clear
ness of the pure sky, the brilliancy of the rich earth, the mild
evenings, the warm nights, by the side of a beloved one, or in
her vicinity. For months together we were favoured with pure
ethereal mornings, when the sky displayed itself in all its mag
nificence, haying watered the earth with superfluous dew , and

THE PASTOK S CHAIE. 403

that this spectacle might not become too simple, clouds after
clouds piled themselves over the distant mountains, now in this
spot, now in that. They stood for days, nay, for weeks, with
out obscuring the pure sky, and even the transient storms re
freshed the country, and gave lustre to the green, which again
glistened in the sunshine before it could become diy. The
double rainbow, the two-coloured borders of a dark grey and
nearly black streak in the sky, were nobler, more highly coloured,
more decided, but also more transient, than I had ever observed.

In the midst of these objects the desire of poetising, which
I had not felt for a long time, again came forward. For Fre-
derica I composed many songs to well-known melodies. They
would have made a pretty little book ; a few of them still re
main, and will easily be found among my others.

Since on account of my strange studies and other circum
stances I was often compelled to return to the town, there
arose for our affection a new life, which preserved us from all
that unpleasantness which usually attaches itself as an annoy
ing consequence to such little love-affairs. Though far from
me, she yet laboured for me, and thought of some new amuse
ment against I should return ; though far from her, I employed
myself for her, that by some new gift or new notion I myself
might be again new to her. Painted ribbons had then just
come into fashion, I painted at once for her a few pieces, and
sent them on with a little poem, as on this occasion I was
forced to stop away longer than I had anticipated. That I
might fulfil and even go beyond my promise to the father of a
new and elaborated plan, I persuaded a young adept in archi
tecture to work instead of myself. He took as much pleasure
in the task as he had kindness for me, and was still further
animated by the hope of a good reception in so agreeable a
family. He finished the ground-plan, sketch, and section of
the house ; court-yard and garden were not forgotten, and a
detailed but very moderate estimate was added, to show the
possibility of carrying out an extensive project.

These testimonials of our friendly endeavours obtained
for us the kindest reception ; and since the good father saw
that we had the best will to serve him, he came forward with
one wish more ; it was the wish to see his pretty but one-
coloured chair adorned with flowers and other ornaments. We
showed ourselves accommodating. Colours, pencils, and other

2 D2

404 TRUTH AXV POETHY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

requisites were fetched from the tradesmen and apothecaries of
the nearest towns. But that we might not be wanting in a
Wakefield mistake, we did not remark, until all had been most
industriously and variously painted, that we had taken a false
varnish which would not dry ; neither sunshine nor draught,
neither fair nor wet weather were of any avail. In the mean
while we were obliged to make use of an old lumber-room, and
nothing was left us but to rub out the ornaments with more
assiduity than we had painted them. The unpleasantness of
this work was still increased when the girls intreated us, for
heaven s sake, to proceed slowly and cautiously, for the sake
of sparing the ground ; which, however, after this operation,
was not again to be restored to its former brilliancy.

By such little disagreeable contigencies, which happened at
intervals, we were, however, just as little interrupted in our
cheerful life as Dr. Primrose and his amiable family ; for many
an unexpected pleasure befell both ourselves and our friends
and neighbours. Weddings and christenings, the erection
of a building, an inheritance, a prize in the lottery, were reci
procally announced and enjoyed. We shared all joy together,
like a common property, and wished to heighten it by mind
and love. It was not the first nor the last time that I found
myself in families and social circles at the very moment of their

</ /

highest bloom, and if I may flatter myself that I contributed
something towards the lustre of such epochs, I must, on the
other hand, be reproached with the fact, that on this very
account such times passed the more quickly and vanished the
sooner.

But now our love was to undergo a singular trial. I will
call it a trial (Prufung\ although this is not the right word.
The country family with which I was intimate was related to-
some families in the city of good note and respectability, and
comfortably off as to circumstances. The young towns-people
were often at Sesenheim. The older persons, the mothers and
aunts, being less moveable, heard so much of tlie life there, of
the increasing charms of the daughters, and even of my influ
ence, that they first wished to become acquainted with me,
and after I had often visited them, and had been well received
by them, desired also to see us once altogether, especially as
they thought they owed the Sesenheim folks a friendly reception
in return.

THE VISII TO ST&ASBTJBG. 405

!Oiere was much discussion on all sides. The mother could
scarcely leave her household affairs, Olivia had a horror of the
town, for which she was not fitted, and Frederica had no incli
nation for it ; and thus the affair was put off, until it was at
last brought to a decision by the fact, that it happened to be
impossible for me to come into the country ; for it was better
to see each other in the city, and under some restraint, than
not to see each other at all. And thus I now found my fair
friends, whom I had been only accustomed to see in a rural
scene, and whose image had only appeared to me hitherto
before a background of waving boughs, flowing brooks, nodding
field-flowers, and a horizon open for miles ; I now saw them,
I say, for the first time, in town-rooms, which were indeed spa
cious, but yet narrow, if we take into consideration the carpets,
glasses, clocks, and porcelain figures.

The relation to that which one loves is so decided, that the
surrounding objects have little to do with it, but neverthe
less the heart desires that these shall be the suitable, natural,
and usual objects. With my lively feeling for everything pre
sent, I could not at once adapt myself to the contradiction of
the moment. The respectable and calmly noble demeanour of
the mother was perfectly adapted to the circle ; S"he was not
different from the other ladies ; Olivia, on the other hand,
showed herself as impatient as a fish out of water. As she had
formerly called to me in the gardens, or beckoned me aside
in the fields, if she had anything particular to say to me, she
also did the same here, when she drew me into the recess of
a window. This she did awkwardly and with embarrassment,
because she felt that it was not becoming, and did it notwith
standing. She had tkc most unimportant things in the world
to say to me nothing but what I knew already ; for instance,
that she wished herself by the Rhine, over the Rhine, or even
in Turkey. Frederica, on the contrary, was highly remarkable
in this situation. Properly speaking, she also did not suit it,
but it bore witness to her character, that, instead of finding
herself adapted to this condition, she unconsciously moulded
the condition according to herself. She acted here as she had
acted with the society in the country. She knew how to ani
mate every moment. Without creating any disturbance, she
put all in motion, and exactly by this pacified society, which
really is only disturbed by ennui. She thus completely fulfilled

406 THI7TH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

the desire of her town aunts, who wished for once, on their
sofas, to be witnesses of those rural games and amusements.
If this was done to satisfaction, so also were the wardrobe, the
ornaments, and whatever besides distinguished the town nieces,
who were dressed in the French fashion, considered and ad
mired, without envy. With me also Frederica had no difficulty,
since she treated me the same as ever. She seemed to give
me no other preference but that of communicating her desires
and wishes to me rather than to another, and thus recognising
me as her servant.

To this service she confidently laid claim on one of the fol
lowing days, when she privately told me that the ladies wished
to hear me ^read. The daughters of the house had spoken
much on this subject, for at Sesenheim I had read w r hat and
when I was desired. I was ready at once, but craved quiet
and attention for several hours. This was conceded, and one
evening I read through the whole of Hamlet without interrup
tion, entering into the sense of the piece as well as I was able,
and expressing myself with liveliness and passion, as is pos
sible in youth. I earned great applause. Frederica drew her
breath deeply from time to time, and a transient red had passed
over her cheeks. These two symptoms of a tender heart in
ternally moved, while cheerfulness and calmness were exter
nally apparent, were not unknown to me, and were indeed the
only reward which I had striven to obtain. She joyfully col
lected the thanks of the party for having caused me to read,
and in her graceful manner did not deny herself the little pride
at having shone in me and through me.

This town visit was not to have lasted long : but the depar
ture was delayed. Frederica did her part for the social amuse
ment, and I was not wanting, but the abundant sources which
yield so much in the country now dried up in their turn, and
the situation was the more painful, as the elder sister gradually
lost all self-control. The two sisters were the only persons in
the society who dressed themselves in the German fashion.
Frederica had never thought of herself in any other way, and
believed herself so right everywhere, that she made no compa
risons with any one else ; but Olivia found it quite insupport
able to move about in a society of genteel appearance attired
so like a maid-servant. In the country she scarcely remarked
the town costume of others, and did not desire it, but in the

THE "DISPUTATION." 407

town she could not endure the country style. All this, together
with the different lot of town ladies, and the thousand trifles of
a series of circumstances totally opposed to her own notions,
so worked for some days in her impassioned bosom, that I was
forced to apply all my flattering attention to appease her,
according to the wish of Frederica. I feared an impassioned
scene. I looked forward to the moment when she would throw
herself at my feet, and implore me by all that was sacred to
rescue her from this situation. She was good to a heavenly
degree if she could conduct herself in her own way, but such
a restraint at once made her uncomfortable, and could at last
drive her even to despair. I now sought to hasten that which
was desired by the mother and Olivia, and not repugnant to
Frederica. I did not refrain from praising her as a contrast
to her sister ; I told her what pleasure it gave me to find her
unaltered, and, even under the present circumstances, just as
free as the bird among the branches. She was courteous enough
to reply that I was there, and that she wished to go neither in
nor out when I was with her.

At last I saw them take their departure, and it seemed as
though a stone fell from my heart ; for my own feelings had
shared the condition of Frederica and Olivia ; I was not pas
sionately tormented like the former, but I felt by no means as
comfortable as the latter.

Since I had properly gone to Strasburg to take my degree,
it may be rightly reckoned among the irregularities of my life,
that I treated this material business as a mere collateral affair.
All anxiety as to my examination I had put aside in a very
easy fashion, but I had now to think of the disputation* for on
my departure from Frankfort I had promised my father, and
resolved within myself to write one. It is the fault of those
who can do many things, nay, much, that they trust everything
to themselves, and youth must indeed be in this position, if
anything is to be made of it. A survey of the science of juris
prudence and all its framework I had pretty well acquired,
single subjects of law sufficiently interested me, and as I had
the good Leyser for my model, I thought I should get tolerably
through with my own little common- sense. Great movements
were showing themselves in jurisprudence ; judgments were to
be more according to equity, all rights by usage were daily

* A polemic dissertation written on taking an university degree. Trans.

408 TRUTH AND POETHY ; FHOM MY OWN LIFE.

seen to be compromised, and in the criminal department
especially a great change was impending. As for myself, I
felt well enough that I lacked an infinite deal to fill up the
legal commonplace which I had proposed. The proper know
ledge was wanting, and 110 inner tendency urged me to such
subjects. Neither was there any impulse from without, nay,
quite another faculty* had completely carried me away. In
general, if I was to take any interest in a thing, it was neces
sary for me to gain something from it, to perceive in it some
thing that appeared fertile to me, and gave me prospects.
Thus I had once more noted down some materials, had after
wards made collections, had taken my books of extracts in
hand, had considered the point which I wished to maintain,
the scheme according to which I wished to arrange the single
elements ; but I was sharp enough soon to perceive that I
could not get on, and that to treat a special matter, a special
and long pursuing industry w r as requisite, nay, that such a
special task cannot be successfully accomplished unless, upon
the whole, one is at any rate an old hand, if not a master.

The friends to whom I communicated my embarrassment
deemed me ridiculous, because one can dispute upon theses as
well, nay, even better, than upon a treatise, and in Strasburg
this was not uncommon. I allowed myself to be very well in
clined to such an expedient, but my father, to whom I wrote
on the subject, desired a regular work, which, as he thought,
I could very well prepare, if I only chose so to do and allowed
myself proper time. I was now compelled to throw myself
upon some general topic, and to choose something which I
should have at my fingers ends. Ecclesiastical history was
almost better known to me than the history of the world, and
that conflict in which the church the publicly recognised
worship of God finds itself, and always will find itself, in two
different directions, had always highly interested me. For
now it lies in an eternal conflict with the state, over which it
will exalt itself; now with the individuals, all of whom it will
gather to itself. The state, on its side, will not yield the supe
rior authority to the church, and the individuals oppose its
restraints. The state desires everything for public, universal
ends ; the individual for ends belonging to the home, heart, and
feelings. From my childhood upwards I had been a witness

* Medicine. Trans*

THE DISPUTATION. 409

of such movements, when the clergy now offended their autho
rities, now their congregations. I had therefore established it
as a principle in my young mind, that the state the legislator
had the right to determine a worship, according to which
the clergy should teach and conduct themselves, and the laity,
on the other hand, should direct themselves publicly and ex
ternally ; while there should be no question about any one s
thoughts, feelings, or notions. Thus I perceived that I had at
once got rid of all collisions. I therefore chose for my disputation
the first half of this theme, namely, that the legislator was not
only authorised, but bound to establish a certain worship, from
which neither the clergy nor the laity might free themselves. I
carried out this theme partly historically, partly argumenta-
tively, showing that all public religions had been introduced by
leaders of armies, kings, and powerful men ; that this had even
been the case with Christianity. The example of Protestant
ism lay quite close at hand. I went to work at this task with
so much the more boldness, as I really only wrote it to satisfy
my father, and desired and hoped nothing more ardently than
that it might not pass the censorship. I had imbibed from
Eehrisch an unconquerable dislike to see anything of mine in
print, and my intercourse with Herder had discovered to me
but too plainly my own insufficiency, nay, a certain mistrust
in myself had through this means been perfectly matured. As
I drew this work almost entirely out of myself, and wrote and
spoke Latin with fluency, the time which I expended on the
treatise passed very agreeably. The matter had at least some
foundation, the style, naturally speaking, was not bad, the
whole was pretty well rounded off. As soon as I had finished
it, I went through it with a good Latin scholar, who, although
he could not, on the whole, improve my style, yet easily re
moved all striking defects, so that something was produced
that was fit to be shown. A fair copy was at once sent to my
father, who disapproved of one thing, namely, that none of the
subjects previously taken in hand had been worked out, but
nevertheless, as a thorough Protestant, he was well pleased
with the boldness of the plan. My singularities were tole
rated, my exertions were praised, and he promised himself an
important effect from the publication of the work.

I now handed over my papers to the faculty, who fortunately
behaved in a manner as prudent as it was polite. The dean,

410 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

a lively, clever man, began with many laudations of my work,
then went on to what was doubtful, which he contrived gra
dually to change into something dangerous, and concluded by
saying that it might not be advisable to publish this work as
an academical dissertation. The aspirant had shown himself
to the faculty as a thinking young man, of whom they might
hope the best ; they would willingly, not to delay the affair,
allow me to dispute on theses. I could afterwards publish my
treatise, either in its present condition or more elaborated, in
Latin, or in another language. This would everywhere be
easy to me as a private man and a Protestant, and I should
have the pleasure of an applause more pure and more general.
I scarcely concealed from the good man what a stone his dis
course rolled from my heart ; at every new argument which
he advanced, that he might not trouble me nor make me angry
by his refusal, my mind grew more and more easy, and so did
his own at last, when, quite unexpectedly, I offered no resist
ance to his reasons, but, on the contrary, found them extremely
obvious, and promised to conduct" myself according to his
counsel and guidance. I therefore sat down again with my
repetent. Theses were chosen and printed, and the disputation,
with the opposition of my fellow-boarders, went off with great
merriment, and even with facility, for my old habit of turning
over the Corpus Juris was very serviceable to me, and I could
pass for a well instructed man. A good feast, according to
custom, concluded the solemnity.

My father, however, was very dissatisfied that the little
work had not been regularly printed as a disputation, because
he had hoped that I should gain honour by it on my entrance
into Frankfort. He therefore wished to publish it specially,
but I represented to him that the subject, which was only
sketched, could be more completely carried out at some future
time. He put up the manuscript carefully for this purpose,
and many years afterwards I saw it among his papers.

I took my degree on the 6th August, 1771 ; and on the
following day Schopflin died, in the 75th year of his age. Even
without closer contact, he had had an important influence
upon me ; for eminent contemporaries may be compared to
the greater stars, towards which, so long as they merely stand
above the horizon, our eye is turned, and feels strengthened
and cultivated, if it is only allowed to take such perfections

SCTIOEPFLHS". 411

into itself. Bountiful nature had given Schopflin an advan
tageous exterior, a slender form, kindly eyes, a ready mouth,
and a thoroughly agreeable presence. Neither had she been
sparing in gifts of mind to her favourite ; and his good for
tune was the result of innate and carefully- cultivated merits,
without any troublesome exertion. He was one of those
happy men, who are inclined to unite the past and the
present, and understand how to connect historical knowledge
with the interests of life. Born in the Baden territory, edu
cated at Basle and Strasburg, he quite properly belonged to the
paradisiacal valley of the Rhine, as an extensive and well-
situated fatherland. His mind being directed to historical
and antiquarian objects, he readily seized upon them with a
felicitous power of representation, and retained them by the
most convenient memory. Desirous as he was both of learn
ing and of teaching, he pursued a course of study and of life
which equally advanced. He soon emerges and rises above
the rest, without any kind of interruption ; diffuses himself
with ease through the literary and citizen- world, for historical
knowledge passes everywhere, and affability attaches itself
everywhere. He travels through Germany, Holland, France,
Italy ; he comes in contact with all the learned men of his
time ; he amuses princes, and it is only when, by his lively
loquacity, the hours of the table or of audience are lengthened,
that he is tedious to the people at court. On the other hand,
he acquires the confidence of the statesmen, works out for them
the most profound legal questions, and thus finds everywhere
a field for his talent. In many places they attempt to retain
him, but he remains faithful to Strasburg and the French
court. His immoveable German honesty is recognised even
there, he is even protected against the powerful Prsetor Kling-
ling, who is secretly his enemy. Sociable and talkative by
nature, he extends his intercourse with the world, as well as
his knowledge and occupations ; and we should hardly be
able to understand whence he got all his time, did we not
know that a dislike to women accompanied him through his
whole life ; and that thus he gained many days and hours which
are happily thrown away by those who are well-disposed
towards the ladies.

For the rest, he belongs, as an author, to the ordinary
sort of character, and, as an orator, to the multitude. His

412 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

programme, his speeches, and addresses are devoted to the par
ticular day to the approaching solemnity ; nay, his great
work, Alsatia Illustrata, belongs to life, as he recalls the past,
freshens up faded forms, reanimates the hewn and the formed
stone, and brings obliterated broken inscriptions for a second
time before the eyes and mind of his reader. In such a man
ner, his activity fills all Alsatia and the neighbouring country ;
in Baden and the Palatinate he preserves to an extreme old
age an uninterrupted influence ; at Mannheim he founds the
Academy of Sciences, and remains president of it till his
death.

I never approached this eminent man, excepting on one
night, when we gave him a torch-serenade. Our pitch-torches
more filled with smoke than lighted the court-yard of the
old chapter-house, which was over-arched by linden-trees.
When the noise of the music had ended, he came forward
and stepped into the midst of us ; and here also was in his
right place. The slender, well-grown, cheerful old man stood
with his light, free manners, venerably before us, and held us
worthy the honour of a well-considered address, which he de
livered to us in an amiable paternal manner, without a trace
iof restraint or pedantry, so that we really thought ourselves
.something for the moment ; for, indeed, he treated us like the
kings and princes whom he had been so often called upon to
address in public. We testified our satisfaction aloud, trum
pets and drums repeatedly sounded, and the dear, hopeful
academical plebs then found its way home with hearty satis
faction.

His scholars and companions in study, Koch and Oberlin,
were men in close connexion with me. My taste for anti
quarian remains was passionate. They often let me into the
museum, which contained, in many ways, the vouchers to his
great work on Alsace. Even this work I had not known inti
mately until after that journey, when I had found antiquities
on the spot, and now being perfectly advanced, I could, on
longer or shorter expeditions, render present to myself the
valley of the Rhine as a Roman possession, and finish colouring
many a dream of times past.

Scarcely had I made some progress in this, than Oberlin.
directed me to the monuments of the middle ages, and made
me acquainted with the ruins and remains, the seals and docu-

KOCH AND OBERLIN. 413

ments, which, those times have left behind them ; nay, sought
to inspire me with an inclination for what we called the
Maine-singers and heroic poets. To this good man, as well
as to Herr Koch, I have been greatly indebted ; and if things
had gone according to their wish, I should have had to
thank them for the happiness of my life. The matter stood
thus:

Schopflin, who for his whole lifetime had moved in the
higher sphere of political law, and well knew the great in
fluence which such and kindred studies are likely to procure
for a sound head, in courts and cabinets, felt an insuperable,
nay, unjust aversion from the situation of a civilian, and had
inspired his scholars with the like sentiments. The above-
mentioned two men, friends of Salzmann, had taken notice of
me in a most friendly manner. My impassioned grasping at
external objects, the manner in which I continued to bring
forward their advantages, and to communicate to them a par
ticular interest, they prized higher than I did myself. My
slight, and I may say, my scanty occupation with the civil
law, had not remained unobserved by them ; they were well
enough acquainted with me to know how easily I was to be
influenced ; I had made no secret of my liking for an acade
mical life, and they therefore thought to gain me over to his
tory, political law, and rhetoric, at first for a time, but after
wards more decidedly. The prospect of the German Chancery
at Versailles, the precedent of Schopflin, whose merits, in
deed, seemed to me unattainable, were to incite to emulation,
if not to imitation ; and perhaps a similar talent was thus to-
be cultivated, which might be both profitable to him who
could boast of it, and useful to others who might choose to
employ it on their own account. These, my patrons, and
Salzmann with them, set a great value on my memory and my
capacity for apprehending the sense of languages, and chiefly
by these sought to further their views and plans.

I now intend to describe, at length, how all this came to
nothing, and how it happened that I again passed over from
the French to the German side. Let me be allowed, as
hitherto, some general reflections, by way of transition.

There are few biographies which can represent a pure, quiet,
steady progress of the individual. Our life, as well as all in
which we are contained, is, in an incomprehensible manner,

414 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

composed of freedom and necessity. Our will is a prediction
of what we shall do, under all circumstances. But these cir
cumstances lay hold on us in their own fashion. The ivhat
lies in us, the hoio seldom depends on us, after the wherefore
we dare not ask, and on this account we are rightly referred
to the qida.

The French tongue I had liked from my youth upwards ; I
had learned to know the language through a bustling life,
and a bustling life through the language. It had become
my own, like a second mother-tongue, without grammar and
Instruction by mere intercourse and practice. I now wished
to use it with still greater fluency, and again gave Strasburg
the preference, as an university residence, to other high
schools ; but, alas ! it was just there that I had to experience
the very reverse of my hopes, and to be turned rather from
than to this language and these manners.

The French, who generally aim at good behaviour, are in
dulgent towards foreigners who begin to speak their lan
guage ; they will not laugh any one out of countenance at a
fault, or blame him in direct terms. However, since they
cannot endure sins committed against their language, they
have a manner of repeating, and, as it were, courteously con
firming what has been said with another turn, at the same
time making use of the expression which should properly
have been employed; thus leading the intelligent and the
attentive to what is right and proper.

Now although, if one is in earnest if one has self-denial
enough to profess oneself a pupil, one gains a great deal, and
is much advanced by this plan, one nevertheless always feels in
some degree humiliated ; and, since one talks for the sake of
the subject-matter also, often too much interrupted, or even
distracted, so that one impatiently lets the conversation drop.
This happened with me more than with others, as I always
thought that I had to say something interesting, and, on the
other hand, to hear something important, and did not wish to
be always brought back merely to the expression, a case
which often occurred with me, as my French was just as
motley as that of any other foreigner. I had observed the
accent and idiom of footmen, valets, guards, young and old
actors, theatrical lovers, peasants, and heroes ; and this Baby
lonish idiom was rendered still more confused by another odd

DIFFICULTY WITH THE FRENCH LANGUAGE. 415

ingredient, as I liked to hear the French reformed clergy, and
visited their churches the more willingly, as a Sunday walk to
Bockenheim was on this account not only permitted but or
dered. But even this was not enough ; for as in my youthful
years, I had always been chiefly directed to the German of the
century, I soon included the French also of that noble epoch
among the objects of my inclination. Montaigne, Amyot,
Babelais, Marot, were my friends, and excited in me sympathy
and delight. Now all these different elements moved in my
discourse chaotically one with another, so that for the hearer
the meaning was lost in the oddity of the expression ; nay,
an educated Frenchman could no more courteously correct
me, but had to censure me and tutor me in plain terms. It
therefore happened with me here once more as it had hap
pened in Leipzig, only that on this occasion I could not appeal
to the right of my native place to speak idiomatically, as well
as other provinces ; but being on a foreign ground and soil,
was forced to adapt myself to traditional laws.

Perhaps we might even have resigned ourselves to this, if
an evil genius had not whispered into our ears that all endea
vours by a foreigner to speak French would remain unsuc
cessful ; for a practised ear can perfectly well detect a Ger
man, Italian, or Englishman under a French mask. One is
tolerated, but never received into the bosom of the only
language-holy church.

Only a few exceptions were granted. They named to us a
Herr von Grimm; but even Schopflin, it seemed, did not
reach the summit. They allowed that he had early seen the
necessity of expressing himself in French to perfection ; they
approved of his inclination to converse with every one, and
especially to entertain the great and persons of rank ; they
praised him, that living hi the place where he was, he had
made the language of the country his own, and had endea
voured as much as possible to render himself a Frenchman of
society and orator. But what does he gain by the denial of
his mother-tongue, and his endeavours after a foreign one ?
He cannot make it right with anybody. In society they are
pleased to deem him vain ; as if any one would or could con
verse with others without some feeling for self and self-com
placency ! Then the refined connoisseurs of the world and of
language assert that there is in him more of dissertation and

416 TKTJTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

dialogue than of conversation, properly so called. The former
was generally recognised as the original and fundamental sin
of the Germans, the latter as the cardinal virtue of the French.
As a public orator he fares no better. If he prints a well-
elaborated address to the king or the princes, the Jesuits, who
are ill-disposed to him as a Protestant, lay wait for him, and
show that his terms of expression are not French,

Instead of consoling ourselves with this, and bearing as
green wood that which had been laid upon the dry, we were
annoyed at such pedantic injustice. We fall into despair,
and, by this striking example, are the more convinced that it
is a vain endeavour to try to satisfy the French by the matter
itself, as they are too closely bound to the external conditions
under which everything is to appear. We therefore embrace
the opposite resolution of getting rid of the French language
altogether, and of directing ourselves more than ever, with
might and earnestness, to our own mother- tongue.

And for this we found opportunity and sympathy in actual
life. Alsace had not been connected with France so long that
an affectionate adherence to the old constitution, manners,
language, and costume did not still exist with old and young.
If the conquered party loses half his existence by compulsion,
he looks upon it as disgraceful voluntarily to part with the
other half. He therefore holds fast to all that can recall to
him the good old time, and foster in him the hope that a
better epoch will return. Very many inhabitants of Stras-
burg formed little circles, separate, indeed, but neverthe
less united in spirit, which were always increased and re
cruited by the numerous subjects of German princes who
held considerable lands under French sovereignty, since fathers
and sons, either for the sake of study or business, resided for
a longer or shorter time at Strasburg.

At our table nothing but German was spoken. Salzmann
expressed himself in French with much iluency and elegance ;
but, with respect to his endeavours and acts, was a perfect
German. Lerse might have been set up as a pattern of a
German youth. Meyer, of Lindau, liked to get on with good
German too well to shine in good French ; and if, among the
rest, many were inclined to the Gallic speech and manners,
they yet, while they were with us, allowed the general tone
to prevail with them.

DISLIKE TO THE TKENCH. 417

From the language we turned to political affairs. We
had not, indeed, much to say in praise of our own imperial
constitution. We granted that it consisted of mere legal
contradictions ; but exalted ourselves so much the more
above the present French constitution, w r hich lost itself in
mere lawless abuses, while the government only showed its
energy in the wrong place, and was forced to admit that a
complete change in affairs was already publicly prophesied
with black forebodings.

If, on the other hand, we looked towards the north, we were
shone upon by Frederic, the polar-star, who seemed to turn
about himself Germany, Europe, nay, the whole w r oiid. His
preponderance in everything was most strongly manifested
when the Prussian exercise and even the Prussian stick was
introduced into the French army. As for the rest, we forgave
him his predilection for a foreign language, since we felt satis
faction that his French poets, philosophers, and litterateurs
continued to annoy him, and often declared that he was to be
considered and treated only as an intruder.

But what, more than all, forcibly alienated us from the French,
was the unpolite opinion, repeatedly maintained, that the
Germans in general, as well as the king, who was striving
after French cultivation, were deficient in taste. With re
spect to this kind of talk, which followed every judgment like
a burden, we endeavoured to solace ourselves with contempt ;
but we could so much the less come to a clear understanding
about it, as we were assured that Menage had already said,
that the French writers possessed everything but taste ; and
had also learned from the then living Paris, that all the
authors were wanting in taste, and that Voltaire himself could
not escape this severest of reproaches. Having been before
and often directed to nature, we would allow of nothing but
truth and uprightness of feeling, and the quick, blunt expres
sion of it.

" Friendship, love, and brotherhood,
Of themselves are understood,"

was the watchword and cry of battle, by which the members
of our little academical horde used to know and enliven each
other. This maxim lay at the foundation of all our social
banquets, on the occasions of which we did not fail to pay

2 E

418 TRUTH AND POETHY ; FROM MY OWN XIFE.

many an evening visit to Cousin Michel,* in his well-known
Germanhood.

If, in what has hitherto been described, only external con
tingent causes and personal peculiarities are found, the French
literature had in itself certain qualities which were rather
repulsive than attractive to an aspiring youth. It was ad
vanced in years and genteel ; and by neither of these quali
ties can youth, which looks about for enjoyment of life and
for freedom, be delighted.

Since the sixteenth century, the course of French literature
had never been seen to be completely interrupted ; nay, the in
ternal and religious disturbances, as well as the external wars,
had accelerated its progress ; but, as we heard generally main
tained, it was a hundred years ago that it had existed in its
full bloom. Through favourable circumstances, they said, an
abundant harvest had at once ripened, and had been happily
gathered in, so that the great talents of the eighteenth cen
tury had to be moderately contented with mere gleanings.

In the meanwhile, however, much had become antiquated :
first of all comedy, which had to be freshened up to adapt
itself, less perfectly, indeed, but still with new interest, to
actual life and manners. Of the tragedies, many had vanished
from the stage, and Voltaire did not let slip the important
opportunity which offered of editing Corneille s works, that
he might show how defective his predecessor had been, whom,
according to the general voice, he had not equalled.

And even this very Voltaire, the wonder of his time, had
grown old, like the literature, which, for nearly a century, he
had animated and governed. By his side still existed and vege
tated many litterateurs, in a more or less active and happy old
age, who one by one disappeared. The influence of society
upon authors increased more and more ; for the best society,
consisting of persons of birth, rank, and property, chose for
one of their chief recreations literature, which thus became
quite social and genteel. Persons of rank and litterateurs
mutually cultivated and necessarily perverted each other ;
for the genteel has always something excluding in its nature ;
and excluding also was the French criticism, being negative,
detracting, and fault-finding. The higher class made use

* Michel" is exactly to the Germans what " John Bull" is to the
English. Trans.

TOLTAIBE. 419

of such judgments against the authors; the authors, with
somewhat less decorum, proceeded in the same manner
against each other, nay, against their patrons. If the public
was not to be awed, they endeavoured to take it by surprise,
or gain it by humility ; and thus apart from the movements
which shook church and state to their inmost core there
arose such a literary ferment, that Voltaire himself stood in
need of his full activity, and his whole preponderance, to keep
himself above the torrent of general disesteem. Already he
was openly called an old capricious child; his endeavours,
carried on indefatigably, were regarded as the vain efforts of
a decrepid age ; certain principles, on which he had stood
during his whole life, and to the spread of which he had de
voted his days, were no more held in esteem and honour ;
nay, his Deity, by acknowledging whom he continued to
declare himself free from atheism, was not conceded him ;
and thus he himself, the grandsire and patriarch, was forced,
like his youngest competitor, to watch the present moment,
to catch at new power- to do his friends too much good, and
his enemies too much harm ; and under the appearance of a
passionate striving for the love of truth, to act deceitfully and
falsely. Was it worth the trouble to have led such a great
active life, if it was to end in greater dependence than it had
begun: How insupportable such a position was, did not
escape his high mind, his delicate sensibility. He often
relieved himself by leaps and thrusts, gave the reins to his
humour, and carried a few of his sword-cuts too far, at
which friends and enemies, for the most part, showed them
selves indignant ; for every one thought he could play the
superior to him, though no one could equal him. A public
which only hears the judgment of old men, becomes over- wise
too soon ; and nothing is more unsatisfactory than a mature
judgment adopted by an immature mind.

To us youths, before whom, with our German love of truth
and nature, honesty towards both ourselves and others hovered
as the best guide both in life and learning, the factious dis
honesty of Voltaire and the perversion of so many worthy
subjects became more and more annoying, and we daily
strengthened ourselves in our aversion from him. He could
never have done with degrading religion and the sacred books,

420 TRUTH AND POETHY ; TEOM MY OWN LIFE.

/

for the sake of injuring priestcraft,* as they called it, and had
thus produced in me many an unpleasant sensation. But
when I now learned that, to weaken the tradition of a deluge,
he had denied all petrified shells, and only admitted them as
lusus naturce, he entirely lost my confidence ; for my own eyes
had, on the Baschberg, plainly enough shown me that I stood
on the bottom of an old dried-up sea, among the exuvia of its
original inhabitants. These mountains had certainly been
once covered with waves, whether before or during the deluge
did not concern me ; it was enough that the valley of the
Pthine had been a monstrous lake, a bay extending beyond
the reach of the eyesight ; out of this I was not to be talked.
I thought much more of advancing in the knowledge of lands
and mountains, let what would be the result.

French literature, then, had grown old and genteel in itself,
and through Voltaire. Let us devote some further considera
tion to this remarkable man.

From his youth upwards, Voltaire s wishes and endeavours
had been directed to an active and social life, to politics, to
gain on a large scale, to a connexion with the heads of the
earth, and a profitable use of this connexion, that he himseL
might be one of the heads of the earth also. No one has
easily made himself so dependent, for the sake of being inde
pendent. He even succeeded in subjugating minds ; the na
tion became his own. In vain did his opponents unfold their
moderate talents, and their monstrous hate ; nothing suc
ceeded in injuring him. The court he could never reconcile
to himself, but by way of compensation, foreign kings were
his tributaries ; Katharine and Frederic the Great, Gustavus
of Sweden, Christian of Denmark, Peniotowsky of Poland,
Henry of Prussia, Charles of Brunswick, acknowledged them
selves his vassals ; even popes thought they must coax him
by some acts of indulgence. That Joseph the Second had
kept aloof from him did not at all redound to the honour
of this prince, for it would have done no harm to him and his
undertakings, if, with such a fine intellect and with such

* " Um den so genannten PfafFen zu schaden." As we have not the
word for a priest, which exactly expresses the contempt involved in
" Pfaffe," the word " priestcraft " has been introduced. Trans.

THE ENCYCLOPEDISTS. 421

noble views, he had been somewhat more practically clever,*
and a better appreciator of the mind.

What I have here stated in a compressed form, and in some
connexion, sounded at that time as a cry of the moment, as a
perpetual discord, unconnected and uninstructive, in our ears.
Nothing was heard but the praise of those who had gone be
fore. Something good and new was required ; but the newest
was never liked. Scarcely had a patriot exhibited on the long
in animate stage national, French, heart-inspiring subjects,
scarcely had the Siege of Calais gained enthusiastic applause,
than the piece, together with all its national comrades, was
considered empty, and in every sense objectionable. The
delineations of manners by Destouches, which had so often
delighted me when a boy, w r ere called weak ; the name of this
honest man had passed away ; and how many authors could
I not point out, for the sake of whom I had to endure the
reproach that I judged like a provincial, if I showed any sym
pathy for such men and their works, in opposition to any one
who was carried along by the newest literary torrent.

Thus, to our other German comrades we became more and
more annoying. According to our view, according to the
peculiarity of our own nature, we had to retain the im
pressions of objects, to consume them but slowly, and if it
was to be so, to let them go as late as possible. We were
convinced that by faithful observation, by continued occupa
tion, something might be gained from all things, and that by
persevering zeal we must at last arrive at a point where the
ground of the judgment may be expressed at the same time
with the judgment itself. Neither did we fail to perceive
that the great and noble French world offered us many an ad
vantage and much profit ; for Rousseau had really touched our
sympathies. But if we considered his life and his fate, he
was nevertheless compelled to find the great reward for all he
did in this that he could live unacknowledged and forgotten
at Paris.

If we heard the encyclopedists mentioned, or opened a
volume of their monstrous work, we felt as if we were going
between the innumerable moving spools and looms in a great
factory, where, what with the mere creaking and rattling -

* " Practically clever" is put as a kind of equivalent for the difficult
word " geistreich." Trans.

422 TRUTH AKD POETKY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

what with all the mechanism, embarrassing both eyes and
noses what with the mere incomprehensibility of an arrange
ment, the parts of which work into each other in the most
manifold way what with the contemplation of all that is
necessary to prepare a piece of cloth, we feel disgusted with
the very coat which we wear upon our backs.

Diderot was sufficiently akin to us, as, indeed, in every
thing, for which the French blame him, he is a true German.
But even his point of view was too high, his circle of vision
was too extended for us to range ourselves with him, and
place ourselves at his side. Nevertheless, his children of
nature, whom he continued to bring forward and dignify with
great rhetorical art, pleased us very much ; his brave poachers
and smugglers enchanted us ; and this rabble afterwards
throve but too well upon the German Parnassus. It was he
also, who, like Rousseau, diffused a disgust of social life a
quiet introduction to those monstrous changes of the world,
in which everything permanent appeared to sink.

However, we ought now to put aside these considerations,
and to remark what influence these two men have had upon
art. Even here they pointed even from here they urged us
towards nature.

The highest problem of any art is to produce by appearance
the illusion of a higher reality. But it is a false endeavour
to realize the appearance until at last only something com
monly real remains.

As an ideal locality, the stage, by the application of the laws
of perspective to coulisses ranged one behind the other, had
attained the greatest advantage ; and this very gain they now
wished wantonly to abandon, by shutting up the sides of the
theatre, and forming real room- walls. With such an arrange
ment of the stage, the piece itself, the actors mode of playing,
in a word, everything was to coincide ; and thus an entirely
new theatre was to arise.

The French actors had, in comedy, attained the summit of
the true in art. Their residence at Paris, their observations
of the externals of the court, the connexion of the actors and
actresses with the highest classes, by means of love affairs
all contributed to transplant to the stage the greatest real-
ness and seemliness of social life; and on this point the
friends of nature found but little to blame. However they

EOUSSEAU S PYGMALION." 423

thought they made a great advance, if they chose for their
pieces earnest and tragical subjects, in which the citizen-life
should not be wanting, used pure verse for the higher mode
of expression, and thus banished unnatural Terse, together with
unnatural declamation and gesticulation.

It is extremely remarkable, and has not been generally
noticed, that at this time, even the old, severe, rhythmical,
artistical tragedy was threatened with a revolution, which
could only be averted by great talents and the power of
tradition.

In opposition to the actor Le Kain, who played his heroes
with especial theatrical decorum, with deliberation, elevation,
and force, and kept himself aloof from the natural and ordi
nary, came forward a man named Aufresne, who declared war
against everything unnatural, and in his tragic acting sought
to express the highest truth. This mode might not have
accorded with that of the other Parisian actors. He stood
alone, while they kept together, and adhering to his views
obstinately enough, he chose to leave Paris rather than alter
them, and came through Strasburg. There we saw him play
the part of Augustus in Oinna, that of Mithridates, and
others of the sort, with the truest and most natural dignity.
He appeared as a tall, handsome man, more slender than
strong, not, properly speaking, with an imposing, but never
theless with a noble, pleasing demeanour. His acting was
well-considered and quiet, without being cold, and forcible
enough \vhere force was required. He was a very well-
practised actor, and one of the few who know how to turn
the artificial completely into nature, and nature completely
into the artificial. It is really those few whose misunder
stood good qualities always originate the doctrine of false
"naturalness."

And thus will I also make mention of a work, which is
indeed small, but which made an epoch in a remarkable man
ner, I mean Rousseau s Pygmalion. A great deal could be
said upon it ; for this strange production floats between nature
and art, with the full endeavour of resolving the latter into
the former. We see an artist who has produced what is
most perfect, and yet does not find any satisfaction in having,
according to art, represented his idea externally to himself,
and given to it a higher life ; no, it must also be drawn down

424 THUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

to him into the earthly life. He will destroy the highest
thing that mind and deed have produced, by the commonest
act of sensuality.

All this and much else, right and foolish, true and half-true,
operating upon us as it did, still more perplexed our notions ;
we were driven astray through many by-ways and roundabout
ways, and thus on many sides was prepared that German
literary revolution, of which we were witnesses, and to which,
consciously or unconsciously, willingly or unwillingly, we
unceasingly contributed.

We had neither impulse nor tendency to be illumined and
advanced in a philosophical manner ; on religious subjects we
thought we had sufficiently enlightened ourselves, and there
fore the violent contest of the French philosophers with the
priesthood was tolerably indifferent to us. Prohibited books
condemned to the flames, which then made a great noise, pro
duced no effect upon us. I mention as an instance, to serve
for all, the Systeme de la Nature, which we took in hand out
of curiosity. We did not understand how such a book could
be dangerous. It appeared to us so dark, so Cimmerian, so
deathlike, that we found it a trouble to endure its presence,
and shuddered at it as at a spectre. The author fancies he
gives his book a peculiar recommendation, when he declares
in his preface, that as a decrepid old man, just sinking into
the grave, he wishes to announce the truth to his cotempora-
ries and to posterity.

We laughed him out ; for we thought we had observed that
by old people nothing in the world that is loveable and good
is in fact appreciated. " Old churches have dark windows ;
to know how cherries and berries taste, we must ask children
and sparrows." These were our gibes and maxims ; and thus
that book, as the very quintessence of senility, appeared to
us as unsavoury, nay, absurd. "All was to be of necessity,"
so said the book, u and therefore there was no God." But
could there not be a God by necessity too ? asked we. We
indeed confessed, at the same time, that we could not with
draw ourselves from the necessities of day and night, the
seasons, the influence of climate, physical and animal condi
tion ; but nevertheless we felt within us something that ap
peared like perfect freedom of will, and again something
which sought to counterbalance this freedom.

" SYSTEME DE LA NATURE." 425

The hope of becoming more and more rational, of making
ourselves more and more independent of external things, nay,
of ourselves, we could not give up. The word freedom sounds
so beautiful, that we cannot do without it, even though it
designates an error.

None of us had read the book through ; for we found our
selves deceived in the expectations with which we had opened
it. A system of nature was announced ; and therefore we
hoped to learn really something of nature our idol. Physics
and chemistry, descriptions of heaven and earth, natural his
tory and anatomy, with much else, had now for years, and up
to the last day, constantly directed us to the great adorned
world ; and we would willingly have heard both particulars
and generals about suns and stars, planets and moons, moun
tains, valleys, rivers and seas, with all that live and move
in them. That in the course of this, much must occur which
would appear to the common man as injurious, to the clergy
as dangerous, and to the state as inadmissible, we had no
doubt ; and we hoped that the little book had not unworthily
stood the fiery ordeal. But how hollow and empty did we
feel in this melancholy, atheistical half-night, in which earth
vanished with all its images, heaven with all its stars.
There was to be a matter in motion from all eternity, and by
this motion, right and left and in every direction, without
anything further, it was to produce the infinite phenomena of
existence. Even all this we should have allowed to pass, if
the author, out of his moved matter, had really built up the
world before our eyes. But he seemed to know as little about
nature as we did ; for, having set up some general ideas, he
quits them at once, for the sake of changing that which
appears as higher than nature, or as a higher nature within,
nature, into material, heavy nature, which is moved, indeed,
but without direction or form and thus he fancies he has
gained a greal deal.

If, after all, this book did us any mischief, it was this.
that we took a hearty dislike to all philosophy, and especially
metaphysics, and remained in that dislike; while, on the
other hand, we threw ourselves into living knowledge, expe
rience, action, and poetising, with all the more liveliness and
passion.

Thus, on the very borders of France, we had at once got

426 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

rid and clear of every thing French about us. The French way
of life we found too defined and genteel, their poetry cold,
their criticism annihilating, their philosophy abstruse, and yet
insufficient, so that we were on the point of resigning our
selves to rude nature, at least by way of experiment, if another
influence had not for a long time prepared us for higher and
freer views of the world, and intellectual enjoyments as true
as they were poetical, and swayed us, first moderately and se
cretly, but afterwards with more and more openness and force.

I need scarcely say that Shakspeare is intended ; and having
once said this, no more need be added. Shakspeare has been
acknowledged by the Germans, more by them than by other
nations, perhaps even more than by his own. We have richly
bestowed on him all that justice, fairness, and forbearance
which we refuse to ourselves. Eminent men have occupied
themselves in showing his talents in the most favourable light;
and I have always readily subscribed to what has been said
to his honour, in his favour, or even by way of excuse for
him. The influence of this extraordinary mind upon me
has been already shown ; an attempt has been made with
respect to his works, which has received approbation ; and
therefore this general statement may suffice for the present,
until I am in a position to communicate to such friends as like
to hear me, a gleaning of reflections on his great deserts, such
as I was tempted to insert in this very place.

At present I will only show more clearly the manner in
which I became acquainted with him. It happened pretty
soon at Leipzig, through Dodd s Beauties of Shakspeare.
Whatever may be said against such collections, which give
authors in a fragmentary form, they nevertheless produce
many good effects. We are not always so collected and so
ready that we can take in a whole work according to its
merits. Do we not, in a book, mark passages which have an
immediate reference to ourselves ? Young people especially,
who are wanting in a thorough cultivation, are laudably
excited by brilliant passages ; and thus I myself remember,
as one of the most beautiful epochs of my life, that which is
characterised by the above-mentioned work. Those noble
peculiarities, those great sayings, those happy descriptions,
those humorous traits all struck me singly and powerfully.

Wieland s translation now made its appearance. It was

INFLUENCE OF SHAKSPEAKE. 427

devoured, communicated and recommended to friends and
acquaintances. We Germans had the advantage that many
important works of foreign nations were first brought over to
us in an easy and cheerful fashion. Shakspeare, translated
in prose, first by Wieland, afterwards by Eschenburg, was
able, as a kind of reading universally intelligible, and suitable
to any reader, to diffuse itself speedily, and to produce a great
effect. I revere the rhythm as well as the rhyme, by which
poetry first becomes poetry ; but that which is really, deeply,
and fundamentally effective that which is really permanent
and furthering, is that which remains of the poet when he is
translated into prose. Then remains the pure, perfect sub
stance, of which, when absent, a dazzling exterior often con
trives to make a false show, and which, when present, such
an exterior contrives to conceal. I therefore consider prose
translations more advantageous than poetical, for the begin
ning of youthful culture ; for it may be remarked that boys, to
whom everything must serve as a jest, delight themselves
with the sound of words and the fall of syllables, and by a
sort of parodistical wantonness, destroy the deep contents of
the noblest work. Hence I would have it considered whether
a prose translation of Homer should not be next undertaken,
though this, indeed, must be worthy of the degree at which
German literature stands at present. I leave this, and what
has been already said, to the consideration of our worthy
pedagogues, to whom an extensive experience on this matter
is most at command. I will only, in favour of my proposi
tion, mention Luther s translation of the Bible ; for the cir
cumstance that this excellent man handed down a work, com
posed in the most different styles, and gave us its poetical,
historical, commanding didactic tone in our mother-tongue,
as if all were cast in one mould, has done more to advance
religion than if he had attempted to imitate, in detail, the
peculiarities of the original. In vain has been the subsequent
endeavour to make Job, the Psalms, and the other lyrical
books, capable of affording enjoyment in their poetical form.
For the multitude, upon whom the effect is to be produced,
a plain translation always remains the best. Those critical
translations which vie with the original, really only seem to
amuse the learned among themselves.

And thus in our Strasburg society did Shakspeare, trans-

428 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROX MY OWN LIFE.

lated and in the original, by fragments and as a whole, by pas
sages and by extracts, influence us in such a manner, that as there
are Bible-firm (Bibelfest) men, so did we gradually make our
selves firm in Shakspeare, imitated in our conversations those
virtues and defects of his time with which he had made us
so well acquainted, took the greatest delight in his " quibbles,"^
and by translating them, nay, with original recklessness, sought
to emulate him. To this, the fact that I had seized upon him
above all, with great enthusiasm, did not a little contribute.
A happy confession that something higher waved over me was
infectious for my friends, who all resigned themselves to this
mode of thought. We did not deny the possibility of knowing
such merits more closely, of comprehending them, of judging
them with penetration, but this we reserved for later epochs.
At present we only wished to sympathize gladly, and to imitate
with spirit, and while we had so much enjoyment, we did not
wish to inquire and haggle about the man who afforded it, but
unconditionally to revere him.

If any one would learn immediately what was thought,
talked about, and discussed in this lively society, let him read
Herder s essay on Shakspeare, in the part of his works upon the
German manner and art ( Ueber Deutsche Art und Kunst), and
also Lenz s remarks on the theatre (Anmerkungen ubers Theater},
to which a translation of Love s Labour Lost was added. f
Herder penetrates into the deepest interior of Shakspeare s
nature, and exhibits it nobly ; Lenz conducts himself more
like an Iconoclast against the traditions of the theatre, and will
have everything everywhere treated in Shakspeare s manner.
Since I have had occasion to mention this clever and eccentric
man here, it is the place to say something about him by way
of experiment. I did not become acquainted with him till
towards the end of my residence at Strasburg. We saw each
other seldom, his company was not mine, but we sought an
opportunity of meeting, and willingly communicated with each
other, because, as cotemporary youths, we harboured similar
views. He had a small but neat figure, a charming little
head, to the elegant form of which his delicate but somewhat

* This English word is used in the original. Trans.

f" A complete edition of Lenz s works was published by Tieck in 1828.
In that will be found the essay and play in question, to the last of which
he gives the name Amor vincil omnia. Trans.

LEXZ. 429

fiat features perfectly corresponded ; blue eyes, blond hair, in
short, a person such as I have from time to time met among
northern youths ; a soft and as it were cautious step, a plea
sant but not quite flowing speech, and a conduct which, fluc
tuating between reserve and shyness, well became a young
man. Small poems, especially his own, he read very well
aloud. For his turn of mind I only know the English word
" whimsical," which, as the dictionary shows, comprises very
many singularities under one notion. No one, perhaps, was
more capable than he to feel and imitate the extravagances
and excrescences of Shakspeare s genius. To this the trans
lation above mentioned bears witness. He treated his author
with great freedom, was not in the least close and faithful, but
he knew how to put on the armour, or rather the motley jacket,
of his predecessor so very well, to adapt himself with such
humour to his gestures, that he was certain to obtain applause
from those who were interested in such matters.

The absurdities of the clowns especially constituted our
whole happiness, and we praised Lfenz as a favoured man,
when he succeeded in rendering as follows the epitaph on the
deer shot by the princess :

" Die schone Princessin schoss und traf
Ernes jungen Hirschleins Leben ;
Es fiel dahin in schweren Schlaf
Und wird ein Bratlein geben.
Der Jagdhund boll ! Ein L zu Hirscb
So wird es denn ein Hirschel ;
Doch setzt ein romisch L zu Hirsch
So macht es funfzig Hirschel.
Ich mache hundert Hirsche draus
Schreib Hirschell mit zwei LLen." *

* The lines in Shakspeare, which the above are intended to imitate, are
the following :

" The praiseful princess pierc d and prick d a pretty pleasing pricket ;
Some say a sore ; but not a sore till now made sore with shooting.
The dogs did yell ; put L to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket
Or pricket, sore, or else sorel ; the people fall a-hooting.
If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores, O sore L !
Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but one more L."

Lenz s words, which cannot be rendered intelligibly into English, furnish
an instance of Gothe s meaning, when he commends Lenz as happily catch
ing the spirit of the original, without the slightest pretence to accuracy.
J. runs*

430 TUTITH AND POETHY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

The tendency towards the absurd, which displays itself free
and unfettered in youth, but afterwards recedes more into the
background, without being on that account utterly lost, was
in full bloom among us, and we sought even by original jests
to celebrate our great master. We were very proud when we
could lay before the company something of the kind, which
was in any degree approved, as, for instance, the following on
a riding-master, who had been hurt on a wild horse.

11 A rider in this house you ll find,
A master too is he,
The two into a nosegay bind,
Twill riding-master be.
If master of the ride, I wis,
Full well he bears the name,
But if the ride the master is,
On him and his be shame." *

About such things serious discussions were held as to
whether they were worthy of the clown or not, whether they
flowed from the genuine pure fool s spring, and whether sense
and understanding had at all mingled in an unfitting and inad
missible manner. Altogether our singular views were diffused
with the greater ardour, and more persons were in a position
to sympathize with them, as Lessing, in whom great confidence
was placed, had, properly speaking, given the first signal in
his Dramaturgic.

In a society so attuned and excited I managed to take many
a pleasant excursion into Upper Alsace, whence, however, on
this very account, I brought back no particular instruction.
The number of little verses which flowed from us on that occa
sion, and which might serve to adorn a lively description of a
journey, are lost. In the cross-way of Molsheim Abbey we
admired the painted windows ; in the fertile spot between Col-

* The above doggrel is pretty faithful, but it is as well to give the
original.

" Ein Ritter wohnt in diesem Haus ;
Eh- Meister auch daneben ;
Macht man davon einen Blumenstrauss
So wird s einen Rittmeister geben.
1st er nun Meister von dem Ritt
Flihrt er mit Recht den Namen ;
Doch nimmt der Ritt den Meister mit,
Weh ihin und seiriem Samea." Trans.

THE OTTILIENEEHG. 431

mar and Schlettstadt resounded some comic hymns to Ceres,
the consumption of so many fruits being circumstantially set
forth and extolled, and the important question as to the free
or restricted trade in them being very merrily taken up. At
Ensisheim we saw the monstrous aerolite hanging up in the
church, and in accordance with the scepticism of the time,
ridiculed the credulity of man, never suspecting that such air-
born beings, if they were not to fall into our corn-fields, were
at any rate to be preserved in our cabinets.

Of a pilgrimage to the Ottilienberg, accomplished with an
hundred, nay, a thousand of the faithful, I still love to think.
Here, where the foundation- wall of a Roman castle still re
mained, a count s beautiful daughter, of a pioxis disposition,
was said to have dwelt among ruins and stony crevices. Near
the chapel where the wanderers edify themselves, her well is
shown, and much that is beautiful is narrated. The image
which I formed of her, and her name, made a deep impression
upon me. I carried both about with me for a long time, until
at last I endowed with them one of my later, but not less be
loved daughters,* who was so favourably received by pure and
pious hearts.

On this eminence also is repeated to the eye the majestic
Alsace, always the same, and always new. Just as in an
amphitheatre, let one take one s place where one will, one sur
veys the whole people, but sees one s neighbours the plainest,
so it is here with bushes, rocks, hills, w r oods, fields, meadows,
and districts near and in the distance. They wished to show
us even Basle in the horizon ; that we saw it, I will not swear,
but the remote blue of the Swiss mountains even here exer
cised its rights over us, by summoning us to itself, and since
we could not follow the impulse, by leaving a painful feeling.

To such distractions and cheerful recreations I abandoned
myself the more readily, and even with a degree of intoxica
tion, because my passionate connexion with Frederica now
began to trouble me. Such a youthful affection cherished at
random, may be compared to a bomb-shell thrown at night,
which rises with a soft brilliant light, mingles with the stars,
nay, for a moment, seems. to pause among them, then, in de
scending, describes the same path in the reverse direction, and

* By this daughter he means " Ottilie " in the Elective Affinities.
Trans.

432 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

at last brings destruction to the place where it has terminated
its course. Frederica always remained equal to herself; she
iSeemed not to think, nor to wish to think, that the connexion
would so soon terminate. Olivia, on the contrary, who indeed
also missed me with regret, but nevertheless did not lose so
much as the other, had more foresight, or was more open. She
often spoke to me about my probable departure, and sought to
console herself both on her own and her sister s account. A
girl who renounces a man to whom she has not denied her
affections, is far from being in that painful situation in w^hich
a youth finds himself who has gone so far in his declarations
to a lady. He always plays a pitiful part, since a certain
survey of his situation is expected of him as a growing man,
and a decided levity does not suit him. The reasons of a
girl who draws back always seem sufficient, those of a man
never.

But how should a flattering passion allow us to foresee
whither it may lead us ? For even w r hen \ve have quite sen
sibly renounced it, we cannot get rid of it ; we take pleasure
in the charming habit, even if this is to be in an altered
manner. Thus it was with me. Although the presence of
Frederica pained me, I knew of nothing more pleasant than to
think of her while absent, and to converse with her. I went
to see her less frequently, but our correspondence became so
much the more animated. She knew how to bring before me
her situation with cheerfulness, her feelings with grace, and I
called her merits to mind with fervour and with passion. Alsace
made me free, and my whole affection first truly bloomed by
this communication in the distance. At such moments I could
quite blind myself as to the future ; and was sufficiently dis
tracted by the progress of time and of pressing business. I
had hitherto made it possible to do the most various things by
always taking a lively interest in w r hat was present and be
longed to the immediate moment ; but towards the end all
became too much crowded together, as is always the case when
one is to free oneself from a place.

One more event, which happened in an interval, took from
me the last days. I found myself in a respectable society at
a country-house, whence there was a noble view of the front
of the minster, and the tower which rises over it. " It is a
pity," said some one, "that the whole was not finished, and

STHASBUKG MINSTER. 433

that we liave only one tower." "It is just as unpleasant to
me," answered I, " to see this one tower not quite completed,
for the four volutes leave off much too bluntly ; there should
have been upon them four light spires, with a higher one in

the middle where the clumsv cross is standing."

i

When I had expressed this strong opinion with my accus
tomed animation, a little lively man addressed me, and asked,
" Who told you so ? " The tower itself," I replied ; u I have
observed it so long and so attentively, and have shown it so
much affection, that it at last resolved to make me this open
confession." " It has not misinformed you," answered he ; " I
am the best judge of that ; for I am the person officially placed
over the public edifices. We still have among our archives
the original sketches, which say the same thing, and which I
can show to you." On account of my speedy departure I
pressed him to show me this kindness as speedily as possible.
He let me see the precious rolls ; I soon, with the help of oiled
paper, drew the spires, which were wanting in the build
ing as executed, and regretted that I had not been sooner
informed of this treasure. But this was always to be the case

*/

with me, that by looking at things and considering them, I
should first attain a conception, which perhaps would not
have been so striking and so fruitful, if it had been given
ready made.

Amid all this pressure and confusion I could not fail to see
Frederica once more. Those were painful days, the memory of
which has not remained with me. When I reached her my
hand from my horse, the tears stood in her eyes, and I felt
very uneasy. I now rode along the footpath towards Drusen-
heim, and here one of the most singular forebodings took pos
session of me. I saw, not with the eyes of the body, but with
those of the mind, my own figure coming towards me, on
horseback, and on the same road, attired in a dress which I
had never worn ; it was pike-grey (hecht-graii) with somewhat
of gold. As soon as I shook myself out of this dream, the
figure had entirely disappeared. It is strange, however, that
eight years afterwards, I found myself on the very road, to pay
one more visit to Frederica, in the dress of which I had dreamed,
and which I wore, not from choice, but by accident. However
it may be with matters of this kind generally, this strange
illusion in some measure calmed me at the moment of parting.

434 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIPE.

The pain of quitting for ever the noble Alsace, with all that I
had gained in it, was softened, and having at last escaped the
excitement of a farewell, I found myself on a peaceful and
quiet journey, pretty well recovered.

Arrived at Mannheim, I hastened with great eagerness to
see the hall of antiquities, of which a great boast was made.
Even at Leipzig, on the occasion of Winckelmann s and
Lessing s writings, I had heard much said of those impor
tant works of art, but so much the less had I seen them, for
except Laocoon, the father, and the Faun with the crotola,
there were no casts in the academy, and whatever Oeser
chose to say to us on the subject of those works, was enigma
tical enough. How can a conception of the end of art be given
to beginners ?

Director Verschaifel s reception was kind. I was conducted
to the saloon by one of his associates, who, after he had opened
it for me, left me to my own inclinations and reflections.
Here I now stood, open to the most wonderful impressions, in
a spacious, four-cornered, and, with its extraordinary height,
almost cubical saloon, in a space well lighted from above
by the windows under the cornice ; with the noblest statues
of antiquity, not only ranged along the walls, but also set up
one with another over the whole area; a forest of statues,
through which one was forced to wind ; a great ideal popular
assembly, through which one was forced to press. All these
noble figures could, by opening and closing the curtains, be
placed in the most advantageous light, and besides this, they
were moveable on their pedestals, and could be turned about
at pleasure.

After I had for a time sustained the first impression of this
irresistible mass, I turned to those figures which attracted me
the most, and who can deny that the Apollo Belvidere, with
his well-proportioned colossal stature, his slender build, his
free movement, his conquering glance, carried off the victory
over our feelings in preference to all the others ? I then turned
to Laocoon, whom I here saw for the first time in connexion
with his sons. I brought to mind as well as possible the dis
cussions and contests which had been held concerning him,
and tried to get a point of view of my own ; but I was now
drawn this way, now that. The dying gladiator long held me
fast, but the group of Castor and Pollux, that precious though

ANTIQUITIES AT MANNHEIM. 435

problematical relic, I had especially to thank for my happiest
moments. I did not know how impossible it was at once to
account to oneself for a sight affording enjoyment. I forced
myself to reflect, and little as I succeeded in attaining any
sort of clearness, I felt that every individual figure from this
great assembled mass was comprehensible, that every object
was natural and significant in itself.

Nevertheless my chief attention was directed to Laocoon,
and I decided for myself the famous question, why he did not
shriek, by declaring to myself that he could not shriek. All
the actions and movements of the three figures proceeded,
according to my view, from the first conception of the group.
The whole position as forcible as artistical of the chief body
was composed with reference to two impulses the struggle
against the snakes, and the flight from the momentary bite.
To soften this pain, the abdomen must be drawn in, and shriek
ing rendered impossible. Thus I also decided that the younger
son was not bitten, and in other respects sought to elicit the
artistical merits of this group. I wrote a letter on the sub
ject to Oeser, who, however, did not show any special esteem
for my interpretation, but only replied to my good will with
general terms of encouragement. I was, however, fortunate
enough to retain that thought, and to allow it to repose in me
for several years, until it was at last annexed to the whole
body of my experiences and convictions, in which sense I after
wards gave it in editing my Propylcea.

After a zealous contemplation of so many sublime plastic
works, I was not to want a foretaste of antique architecture.
I found the cast of a capital of the Rotunda, and do not deny
that at the sight of those acanthus-leaves, as huge as they were
elegant, my faith in the northern architecture began somewhat
to waver.

This early sight, although so great and so effective through
out my whole life, was nevertheless attended with but small
results in the time immediately following. How willingly
would I have begun a book, instead of ending one, with de
scribing it ; for no sooner was the door of the noble saloon
closed behind me, than I wished to recover myself again, nay,
I rather sought to remove those forms as cumbersome from my
memory ; and it was only by a long circuitous route that I was

2*2

436 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

brought back into this sphere. However, the quiet fruitfulness
is quite inestimable of those impressions, which are received
with enjoyment, and without dissecting judgment. Youth is
capable of this highest happiness, if it will not be critical,
but allows the excellent and the good to act upon it without
investigation and division.

TWELFTH BOOK.

THE wanderer had now at last reached home, more healthy
and cheerful than on the first occasion, but still in his whole
being there appeared something over-strained, which did not
fully indicate mental health. At the very first I put my
mother into the position, that, between my father s sincere
spirit of order and my own various eccentricities, she was
forced to occupy herself with bringing- passing events into a
certain medium. At Mayence, a harp-playing boy had so well
pleased me, that, as the fair was close at hand, I invited him
to Frankfort, and promised to give him lodging and to en
courage him. In this occurrence appeared once more that
peculiarity which has cost me so much in my lifetime,-
namely, that I liked to see younger people gather round
me and attach themselves to me, by which, indeed, I am at
last encumbered with their fate. One unpleasant experience
after another could not reclaim me from this innate impulse,
which even at present, and in spite of the clearest convic
tion, threatens from time to time to lead me astray. My
mother, clearer than myself, plainly foresaw how strange it
would appear to my father, if a musical fair-vagabond went
from such a respectable house to taverns and drinking-houses
to earn his bread. Hence she provided him with board and
lodging in the neighbourhood. I recommended him to my
friends ; and thus the lad did not fare badly. After several
years I saw him again, when he had grown taller and more
clumsy, without having advanced much in his art. The good
lady, well contented with this first attempt at squaring and
hushing up, did not think that this art would immediately
become completely necessary to her. My father, leading a
contented life amid his old tastes and occupations, was com
fortable, like one who, in spite of all hindrances and delays,
carries out his plans. I had now gained my degree, and the
first step to the further graduating course of citizen-life was
taken. My Disputation had obtained his applause ; a further
examination of it, and many a preparation for a future edition,

438 TEUTH AND POETKY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

gave him occupation. During my residence in Alsace, I had
written many little poems, essays, notes on travel, and several
loose sheets. He found amusement in bringing these under
heads, in arranging them, and in devising their completion ; and
was delighted with the expectation that my hitherto insuperable
dislike to see any of these things printed would soon cease.
My sister had collected around her a circle of intelligent and
amiable women. Without being domineering, she domineered
over all, as her good understanding could overlook much, and
her good- will could often accommodate matters ; moreover, she
was in the position of playing the confidant, rather than the
rival. Of my older friends and companions, I found in Horn
the unalterably true friend and cheerful associate. I also
became intimate with Biese, who did not fail to practise and
try my acuteness by opposing, with a persevering contradic
tion, doubt and negation to a dogmatic enthusiasm into which
I too readily fell. Others, by degrees, entered into this circle,
whom I shall afterwards mention ; but among the persons who
rendered my new residence in my native city pleasant and
profitable, the brothers Schlosser certainly stood at the head.
The elder, Heronymus, a profound and elegant jurist, enjoyed
universal confidence as counsellor. His favourite abode was
amongst his books and papers, in rooms where the greatest
order prevailed ; there I have never found him otherwise than
cheerful and sympathising. In a larger society also he showed
himself agreeable and entertaining, for his mind, by extensive
reading, was adorned with all the beauty of antiquity. He
did not, on occasion, disdain to increase the social pleasures
by agreea,ble Latin poems ; and I still possess several sportive
distiches which he wrote under some portraits drawn by me
of strange and generally known Frankfort caricatures. Often
I consulted with him as to the course of life and business I
was now commencing; and if an hundredfold inclinations
and passions had not torn me from this path, he would have
been my surest guide.

Nearer to me, in point of age, was his brother George, who
had again returned from Treptow, from the service of the Duke
Eugene of Wiirtemberg. While he had advanced in know
ledge of the world and in practical talent, he had not re
mained behindhand in a survey of German and foreign litera
ture. He liked, as before, to write in all languages ; but did

MERK. 439

not further excite me in this respect, as I devoted myself
exclusively to German, and only cultivated other languages
so far as to enable me, in some measure, to read the best
authors in the original. His honesty showed itself the same
as ever ; nay, his acquaintance with the world may have oc
casioned him to adhere with more severity and even obstinacy
to his well-meaning views.

Through these two friends, I very soon became acquainted
with Merk, to w T hom I had not been unfavourably announced
by Herder, from Strasburg. This strange man, who had the
greatest influence on my life, was a native of Darmstadt. Of
his early education I can say but little. After finishing his
studies, he conducted a young man to Switzerland, where he
remained for some time, and came back married. When I
made his acquaintance, he w^as military paymaster at Darm
stadt. Born with mind and understanding, he had acquired
much elegant knowledge, especially in modern literature, and
had paid attention to all times and places in the history of
the world and of man. He had the talent of judging with
certainty and acuteness. He was prized as a thorough,
decisive man of business, and a ready accountant. With
ease he gained an entrance everywhere, as a very plea
sant companion for those to whom he had not rendered him
self formidable by sarcasms. His figure was long and lean ;
a sharp prominent nose was remarkable ; light blue, perhaps
grey eyes, gave something tiger-like to his glance, which wan
dered attentively here and there. Lavater s Physiognomy
has preserved his profile for us. In his character there was a
wonderful contradiction. By nature a good, noble, upright
man, he had embittered himself against the world, and al
lowed this morbid whim to sway him to such a degree, that
he felt an irresistible inclination to be wilfully a rogue, or even
a villain. Sensible, quiet, kind at one moment, it might
strike him in the next just as a snail puts out his horns to
do something which might hurt, wound, or even injure
another. Yet as one readily associates with something dan
gerous when one believes oneself safe from it, I felt so much
the greater inclination to live with him, and to enjoy his good
qualities, since a confident feeling allowed me to suspect that
he would not turn his bad side towards me. While now, by
this morally restless mind, by this necessity of treating men

440 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

in a malignant and spiteful way, he on one side destroyed
social life, another disquiet, which, also he very carefully
fostered within himself, opposed his internal comfort ; namely,
he felt a certain dilettantish impulse to production, in which
he indulged the more readily, as he expressed himself easily
and happily in prose and verse, and might well venture to
play a part among the beaux esprits of the time. I myself
still possess poetical epistles, full of uncommon boldness,
force, and Swift-like gall, which are highly remarkable from
their original views of persons and things, but are at the
same time written with such wounding power, that I could
not publish them, even at present, but must either destroy
them or preserve them for posterity as striking documents of
the secret discord in our literature. However, the fact that
in all his labours he went to work negatively and destruc
tively, was unpleasant to himself, and he often declared that
he envied me that innocent love of setting forth a subject
which arose from the pleasure I took both in the original and
the imitation.

For the rest, his literary dilettantism would have been
rather useful than injurious to him, if he had not felt an irre
sistible impulse to enter also into the technical and mercan
tile department. For when he once began to curse his facul
ties, and was beside himself that he could not, with sufficient
genius, satisfy his claims to a practical talent, he gave up now
plastic art, now poetry, and thought of mercantile and manu
facturing undertakings, which were to bring in money while
they afforded him amusement.

In Darmstadt there was besides a society of very cultivated
men. Privy Councillor von Hess, Minister of the Landgrave,
Professor Petersen, Rector Wenk, and others, were the natu
ralized persons whose worth attracted by turns many neigh
bours from other parts, and many travellers through the city.
The wife of the privy councillor and her sister, Demoiselle
Flachsland, were ladies of uncommon merit and talents ; the
latter, who was betrothed to Herder, being doubly interesting
from her own qualities and her attachment to so excellent a
man.

How much I was animated and advanced by this circle is
not to be expressed. They readily heard me read aloud my
completed or begun works; they encouraged me, when I

PAPER ON GERMAN ARCHITECTURE. 441

openly and circumstantially told what I was then planning, and
blamed me when on every new occasion I laid aside what I
had already commenced. Faust had already advanced ; Gotz
von Berlichingen was gradually building itself up in my mind ;
the study of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries occupied
me ; and the minster had left in me a very serious impres
sion, which could well stand as a background to such poetical
inventions.

What I had thought and imagined with respect to that
stvle of architecture, I wrote in a connected form. The first

j

point on which I insisted was, that it should be called Ger
man, and not Gothic ; that it should be considered not foreign,
but native. The second point was, that it could not be com
pared with the architecture of the Greeks and Romans, because
it sprang from quite another principle. If these, living under
a more favourable sky, allowed their roof to rest upon columns,
a wall, broken through, arose of its own accord. We, how
ever, who must always protect ourselves against the weather,
and everywhere surround ourselves with w r alls, have to revere
the genius who discovered the means of endowing massive
walls with variety, of apparently breaking them through, and
of thus occupying the eye in a worthy and pleasing manner
on the broad surface. The same principle applied to the
steeples, which are not, like cupolas, to form a heaven within,
but to strive towards heaven without, and to announce to the
countries far around the existence of the sanctuary which
lies at their base. The interior of these venerable piles I only
ventured to touch by poetical contemplation and a pious
tone.

If I had been pleased to write down these views, the value
of which I will not deny, clearly and distinctly, in an intelli
gible style, the paper " On German Architecture, D. M. Erwini
a Steinback," would then, when I published it, have produced
more effect, and would sooner have drawn the attention of the
native friends of art. But, misled by the example of Herder
and Hamami, I obscured these very simple thoughts and
observations by a dusty cloud of words and phrases, and
both for myself and others, darkened the light which had
arisen within me. However, the paper was well received,
and reprinted in Herder s work on German manner and art.

If now, partly from inclination, partly with poetical and

442 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

other views, I very readily occupied myself with the antiqui
ties of my country, and sought to render them present to my
mind, I was from time to time distracted from this subject by
biblical studies and religious sympathies, since Luther s life
and deeds, which shine forth so magnificently in the sixteenth
century, always necessarily brought me back to the Holy
Scriptures, and to the observation of religious feelings and
opinions. To look upon the Bible as a work of compilation,
which had gradually arisen, and had been elaborated at diffe
rent times, was nattering to my little self-conceit, since this
view was then by no means predominant, much less was it
received in the circle in which I lived. With respect to the
chief sense, I adhered to Luther s expression ; in matters of
detail, I went to Schmidt s literal translation, and sought to
use my little Hebrew as well as possible. That there are
contradictions in the Bible, no one will now deny. These
they sought to reconcile by laying down the plainest passage as
a foundation, and endeavouring to assimilate to that those that
were contradictory and less clear. I, on the contrary, wished
to find out, by examination, what passage best expressed the
sense of the matter. To this I adhered, and rejected the rest
as interpolated.

For a fundamental opinion had already confirmed itself in
me, without my being able to say whether it had been im
parted to me, or had been excited in me, or had arisen from
rny own reflection. It was this, that in anything which is
handed down to us, especially in. writing, the real point is the
ground, the interior, the sense, the tendency of the work ;
that here lies the original, the divine, the effective, the intact,
the indestructible ; and that no time, no external operation or
condition, can in any degree affect this internal primeval
nature, at least no more than the sickness of the body affects
a well- cultivated soul. Thus, according to my view, the lan
guage, the dialect, the peculiarity, the style, and finally the
writing, were to be regarded as the body of every work of
mind ; that this body, although nearly enough akin to the in
ternal, was yet exposed to deterioration and corruption ; as,
indeed, altogether no tradition can be given quite pure,
according to its nature ; nor, indeed, if one were given
pure, could it be perfectly intelligible at every following
period, the former on account of the insufficiency of the

STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 443

organs through which the tradition is made, the latter on
account of the difference of time and place, but especially
the diversity of human capacities and modes of thought ; for
which reason the interpreters themselves never agree.

Hence it is everybody s affair to seek out for what is incer-
nal and peculiar in a book which particularly interests us,
and a,t the same time, above all things, to weigh in what rela
tion it stands to our own inner nature, and how far, by that
vitality, our own is excited and rendered fruitful. On the
contrary, everything external that is ineffective with respect
to ourselves, or is subject to a doubt, is to be consigned over
to criticism, which, even if it should be able to dislocate
and dismember the whole, would never succeed in depriving
us of the only ground to which we hold fast, nor even in
perplexing us for a moment with respect to our once formed
confidence.

This conviction, sprung from faith and right, which in all
cases that we recognise as the most important, is applicable
and strengthening, lies at the foundation of the moral as well
as the literary edifice of my life, and is to be regarded as a well-
invested and richly productive capital, although in particular
cases we may be seduced into making an erroneous application.
By this notion, the Bible first became really accessible to me.
I had, as is the case in the religious instruction of Protestants,
run through it several times, nay, had made myself acquainted
with it, by way of leaps from beginning to end and back again.
The blunt naturalness of the Old Testament, and the tender
naivete, of the New, had attracted me in particular instances ;
as a whole, indeed, it never properly appealed to me ; but the
diverse characters of the different books no more perplexed
me ; I knew how to represent to myself their significance
faithfully and in proper order, and had too much feeling for
the book to be ever able to do without it. By this very side
of feeling I was protected against all scoffing, because I saw
its dishonesty at once. I not only detested it, but could even
fall in a rage about it ; and I still perfectly remember that in
my childishly fanatical zeal I should have completely throttled
Voltaire, on account of his SauL if I had only got hold of
him. On the other hand, every kind of honest investigation
pleased me greatly; the revelations as to the locality and
costume of the East, which diffused more and more light, I

444 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

received with joy, and continued to exercise all my acuteness
on such valuable traditions.

It is known that at an earlier period I sought to initiate
myself into the situation of the world, as described to us by
the first book of Moses. As I now thought to proceed step-
wise, and in proper order, I seized, after a long interruption,
on the second book. But what a difference ! Just as the
fulness of childhood had vanished from my life, so did I find
the second book separated from the first by a monstrous chasm.
The utter forgetfulness of a bygone time is already expressed
in the few important words, " Now there arose a new king
over Egypt, which knew not Joseph." But the people also,
innumerable as the stars of heaven, had almost forgotten the
ancestor to whom, under the starry heaven, Jehovah had
made the very promise which was now fulfilled. I worked
through the five books with unspeakable trouble and insuffi
cient means and powers, and in doing this fell upon the
strangest notions. I thought I had discovered that it was
not our ten commandments which stood upon the tables,
that the Israelites did not wander through the desert for
forty years, but only for a short time ; and thus I fancied
that I could give entirely new revelations as to the character
of Moses.

Even the New Testament was not safe from my inquiries ;
with my passion for dissection, I did not spare it, but with
love and affection I chimed in with that wholesome word,
" The evangelists may contradict each other, provided only
the gospel does not contradict itself." In this region also I
thought I should make all sorts of discoveries. That gift of
tongues imparted at Pentecost with lustre and clearness, I
interpreted for myself in a somewhat abstruse manner, not
adapted to procure many adherents.

Into one of the chief Lutheran doctrines, which has been
still more sharpened by the Hernhuters, namely, that of
regarding the sinful principle as predominant in man, I en
deavoured to accommodate myself, but without remarkable
success. Nevertheless I had made the terminology of this
doctrine tolerably my own, and made use of it in a letter,
which, in the character of country pastor, I was pleased to
send to a brother in office. However, the chief theme in
the paper was that watchword of the time, called "Tolera-

HAMANN. 445

tion," which. prevailed among the better order of brains and

A

minds.

Such things, which were produced by degrees, I had printed
at my own cost in the following year, to try myself with
the public, made presents of them, or sent them to Eichen-
berg s shop, in order to get rid of them as fast as possible,
without deriving any profit myself. Here and there a review
mentions them, now favourably, now unfavourably, but they
soon passed away. My father kept them carefully in his
archives, otherwise I should not have possessed a copy of them.
I shall add these, as well as some things of the kind which
I have found, to the new edition of my works.

Since I had really been seduced into the sybilline style of
such papers, as well as into the edition of them by Hamann,
this seems to me a proper place to make mention of this
worthy and influential man, who was then as great a mystery
to us as he has always remained to his native country. His
Socratic Memorabilia was more especially liked by those per
sons who could not adapt themselves to the dazzling spirit of the
time. It was suspected that he was a profound, well-grounded
man, who, accurately acquainted with the public world and
with literature, allowed of something mysterious and unfa
thomable, and expressed himself on this subject in a manner
quite his own. By those who then ruled the literature of the
day, he was indeed considered an abstruse mystic, but an
aspiring youth suffered themselves to be attracted by him.
Even the " Quiet-in- the-lands," as they were called half in
jest, half in earnest those pious souls, who, without profess
ing themselves members of any society, formed an invisible
church, turned their attention to him ; while to my friend
Fraulein von Klcttenberg, and no less to her friend Moser,
the "Magus from the North ?; was a welcome apparition.
People put themselves the more in connexion with him, when
they had learned that he was tormented by narrow domestic
circumstances, but nevertheless understood how to maintain this
beautiful and lofty mode of thought. With the great influence
of President von Moser, it would have been easy to provide a
tolerable and convenient existence for such a frugal man.
The matter was set on foot, nay, so good an understanding
and mutual approval was attained, that Hamann undertook
the long journey from Konigsberg to Darmstadt. But as the
president happened to be absent } that odd man, no one knows

446 TRUTH AoS T D POETHY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

on what account, returned at once, though a friendly corre
spondence was kept up. I still possess two letters from the
Konigsberger to his patron, which bear testimony to the
wondrous greatness and sincerity of their author.

But so good an understanding was not to last long. These
pious men had thought the other one pious in their own
fashion ; they had treated him with reverence as the " Magus
of the North," and thought that he would continue to exhibit
himself with a reverend demeanour. But already in the
Clouds, an after-piece of Socratic Memorabilia, he had given
some offence ; and when he now published the Crusades of a
Philologist, on the title-page of which was to be seen not only
the goat-profile of a horned Pan, but also on one of the first
pages, a large cock, cut in wood, and setting time to some
young cockerels, who stood before him with notes in their
claws, made an exceedingly ridiculous appearance, by which
certain church-music, of which the author did not approve,
was to be made a laughing-stock, there arose among well-
minded and sensitive people a dissatisfaction, which was
exhibited to the author, who, not being edified by it,
shunned a closer connexion. Our attention to this man
was, however, always kept alive by Herder, who, remain
ing in correspondence with us and his bride, communi
cated to us at once all that proceeded from that extraordinary
man. To these belonged his critiques and notices, inserted
in the Konigsberg Zeitung, all of which bore a very singular
character. I possess an almost complete collection of his
works, and a very important essay on Herder s prize paper
concerning the origin of language, in which, in the most
peculiar manner, he throws flashes of light upon this specimen
of Herder.

I do not give up the hope of superintending myself, or at
least furthering, an edition of Hamann s works ; and then,
when these documents are again before the public, it will be
time to speak more closely of the author, his nature and cha
racter. In the meanwhile, however, I will here adduce some
thing concerning him, especially as emiment men are still
living who felt a great regard for him, and whose assent or
correction will be very welcome to me. The principle to
which all Hamann s expressions may be referred is this : " All
that man undertakes to perform, whether by deed, by word,
or otherwise, must proceed from all his powers united ; every-

HAMANN. 447

thing isolated is worthless." A noble maxim, but hard to
follow. To life and art it may indeed be applied, and in
every communication by words, that is not exactly poetic,
there is, on the contrary, a grand difficulty ; for a word must
sever itself, isolate itself, to say or signify anything. Man,
while he speaks, must, for the moment, become one-sided;
there is no communication, no instruction, without severing.
Now since Hamann, once for all, opposed this separation, and
because he felt, imagined, and thought in unity, chose to
speak in unity likewise, and to require the same of others, he
came into opposition with his own style, and with all that
others produced. To produce the impossible, he therefore
grasps at every element ; the deepest and most mystical con
templations in which nature and mind meet each other*
illuminating flashes of the understanding, which beam forth
from such a contact significant images, which float in these
regions forcible aphorisms from sacred and profane writers
with whatever else of a humorous kind could be added <
all this forms the wondroiis aggregate of his style and his com
munications. If, now, one cannot associate oneself with him
in his depths cannot wander with him on his heights can
not master the forms which float before him cannot, from
an infinitely extended literature, exactly find out the sense of
a passage which is only hinted at we find that the more we
study him, the more dim and dark it becomes ; and this dark
ness always increases with years, because his allusions were
directed to certain definite peculiarities which prevailed, for
the moment, in life and in literature. In my collection there
are some of his printed sheets, where he has cited with his
own hand, in the margin, the passages to which his hints
refer. If one opens them, there is again a sort of equivocal
double light, which appears to us highly agreeable ; only one
must completely renounce what is ordinarily called under
standing. Such leaves merit to be called sybilline, for this
reason, that one cannot consider them in and for themselves,
but must wait for an opportunity to seek refuge with their
oracles. Every time that one opens them one fancies one has
found something new, because the sense which abides in every
passage touches and excites us in a curious manner.

Personally I never saw him ; nor did I hold any immediate
communication with him by means of letters, It seems to

448 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

me that lie was extremely clear in the relations of life and
friendship, and that he had a correct feeling for the positions
of persons among each other, and with reference to himself.
All the letters which I saw by him were excellent, and much
plainer than his works, because here the reference to time,
circumstances, and personal affairs, was more clearly promi
nent. I thought, however, that I could discern this much gene
rally, that he, feeling the superiority of his mental gifts, in
the most naive manner, always considered himself somewhat
wiser and more shrewd than his correspondents, whom he
treated rather ironically than heartily. If this held good only
of single cases, it applied to the majority, as far as my own
observation went, and was the cause that I never felt a desire
to approach him.

On the other hand, a kindly literary communication be
tween Herder and us was maintained with great vivacity,
though it was a pity that he could not keep himself quiet. But
Herder never left off his teazing and scolding ; and much was
not required to irritate Merk, w r ho also contrived to excite me
to impatience. Because now Herder, among all authors and
men, seems to respect Swift the most, he was among us
called the " Dean," and this gave further occasion to all sorts
of perplexities and annoyances.

Nevertheless we were highly pleased when we learned that
he was to have an appointment at Btickeburg, which would
bring him double honour, for his new patron had the highest
fame as a clear-headed and brave, though eccentric man.
Thomas Abt had been known and celebrated in this service ;
his country still mourned his death, and was pleased with the
monument which his patron had erected for him. Now Her
der, in the place of the untimely deceased, was to fulfil all
those hopes which his predecessor had so worthily excited.

The epoch in which this happened gave a double brilliancy
and value to such an appointment ; for several German princes
already followed the example of the Count of Lippe, inas
much as they took into their service not merely learned men,
and men of business, properly so called, but also persons of
mind and promise. Thus, it was said, Klopstock had been
invited by the Margrave Charles of Baden, not for real busi
ness, but that by his presence he might impart a grace and
be useful to the higher society. As now the regard felt for

COMMOTION IN THE BOOK-TRADE. 449

this excellent prince, who paid attention to all that was useful
and beautiful, increased in consequence, so also was the vene
ration for Klopstock not a little heightened. Everything that
emanated from him was held dear and valuable ; and we care
fully wrote down his odes and elegies as we could get them.
We were therefore highly delighted when the great Land
gravine Caroline of Hesse-Darmstadt made a collection of
them, and we obtained possession of one of the few copies,
which enabled us to complete our own manuscript collection.
Hence those first readings have long been most in favour with
us ; nay, we have often refreshed and delighted ourselves with
poems which the author afterwards rejected. So true it is,
that the life which presses forth out of a " fine soul works
with the greater freedom the less it appears to be drawn by
criticism into the department of art.

Klopstock, by his character and conduct, had managed to
attain regard and dignity, both for himself and for other men
of talent ; now they were also, if possible, to be indebted to
him for the security and improvement of their domestic con
dition. For the book- trade, in the previous period, had more
to do with important scientific books, belonging to the diffe
rent faculties with stock-works, for which a moderate remu
neration was paid. But the production of poetical works was
looked upon as something sacred ; and in this case the ac-
.ceptance or increase of any remuneration would have been
regarded almost as simony. Authors and publishers stood in
the strangest reciprocal position. Both appeared, accordingly
as it was taken, as patrons and clients. The authors, who,
irrespectively of their talent, were generally respected and
revered by the public as highly moral men, had a mental
rank, and felt themselves rewarded by the success of their
labours ; the publishers were well satisfied with the second
place, and enjoyed a considerable profit. But now opulence
again set the rich bookseller above the poor poet, and thus
everything stood in the most beautiful equilibrium. Mag
nanimity and gratitude were not unfrequent on either side.
Breitkopf and Gottsched lived, all their lives, as inmates of
the same house. Stinginess and meanness, especially that of
piracy, were not yet in vogue.

Nevertheless a general commotion had arisen among the
German authors. They compared their own very moderate, if

450 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

not poor condition, with the wealth of the eminent booksellers ;
they considered how great was the fame of a Gellert, of a
Habener, and in what narrow domestic circumstances an uni
versally esteemed German poet must struggle on, if he did not
render life easy by some other calling. Even the mediocre
and lesser minds felt a strong desire to see their situation
Improved, to make themselves free of the publishers.

Now Klopstock came forward and offered his " ^Republic of
Letters" (Gelehrte Republik) for subscription. Although
the latter cantos of the Messiah, partly on account of their
subject, partly on account of the treatment, could not produce
the same effect as the earlier ones, which, themselves pure
and innocent, came into a pure and innocent time, the same
respect was always maintained for the poet, who, by the pub
lication of his odes, had drawn to himself the hearts, minds,
and feelings of many persons. Many well-thinking men,
among whom were several of great influence, offered to secure
payment beforehand. This was fixed at a Louis d or, the
object being, it was said, not so much to pay for the book, as
on this occasion to reward the author for his services to his
country. Now every one pressed forward ; even youths and
young girls, who had not much to expend, opened their
saving-boxes ; men and women, the higher and the middle
classes, contributed to this holy offering ; and perhaps a thou
sand subscribers, all paying in advance, were collected. Ex
pectation was raised to the highest pitch, and confidence was
as great as possible.

After this, the work, on its appearance, was compelled to
experience the strangest result in the world ; it was, indeed, of
important value, but by no means universally interesting. Klop
stock s thoughts on poetry and literature were set forth in the
form of an old German Druidical republic ; his maxims on the
true and false were expressed in pithy laconic aphorisms, in
which, however, much that was instructive was sacrificed to
the singularity of form. For authors and litterateurs, the book
was and is invaluable ; but it was only in this circle that it
could be useful and effective. He who had thought himself
followed the thinker ; he who knew how to seek and prize
what was genuine, found himself instructed by the profound,
honest man ; but the amateur, the general reader, was not
enlightened, to him the book remained sealed; and yet

COMBINATION OF YOUNG POETS. 451

it had been placed in all hands ; and while every one ex
pected a perfectly serviceable work, most of them obtained
one from which they could not get the smallest taste. The
astonishment was general, but the esteem for the man was
so great, that no grumbling, scarcely a murmur, arose. The
young and beautiful part of the world got over their loss, and
now freely gave away the copies they had so dearly pur
chased. I received several from kind female friends, but none
of them have remained with me.

This undertaking, which was successful to the author, but
a failure to the public, had the ill consequence, that there
was now no further thought about subscriptions and prepay
ments ; nevertheless the wish had been too generally diffused
for the attempt not to be renewed. The Dessau publishing-
house now offered to do this on a large scale. Learned men
and publishers were here, by a close compact, to enjoy, both
in a certain proportion, the hoped-for advantage. The neces
sity, so long painfully felt, again awakened a great confidence ;
but this could not last long ; and after a brief endeavour the
parties separated, with a loss on both sides.

However, a speedy communication among the friends of lite
rature was already introduced. The Musenalmanache* united
all the young poets with each other ; the journals united the
poet with other authors. My own pleasure in production
was boundless ; to what I had produced I remained indiffe
rent ; only when, in social circles, I made it present to myself
and others, my affection for it was renewed. Moreover, many
persons took an interest in both my larger and smaller works,
because I urgently pressed every one who felt in any degree
inclined and adapted to production, to produce something in
dependently, after his own fashion, and was, in turn, chal
lenged by all to new poetising and writing. These mutual
impulses, which were carried even to an extreme, gave every
one a happy influence in his own fashion; and from this
whirling and working, this living and letting-live, this taking
and giving, which was carried on by so many youths, from
their own free hearts, without any theatrical guiding-star,
according to the innate character of each, and without any
special design, arose that famed, extolled, and decried epoch
in literature, when a mass of young genial men, with all that
* Annual publications devoted to poetry only. Trans,

2 G 2

452 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

audacity and assumption which, is peculiar to their own period
of youth, produced, by the application of their powers, much
that was good, and by the abuse of these, much ill-feeling
and mischief ; and it is, indeed, the action and reaction which
proceeded from this source, that form the chief theme of this
volume.

In what can young people take the highest interest,
how are they to excite interest among those of their own
age, if they are not animated by love, and if affairs of the
heart, of whatever kind they may be, are not living within
them ? I had in secret to complain of a love I had lost ; this
made me mild and tolerant, and more agreeable to society
than in those brilliant times when nothing reminded me of a
want or a fault, and I went storming along completely without
restraint.

Frederica s answer to a written adieu rent n_y heart. It
was the same hand, the same tone of thought, the same feel
ing, which had formed itself for me and by me. I now, for
the first time, felt the loss which she suffered, and saw no
means to supply it, or even to alleviate it. She was completely
present to me ; I always felt that she was wanting to me ;
and, what was worst of all, I could not forgive myself for my
own misfortune. Gretchen had been taken away from me ;
Annette had left me ; now, for the first time, I was guilty.
I had wounded the most beautiful heart to its very depths ;
and the period of a gloomy repentance, with the absence of a
refreshing love, to which I had grown accustomed, was most
agonising, nay, insupportable, But man will live ; and hence
I took an honest interest in others ; I sought to disentangle
their embarrassments, and to unite what was about to part,
that they might not have the same lot as myself. They were
hence accustomed to call me the " confidant," and on account
of wandering about the district, the "wanderer." In pro
ducing that calm lor my mind, which I felt under the open
sky, in the valleys, on the heights, in the fields and in the
woods, the situation of Frankfort was serviceable, as it lay in
the middle between Darmstadt and Hamburg, two pleasant
places, which are on good terms with each other, through
the relationship of both courts. I accustomed myself to live
on the road, and, like a messenger, to wander about between
the mountains and the flat country. Often I went alone, or

SKATING. 453

in company, through my native city, as if it did not at all
concern me, dined at one of the great inns in the High-street,
and after dinner went further on my way. More than ever
was I directed to the open world and to free nature. On my
way I sang to myself strange hymns and dithyrambics, of
which one entitled "The Wanderer s Storm-song (Wan
derer s Sturmlied) still remains. This half-nonsense I sang
aloud, in an impassioned manner, when I found myself in a
terrific storm, which I was obliged to meet.

My heart was untouched and unoccupied ; I conscientiously
avoided all closer connexion with ladies, and thus it re
mained concealed from me, that, inattentive and unconscious
as I was, an amiable spirit was secretly hovering round me.
It was not until many years afterwards, nay, until after her
death, that I learned of her secret heavenly love, in a manner
that necessarily overwhelmed me. But I was innocent, and
could purely and honestly pity an innocent being ; nay, I
could do this the more, as the discovery occurred at an epoch
when, completely without passion, I had the happiness of
living for myself and my own intellectual inclinations.

At the time when I was pained by my grief at Frederica s
situation, I again, after my old fashion, sought aid from
poetry. I again continued the poetical confession which I
had commenced, that by this self-tormenting penance I
might be worthy of an internal absolution. The two Marias
in Gotz von Berlichingen and Clavigo, and the two bad cha
racters who play the part of their lovers, may have been the
results of such penitent reflections.

But as in youth one soon overcomes mental wounds and
diseases, because a healthy system of organic life can rise up
for a sick one, and allow it time to grow healthy again, cor
poreal exercises, on many a favourable opportunity, came for
ward with very advantageous effect ; and I was excited in
many ways to man myself afresh, and to seek new pleasures
of life and enjoyments. Riding gradually took the place of
those sauntering, melancholy, toilsome, and at the same time
tedious and aimless rambles on foot ; one reached one s end
more quickly, merrily, and commodiously. The young people
again introduced fencing, but in particular, on the setting-in
of winter, a new world was revealed to us, since I at once
determined to skate, an exercise which I had never at
tempted, and, in a short time, by practice, reflection, and

454 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

perseverance, brought it as far as was necessary to enjoy with,
others a gay, animated course on the ice, without wishing to
distinguish myself.

For this new joyous activity we were also indebted to
Klopstock, to his enthusiasm for this happy species of mo
tion, which private accounts confirmed, while his odes gave
an undeniable evidence of it. I still exactly remember that
on a cheerful frosty morning I sprang out of bed, and uttered
aloud these passages :

" Already, glad with feeling of health,
Far down along the shore, I have whiten d
The covering crystal.

" How does the winter s advancing day
Softly illumine the lake ! The night has cast
The glittering frost, like stars, upon it.

My hesitating and wavering resolution was fixed at once,
and I flew straight to the place where so old a beginner
might with some degree of propriety make his first trial.
And, indeed, this manifestation of our strength well deserved
to be commended by Klopstock, for it is an exercise which
brings us into contact with the freshest childhood, summons
the youth to the full enjoyment of his suppleness, and is fitted
to keep off a stagnant old age. We were immoderately addicted
to this pleasure. To pass thus a splendid Sunday on the ice did
not satisfy us, we continued our movement late into the night.
For as other exertions fatigue the body, so does this give it a
constantly new power. The full moon rising from the clouds,
over the wide nocturnal meadows, which were frozen into
fields of ice ; the night-breeze, which rustled towards us on
our course ; the solemn thunder of the ice, which sunk as the
water decreased ; the strange echo of our own movements,
rendered the scenes of Ossian just present to our minds. Now
this friend, now that, uttered an ode of Klopstock s, in a decla
matory recitative ; and if we found ourselves together at dawn,
the unfeigned praise of the author of our joys broke forth :

" And should he not be immortal,
Who found for us health and joys
Which the horse, though bold in his course, never gave,
And which even the ball is without ] "

Such gratitude is earned by a man who knows how to
honour and worthily to extend an earthly act by spiritual
incitement.

HISTORY OF THE IMPERIAL CHAMBER. 455

And thus, as children of talent, whose mental gifts have,
at an early period, been cultivated to an extraordinary degree,
return, if they can, to the simplest sports of youth, did we,
too, often forget our calling to more serious things. Never
theless this very motion, so often carried on in solitude this
agreeable soaring in undetermined space again excited many
of my internal wants, which had, for a time, lain dormant ;
and I have been indebted to such hours for a more speedy
elaboration of older plans.

The darker ages of German history had always occupied
my desire for knowledge and my imagination. The thought
of dramatizing Gotz von Berlichingen, with all the circum
stances of his time, was one which I much liked and valued.
I industriously read the chief authors ; to Datt s work, De
Pace Publica, I devoted all my attention ; I had sedulously
studied it through, and rendered those singular details as
visible to me as possible. These endeavours, which were
directed to moral and poetical ends, I could also use in
another direction, and I was now to visit Wetzlar. I had
sufficient historical preparation ; for the Imperial Chamber
had arisen in consequence of the public tranquillity, and its
history could serve as an important clue through the confused
events of Germany. Indeed, the constitution of the courts
and armies gives the most accurate insight into the constitu
tion of every empire. Even the finances, the influence of
which are considered so important, come much less under
consideration ; for if the whole is deficient, it is only neces
sary to take from the individual what he has laboriously
scraped together, and thus the state is always sufficiently rich.

What occurred to me at Wetzlar is of no great importance,
but it may inspire a greater interest, if the reader will not
disdain a cursory history of the Imperial Chamber, in order
to render present to his mind the unfavourable moment at
which I arrived there.

The lords of the earth are such, principally because they
can assemble around them, in war, the bravest and most reso
lute, and in peace, the wisest and most just. Even to the
state of a German emperor belonged a court of this kind,
which always accompanied him in his expeditions through
the empire. But neither this precaution, nor the Suabian.
law, which prevailed in the south of Germany, nor the Saxon

456 TUUTH AND POETBY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

law, which prevailed in the north, neither the judges ap
pointed to maintain them, nor the decisions of the peers
of the contending parties, neither the umpires recognised
by agreement, nor friendly compacts instituted by the clergy,
nothing, in short, could quiet that excited chivalric spirit
of feuds which had been roused, fostered, and made a custom
among the Germans, by internal discord, by foreign campaigns,
by the .crusades especially, and even by judicial usages. To the
emperor, as well as to the powerful estates, these squabbles
were extremely annoying, while, through them, the less pow
erful became troublesome to each other, and if they combined,
to the great also. All outward strength was paralysed, while
internal order was destroyed ; and besides this, a great part
of the country was still encumbered with the Vehmgericht, of
the horrors of which a notion may be formed, if we think that
it degenerated into a secret police, which, at last, even fell
into the hands of private persons.

Many attempts to steer against these evils had been made
in vain, until, at last, the estates urgently proposed a court
formed from among themselves. This proposal, well-meant
as it might have been, nevertheless indicated an extension of
the privileges of the estates, and a limitation of the imperial
power. Under Frederic III. the matter is delayed ; his son
Maximilian, being pressed from without, complies. He ap
points the chief judge, the estates send the assistants. There
were to be four- and- twenty of them; but, at first, twelve
are thought sufficient.

An universal fault, of which men are guilty in their under
takings, was the first and perpetual fundamental defect of
the Imperial Chamber : insufficient means were applied to a
great end. The number of the assessors was too small. How
was the difficult and extensive problem to be solved by them ?
Eut who could urge an efficient arrangement ? The emperor
could not favour an institution which seemed to work more
against him than for him ; far more reason had he to complete
the formation of his own court his own council. If, on the
other hand, we regard the interest of the estates, all that
they could properly have to do with was the stoppage of
bloodshed. Whether the wound was healed, did not so much
concern them : and now there was to be, besides, a new ex
pense. It may not have been quite plainly seen that by this

HI3TORY OF THE IMPERIAL CHAMBER. 457

institution every prince increased his retinue, for a decided
end indeed, but who readily gives money for what is neces
sary ? Every one would be satisfied, if he could have what
is useful u for God s sake."

At first the assistants were to live on fees ; then followed a
moderate grant from the estates ; both were scanty. But to
meet the great and striking exigency, willing, clever, and
industrious men were found, and the court was established.
Whether it was perceived that the question here was con
cerning only the alleviation and not the cure of the evil,
or whether, as in similar cases, the flattering hope was enter
tained that much was to be done with little, is not to be de
cided. It is enough that the court served rather as a pretext
to punish the originators of mischief, than completely to pre
vent wrong. But it has scarcely met, than a power grows out
of itself ; it feels the eminence on which it is placed ; it re
cognises its own great political importance. It now endea
vours, by a striking activity, to acquire for itself a more
decided respect ; they briskly got through w r hat can and must
be rapidly dispatched, what can be decided at the moment, or
what can otherwise be easily judged ; and thus, throughout
the empire, they appear effective and dignified. On the
other hand, matters of weightier import, the law-suits, pro
perly so called, remained behindhand, and this was no mis
fortune. The only concern of the state is, that possession
shall be certain and secure ; whether it is also legal, is of
less consequence. Hence, from the monstrous and ever-
swelling number of delayed suits, no mischief arose to the
empire. Against people who employed force, provision was
already made, and with such matters could be settled ; but
those, on the other hand, who legally disputed about posses
sion, lived, enjoyed, or starved, as they could ; they died, were
ruined, or made it up ; but all this was the good or evil of
individual families, the empire was gradually tranquillised.
For the Imperial Chamber was endowed with a legal club-law
against the disobedient ; had it been able to publish the ban,
this would have been more effective.

But now, what with the sometimes increased, sometimes
diminished number of assessors, what with the many inter
ruptions, what with the removal of the court from one place
to another, these arrears, these records necessarily increased

458 TRUTH AND FOETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

to an infinite extent. Now, in the distress of war, a part of
the archives was sent for safety from Spire to Aschaffenburg,
a part to Worms, the third fell into the hands of the French,
who thought they had gained the state-archives, but would
afterwards have been glad to get rid of such a chaos of paper,
if any one would but have furnished the carriages.

During the negotiations for the peace of Westphalia, the
chosen men, who were assembled, plainly saw what sort of a
lever was required to move from its place a load like that of
Sisyphus. Fifty assessors were now to be appointed, but the
number was never made up : the half of it was again made to
suffice, because the expense appeared too great ; but if the
parties interested had all seen their advantage in the matter,
the whole might well have been afforded. To pay five-and-
twenty assessors about one hundred thousand florins (gulden)
were required, and how easily coiild double that amount have
been raised in Germany ? The proposition to endow the Im
perial Chamber with confiscated church property could not
pass, for how could the two religious parties agree to such a
sacrifice ? The Catholics were not willing to lose any more,
and the Protestants wished to employ what they had gained,
each for his own private ends. The division of the empire
into two religious parties had here, in several respects, the
worst influence. The interest which the estates took in this
their court diminished more and more ; the more powerful
wished to free themselves from the confederation ; licenses
exempting their possessor from being prosecuted before any
higher tribunal were sought with more and more eagerness;
the greater kept back with their payments, while the lesser,
who, moreover, believed themselves wronged in the estimates,
delayed as long as they could.

How difficult was it, therefore, to raise the supplies necessary
for payment. Hence arose a new occupation, a new loss of
time for the chamber ; previously the so-called annual " visi
tations" had taken care of this matter. Princes in person, or
their councillors, went only for months or weeks to the place
of the court, examined the state of the treasury, investigated
the arrears, and undertook to get them in. At the same time,
if anything was about to create an impediment in the course
of law or the court, or any abuse to creep in, they were autho
rized to provide a remedy. The faults of the institution they

HISTOHY OF THE IMPEKIAL CHAMBEE. 459

were to discover and remove, but it was not till afterwards
that the investigation and punishment of the personal crimes
of its members became a part of their duty. But because
parties engaged in litigation always like to extend their hopes
a moment longer, and on this account always seek and appeal to
higher authorities, so did these " visitators become a court
of revision, from which, at first in determined manifest cases,
persons hoped to find restitution, but at last in all cases, delay
and perpetuation of the controversy, to which the appeal to
the Imperial diet, and the endeavour of the two religious
parties, if not to outweigh each other, at any rate to preserve
an equilibrium, contributed their part.

But if one considers what this court might have been with
out such obstacles, without such disturbing and destructive
conditions, one cannot imagine it remarkable and important
enough. Had it been supplied at the beginning with a suffi
cient number of persons, had a sufficient support been secured
to them, the monstrous influence which this body might have
attained, considering the aptness of the Germans, would have
been immeasurable. The honourable title of u Aniphictyons,"
which was only bestowed on them oratorically, they would
actually have deserved, nay, they might have elevated them
selves into an intermediate power, while revered by the head
and the members.

But far removed from such great effects, the court, except
ing for a short time under Charles V., and before the Thirty
Years war, dragged itself miserably along. One often cannot
understand how men could be found for such a thankless and
melancholy employment. But what a man does every day he
puts up with, if he has any talent for it, even if he does not
exactly see that anything will come of it. The German espe
cially is of this persevering turn of mind, and thus for three
hundred years the worthiest men have employed themselves on
these labours and objects. A characteristic gallery of such
figures would even now excite interest arid inspire courage.

For it is just in such anarchical times that the able man
takes the strongest position, and he who desires what is good
finds himself right in his place. Thus, for instance, the Direc-
torium of Furstenberg was still held in blessed memory, and
with the death of this excellent man begins the epoch of many
pernicious abuses.

460 TRUTH AND POETBY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

But all these defects, whether later or earlier, arose from
one only original source, the small number of persons. It was
decreed that the assistants were to act in a fixed order, and
according to a determined series. Every one could know when
the turn would come to him, and which of the cases belonging
to him it would affect ; he could work up to this point, he
could prepare himself. But now the innumerable arrears had
heaped themselves up, and they were forced to resolve to select
the more important cases, and to deal with them out of order.
But with a pressure of important affairs, the decision as to
which matter has the more weight, is difficult, and selection
leaves room for favour. Now, another critical case occurred.
The Referent tormented both himself and the court with a
difficult involved affair, and at last no one was found willing
to take up the judgment. The parties had come to an agree
ment, had separated, had died, had changed their minds.
Hence they resolved <to take in hand only the cases of which
they were reminded. They wished to be convinced of the
continued obstinacy of the parties, and hence was given an
introduction to the greatest defects, for he who commends his
affairs, must commend them to somebody, and to whom can
one commend them better, than to him who has them already
in his hands? To keep this one regularly secret was im
possible ; for how could he remain concealed with so many
subordinates, all acquainted with the matter ? If acceleration
is requested, favour may well be requested likewise, for the very
fact that people urge their cause, shows that they consider it
just. This will perhaps not be done in a direct manner, cer
tainly it will be first done through subordinates ; these must
be gained over, and thus an introduction is given to all sorts
of intrigues and ^briberies.

The Emperor Joseph, following his own impulse, and in imi
tation of Frederic, first directed his attention to arms and the
administration of justice. He cast his eyes upon the Imperial
Chamber ; traditional wrongs, introduced abuses had not re
mained unknown to him. Even here something was to be
stirred up, shaken, and done. Without inquiring whether it
was his imperial right, without foreseeing the possibility of a
happy result, he proposed a revival of the " visitation," and
hastened its opening. For one hundred and sixty years no
regular " visitation" had taken place ; a monstrous chaos of

THE "VISITATION AT WETZLAK. 461

papers lay swelled up and increased every year, since the
seventeen assessors were not even able to despatch the current
business. Twenty thousand processes were heaped up ; sixty
could be settled every year, and double that number was
brought forward. Besides, it was not a small number of revi
sions that awaited the " visitators," they were estimated at
fifty thousand. Many other abuses, in addition to this, hin
dered the course of justice ; but the most critical matter of all
was the personal delinquency of some assessors, which appeared
in the background.

When I was about to go to Wetzlar, the " visitation had
been already for some years in operation, the parties accused
had been suspended from office, the investigation had been
carried a long way ; and because the masters and commis
sioners of German political law could not let pass this oppor
tunity of exhibiting their sagacity and devoting it to the
common weal, several profound, well-designed works appeared,
from which every one, who possessed only some preparatory
knowledge, could derive solid instruction. When on this occa
sion they went back into the constitution of the empire and
the books written upon it, it was striking to me how the mon
strous condition of this thoroughly diseased body, which was
kept alive by a miracle alone, was the very thing that most
suited the learned. For the venerable German industry,
which was more directed to the collection and development of
details than to results, found here an inexhaustible impulse to
new employment, and whether the empire was opposed to the
Emperor, the lesser to the greater estates, or the Catholics to
the Protestants, there was necessarily always, according to the
diversity of interest, a diversity of opinion, and always an
occasion for new contests and controversies.

Since I had rendered all these older and newer circumstances
as present to my mind as possible, it was impossible for me to
promise myself much pleasure from my abode at Wetzlar.
The prospect of finding in a city, which was indeed well situ
ated, but small and ill-built, a double world ; first the domestic,
old traditional world, then a foreign new one, authorized to
scrutinize the other with severity, a judging and a judged
tribunal ; many an inhabitant in fear and anxiety, lest he
might also be drawn into the impending investigation ; persons
of consideration, long held in respect, convicted of the most

462 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

scandalous misdeeds, and marked out for disgraceful punish
ment ; all this together made the most dismal picture, and
could not lure me to go deeper into a business, which, involved
in itself, seemed so much perplexed by wrong.

That, excepting the German civil and public law, I should
find nothing remarkable in the scientific way, that I should
be without all poetical communication, I thought I could fore
see, when, after some delay, the desire of altering my situation
more than impulse to knowledge led me to this spot. But
how surprised I was, when, instead of a crabbed society, a third
academical life sprang towards me. At a large table d hote I
found a number of young lively people, nearly all subordinates
to the commission ; they gave me a friendly reception, and the
very first day it remained no secret to me that they had cheered
their noon-meetings by a romantic fiction. With much wit
and cheerfulness they represented a table of knights. At the
top sat the grand-master, by his side the chancellor, then the
most important officers of the state ; now followed the knights,
according to their seniority. Strangers, on the other hand, who
visited, were forced to be content with the lowest places, and
to these the conversation was almost unintelligible, because the
language of the society, in addition to the chivalric expres
sions, was enriched with many allusions. To every one a name
with an epithet was assigned. Me they called " Gotz von Ber-
lichingen the honest." The former I earned by the atten
tion to the gallant German patriarch, the latter by my upright
affection and devotion for the eminent men with whom I be
came acquainted. To the Count von Kielmannsegg I was much
indebted during this residence. He was the most serious of all,
highly clever, and to be relied on. There was Von Goue, a
man hard to be deciphered and described, a blunt, kind,
quietly reserved Hanoverian figure. He was not wanting in
talent of various kinds. It was conjectured concerning him
that he was a natural son ; he loved, besides, a certain myste
rious deportment, and concealed his most peculiar wishes and
plans under various eccentricities, as indeed he was, properly
speaking, the very soul of the odd confederation of knights,
without having striven to attain the post of grand-master.
On the contrary, when, just at this time, the head of the
knighthood departed, he caused another to be elected, and
through him exercised his influence. Thus he managed so to

WHIMSICAL SOCIETIES AT WETZLAR. 463

direct several little trifles, that they appeared of importance,
and could be carried out in mythical forms. But with all this
no serious purpose could be remarked in him, he was only
concerned to get rid of the tedium which he and his colleagues,
during their protracted occupation, necessarily felt, and to fill
up the empty space, if only with cobwebs. For the rest, this
mythical caricature was carried on with great external serious
ness, and no one found it ridiculous if a certain mill was
treated as a castle, and the miller as lord of the fortress, if
the " Four Sons of Haimon " was declared a canonical book,
and on the occasion of ceremonies, extracts from it were
read with veneration. The dubbing of knights took place
with traditional symbols, borrowed from several orders of
knighthood. A chief motive for jest was the fact, that what
was manifest was treated as a secret ; the affair was carried
on publicly, and yet nothing w T as to be said about it. The
list of the whole body of knights was printed with as much
importance as a calendar of the Imperial diet, and if families
ventured to scoff at this, and to declare the whole matter
absurd and ridiculous, they were punished by an intrigue being
carried on until a solemn husband or near relation was induced
to join the company and to be dubbed a knight ; for then
there was a splendid burst of malicious joy at the annoyance
of the connexions.

Into this chivalric state of existence another strange order
had insinuated itself, which was to be philosophical and mys
tical, and had no name of its own. The first degree was called
the " Transition," the second the " Transition s transition,"
the third the " Transition s transition to the transition," and
the fourth the " Transition s transition to the transition s
transition." To interpret the high sense of this series of
degrees was now the duty of the initiated, and this was done
according to the standard of a little printed book, in which
these strange words were explained, or rather amplified, in a
manner still more strange. Occupation with these things was
the most desirable pastime. The folly of Behrisch and the
perversity of Lenz seemed here to have united themselves ; I
only repeat that not a trace of purpose was to be found behind
these veils.

Although I very readily took part in such fooleries, had first
brought into order the extracts from " The Four Sons of Hai-

464 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

inon," made proposals how they should be read on feasts and
solemn occasions, and even understood how to deliver them
myself with great emphasis, I had. nevertheless, grown weary of
such things before, and therefore as I missed my Frankfort and
Darmstadt circles, I was highly pleased to have found Gotter,
who attached himself to me with honest affection, and to whom
I showed in return a hearty good- will. His turn of mind was
delicate, clear, and cheerful, his talents were practised and
well regulated, he aimed at French elegance, and was pleased
with that part of English literature which is occupied with
moral and agreeable subjects. We passed together many
pleasant hours, in which we communicated to each other our
knowledge, plans, and inclinations. He excited me to many
little works, especially as, being in connexion with the people
of Gottingen, he desired some of my poems for Boie s
Almanack.

I thus came into contact with those, who, young and full of
talent, held themselves together, and afterwards effected so
much and in such various ways. The two Counts Stolberg,
Burger, Voss, Holty, and others were assembled in faith and
spirit around Klopstock, whose influence extended in every
direction. In such a poetical circle, which more and more
extended itself, was developed at the same time with such
manifold poetical merits, another turn of mind, to which I can
give no exactly proper name. It might be called the need of
independence, which always arises in time of peace, and ex
actly when, properly speaking, one is not dependent. In war
we bear the rude force as well as we can, we feel ourselves
physically and economically, but not morally, wounded : the
constraint shames no one, and it is no disgraceful service to
serve the time ; we accustom ourselves to suffer from foes and
friends; w r e have wishes, but no particular views. In peace,
on the contrary, man s love of freedom becomes more and
more prominent, and the more free one is, the more free one
wishes to be. We will not tolerate anything over us ; we will
not be restrained, no one shall be restrained ; and this tender,
nay, morbid feeling, appears in noble souls under the form of
justice. This spirit and feeling then showed itself everywhere,
and just because few were oppressed, it was wished to free
even these from temporary oppression, and thus a certain
moral feud, a mixture of individuals with the government,

DIFFICULTY OF GERMAN PATRIOTISM. 465

which, with laudable beginnings, led to inevitably unfortunate
results.

Voltaire, by the protection which he had bestowed on the
family of Galas, had excited great attention and made himself
respected. In Germany the attempt of Lavater against the
Landvogt (sheriff of the province) had been almost more striking
and important. The sesthetical feeling, united with youthful
courage, strove forward, and as, shortly before, persons had
studied to obtain offices, they now began to act as overlookers
of those in office ; and the time was near when the dramatist
and novelist loved best to seek their villains among ministers
and official persons. Hence arose a world, half real, half
imaginary, of action and reaction, in which we afterwards lived
to see the most violent informations and instigations, which
the writers of periodical publications and journals allowed
themselves under the garb of justice, and went to work the
more irresistibly, as they made the public believe that it was
itself the true tribunal a foolish notion, as no public has an
executive power, and in dismembered Germany public opinion
neither benefited nor injured any one.

Among us young people there was indeed nothing to be
traced, which could have been culpable, but a certain similar
notion, composed of poetry, morality, and a noble striving,
and which was harmless but yet fruitless, had taken possession
of us.

By his Hermann* s-Schacht* and the dedication of it to
Joseph the Second, Klopstock had produced a wonderful ex
citement. The Germans who freed themselves from Roman
oppression were nobly and powerfully represented, and this
picture was well suited to awaken the self-feeling of a nation.
But because in peace patriotism really consists only in this ,
that every one sweeps his own door, minds his own business,
and learns his own lesson, that it may go well with his house,
so did the feeling for fatherland, excited by Klopstock, find
no object on which it could exercise itself. Frederic had
saved the honour of one part of the Germans against an united
world, and every member of the nation, by applause and reve
rence of this great prince, was allowed to share in his victory;
but what was to come of this excited, warlike spirit of defi-

* The fight of Hermann, the " Anninius ?; of Tacitus, against the
Romai s. Trans.

466 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

ance ? At first it was merely a poetical form, and the songs
of the bards, afterwards so often blamed, and even found ridi
culous, were accumulated through this impulse, this incite
ment. There were no external enemies to fight ; so people
made tyrants for themselves, and for this purpose princes and
their servants w r ere obliged to bestow their figures, first only
in general outline, but gradually with particulars. Here it
was that poetry attached itself with vehemence to that inter
ference with the administration of justice, which is blamed
above ; and it is remarkable to see poems of that time written
in a spirit by which everything of a higher order, whether
monarchical or aristocratic, is abolished.

For my own part, I continued to make poetry the expression
of my own whims and feelings. Little poems like the " Wan
derer belong to this time ; they were inserted in the Gottin-
gen Musenalmanach. But from whatever of the above-men
tioned mania had worked itself into me, I shortly endeavoured
to free myself in Gotz von Berlichingen, since I described how
in disordered times this brave, well-thinking man resolves to
take the place of the law and the executive power, but is in
despair when, to the supreme authority, which he recognises
and reveres, he appears in an equivocal light, and even
rebellious.

By Klopstock s odes, it was not so much the Northern
mythology as the nomenclature of the divinities, that had
been introduced into German poetry ; and although I gladly
made use of everything else that was offered me, I could not
bring myself to use this, for the following causes : I had long
become acquainted with the fables of the Edda, from the
preface to Mallet s Danish History , and had at once made myself
master of them. They belonged to those tales which, when
asked by a company, I most willingly related. Herder put
Hesenius into my hands, and made me better acquainted with
the heroic sagas. But all these things, worthy as I held
them, I could not bring within the circle of my own poetic
faculty. Nobly as they excited my imagination, they never
theless entirely withdrew themselves from the sensuous per
ception, while the mythology of the Greeks, changed by the
greatest artists in the world into visible, easily imagined
forms, still existed before our own eyes in abundance. Gods
in general I did not allow often to appear, because, at rll

TASTE FOR HOMEE. 467

events, they had their abode out of nature, which I understood
how to imitate. What now could have induced to substi
tute Woden for Jupiter, and Thor for Mars, and instead
of the Southern, accurately described figures, to introduce
forms of mist, nay, mere verbal sounds, into my poems?
On the one side, they were related to the equally formless
heroes of Ossian, only they were ruder and more gigantic ;
on the other, I brought them into contact with the cheerful
tale ; for the humoristic vein which runs through the whole
Northern my thus, was to me highly pleasing and remarkable.
It appeared to me the only one which jests with itself
throughout, wondrous giants, magicians, and monsters op
posed to an odd dynasty of gods, and only occupied in leading
astray and deriding the highest persons during their govern
ment, while they threaten them, besides, with disgraceful and
inevitable destruction.

I felt a similar if not an equal interest for the Indian fables,
which I at first learned to know from Dapper s Travels, and
likewise added with great pleasure to my store of tales. In
subsequent repetitions I succeeded especially with the Altar
of Ram; and notwithstanding the great number of persons
in this tale, the ape Hannemann remained the favorite of my
public. But even these unformed and over-formed monsters
could not satisfy me in a true poetic sense ; they lay too far
from the truth, towards which my mind unceasingly strove.

But against all these goblins, so repulsive to art, my sense
for the beautiful was to be protected by the noblest power.
Always fortunate is that epoch in a literature when the great
works of the past again rise up as if thawed, and come into
notice, because they then produce a perfectly fresh effect.
Even the Homeric light rose again quite new to us, and in
deed quite in the spirit of the time, which highly favoured
such an appearance ; for the constant reference to nature had
at last the effect, that we learned to regard even the works of
the ancients from this side. What several travellers had done
for explanation of the Holy Scriptures, others had done for
Homer. By Guys the matter was introduced ; Wood gave
it an impulse. A Gottingen review of the original work,
which was at first very rare, made us acquainted with the
design, and taught us how far it had been carried out. We
now no longer saw in those poems a strained and inflated

468 TKTJTH AND POETBY : FBOM MY OWN LIFE.

heroism, but the reflected truth of a primeval present, and
sought to bring this as closely to us as possible. At the same
time we could not give our assent, when it was maintained
that in order rightly to understand the Homeric natures, one
must make oneself acquainted with the wild races and their
manners, as described by the travellers in new worlds ; for it
cannot be denied that both Europeans and Asiatics are repre
sented in the Homeric poems as at a higher grade of culture,
perhaps higher than the time of the Trojan war could have
enjoyed. But that maxim was nevertheless in harmony with
the prevailing confession of nature, and so far we let it pass.

With all these occupations, which were related to the
knowledge of mankind in the higher sense, as well as most
nearly and dearly to poetry, I was nevertheless forced every
day to experience that I was residing in Wetzlar. The con
versation on the situation of the business of the " Visitation,"
and its ever-increasing obstacles, the discovery of new offences,
was heard every hour. Here was the holy Roman Empire
once more assembled, not for mere outward forms, but for an
occupation which penetrated to the very depths. But even
here that half-empty banqueting-hall on the coronation-day
occurred to me, where the bidden guests remained without,
because they were too proud. Here, indeed, they had come, but
even worse symptoms were to be seen. The want of coherence
in the whole, the mutual opposition of the parts, were con
tinually apparent ; and it remained no secret that princes had
confidentially communicated to each other this notion, that
they must see whether, on this occasion, something could not
be gained from the supreme authority.

What a bad impression the petty detail of all the anecdotes
of neglects and delays, of injustices and corruptions, must
make upon a young man who desired what was good, and
with this view cultivated his mind, every honest person will
feel. Under such circumstances, where was a reverence for
the law and the judge to arise ? Even if the greatest confi
dence had been placed in the effects of the " Visitation," if
it could have been believed that it would fully accomplish its
high purpose, there was still no remedy to be found here for
a joyous, inwardly- striving youth. The formalities of the
proceeding all tended towards delay ; if any one desired to
do anything, and to be of any importance, he was obliged

JESTHETIC SPECULATIONS. 469

to serve the party in the wrong always the accused and
to be skilled in the fencing-art of twisting and evading.

Since, amid this distraction, I could not succeed in any
aesthetic labours, I again and again lost myself in aesthetic
speculations, as indeed all theorising indicates a defect or
stagnation of productive power. Before with Merk, now
with Gotter, I endeavoured to find out the maxims according
to which one might go to work in production. But neither
with me nor with them would it succeed. Merk was a sceptic
and eclectic ; Gotter adhered to such examples as pleased
him the most. The Sulzer theory was published more for
the amateur than the artist. In this sphere moral effects are
required above all things ; and here at once arises a dissension
between the class that produces and that which uses; for
a good work of art can, and will indeed, have moral conse
quences ; but to require moral ends of the artist, is to destroy
his profession.

What the ancients had said on these important subjects I
had read industriously for some years, by skips, at least, if not
in regular order. Aristotle, Cicero, Quintilian, Longinus none
were unconsidered ; but this did not help me in the least, for all
these men presupposed an experience which I lacked. They
led me into a world infinitely rich in works of art ; they un
folded the merits of excellent poets and orators, of most of
whom the names alone are left us, and convinced me but too
well that a great abundance of objects must lie before us
ere we can think upon them; that one must first accom
plish something oneself, nay, fail in something, to learn to
know one s own capacities, and those of others. My acquaint
ance with so much that was good in those old times, was
only according to school and book, and by no means vital,
since, even with the most celebrated orators, it was striking
that they had altogether formed themselves in life, and that
one could never speak of the peculiarities of their character
as artists, without at the same time mentioning the personal
peculiarities of their disposition. With the poets this seemed
less to be the case ; and thus the result of all my thoughts
and endeavours was the old resolution to investigate inner
and outer nature, and to allow her to rule herself in loving
imitation.

For these operations, which rested in me neither day nor

470 TRTJTH AND POETRY ; PROM *IY OWN LIFE.

night, lay before me two great, nay, monstrous materials, the
wealth of which I had only to prize, in order to produce some
thing of importance. There was the older epoch, into which
falls the life of Gotz von Berlichingen, and the modern one,
the unhappy bloom of which is depicted in Werther. Of the
historical preparation to that first work I have already spoken ;
the ethical occasions of the second shall now be introduced.

The resolution to preserve my internal nature according
to its peculiarities, and to let external nature influence me
according to its qualities, impelled me to the strange element
in which Werther is designed and written. I sought to free
myself internally from all that was foreign to me, to regard
the external with love, and to allow all beings, from man
downwards, as low as they were comprehensible, to act upon
me, each after its own kind. Thus arose a wonderful affinity
with the single objects of nature, and a hearty concord, a har
mony with the whole, so that every change, whether of place and
region, or of the times of the day and year, or whatever else
could happen, affected me in the deepest manner. The glance
of the painter associated itself to that of the poet, the beautiful
rural landscape, animated by the pleasant river, increased my
love of solitude, and favoured my silent observations as they
extended on all sides.

But since I had left the family circle in Sesenheim, and
again my family circle at Frankfort and Darmstadt, a vacuum
had remained in my bosom which I was not able to fill up ; I
therefore found myself in a situation where the inclinations, if
they appear in any degree veiled, gradually steal upon us, and
can render abortive all our good resolutions.

And now, when the author has attained this step of his
undertaking, he for the first time feels light-hearted in his
labour, since from henceforward this book first becomes what it
properly ought to be. It has not been announced as an inde
pendent work ; it is much more designed to fill up the gaps of
an author s life, to complete much that is fragmentary, and to
preserve the memory of lost and forgotten ventures. But what
is already done neither should nor can be repeated, and the
poet would now vainly call upon those darkened powers of the
soul, vainly ask of them to render present again those charm
ing circumstances, which rendered the abode in Lahnthal so
agreeable to him. Fortunately the genius had already pro-

ORIGIN OP " WERTHER." 471

vided for that, and had impelled him, in the vigorous period
of youth, to hold fast, describe, and with sufficient boldness
and at the favourable hour publicly to exhibit that which had
immediately gone by. That the little book Werther is here
meant, requires no further indication, but something is to be
gradually revealed, both of the persons introduced in it and
the views which it exhibits.

Among the young men, w r ho, attached to the embassy, had
to prepare themselves for their future career of office*, was one
whom we were accustomed to call only the " Bridegroom."
He distinguished himself by a calm, agreeable deportment,
clearness of views, definiteness both in speaking and in acting.
His cheerful activity, his persevering industry so much recom
mended him to his superiors, that an appointment at an early
period was promised him. Being justified by this, he ventured
to betroth himself to a lady, who fully corresponded to his tone
of mind and his wishes. After the death of her mother, she
had shown herself extremely active as the head of a numerous
young family, and had alone sustained her father in his widow
hood, so that a future, husband might hope the same for him
self and his posterity, and expect a decided domestic felicity.
Every one confessed, without having these selfish ends imme
diately in view, that she was a desirable lady. She belonged to
those who, if they do not inspire ardent passion, are neverthe
less formed to create a general feeling of pleasure. A figure
lightly built and neatly formed, a pure healthy temperament,
with a glad activity of life resulting from it, an unembarrassed
management of the necessities of the day all these were given
her together. I always felt happy in the contemplation of such
qualities, and I readily associated myself to those who possessed
them ; and if I did not always find opportunity to render them
real service, I rather shared with them than with others the
enjoyment of those innocent pleasures which youth can always
find at hand, and seize Avithout any great cost or effort.
Moreover, since it is now settled that ladies decorate them
selves only for each other, and are unwearied among each other
to heighten the effect of their adornments, those were always
the most agreeable to me, who, with simple purity, give their
friend, their bridegroom, the silent assurance that all is really
done for him alone, and that a whole life could be so carried
on without much circumstance and outlay.

472 TRUTH AKD POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

Such persons are not too much, occupied with themselves ;
they have time to consider the external world, and patience
enough to direct themselves according to it, and to adapt
themselves to it ; they become shrewd and sensible without
exertion, and require but few books for their cultivation.
Such was the bride.* The bridegroom, with his thoroughly
upright and confiding turn of mind, soon made many whom
he esteemed acquainted with her ; and as he had to pass the
greatest part of his day in a zealous attention to business,
was pleased when his betrothed, after the domestic toils were
ended, amused herself otherwise, and took social recreation in
walks and rural parties with friends of both sexes. Charlotte
for so we shall call her was unpretending in two senses ;
first, by her nature, which was rather directed to a general
kindly feeling than to particular inclinations ; and then she
had set her mind upon a man who, being worthy of her, de
clared himself ready to attach his fate to hers for life. The
most cheerful atmosphere seemed to surround her ; nay, if it
be a pleasing sight to see parents bestow an uninterrupted care
upon their children, there is something still more beautiful
when brothers and sisters do the same for each other. In the
former case we think we can perceive more of natural impulse
and social tradition ; in the latter, more of choice and of a
free exercise of feeling.

The new comer, perfectly free from all ties, and careless in
the presence of a girl who, already engaged to another, could
not interpret the most obliging services as acts of courtship,
and could take the more pleasure in them accordingly, quietly
went his way, but was soon so drawn in and rivetted, that
he no longer knew himself. Indolent and dreamy, because
nothing present satisfied him, he found what he had lacked
in a female friend, who, while she lived for the whole year,
seemed only to live for the moment. She liked him much as
her companion ; he soon could not bear her absence, as she
formed for him the connecting link with the every-day world ;
and during extensive household occupations, they were inse
parable companions in the fields and in the meadows, in the
vegetable-ground and in the garden. If business permitted,
the bridegroom was also of the party ; they had all three ac-

* Persons betrothed are in German called " bride " and " bride
groom." Trans.

YOUNG JEETJSALEM. 473

eustomed themselves to each other without intention, and did
not know how they had become so mutually indispensable.
During the splendid summer they lived through a real Ger
man idyl, to which the fertile land gave the form and a pure
affection the poetry. Wandering through ripe corn-fields,
they took delight in the dewy morning ; the song of the lark,
the cry of the quail, were pleasant tones ; sultry hours fol
lowed, monstrous storms came on, they grew more and more
attached to each other, and by this continuous love many a
little domestic annoyance was easily extinguished. And thus
one ordinary day followed another, and all seemed to be holi
days, the whole calendar should have been printed red. He
will understand me who recollects what was predicted by the
happily unhappy friend of the " New Heloise : " And sitting
at the feet of his beloved, he will break hemp, and he will
wish to break hemp to~day, to-morrow, and the day after,
nay. for his whole life."

*/ j

I can say but little, though just as much as may be neces
sary, respecting a young man, whose name was afterwards
but too often mentioned. This was Jerusalem, the son of the
freely and tenderly thinking theologian. He also had an ap
pointment with an embassy ; his form was pleasing, of a
middle height, and well built ; his face was rather round than
long ; his features were soft and calm, and he had the other
appurtenances of a handsome blond youth, with blue eyes,
rather attractive than speaking. His dress was that intro
duced in Lower Germany in imitation of the English, a blue
frock, waistcoat and breeches of yellow leather, and boots
with brown tops. The author never visited him, nor saw him
at his own residence, but often met him among his friends.
The expressions of this young man were moderate but kindly.
He took interest in productions of the most different kinds,
and especially loved those designs and sketches in which the
the tranquil character of solitary spots is caught. On such
occasions he showed Gesner s etchings, and encouraged the
amateurs to study them. In all that mummery and knight
hood he took no part, but lived for himself and his own senti
ments. It was said he had a decided passion for the wife of
one of his friends. In public they were never seen together.
In general very little could be said of him, except that he
occupied himself with English literature. As the son of an

474 THUTH AND POETHY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

opulent man, he had no occasion either painfully to devote
himself to business, or to make pressing applications for an
early appointment.

Those etchings by Gesner increased the pleasure and inte
rest in rural objects, and a little poem, which we passionately
received into our circle, allowed us from henceforward to think
of nothing else. Goldsmith s Deserted Village necessarily de
lighted every one at that grade of cultivation, in that sphere of
thought. Not as living and active, but as a departed, vanished
existence was described, all that one so readily looked upon,
that one loved, prized, sought passionately in the present, to
take part in it with the cheerfulness of youth. Highdays and
holidays in the country, church consecrations and fairs, the
solemn assemblage of the elders under the village linden- tree,
supplanted in its turn by the lively delight of youth in
dancing, while the more educated classes show their sympa
thy. How seemly did these pleasures appear, moderated as
they were by an excellent country pastor, who understood
how to smooth down and remove all that went too far, that
gave occasion to quarrel and dispute. Here again we found
an honest Wakefield, in his well-known circle, yet no longer
in his living bodily form, but as a shadow recalled by the soft
mournful tones of the elegiac poet. The very thought of this
picture is one of the happiest possible, when once the design
is formed to evoke once more an innocent past with a graceful
melancholy. And in this kindly endeavour, how well has the
Englishman succeeded in every sense of the word ! I shared
the enthusiasm for this charming poem with Gotter, who was
more felicitous than myself with the translation undertaken by
us both ; for I had too painfully tried to imitate in our lan
guage the delicate significance of the original, and thus had
well agreed with single passages, but not with the whole.

If now, as they say, the greatest happiness rests on a sense
of longing (sehnsucht\ and if the genuine longing can only
be directed to something unattainable, everything had fallen
together to render the youth whom we now accompany on
his wanderings the happiest of mortals. An affection for
one betrothed to another, the effort to acquire the master
pieces of foreign literature for our own, the endeavour to imi
tate natural objects, not only with words, but also with style
and pencil, without any proper technical knowledge, each of

HOEPFNEB. 475

these particulars would singly have sufficed to melt the heart
and oppress the bosom. But, that the sweetly suffering youth
might be torn out of this state, and that new circumstances
might be prepared for new disquiet, the following events
occurred :

Hopfner, professor of law, was at Giessen. He was ac
knowledged and highly esteemed by Merk and Schlosser as
clever in his office, and as a thinking and excellent man.
I had long ago desired his acquaintance, and now, when these
two friends thought to pay him a visit, to negotiate about
some literary matters, it was agreed that I should likewise go
to Giessen on this opportunity. Because, however as gene
rally happens with the wilfulness of glad and peaceful times
we could not easily do anything in the direct way, but,
like genuine children, sought to get a jest even out of what
was necessary, I was now, as an unknown person, to appear
in a strange form, and once more satisfy my desire to appear
disguised. One cheerful morning, before sunrise, I went
from Wetzlar along the Lahne, up the charming valley;
such ramblings again constituted my greatest felicity. I
invented, connected, elaborated, and was quietly happy and
cheerful with myself; I set right what the ever- contradic
tory world had clumsily and confusedly forced upon me.
Arrived at the end of my journey, I looked out for Hopfner s
residence, and knocked at his study. When he had cried
out, "Come in! I modestly appeared before him as a
student who was going home from the universities, and
wished on his way to become acquainted with the most
worthy men. For his questions as to my more intimate
circumstances, I was prepared ; I made up a plausible, pro
saic tale, with which he seemed satisfied, and as I gave myself
out for a jurist, I did not come off badly ; for I well knew
his merits in this department, and also that he was occupied
with natural law. Conversation, however, sometimes came
to a stand, and it seemed as if he were looking for a Stamm-
Ijuch* or for me to take my leave. Nevertheless, I managed
to delay my departure, as I expected with certainty the
arrival of Schlosser, whose punctuality was well known to

r A "stammbuch" is a sort of album for autographs and short con
tributions. Tram.

476 TEUTH AND POETRY ; FKOM MY OWN LIFE.

me. He came in reality, and after a side glance, took little
notice of me. Hopfher, however, drew me into conversa
tion, and showed himself throughout as a humane and kindly
man. I at last took my leave, and hastened to the inn, where
I exchanged a few hurried words with Merk, and awaited
further proceedings.

The friends had resolved to ask Hopfner to dinner, and also
that Philipp Henrich Schmidt who had played a part, though
a very subordinate one, in German literature. For him the
affair was really designed, and he was to be punished in a
mirthful manner. When the guests had assembled in the
dining-room. I asked, through the waiter, whether the gen
tlemen would allow me to dine with them. Schlosser, whom
a certain earnestness well became, opposed this proposition,
because they did not wish their conversation interrupted by a
third party. But, on the pressing demand of the waiter and
the advocacy of Hopfner, who assured the other that I was a
very tolerable person, I was admitted, and at the commence
ment of the meal behaved as if modest and abashed. Schlos
ser and Merk put no restraint upon themselves, and went on
about many subjects as freely as if no stranger were present.
I now showed mvself somewhat bolder, and did not allow my-

/ *

self to be disturbed when Schlosser threw out at me much
that was in earnest, and Merk something sarcastic ; but I
directed against Schmidt all my darts, which fell sharply and
surely on the uncovered places which I well knew.

I had been moderate over my pint of table- wine, but the
gentlemen ordered better wine to be brought, and did not fail to
give me some. After many affairs of the day had been talked
over, conversation went into general matters, and the question
was discussed, which will be repeated as long as there are
authors in the world, the question, namely, whether litera
ture was rising or declining, progressing or retrograding?
This question, about which old and young, those commencing
and those retiring, seldom agree, was discussed with cheerful
ness, though without any exact design of coming decidedly to
terms about it. At last I took up the discourse, and said,
"The different literatures, as it seems to me, have seasons,
which alternating with each other, as in nature, bring forth
certain phenomena, and assert themselves in due order.
Hence I do not believe that any epoch of a literature can be

JOKE UPON P. H. SCHMIDT. 477

praised or blamed on the whole ; especially it displeases ma
when certain talents, which are brought out by their time, are
raised and vaunted so highly, while others are censured and
depreciated. The throat of the nightingale is excited by the
spring, but at the same time also that of the cuckoo. The
butterflies, which are so agreeable to the eye, and the gnats,
which are so painful to the feelings, are called into being by
the same heat of the sun. If this were duly considered, we
should not hear the same complaints renewed every ten years,
and the vain trouble which is taken to root out this or that
offensive thing, would not so often be wasted." The party
looked at me, wondering whence I had got so much wisdom
and tolerance. I, however, continued quite calmly to compare
literary phenomena with natural productions, and (I know
not how) came to the molluscce, of which I contrived to set
forth all sorts of strange things. I said that there were
creatures to whom a sort of body, nay, a certain figure, could
not be denied ; but that, since they had no bones, one never
knew how to set about rightly with them, and they were
nothing better than living slime ; nevertheless, the sea must
have such inhabitants. Since I carried the simile beyond
its due limits to designate Schmidt, who was present, and
that class of characterless litterateurs, I was reminded that
a simile carried too far at last becomes nothing. " Well,
then, I will return to the earth," I replied, " and speak of
the ivy. As these creatures have no bones, so this has
no trunk; but wherever it attaches itself, it likes to play
the chief part. It belongs to old walls, in which there is
nothing more to destroy ; but from new buildings it is pro
perly removed. It sucks up the goodness of the trees ; and
is most insupportable to me when it clambers up a post, and
assures me that this is a living trunk, because it has covered
it with leaves."

Notwithstanding I was again reproached with the obscurity
and inapplicability of my similes, I became more and more
warm against all parasitical creatures, and as far as my know
ledge of nature then extended, managed the affair pretty well.
I at last sang a vivat to all independent men, a per eat to those
who forced themselves upon them, seized Hopfner s hand
after dinner, shook it violently, declared him to be the best
man in the world, and finally embraced both him and the

478 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

others right heartily. My excellent new friend thought he
was really dreaming, until Schlosser and Merk at last solved
the riddle ; and the discovered joke diffused a general hilarity,
which was shared by Schmidt himself, who was appeased by
an acknowledgment of his real merits, and the interest we
took in his tastes.

This ingenious introduction could not do otherwise than
animate and favour the literary congress, which was indeed,
chiefly kept in view. Merk, active now in aesthetics, now in
literature, now in commerce, had stimulated the well-thinking,
well-informed Schlosser, whose knowledge extended to so many
branches, to edit the Frankfort Gelehrte Anzeige (Learned Ad
vertiser) for that year. They had associated to themselves
Hopfner. and other university-men in Giessen, a meritorious
schoolman, Rector Wenk in Darmstadt, and many other good
men. Every one of them possessed enough historical and
theoretical knowledge in his department, and the feeling of
the times allowed these men to work in one spirit. The human
and cosmopolitan is encouraged ; really good men justly
celebrated are protected against obtrusion of every kind ; their
defence is undertaken against enemies, and especially against
scholars, who use what has been taught them to the detriment
of their instructors. Nearly the most interesting articles are
the critiques on other periodical publications, the Berlin Library
(Hibliothek}, the German Mercury^ where the cleverness in so
many departments, the judgment as well the fairness of the
papers, is rightly admired.

As for myself, they saw well enough that I was deficient in
everything that belongs to a critic, properly so called. My
historical knowledge was unconnected, the histories of the
world, science, and literature had only attracted me by epochs,
the objects themselves only partially and in masses. My capa
city of giving life to things, and rendering them present to me
out of their real connexion, put me in the position that I could
be perfectly at home in a certain century or in a department
of science, without being in any degree instructed as to what
preceded or what followed. Thus a certain theoretico-practical
sense had been awakened in me, by which I could give account
of things, rather as they should be than as they were, without
any proper philosophical connexion, but by way of leaps. To
this was added a very easy power of apprehension, and a

FEANKFOET " GELEHETE ANZEIGE." 479

friendly reception of the opinions of others, if they did not
stand in direct opposition to my own convictions.

That literary union was also favoured by an animated cor
respondence, and by frequent personal communication, which
was possible from the vicinity of the places. He who had
first read a book was to give an account of it ; often another
reviewer of the same book was found ; the affair was talked
over, connected with kindred subjects, and if at last a certain
result had been obtained, one of them took the office of edit
ing. Thus many reviews are as clever as they are spirited, as
pleasant as they are satisfactory. I often had the task of intro
ducing the matter ; my friends also permitted me to jest in
their w r orks, and to appear independently with objects to which
I felt myself equal, and in which I especially took interest. In
vain should I endeavour, either by description or reflection, to
recall the proper spirit and sense of those days, if the two years
of the above-mentioned periodical did not furnish me with the
most decisive documents. Extracts from passages, in which I
again recognise myself, may appear in future in their proper
place, together with similar essays.

During this lively interchange of knowledge, opinions, and
convictions, I very soon became better acquainted withHopfner,
and became very fond of him. As soon as we were alone I spoko
with him about subjects connected with his department, which
was to be my department also ; and found a very naturally
connected explanation and instruction. I was not then as yet
plainly conscious that I could learn something from books and
conversation, but not from continuous professional lectures.
A book allowed me to pause at a passage, and even to look
back, which is impossible with oral delivery and a teacher.
Often at the beginning of the lecture, some thought in which
I indulged laid hold of me, and thus I lost what followed, and
altogether got out of the connexion. Thus it had happened
to me with respect to the lectures on jurisprudence ; and on.
this account I could take many opportunities of talking with
Hopfner, who entered very readily into my doubts and scruples,
and filled up many gaps, so that the wish arose in me to re
main with him at Giessen, and derive instruction from him,
without removing myself too far from Wetzlar inclinations.
Against this wish of mine my two friends had laboured, first
unconsciously, but afterwards consciously ; for both were in a

480 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

hurry, not only to leave the place themselves, but had also an
interest to remove me from the spot.

Schlosser disclosed to me that he had formed, first a friendly,
then a closer connexion with my sister, and that he was looking
about for an early appointment that he might be united to her.
This explanation surprised me to some degree, although I ought
to have found it out long ago in my sister s letters ; but we
easily pass over that which may hurt the good opinion which
we entertain of ourselves, and I now remarked for the first
time that I was really jealous of my sister ; a feeling which I
concealed from myself the less, as, since my return from Stras-
burg, our connexion had been much more intimate. How
much time had we not expended in communicating each
little affair of the heart, love-matters, and other matters, which
had occurred in the interval. In the field of imagination, too,
had there not been revealed to me a new world, into which I
sought to conduct her also ? My own little productions, and
a far- extended world-poetry, was gradually to be made known
to her. Thus I made for her impromptu translations of those
passages of Homer, in which she could take the greatest inte
rest. Clarke s literal translation I read into German, as well
as I could; my version generally found its way into metrical
turns and terminations, and the liveliness with which I had
apprehended the images, the force with which I expressed
them, removed all the obstacles of a cramped order of words ;
what I gave with mind, she followed with mind also. We

O

passed many hours of the day in this fashion ; while, if her
company met, the Wolf Fenris and the Ape Hannemann were
unanimously called for, and how often have I not been obliged
to repeat circumstantially how Thor and his comrades were
deluded by the magical giants ! Hence from these fictions
such a pleasant impression has remained with me, that they
belong to the most valuable things which my imagination can
recall. Into the connexion with the Darmstadt people I had
drawn my sister also, and now my wanderings and occasional
absence necessarily bound us closer together, as I discoursed
with her by letter respecting every thing that occurred to me,
communicated to her every little poem, if even only a note of
admiration, and let her first see all the letters which I received,
and all the answers which I wrote. All these lively impulses
had been stopped since my departure from Frankfort, my re-

MEEK S HATKED OF STUDENTS. 481

sidence at Wetzlar was not fertile enough for such a corres
pondence, and, moreover, my attachment to Charlotte may
have infringed upon my attentions to my sister ; enough, she
felt herself alone, perhaps neglected, and therefore the more
readily gave a hearing to the honest wooing of an honourable
man, who, serious and reserved, estimable and worthy of con
fidence, had passionately bestowed on her his affections, with
which he was otherwise very niggardly. I was noiv forced to
resign myself and grant my friend his happiness, though I did
not fail in secret to say confidently to myself, that if the brother
had not been absent, it would not have gone so well with the
friend.

My friend and probable brother-in-law was now very anxious
that I should return home, because, by my mediation, a freer
intercourse was possible, of which the feelings of this man, so
unexpectedly attached by a tender passion, seemed to stand
extremely in need. Therefore, on his speedy departure, he
elicited from me the promise that I would immediately follow
him.

Of Merk, whose time was free, I hoped that he would delay
his sojourn in Giessen, that I might be able to pass some hours
of the day with my good Hopfner, while my friend employed
his time on the Frankfort Gelehrte Anzeige ; but he was not to
be moved, and as my brother-in-law was driven from the uni
versity by love, he was driven by hate. For as there are innate
antipathies -just as certain men cannot endure cats, while this
or that is repugnant to the soul of others, so was Merk a
deadly enemy to all the academical citizens (the students),
who indeed at that time, at Giessen, took delight in the greatest
rudeness. For me they were well enough ; I could have used
them as masks for one of my carnival plays, but with him the
sight of them by day, and their noise by night, destroyed every
sort of good humour. He had spent the best days of his
youth in French Switzerland, and had afterwards enjoyed the
pleasant intercourse of people of the court, world, and business,
and of cultivated litterateurs ; several military persons, in whom
a desire for mental culture had been awakened, sought his
society, and thus he had passed his life in a very cultivated
circle. That the rudeness of the students vexed him, was
therefore not to be wondered at, but his aversion from them

2 i

482 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

was really more passionate than became a sound man, although
he often made me laugh by his witty descriptions of their mon
strous appearance and behaviour. Hopfher s invitations and
my persuasions were of no avail ; I was obliged to depart with
him as soon as possible for Wetzlar.

I could scarcely wait any time, till I had introduced him to
Charlotte, but his presence in this circle did me 110 good ; for
as Mephistopheles, let him go when he will, hardly brings a
blessing with him, so did he, by his indifference towards that
beloved person, cause me no joy, even if he did not make me
waver. This I might have foreseen, if I had recollected that
it was exactly those slender, delicate persons, who diffuse a
lively cheerfulness around them, without making further pre
tensions, who did not remarkably please him. He very quickly
preferred the Juno-form of one of her friends, and since he
lacked time to form a close connexion, he bitterly blamed me
for not exerting myself to gain this magnificent figure, espe
cially as she was free and without any tie. He thought that
I did not understand my own advantage, and that he here
very unwillingly perceived my especial taste for wasting my
time.

If it is dangerous to make a friend acquainted with the per
fections of one s beloved, because he also may find her charm
ing and desirable ; no less is the reverse danger, that he may
perplex us by his dissent. This, indeed, was not the case here,
for I had too deeply impressed upon myself the picture of her
amiability for it to be so easily obliterated ; but his presence
and his persuasions nevertheless hastened my resolution to
leave the place. He represented to me a journey on the
Rhine, which he was going to take with his wife and son, in
the most glowing colours, and excited in me the desire to see,
at last, with my eyes those objects of which I had often
heard with envy. Now, when he had departed, I separated
myself from Charlotte with a purer conscience indeed than
from Frederica, but still not without pain. This connexion
also had by habit and indulgence grown more passionate than
was right on my side, while, on the other hand, she and her
bridegroom kept themselves with cheerfulness in a measure,
which could not be more beautiful and amiable, and the secu^
rity which resulted just from this caused me to forget every

SEPARATION FROM CHARLOTTE. 483

danger. I could not, however, conceal from myself that this
adventure must come to a speedy end ; for the union of the
young ma*n with the amiable girl depended on a promotion
which was immediately to be expected, and as man, if he is in
any degree resolute, even dares to make a virtue of necessity,
so did I embrace the determination voluntarily to depart before
I was driven away by anything insupportable.

2 i 2

THIRTEENTH BOOK.

IT was agreed with Merk, that in the fine season we should
meet at Coblentz at Frau von Laroche s- I sent to Frankfort
my baggage and whatever I might want on my way down the
Lahn by an opportunity which offered, and now wandered
down that beautiful river, so lovely in its windings, so vari
ous in its shores, free as to my resolution, but oppressed as to
my feelings in a condition, when the presence of silently-
living nature is so beneficial to us. My eye, accustomed to
discern those beauties of a landscape that suited the painter,
and were above him, rioted in the contemplation of near and
distant objects, of bushy rocks, of sunny heights, of damp
valleys, of enthroned castles, and of the blue range of moun
tains inviting us from the distance.

I wandered on the right bank of the river, which at some
depth and distance below me, and partly concealed by a rich
bush of willows, glided along in the sunlight. Then again
arose in me the old wish, worthily to imitate such objects.
By chance I had a handsome pocket-knife in my left hand, and
at the moment, from the depth of my soul, arose, as it were,
an absolute command, according to which, without delay, I
was to fling this knife into the river. If I saw it fall, my
wish to become an artist would be fulfilled, but if the sinking
of the knife was concealed by the overhanging bush of willows,
I was to abandon the wish and the endeavour. This whim
had no sooner arisen in me than it was executed. For, with
out regarding the usefulness of the knife, which comprised
many instruments in itself, I cast it with the left hand, as I
held it, violently towards the river. But here I had to expe
rience that deceptive ambiguity of oracles, of which, in anti
quity, such bitter complaints were made. The sinking of the
knife into the water was concealed from me by the extreme
twigs of the willows, but the water, which rose from the fall,
sprang up like a strong fountain, and was perfectly visible. I
did not interpret this phenomenon in my favour, and the

THE FAMILY TON XAEOCHE. 485

doubt which it excited in me was afterwards the cause that I
pursued these exercises more interruptedly and more negli
gently, and gave occasion for the import of the oracle to fulfil
itself. For the moment at least the external world was spoiled
for me, I abandoned myself to my imaginations and feelings,
and left the well-situated castles and districts of Weilburg,
Liniburg, Diez, and Nassau one by one behind me, generally
walking alone, but often for a short time associating myself
with another.

After thus pleasantly wandering for some days, I arrived at
Ems, where I several times enjoyed the soft bath, and then
went down the river in a boat. Then the old Rhine opened
itself upon me, the beautiful situation of Oberlahnstein de
lighted me, but noble and majestic above all appeared to me
the castle Ehrenbreitstein, which stood perfectly armed in its
power and strength. In most lovely contrast lay at its feet
the well-built little place called Thai, where I could easily find
my way to the residence of Privy Councillor von Laroche.
Announced by Merk, I was very kindly received by this noble
family, and soon considered as a member of it. My literary
and sentimental tendencies bound me to the mother, a cheer
ful feeling for the world bound me to the father, and my youth
bound me to the daughters.

The house, quite at the end of the valley, and little elevated
above the river, had a free prospect down the stream. The
rooms were high and spacious, and the walls, like a gallery,
were hung with pictures, placed close together. Every win
dow on every side formed a frame to a natural picture, which
came out very vividly by the light of a mild sun. I thought
I had never seen such cheerful mornings and such splendid
evenings.

I was not long the" only guest in the house. As a member
of the congress which was held here, partly with an artistic
view, partly as a matter of feeling, Leuchselring, who came up
from Dusseldorf, was likewise appointed. This man, possess
ing a fine knowledge of modern literature, had, on different
travels, but especially during a residence in Switzerland, made
many acquaintances, and as he was pleasant and insinuating,
had gained much favour. He carried with him several boxes,
which contained the confidential correspondence with many
friends ; for there was altogether such a general openness among

486 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

people, that one could not speak or write to a single individual,
without considering it directed to many. One explored one s
own heart and that of others, and with the indifference of the
government towards such a communication, the great rapidity
of the Taxisch* post, the security of the seal, and the reason
ableness of the postage, this moral and literary intercourse
soon spread itself around.

Such correspondences, especially with important persons,
were carefully collected, and extracts from them were often
read at friendly meetings. Thus, as political discourses had
little interest, one became pretty well acquainted with the
extent of the moral world.

Leuchselring s boxes contained many treasures in this sense..
The letters of one Julie Bondeli were very much esteemed ;
she was famed as a lady of sense and merit, and a friend of
Rousseau. Whoever had stood in any relation to this extra
ordinary man, took part in the glory which emanated from
him, and in his name a silent community had been dissemi
nated far and wide.

I liked to be present at these readings, as I was thus trans
ported into an unknown world, and learned to know the real
truth of many an event that had just passed. All indeed was-
not valuable, and Herr von Laroche, a cheerful man of the
world and of business, who, although a Catholic, had already
in his writings made free with the monks and priesthood,
thought that he here saw a fraternity, where many a worthless
individual supported himself by a connexion with persons of
importance, by which, in the end, he, but not they, were ad
mired. Generally this excellent man withdrew from the com
pany when the boxes were opened. Even if he did listen to
some letters now and then, a waggish remark was to be ex
pected. Among other things, he once said that by this cor
respondence he was still more convinced of what he had always
believed, namely, that ladies might spare their sealing-wax,
as they need only fasten their letters with pins, and might be
assured that they would reach their address unopened. In the

* The post, managed by the princes of Thurn and Taxis, in different
parts of Germany. An ancestor of this house first directed the post sys
tem in Tyrol, in 1450, and Alexander Ferdinand von Thurn received, in
1744, the office of Imperial Postmaster-General, as a fief of the empire. -
Trans.

HERR YON LAROCHE AND HIS PRECEPTOR. 487

same way lie was accustomed to jest with everything that lay
out of the sphere of life and activity, and in this followed the
disposition of his lord and master, Count Stadion, minister to
the Elector of Mayence, who certainly was not fitted to coun
terbalance the woiidliness and coldness of the boy by a reverence
for everything like mysterious foreboding.

An anecdote respecting the great practical sense of the
count may here find a place. When he took a liking to the
orphan Laroche, and chose him for a pupil, he at once required
from the boy the services of a secretary. He gave him letters
to answer, despatches to prepare, which he was then obliged
to copy fair, oftener to write in cipher, to seal, and to direct.
This lasted for many years. When the boy had grown up
into a youth, and really did that which he had hitherto only
supposed he was doing, the count took him to a large writing-
table, in which, all his letters and packets lay unbroken, having
been preserved as exercises of the former time.

Another exercise which the count required of his pupil,
will not find such universal applause. Laroche had been
obliged to practise himself in imitating, as accurately as pos
sible, the handwriting of his lord and master, that he might
thus relieve him from the trouble of writing himself. Not only
in business, but also in love affairs, the young man had to
take the place of his preceptor. The count was passionately
attached to a lady of rank and talent. If he stopped in her
society till late at night, his secretary w^as, in the meanwhile,
sitting at home, and hammering out the most ardent love-
letters ; the count chose one of these, and sent it that very
night to his beloved, who was thus necessarily convinced of
the inextinguishable fire of her passionate adorer. Such
early experiences were scarcely fitted to give the youth the
most exalted notion of written communications about love.

An irreconcilable hatred of the priesthood had established
itself in this man, who served two spiritual electors, and had
probably sprung from the contemplation of the rude, tasteless,
mind-destroying foolery which the monks in Germany were
accustomed to carry on in many parts, and thus hindered and
destroyed every sort of cultivation. His letters on Monasti-
cism caused great attention ; they were received with great
applause by all Protestants and many Catholics.

If Herr Von Laroche opposed everything that can be

488 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

called sensibility, and even decidedly avoided the very ap
pearance of it, he nevertheless did not conceal a tender pater
nal affection for his eldest daughter, who, indeed, was nothing
else but amiable. She was rather short than tall of stature,
and delicately built, her figure was free and graceful, her eyes
very black, while nothing could be conceived purer and more
blooming than her complexion. She also loved her father, and
inclined to his sentiments. Being an active man of business,
most of his time was consumed in works belonging to his call
ing ; and as the guests who stopped at his house were really
attracted by his wife and not by him, society afforded him but
little pleasure. At table he was cheerful and entertaining, and
at least endeavoured to keep his board free from the spice of
sensibility.

Whoever knows the views and mode of thought of Frau von
Laroche and by a long life and many writings, she has
become honourably known to every German, may perhaps
suspect that a domestic incongruity must have arisen here.
Nothing of the kind. She was the most wonderful woman ;
and I know no other to compare to her. Slenderly and deli
cately built, rather tall than short, she had, even to her more
advanced years, managed to preserve a certain elegance both
of form and of conduct, which pleasantly fluctuated between
the conduct of a noble lady and that of one of the citizen class.
Her dress had been the same for several years. A neat little
cap with wings very well became her small head and delicate
face, and her brown or grey clothing gave repose and dignity
to her presence. She spoke well, and always knew how to
give importance to what she said by an expression of feeling.
Her conduct was perfectly the same towards every body. But
with all this the greatest peculiarity of her character is not yet
expressed ; it is difficult to designate it. She seemed to take
interest in everything, but really nothing acted upon her. She
was gentle towards every one, and could endure everything
without suffering ; the jests of her husband, the tenderness of
her friends, the sweetness of her children to all this she replied
in the same manner, and thus she always remained herself, with
out being affected in the world by good and evil, or in literature
by excellence and weakness. To this disposition she owes that
independence which she maintains even to an advanced age,
through many sad, nay, sorrowful events. But not to be un-

MEKK S INFLUENCE. 489

just, I must state that her sons, then children of dazzling beauty,
often elicited from her an expression different from that which
served her for daily use.

Thus I lived for a time in a wonderfully pleasant society,
until Merk came with his family. Here arose at once new
affinities ; for while the two ladies approached each other, Merk
had come into closer contact with Herr von Laroche as a con
noisseur of the world and of business, as a well-informed and
travelled man. The boy associated himself with the boys, and
the daughters, of whom the eldest soon particularly attracted
me, fell to my share. It is a very pleasant sensation when a
new passion begins to stir in us, before the old one is quite ex
tinct. Thus, when the sun is setting, one often likes to see
the moon rise on the opposite side, and one takes delight in
the double lustre of the two heavenly luminaries.

There was now no lack of rich entertainment either in or
out of the house. We wandered about the spot, and ascended
Ehrenbreitstein on this side of the river, and the Carthause on
the other. The city, the Moselle-bridge, the ferry which took
us over the Rhine, all gave us the most varied delight. The
new castle was not yet built ; we were taken to the place
where it was to stand, and allowed to see the preparatory
sketches.

Nevertheless, amid those cheerful circumstances was inter
nally developed that element of unsociableness which, both
in cultivated and uncultivated circles, ordinarily shows its
malign effects. Merk, at once cold and restless, had not long
listened to that correspondence before he uttered aloud many
waggish notions concerning the things which were the subjects
of discourse, as well as the persons and their circumstances,
while he revealed to me in secret the oddest things, which
really were concealed under them. Political secrets were
never touched on, nor indeed anything that could have had a
definite connexion; he only made me attentive to persons
who, without remarkable talents, contrive, by a certain tact,
to obtain personal influence, and, by an acquaintance with
many, try to make something out of themselves ; and from
this time forwards I had opportunity to observe several men
of the sort. Since such persons usually change their place,
and, as travellers come, now here, now there, they have the
advantage of novelty, which should neither be envied nor

490 TRUTH AND POETHY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE.

spoiled ; for this is a mere customary matter, which every tra
veller has often experienced to his benefit, and every resident
to his detriment.

Be that as it may, it is enough that from that time forward
we cherished an uneasy, nay, envious attention to people of
the sort, who went about on their own account, cast anchor in
every city, and sought to gain an influence at least in some
families. I have represented a tender and soft specimen of
this co-oporation in " Pater Brey," another of more aptness and
bluntness in a carnival play to be hereafter published, which
bears the title, Satyros, or the deified Wood-devil. This I have
done, if not with fairness, at least with good humour.

However, the strange elements of our little society still
worked quite tolerably one upon another ; we were partly
united by our own manner and style of breeding, and partly
restrained by the peculiar conduct of our hostess, who, being
but lightly touched by that which passed around her, always
resigned herself to certain ideal notions, and while she under
stood how to utter them in a friendly and benevolent way,
contrived to soften everything sharp that might arise in the
company, and to smooth down all that was uneven.

Merk had sounded a retreat just at the right time, so that
the party separated on the best of terms. I went with him and
his in a yacht, which was returning up the Rhine towards
Mayence ; and although this vessel went very slowly of itself,
we nevertheless besought the captain not to hurry himself.
Thus we enjoyed at leisure the infinitely various objects, which,
in the most splendid weather, seem to increase in beauty every
hour, and both in greatness and agreeableness ever to change
anew ; and I only wish that, while I utter the names, Rhein-
fels and St. Goar, Bacharach, Bingen, Elfeld, and Biberich,
every one of my readers may be able to recall these spots to
memory.

We had sketched industriously, and had thus at least gained
a deeper impression of the thousandfold changes of those
splendid shores. At the same time, by being so much longer
together, by a familiar communication on so many sorts of
things, our connexion became so much the more intimate, that
Merk gained a great influence over me, and I, as a good com
panion, became indispensable to him for a comfortable exist
ence. My eye, sharpened by nature, again turned to the con-

REVIVING TASTE FOR ART. 491

templation of art, for which the beautiful Frankfort collections
afforded me the best opportunity, both in paintings and en
gravings, and I have been much indebted to the kindness of
MM. Etling and Ehrenreich, but especially to the excellent
Nothnagel. To see nature in art became with me a passion,
which, in its highest moments, must have appeared to others,,
passionate amateurs as they might be, almost like madness ;
and how could such an inclination be better fostered than by
a constant observation of the excellent works of the Nether-
landers ? That I might make myself practically acquainted
with these things, Nothnagel gave me a cabinet, where I found
every thing that was requisite for oil painting, and painted after
nature some simple subjects of still life, upon one of which, a
tortoise-shell knife-handle, inlaid with silver, so astonished my
master, who had first visited me an hour before, that he main
tained one of his subordinate artists must have been with me
during the time.

Had I patiently gone on practising myself on such objects
catching their light and the peculiarities of their surface, I
might have formed a sort of practical skill, and made a way
for something higher. I was, however, prevented by the fault,
of all dilettantes that of beginning with what is most difficult,
and ever wishing to perform the impossible, and I soon in
volved myself in greater undertakings, in which I stuck fast,,
both because they were beyond my technical capabilities, and
because I could not always maintain pure and operative that
loving attention and patient industry, by which even the
beginner accomplishes something.

At the same time, I was once more carried into a higher
sphere, by finding an opportunity of purchasing some fine plaster
casts of antique heads. The Italians, who visit the fairs, often,
brought with them good specimens of the kind, and sold them
cheap, after they had taken moulds of them. In this manner
I set up for myself a little museum, as I gradually brought
together the heads of the Laocoon, his sons, and Niobe s 1
daughters. I also bought miniature copies of the most impor
tant works of antiquity from the estate of a deceased friend of
art, and thus sought once more to revive, as much as possible,,
the great impression which I had received at Mannheim.

While I now sought to cultivate, foster, and maintain all the
talent, taste, or other inclination that might live in me, I

492 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

applied a good part of the day, according to my father s wish,
in the duties of an advocate, for the practice of which I chanced
to find the best opportunity. After the death of my grand
father, my uncle Textor had come into the council, and con
signed to me the little offices to which I was equal ; while the
brothers Schlosser did the same. I made myself acquainted
with the documents ; my father also read them with much plea
sure, as by means of his son, he again saw himself in an activity
of which he had been long deprived. We talked the matters
over, and with great facility ; I then made the necessary state
ments. We had at hand an excellent copyist, on whom one
could rely for all legal formalities ; and this occupation was the
more agreeable to me as it brought me closer to my father,
who, being perfectly satisfied with my conduct in. this respect,
readily looked with an eye of indulgence on all my other pur
suits, in the ardent expectation that I should now soon gather
in a harvest of fame as an author.

Because now, in every epoch, all things are connected to
gether, since the ruling views and opinions are ramified in the
most various manner, so in the science of law those maxims
were gradually pursued, according to which religion and morals
were treated. Among the attorneys, as the younger people,
and then among the judges, as the elder, a spirit of humanity
was diffused, and all vied with each other in being as humane
as possible, even in legal affairs. Prisons were improved,
crimes excused, punishments lightened, legitimations rendered
easy, separations and mesalliances encouraged, and one of our
eminent lawyers gained for himself the highest fame, when
he contrived, by hard fighting, to gain for the son of an exe
cutioner an entrance into the college of surgeons. In vain
did guilds and corporations oppose ; one dam after another
was broken through. The toleration of the religious parties
towards each other was not merely taught, but practised, and
the civil constitution was threatened with a still greater influ
ence, when the effort was made to recommend to that good-
humoured age, with understanding, acuteness, and power,
toleration toward the Jews. Those new subjects for legal
treatment, which lay without the law and tradition, and only
laid claim to a fair examination, to a kindly sympathy, required
at the same time a more natural and animated style. Here
for us, the youngest, was opened a cheerful field, in which we

STATE OF THE GERMAN STAGE. 493

bustled about with delight, and I still recollect that an impe
rial councillor s agent, in a case of the sort, sent me a very
polite letter of commendation. The French plaidoyes served
us for patterns and for stimulants.

We were thus on the way to become better orators than
jurists, a fact to which George Schlosser once called my atten
tion, blaming me while doing so. I told him that I had read
to my clients a controversial paper written with much energy
in their favour, at which they had shown the greatest satisfac
tion . Upon this he replied to me, " In this case you have
shown yourself more an author than an advocate. We must
never ask how such a writing may please the client, but how
It may please the judge."

As the occupations to which one devotes one s day are never
so serious and pressing that one cannot find time enough in
the evening to go to the play, thus was it also with me, w r ho,
in the want of a really good stage, did not cease thinking of
the German theatre, in order to discover how one might co
operate upon it with any degree of activity. Its condition in
the second half of the last century is sufficiently known, and
every one who wishes to be instructed about it finds assistance
at hand everywhere. On this account I only intend to insert
here a few general remarks.

The success of the stage rested more upon the personality
of the actors than upon the value of the pieces. This was
especially the case with pieces half or wholly extemporized,
when everything depended on the humour and talent of the
comic actors. The matter of such pieces must be taken out
of the commonest life, in conformity with the people before
whom they are acted. From this immediate application arises
the greatest applause, which these plays have always gained.
They were always at home in South Germany, where they
are retained to the present day ; and the change of persons
alone renders it necessary to give, from time to time, some
change to the character of the comic masks. However, the
German theatre, in conformity with the serious character of
the nation, soon took a turn towards the moral, which was
still more accelerated by an external cause. For the question
arose, among strict Christians, whether the theatre belonged
to those sinful things which are to be shunned, at all events,
or to those indifferent things which can be good to the good

494 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

and bad to the bad. Some zealots denied the latter, and held
fast the opinion that no clergyman should ever enter the
theatre. Now the opposite opinion could not be maintained
with energy, unless the theatre was declared to be not only
harmless, but even useful. To be useful, it must be moral ;
and in this direction it developed itself in North Germany the
more as, by a sort of half-taste, the comic character* was
banished, and although intelligent persons took his part, was
forced to retire, having already gone from the coarseness of the
German hanswurst (jack-pudding) into the neatness and deli
cacy of the Italian and French harlequins. Even Scapin and
Crispin gradually vanished ; the latter I saw played for the
last time by Koch, in his old age.

Richardson s novels had already made the citizen-world
attentive to a more delicate morality. The severe and inevit
able consequences of a feminine faux pas were analysed in a
frightful manner in Clarissa. Lessing s Miss Sara /Sampson
treated the same theme. The French dramas had the same
end, but proceeded more moderately, and contrived to please
by some accommodation at the end. Dident s Pere de Famille,
the Honourable Criminal, the Vinegar Dealer, the Philosopher
without knowing it, Eugenie, and other works of the sort, suited
that honest feeling of citizen and family which began more
and more to prevail. With us, the Grateful Son, the Deserter
from Parental Love, and all of their kin, went the same way.
The Minister, Clementini, and other pieces by Gehler, the
German Father of a Family, by Gemming, all brought agree
ably to view the worth of the middle and even of the lower
class, and delighted the great public. Eckhoff, by his noble
personality, which gave to the actor s profession a dignity in
which it had hitherto been deficient, elevated to an uncommon
degree the leading characters in such pieces, since, as an
honest man, the expression of honesty succeeded with him to
perfection.

While now the German theatre was completely inclining
to effeminacy, Schroder arose as an author and actor, and on
the occasion of the connexion between Hamburg and England,
adapted some English comedies. The material of these he

* " Die lustige person." That is to say, the permanent buffoon, like
" Kasperle " in the German puppet-shows, or " Sganarelle " in Moliere s
broad comedies. Trans.

SCHROEDER S ADAPTATION OF ENGLISH COMEDIES. 495

could only use in the most general way, since the originals
are for the most part formless, and if they begin well and
according to a certain plan, they wander from the mark at
last. The sole concern of their authors seems to be the intro
duction of the oddest scenes ; and whoever is accustomed to a
sustained work of art, at last unwillingly finds himself driven
into the boundless. Besides this, a wild, immoral, vulgarly
dissolute tone so decidedly pervades the whole, to an intoler
able degree, that it must have been difficult to deprive the
plan and the characters of all their bad manners. They are a
coarse and at the same time dangerous food, which can only
be enjoyed and digested by a large and half- corrupted popu
lace at a certain time. Schroder did more for these things
than is usually known ; he thoroughly altered them, assimi
lated them to the German mind, and softened them as much
as possible. But still a bitter kernel always remains in them,
because the joke often depends on the ill-usage of persons,
whether they deserve it or not. In these performances, which
were also widely spread upon our stage, lay a secret counter
poise to that too delicate morality ; and the action of both
kinds of drama against each other fortunately prevented the
monotony into which people would otherwise have fallen.

The German, kind and magnanimous by nature, likes to
see no one ill-treated. But as no man, however well he
thinks, is secure that something may not be put upon him
against his inclination, and as, moreover, comedy in general,
if it is to please, always presupposes or awakens something
of malice in the spectator, so, by a natural path, did people
come to a conduct which hitherto had been deemed unnatural ;
this consisted in lowering the higher classes, and more or
less attacking them. Satire, whether in prose or verse, had
always avoided touching the court and nobility. Rabener
refrained from all jokes in that direction, and remained in a
lower circle. Zacharia occupies himself much with caricaturing
noblemen, comically sets forth their tastes and peculiarities ;
but this is done without contempt. Thummel s Wilhelmine, an
ingenious little composition, as pleasant as it is bold, gained
great applause, perhaps because the author, himself a noble
man and courtier, treated his own class unsparingly. But
the boldest ^step was taken by Lessing, in his Emilia Galotti,
where the passions and intrigues of the higher classes are

496 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

delineated in a bitter and cutting manner. All these thin

c? i

perfectly corresponded to the excited spirit of the time ; and
men of less mind and talent thought they might do the same,
or even more ; as indeed Grossmann, in six unsavoury dishes,
served up to the malicious public all the tidbits of his vulgar
kitchen. An honest man, Hofrath Reinhardt, was the major-
domo at this unpleasant board, to the comfort and edification
of all the guests. From this time forward the theatrical villains
were always chosen from the higher ranks ; and a person
must be a gentleman of the bedchamber, or at least a private
secretary, to be worthy of such a distinction. But for the
most godless examples, the highest offices and places in the
court and civil list were chosen, in which high society, even
the justiciaries, found their place as villains of the first water.

But as I must fear already that I have been carried beyond
the time which is now the subject in hand, I return back to
myself, to mention the impulse which I felt to occupy myself
in my leisure hours with the theatrical plans which I had once
devised.

By my lasting interest in Shakspeare s works, I had so
expanded my mind, that the narrow compass of the stage and
the short time allotted to a representation, seemed to me by
no means sufficient to bring forward something important.
The life of the gallant Gotz von Berlichingen, written by
himself, impelled me into the historic mode of treatment ; and
my imagination so much extended itself, that my dramatic
form also went beyond all theatrical bounds, and sought more
and more to approach the living events. I had, as I proceeded,
talked circumstantially on this subject with my sister, who
was interested, heart and soul, in such things, and renewed
this conversation so often, without going to any work, that she
at last, growing impatient, and at the same time wishing me
well, urgently entreated me not to be always casting my words
into the air, but, once for all, to set down upon paper that
which must have been so present to my mind. Determined
by this impulse, I began one morning to write, without
having made any previous sketch or plan. I wrote the first
scenes, and in the evening they were read aloud to Cornelia.
She gave them much applause, but only conditionally, since
she doubted that I should go on so ; nay, she evgn expressed
a decided unbelief in my perseverance. This only incited me

GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEN. 497

the more ; I wrote on the next day, and also the third. Hope
increased with the daily communications, and from step to
step everything gained more life, while the matter, moreover,
had become thoroughly my own. Thus I kept, without inter
ruption, to my work, which I pursued straight on, looking
neither backwards nor forwards, neither to the right nor to
the left ; and in about six weeks I had the pleasure to see the
manuscript stitched. I communicated it to Merk, who spoke
sensibly and kindly about it. I sent it to Herder, who, on
the contrary, expressed himself unkindly and severely, and
did not fail, in some lampoons written for the occasion, to
give me nicknames on account of it. I did not allow myself
to be perplexed by this, but took a clear view of my object.
The die was now cast, and the only question was how to play
the game best. I plainly saw that even here no one would
advise me ; and, as after some time I could regard my work
as if it had proceeded from another hand, I indeed perceived
that in my attempt to renounce unity of time and place, I had
also infringed upon that higher unity which is so much the
more required. Since, without plan or sketch, I had merely
abandoned myself to my imagination and to an internal im
pulse, I had not deviated much at the beginning, and the first
acts could fairly pass for what they were intended to be. In
the following acts, however, and especially towards the end,
I was unconsciously carried along by a wonderful passion.
While trying to describe Adelheid as amiable, I had fallen
in love with her myself, my pen was involuntarily devoted
to her alone, the interest in her fate gained the prepon
derance ; and as, apart from this consideration, Gotz, towards
the end, is without activity, and afterwards only returns to an
unlucky participation in the Bauernkrieg* nothing was more
natural than that a charming woman should supplant him in
the mind of the author, who, casting off the fetters of art,
thought to try himself in a new field. This defect, or rather
this culpable superfluity, I soon perceived, since the nature of
my poetry always impelled me to unity. I now, instead of the
biography of Gotz and German antiquities, kept my own work
in mind, and sought to give it more and more historical and
national substance, and to cancel that which was fabulous or
merely proceeded from passion. In this I indeed sacrificed
much, as the inclination of the man had to yield to the con-

* The peasant- war, answering to the Jaguerie in France. Trans.

2K

498 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIPE.

viction of the artist. Thus, for instance, I had pleased myself
highly by making Adelheid enter into a terrific nocturnal
gipsy-scene, and perform wonders by her beautiful presence.
A nearer examination banished her ; and the love-affair be
tween Franz and his noble, gracious lady, which was very
circumstantially carried on in the fourth and fifth acts, was
much condensed, and could only be suffered to appear in its
chief points.

Therefore, without altering anything in the first manu
script, which I still actually possess in its original shape, I
determined to rewrite the whole, and did this with such acti
vity, that in a few weeks an entirely new-made piece lay
before me. I went to work upon this all the quicker, the
less my intention was ever to have the second poem printed,
as I looked upon this likewise as a mere preparatory exercise,
which in future I should again lay at the foundation of a
new treatment, to be accomplished with greater industry and
deliberation.

When I began to lay before Merk many proposals as to the
way in which I should set about this task, he laughed at me,
and asked what was the meaning of this perpetual writing
and rewriting ? The thing, he said, by this means, becomes
only different, and seldom better ; one must see what effect
one thing produces, and then again try something new. " Be
in time at the hedge, if you would dry your linen."* he ex
claimed, in the words of the proverb ; hesitation and delay
only make uncertain men. On the other hand, I replied to
him that it would be unpleasant to me to offer to a bookseller
a work on which I had bestowed so much affection, and per
haps to receive a refusal as an answer ; for how would they
judge of a young, nameless, and also audacious author ? As
my dread of the press gradually vanished, I had wished to see
printed my comedy Die Mitschuldigen, upon which I set some
value, but I found no publisher inclined in my favour.

Here the technically mercantile taste of my Mend was at
once excited. By means of the Frankfort Zeitung (Gazette),
he had already formed a connexion with learned men and
booksellers, and therefore he thought that we ought to publish
at our own expense this singular and certainly striking work,
and that we should derive a larger profit from it. Like many
others, he used often to reckon up for the booksellers their
* Anylice : Make hay when the sun shines. Trans.

GOETZ VON BERL ICHINGEN. 499

profit, which with many works was certainly great, especially
if one left out of the account how much was lost bv other

V

writings and commercial affairs. Enough, it was settled that
I should procure the paper, and that he should take care of
the printing. Thus we went heartily to work, and I was not
displeased gradually to see my wild dramatic sketch in clean
proof-sheets ; it looked really neater than I myself expected,
We completed the work, and it was sent off in many parcels.
Before long a great commotion arose everywhere ; the atten
tion which it created became universal. But because, with
our limited means, the copies could not be sent quick enough
to all parts, a pirated edition suddenly made its appearance.
As, moreover, there could be no immediate return, especially
in ready money, for the copies sent out, so was I, as a young
man in a family whose treasury could not be in an abundant
condition, at the very time when much attention, nay, much
applause was bestow r ed upon me, extremely perplexed as to how
I should pay for the paper by means of which. I had made the
world acquainted with my talent. On the other hand, Merk,
who knew better how to help himself, entertained the best
hopes that all would soon come right again; but I never
perceived that to be the case.

Through the little pamphlets which I had published anony
mously, I had, at my own expense, learned to know the critics-
and the public ; and I was thus pretty well prepared for praise
and blame, especially as for many years I had constantly fol
lowed up the subject, and had observed how those authors
were treated, to whom I had devoted particular attention.

Here even in my uncertainty, I could plainly remark how
much that was groundless, one-sided, and arbitrary, was reck-
lessly uttered. Now the same thing befel me, and if I had
not had some basis of my own, how much w r ould the contra
dictions of cultivated men have perplexed me ! Thus, for
instance, there was in the German Mercury a diffuse, well-
meant criticism, composed by some man of limited mind.
Where he found fault, I could not agree with him, still less
when he stated how the affair could have been done other
wise. It was therefore highly gratifying to me, when imme
diately afterwards I found a pleasant explanation by Wi eland,
who in general opposed the critic, and took my part against
him. However, the former review was printed likewise ; I saw
an example of the dull state of mind among well-informed

2x2

500 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FBOM MY OWN LIFE.

and cultivated men. How, then, would it look with the great
public !

The pleasure of talking over such things with Merk, and
thus gaining light upon them, was of short duration, for the
intelligent Landgravine of Hesse-Darmstadt took him with
her train on her journey to Petersburg. The detailed letters
which he wrote to me gave me a further insight into the
world, which I could the more make my own as the descrip
tions were made by a well-known and friendly hand. But
nevertheless I remained very solitary for a long time, and just
at this important epoch was deprived of his enlightening
sympathy, of which I then stood in so much need.

Just as one embraces the determination to become a soldier,
and go to the wars, and courageously resolves to bear danger
and difficulties, as well as to endure wounds and pains, and
even death, but at the same time never calls to mind the parti
cular cases in which those generally anticipated evils may
surprise us in an extremely unpleasant manner, so it is with
every one who ventures into the world, especially an author ;
and so it was with me. As the great part of mankind is more
excited by a subject than by the treatment of it, so it was to
the subject that the sympathy of young men for my pieces was
generally owing. They thought they could see in them a
banner, under the guidance of which all that is wild and un
polished in youth might find a vent ; and those of the very best
brains, who had previously harboured a similar crotchet, were
thus carried away. I still possess a letter I know not to
whom from the excellent and, in many respects, unique
Burger, which may serve as an important voucher of the effect
and excitement which was then produced by that phenomenon.
On the other side, some men blamed me for painting the club-
law in too favourable colours, and even attributed to me the
intention of bringing those disorderly times back again. Others
took me for a profoundly learned man, and wished me to pub
lish a new edition, with notes, of the original narrative of the
good Gotz; a task to which I felt by no means adapted,
although I allowed my name to be put on the title to the new
impression. Because I had understood how to gather the
flowers of a great existence, they took me for a careful gar
dener. However, this learning and profound knowledge of
mine were much doubted by others. A respectable man of
business ouite unexpectedly pays me a visit. I find myself

GOETZ YON BEELICHINGEN. 501

highly honoured by this, especially as he opens his discourse
with the praise of my Gofa von Berlichingen, and my good
insight into German history, but I am nevertheless astonished
when I remark that he has really come for the sole purpose of in
forming me that Gotz von Berlichingen was no brother-in-law
to Franz von Sichingen, and that therefore by this poetical
matrimonial alliance I have committed a great historical error a
I sought to excuse myself by the fact, that Gotz himself calls
him so, but was met by the reply, that this is a form of ex
pression which only denotes a nearer and more friendly con
nexion, just as in modern times we call postilions " brothers-
in-law,"* without being bound to them by any family tie.
I thanked him as well as I could for this information, and only
regretted that the evil was now not to be remedied. This was
regretted by him also, while he exhorted me in the kindest
manner to a further study of the German history and consti
tution, and offered me his library, of which I afterwards made
a good use.

A droll event of the sort which occurred to me was the visit
of a bookseller, who, with cheerful openness, requested a dozen
of such pieces, and promised to pay well for them. That we
made ourselves very merry about this may be imagined ; and
yet, in fact, he was not so very far wrong, for I was already
greatly occupied in moving backwards and forwards from this
turning-point in German history, and in working up the chief
events in a similar spirit a laudable design, which, like many
others, was frustrated by the rushing flight of time.

That play, however, had not solely occupied the author, but
while it was devised, written, rewritten, printed, and circulated,
other images and plans were moving in his mind. Those
which could be treated dramatically had the advantage of being
oftenest thought over and brought near to execution ; but at the
same time was developed a transition to another form, which
is not usually classed with those of the drama, but yet has a
great affinity with them. This transition was chiefly brought
about by a peculiarity of the author, which fashioned soliloquy
into dialogue.

Accustomed to pass his time most pleasantly in society, he
changed even solitary thought into social converse, and this in
the following manner : He had the habit, when he was alone,

* It is a German peculiarity to apply the word " Schwager " (brother-
in-law) to a postilion. Trans.

502 TRUTH AND POETHY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

of calling before his mind any person of his acquaintance.
This person he entreated to sit down, walked up and down by
him, remained standing before him, and discoursed with him
on the subject he had in his mind. To this the person answered
as occasion required, or by the ordinary gestures signified his
assent or dissent ; in which every man has something peculiar
to himself. The speaker then continued to carry out further
that which seemed to please the guest, or to condition and
define more closely that of which he disapproved ; and, finally,
was polite enough to give up his notion. The oddest part of
the affair was, that he never selected persons of his intimate
acquaintance, but those whom he saw but seldom, nay, several
who lived at a distance in the world, and with whom he had
had a transient connexion. They were, however, chiefly per
sons who, more of a receptive than communicative nature, are
ready with a pure feeling to take interest in the things which
fall within their sphere, though he often summoned contradict
ing spirits to these dialectic exercises. Persons of both sexes,
of every age and rank accommodated themselves to these dis
cussions, and showed themselves obliging and agreeable, since
he only conversed on subjects which were clear to them, and
which they liked. Nevertheless, it would have appeared ex
tremely strange to many of them, could they have learned how
often they were summoned to these ideal conversations, since
many of them would scarcely have come to a real one.

How nearlv such a mental dialogue is akin to a written cor-

O

respondence, is clear enough ; only in the latter one sees re
turned the confidence one has bestowed, while in the former,
one creates for oneself a confidence which is new, ever-chang
ing, and unreturned. When, therefore, he had to describe that
disgust which men, without being driven by necessity, feel for
life, the author necessarily hit at once upon the plan of giving
his sentiments in letters ; for all gloominess is a birth, a pupil of
solitude and what is more opposed to it than a cheerful
society ? The enjoyment in life felt by others is to him a pain
ful reproach ; and thus, by that which should charm him out of
himself, he is directed back to his inmost soul. If he at all
expresses himself on this matter, it will be by letters ; for no
one feels immediately opposed to a written effusion, whether
it be joyful or gloomy, while an answer containing opposite
reasons gives the lonely one an opportunity to confirm himself
in his whims, an occasion to grow still more obdurate. The

WEAJRINESS OF LIFE. 503

letters of Werther, which are written in this spirit, have so
various a charm, precisely because their different contents were
first talked over with several individuals in such ideal dialogues,
while it was afterwards in the composition itself that they
appeared to be directed to one friend and sympathizer. To say
more on the treatment of a little book which has formed the
subject of so much discussion, would be hardly advisable, but,
with respect to the contents, something may yet be added.

That disgust at life has its physical and its moral causes ; the
former we will leave to the investigation of the physician, the
latter to that of the moralist, and in a matter so often elabo
rated, only consider the chief point, where the phenomenon most
plainly expresses itself. All comfort in life is based upon a
regular recurrence of external things. The change of day and
night of the seasons, of flowers and fruits, and whatever else
meets us from epoch to epoch, so that we can and should enjoy
it these are the proper springs of earthly life. The more open
we are to these enjoyments, the happier do we feel ourselves ;
but if the changes in these phenomena roll up and down before
us without our taking interest in them, if we are insensible
to such beautiful offers, then comes on the greatest evil, the
heaviest disease we regard life as a disgusting burden. It is
said of an Englishman, that he hanged himself that he might
no longer dress and undress himself every day. I knew a
worthy gardener, the superintendent of the laying out of a
large park, who once cried out with vexation, " Shall I always
see these clouds moving from east to west ?" The story is told
of one of our most excellent men, that he saw with vexation
the returning green of spring, and wished that, by way of
change, it might once appear red. These are properly the
symptoms of a weariness of life, which does not unfrequently
result in suicide, and which, in thinking men, absorbed in
themselves, was more frequent than can be imagined.

Nothing occasions this weariness more than the return of
love. The first love, it is rightly said, is the only one, for in
the second, and by the second, the highest sense of love is
already lost. The conception of the eternal and infinite, which
elevates and supports it, is destroyed, and it appears transient
like everything else that recurs. The separation of the sen
sual from the moral, which, in the complicated, cultivated
world sunders the feelings of love and desire, produces here
also an exaggeration which can lead to no good.

504 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY O^VN LIFE.

Moreover, a young man soon perceives in others, if not in
himself, that moral epochs change as well as the\seasons of
the year. The graciousness of the great, the favour of the
strong, the encouragement of the active, the attachment of the
multitude, the love of individuals all this changes up and
down, and we can no more hold it fast than the sun, moon,
and stars. And yet these things are not mere natural events;
they escape us either by our own or by another s fault ; but
change they do, and we are never sure of them.

But that which most pains a sensitive youth is the unceas
ing return of our faults ; for how late do we learn to see that
while we cultivate our virtues, we rear our faults at the same
time. The former depend upon the latter as upon their root,
and the latter send forth secret ramifications as strong and
as various as those which the former send forth in open light.
Because now we generally practise our virtues with will and
consciousness, but are unconsciously surprised by our faults, the
former seldom procure us any pleasure, while the latter con
stantly bring trouble and pain. Here lies the most difficult
point in self-knowledge, that which makes it almost impossible.
If we conceive, in addition to all this, a young, boiling blood,
an imagination easily to be paralyzed by single objects, and,
moreover, the uncertain movements of the day, we shall not
find unnatural an impatient striving to free oneself from such
a strait.

However, such gloomy contemplations, which lead him who
has resigned himself to them into the infinite, could not have
developed themselves so decidedly in the minds of the German
youths, had not an outward occasion excited and furthered
them in this dismal business. This was caused, by English
literature, especially the poetical part, the great beauties of
which are accompanied by an earnest melancholy, which it
communicates to every one who occupies himself with it. The
intellectual Briton, from his youth upwards, sees himself sur
rounded by a significant world, which stimulates all his powers ;
he perceives, sooner or later, that he must collect all his under
standing to come to terms with it. How many of their poets
have in their youth led a loose and riotous life, and soon found
themselves justified in complaining of the vanity of earthly
things ? How many of them have tried their fortune in worldly
occupations, have taken parts, principal or subordinate, in
parliament, at court, in the ministry, in situations with the

{EFFECT OF ENGLISH POETEY. 505

embassy, shown their active co-operation in the internal
troubles and changes of state and government, and if not in
themselves, at any rate in their friends and patrons, frequently
made sad and pleasant experiences ! How many have been
banished, imprisoned, or injured with respect to property!

Even the circumstance of being the spectator of such great
events calls man to seriousness ; and whither can seriousness
lead farther than to a contemplation of the transient nature and
worthlessness of all earthly things ? The German also is seri
ous, and thus English poetry was extremely suitable to him,
and, because it proceeded from a higher state of things, even im
posing. One finds in it throughout a great, apt understanding,
well practised in the world, a deep, tender heart, an excellent
will, an impassioned action, the very noblest qualities which
can be praised in an intellectual and cultivated man ; but all this
put together still makes no poet. True poetry announces itself
thus, that, as a worldly gospel, it can by internal cheerfulness
and external comfort free us from the earthly burdens which
press upon us. Like an air-balloon, it lifts us, together with
the ballast which is attached to us, into higher regions, and
lets the confused labyrinths of the earth lie developed before us
as in a bird s-eye view. The most lively, as well as the most
serious works, have the same aim of moderating both pleasure
and pain by a felicitous intellectual form. Let us only in this
spirit consider the majority of the English poems, chiefly
morally didactic, and on the average they will only show us a
gloomy weariness of life. Not only Young s Night Thoughts,
where this theme is pre-eminently worked out, but even the
other contemplative poems stray, before one is aware of it, into
this dismal region, where the understanding is presented with
a problem which it cannot solve, since even religion, much as it
can always construct for itself, leaves it in the lurch. Whole
volumes might be compiled, which could serve as a commen
tary to this frightful text

" Then old age and experience, hand in hand,
Lead him to death, and make him understand,
After a search so painful and so long,
That all his life he has been in the wrong."

What further makes the English poets accomplished misan
thropes, and diffuses over their writings the unpleasant feeling
of repugnance against everything, is the fact that the whole of
them, on account of the various divisions of their common-

506 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

wealth, must devote themselves for the best part, if not for the
whole of their lives, to one party or another. Because now a
writer of the sort cannot praise and extol those of the party
to which he belongs, nor the cause to which he adheres, since,
if he did, he would only excite envy arid hostility, he exercises
liis talent in speaking as badly as possible of those on the oppo
site side, and in sharpening, nay, poisoning the satirical wea
pons as much as he can. When this is done by both parties,
the world which lies between is destroyed and wholly annihi
lated, so that in a great mass of sensibly active people, one can
discover, to use the mildest terms, nothing but folly and mad
ness. Even their tender poems are occupied with mournful
subjects. Here a deserted girl is dying, there a faithful lover
is drowned, or is devoured by a shark before, by his hurried
swimming, he reaches his beloved ; and if a poet like Gray lies
down in a churchyard, and again begins those well-known
melodies, he too may gather round him a number of friends to
melancholy. Milton s Allegro must scare away gloom in vehe
ment verses, before he can attain a very moderate pleasure ;
and even the cheerful Goldsmith loses himself in elegiac feel
ings, when his Deserted Village, as charmingly as sadly, exhibits
to us a lost Paradise which his Traveller seeks over the whole
earth.

I do not doubt that lively works, cheerful poems, can be
brought forward and opposed to what I have said, but the
greatest number, and the best of them, certainly belong to the
older epoch; and the newer works, which may be set down in
the class, are likewise of a satirical tendency, are bitter, and
treat women especially with contempt.

Enough : those serious poems, undermining human nature,
which, in general terms, have been mentioned above, were the
favourites which we sought out before all others, one seeking,
according to his disposition, the lighter elegiac melancholy,
another the heavy oppressive despair, which gives up every
thing. Strangely enough, our father and instructor, Shak-
speare, who so well knew how to diffuse a pure cheerfulness,
strengthened our feeling of dissatisfaction. Hamlet and his
soliloquies were spectres which haunted all the young minds.
The chief passages every one knew by heart and loved to re
cite, and every body fancied he had a right to be just as melan
choly as the Prince of Denmark, though he had seen no ghost,
and had no royal father to avenge.

SUICIDE. 507

But that to all this melancholy a perfectly suitable locality
might not be wanting, Qssian had charmed us even to the
Ultima Thule, where on a gray, boundless heath, wandering
among prominent moss- covered grave-stones, we saw the grass
around us moved by an awful wind, and a heavily clouded
sky above us. It was not till moonlight that the Caledonian
night became day ; departed heroes, faded maidens, floated
around us, until at last we really thought we saw the spirit
of Loda in his fearful form.

In such an element, with such surrounding influences, with
tastes and studies of this kind, tortured by unsatisfied passions,
by no means excited from without to important actions, with
the sole prospect that we must adhere to a dull, spiritless,
citizen life, we became in gloomy wantonness attached to
the thought, that we could at all events quit life at pleasure,
if it no longer suited us, and thus miserably enough helped
ourselves through the disgusts and weariness of the days.
This feeling was so general, that Wer flier produced its great
effect precisely because it struck a chord everywhere, and
openly and intelligibly exhibited the internal nature of a mor
bid youthful delusion. How accurately the English were
acquainted with this sort of wretchedness is shown by the few
significant lines, written before the appearance of Werther

" To griefs congenial prone,
More wounds than nature gave he knew,
While misery s form his fancy drew
In dark ideal hues and horrors not its own."

Suicide is an event of human nature which, whatever may
be said and done with respect to it, demands the sympathy of
every man, and in every epoch must be discussed anew.
Montesquieu grants his heroes and great men the right of
killing themselves as they think fit, since he says that it must
be free to every one to close the fifth act of his tragedy as he
pleases. But here the discourse is not of those persons who have
led an active and important life, who have sacrificed their days
for a great empire, or for the cause of freedom, and whom one
cannot blame if they think to follow in another world the idea
which inspires them, as soon as it has vanished from the earth.
We have here to do with those whose life is embittered by a
want of action, in the midst of the most peaceful circumstances
in the world, through exaggerated demands upon themselves.
Since I myself was in this predicament, and best knew the

508 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

pain I suffered in it, and the exertion it cost me to free myself,
I will not conceal the reflections which I made, with much
deliberation, on the various kinds of death which one might
choose.

There is something so unnatural in a man tearing himself
away from himself, not only injuring, but destroying himself,
that he mostly seizes upon mechanical means to carry his
design into execution. When Ajax falls upon his sword, it
is the weight of his body which does him the last service.
When the warrior binds his shield-bearer not to let him fall
into the hands of the enemy, it is still an external force which
he secures, only a moral instead of a physical one. Women
seek in water a cooling for their despair, and the extremely
mechanical means of fire-arms ensure a rapid act with the
very least exertion. Hanging, one does not like to mention,
because it is an ignoble death. In England one may first find
it, because there, from youth upwards, one sees so many
hanged, without the punishment being precisely dishonourable.
By poison, by opening the veins, the only intention is to depart
slowly from life; and that most refined, rapid, and painless
death by an adder, was worthy of a queen, who had passed
her life in pleasure and brilliancy. But all these are external
aids, enemies with which man forms an alliance against
himself.

When now I considered all these means, and looked about
further in history, I found among all those who killed them
selves no one who did this deed with such greatness and
freedom of mind, as the Emperor Otho. He, having the
worst of it as a general, but being by no means reduced to
extremities, resolves to quit the world for the benefit of the
empire, which, in some measure, already belongs to him, and
for the sake of sparing so many thousands. He has a cheerful
supper with his friends, and the next morning it is found that
he has plunged a sharp dagger into his heart. This deed
alone seemed to me worthy of imitation ; and I was convinced
that whoever could not act in this like Otho, had no right to
go voluntarily out of the world. By these convictions, I freed
myself not so much from the danger as from the whim of sui
cide, which in those splendid times of peace, and with an
indolent youth, had managed to creep in. Among a consi
derable collection of weapons, I possessed a handsome, well
polished dagger. This I laid every night by my bed, and

JERUSALEM S DEATH. 509

before I extinguished the candle, I tried whether I could
succeed in plunging the sharp point a couple of inches deep
into my heart. Since I never could succeed in this, I at last
laughed myself out of the notion, threw off all hypochondriacal
fancies, and resolved to live. But to be able to do this with
cheerfulness, I was obliged to solve a poetical problem, by
which all that I had felt, thought, and fancied upon this im
portant point, should be reduced to words. For this purpose
I collected the elements which had been at work in me for a
few years ; I rendered present to my mind the cases which had
most afflicted and tormented me ; but nothing would come to
a definite form ; I lacked an event, a fable, in which they could
be overlooked.

All at once I heard the news of Jerusalem s death, and im
mediately after the general report, the most accurate and
circumstantial description of the occurrence, and at this
moment the plan of Werther was formed, and the whole shot
together from all sides, and became a solid mass, just as water
in a vessel, which stands upon the point of freezing, is con
verted into hard ice by the most gentle shake. To hold fast
this singular prize, to render present to myself, and to carry
out in all its parts a work of such important and various con
tents was the more material to me, as I had again fallen into a
painful situation, which left me even less hope than those
which had preceded it, and foreboded only sadness, if not
vexation.

It is always a misfortune to step into new relations to which
one has not been inured ; we are often against our will lured
into a false sympathy, the incompleteness^ of such positions
troubles us, and yet we see no means either of completing
them or of removing them.

Frau von Laroche had married her eldest daughter at
Frankfort, and often came to visit her, but could not reconcile
herself to the position which she herself had chosen. Instead
of feeling comfortable, or endeavouring to make any alteration,
she indulged in lamentations, so that one was really forced to
think that her daughter was unhappy ; although, as she wanted
nothing, and her husband denied her nothing, one could not
well see in what her unhappiness properly consisted. In the
meanwhile I was well received in the house, and came into

* "Halbheit" "Halfness" if there were such a word would be the
proper expression, Trans.

510 TBTJTH AND POETBY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

contact with the whole circle, which consisted of persons who
had partly contributed to the marriage, partly wished for it a
happy result. The Dean of St. Leonhard Dumeix conceived
a confidence, nay, a friendship for me. He was the first
Catholic clergyman with whom I had come into close contact,
and who, because he was a clear-sighted man, gave me beau
tiful and sufficient explanations of the faith, usages, and exter
nal and internal relations of the oldest church. The figure of
a well-formed though not young lady, named Servieres, I still
accurately remember. I likewise came into contact with the
Alosino-Schweizer, and other families, forming a connexion
with the sons, which long continued in the most friendly
manner, and all at once found myself domesticated in a strange
circle, in the occupations, pleasures, and even religious exer
cises of which I was induced, nay, compelled to take part.
My former relation to the young wife, which was, properly
speaking, only that of a brother to a sister, was continued
after marriage ; my age was suitable to her own ; I was the
only one in the whole circle in whom she heard an echo of
those intellectual tones to which she had been accustomed
from her youth. We lived on together in a childish confi
dence, and although there was nothing impassioned in our
intercourse, it was tormenting enough, because she also could,
not reconcile herself to her new circumstances, and although
blessed with the goods of fortune, had to act as the mother of
several step-children, being moreover transplanted from the
cheerful vale of Ehrenbreitstein. and a joyous state of youth
into a gloomily- situated mercantile house. Amid so many
new family connexions was I hemmed in, without any real
participation or co-operation. If they were satisfied with
each other, all seemed to go on as a matter of course ; but
most of the parties concerned turned to me in cases of vexa
tion, which by my lively sympathy I generally rendered worse
rather than better. In a short time this situation became
quite insupportable to me ; all the disgust at life which usually
springs from such half-connexions, seemed to burden me with
double and three fold weight, and a new strong resolution was
necessary to free myself from it.

Jerusalem s death, which was occasioned by his unhappy
attachment to the wife of his friend, shook me out of the
dream, and, because I not only visibly contemplated that
which had occurred to him and me, but something similar

WEBTHEB. 511

wliicli befel me at the moment, also stirred me to passionate
emotion, I could not do otherwise than breathe into that
production, which I had just undertaken, all that warmth
which leaves no distinction between the poetical and the
actual. I had completely isolated myself, nay, prohibited the
visits of my friends, and internally also I put everything
aside that did not immediately belong to the subject. On the
other hand, I embraced everything that had any relation to
my design, and repeated to myself my nearest life, of the
contents of which I had as yet made no practical use. Under
such circumstances, after such long and so many preparations
in secret, I wrote Weriher in four weeks without any scheme
of the whole, or treatment of any part, being previously put
on paper.

The manuscript, which w r as now finished, lay before me as
a rough draught, with few corrections and alterations. It was ,
stitched at once, for the binding is to a written work of about
the same use as the frame is to a picture ; one can much better
see whether there is really anything in it. Since I had written,
thus much, almost unconsciously, like a somnambulist, I was
myself astonished, now I went through it, that I might alter
and improve it in some respects. But in the expectation that
after some time, when I had seen it at a certain distance,
much would occur to me that would turn to the advantage of
the work, I gave it to my younger friends to read, upon,
whom it produced an effect so much the greater, as, contrary
to my usual custom, I had told no one of it, nor discovered my
design beforehand. Yet here again it was the subject-matter
which really produced the effect, and in this respect they were
in a frame of mind precisely the reverse of my own ; for by this
composition, more than by any other, I had freed myself from
that stormy element, upon which, through my own fault and
that of others, through a mode of life both accidental and
chosen, through design and thoughtless precipitation, through
obstinacy and pliability, I had been driven about in the most
violent manner. I felt, as if after a general confession, once
more happy and free, and justified in beginning a new life.
The old household had been of excellent service to me on this
occasion. But while I felt myself eased and enlightened by
having turned reality into poetry, my friends were led astray
by my work, for they thought that poetry ought to be turned
into reality, that such a moral was to be imitated, and that at

512 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

any rate one ought to shoot oneself. What had first hap
pened here among a few, afterwards took place among the
larger public, and this little book, which had been so beneficial
to me, was decried as extremely injurious.

But all the evils and misfortunes which it may have pro
duced were nearly prevented by an accident, since even after
its production it ran the risk of being destroyed. The matter
stood thus: Merk had lately returned from Petersburg; I
had spoken to him but little, because he was always occupied,
and only told him, in the most general terms, of that Werther
which lay next my heart. He once called upon me, and as
he did not seem very talkative, I asked him to listen to me.
He seated himself on the sofa, and I began to read the tale,
letter by letter. After I had gone on thus for a while, without
gaining from him any sign of admiration, I adopted a more
pathetic strain, but what were my feelings, when at a pause
which I made, he struck me down in the most frightful man
ner, with "Good! that s very pretty," and withdrew without
adding anything more. I was quite beside myself, for, as I
took great pleasure in my works, but at first passed no judg
ment on them, I here firmly believed that I had made a mis
take in subject, tone, and style all of which were doubtful
and had produced something quite inadmissible. Had a fire
been at hand, I should at once have thrown in the work ; but
I again plucked up courage, and passed many painful days,
until he at last assured me in confidence, that at that moment
he had been in the most frightful situation in which a man
can be placed. On this account, he said, he had neither
seen nor heard anything, and did not even know what the
manuscript was about. In the meanwhile the matter had
been set right, as far as was possible, and Merk, in the times
of his energy, was just the man to accommodate himself to
anything monstrous ; his humour returned, only it had grown
still more bitter than before. He blamed my design of re
writing Werther, with the same expressions which he had
used on a former occasion, and desired to see it printed just
as it was. A fair copy was made, which did not remain long
in my hands, for on the very day on which my sister was mar
ried to George Schlosser, a letter from Weygand, of Leipzig,
chanced to arrive, in which he asked me for a manuscript;
such a coincidence I looked upon as a favourable omen. I
sent off Werther, and was very well satisfied, when the remu-

EFFECT OF WEETHEK,

neration I received for it was not entirely swallowed up by
the debts which I had been forced to contract 011 account of
Gotz von Berlichingen.

The effect of this little book was great, nay immense, and
chiefly because it exactly hit the temper of the times. For as
it requires but a little match to blow up an immense mine, so
the explosion which followed my publication was mighty,
from the circumstance that the youthful world had already
undermined itself; and the shock was great, because all extra
vagant demands, unsatisfied passions, and imaginary wrongs,
were suddenly brought to an eruption. It cannot be expected
of the public that it should receive an intellectual work intel
lectually. In fact, it was only the subject, the material part,
that was considered, as I had already found to be the case
among my own friends ; w T hile at the same time arose that old
prejudice, associated with the dignity of a printed book,
that it ought to have a moral aim. But a true picture of life
has none. It neither approves nor censures, but developes
sentiments and actions in their consequences, and thereby
enlightens and instructs.

Of the reviews I took little notice. I had completely
washed my hands of the matter, and the good folks might
now try what they could make of it. Yet my friends did not
fail to collect these things, and as they were already initiated
into my views, to make merry with them. The Joys of
Youncj Werther, with which Nicolai came forth, gave us occa
sion for many a jest. This otherwise excellent, meritorious,
and well-informed man, had already begun to depreciate and
oppose everything that did not accord with his own way of
thinking, which, as he was of a very narrow mind, he held to
be the only correct way. Against me, too, he must needs try
his strength, and his pamphlet was soon in our hands. The
very delicate vignette, by Chodowiecki, gave me much delight;
as at that time I admired this artist extravagantly. The
jumbling medley itself was cut out of that rough house
hold stuff, which the human understanding, in its homely
limits, takes especial pains to make sufficiently coarse.
Without perceiving that there was nothing here to qualify,
that Werther s youthful bloom, from the very first, appears
gnawed by the deadly worm, Nicolai allows my treatment to
pass current up to the two hundred and fourteenth page, and
then, when the desolate mortal is preparing for the fatal step,

2L

514 TKUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE.

the acute psychological physician contrives to palm upon his
patient a pistol, loaded with chickens blood, from which a
filthy spectacle, but happily no mischief, arises. Charlotte
becomes the wife of Werther, and the whole affair ends to the
satisfaction of everybody.

So much I can recall to memory, for the book never came
before my eyes again. I had cut out the vignette, and placed it
among my most favourite engravings. I then, by way of quiet,
innocent revenge, composed a little burlesque poem, " Nicolai at
the grave of Werther ; which, however, cannot be communi
cated. On this occasion, too, the pleasure of giving everything
a dramatic shape, was again predominant. I wrote a prose
dialogue between Charlotte and Werther, which was tolerably
comical ; Werther bitterly complains that his deliverance by
chickens blood has turned out so badly. His life is saved, it is
true, but he has shot his eyes out. He is now in despair at
being her husband, without being able to see her; for the
complete view of her person would to him be much dearer
than all those pretty details of which he could assure himself
by the touch. Charlotte, as may be imagined, has no great
catch in a blind husband, and thus occasion is given to abuse
Nicolai pretty roundly, for interfering unasked in other peo
ple s affairs. The whole was written in a good-natured spirit,
and painted, with prophetic forebodings, that unhappy, con
ceited humour of Nicolai s, w^hich led him to meddle with
things beyond his compass, which gave great annoyance both
to himself and others, and by which, eventually, in spite of his
undoubted merits, he entirely destroyed his literary repu
tation. The original of this jeu d esprit was never copied,
and has been lost sight of for years. I had a special predi
lection for the little production. The pure, ardent attach
ment of the two young persons, was rather heightened than
diminished by the comico-tragic situation into which they were
thus transposed. The greatest tenderness prevailed through
out ; and even my adversary was not treated illnaturedly , but
only humourously. I did not, however, let the book itself
speak quite so politely; in imitation of an old rhyme it
expressed itself thus :

" By that conceited man by him
I m dangerous declar d,
The heavy man, who cannot swim,
Is by the water scar d,

EFFECT OF WERTHEK. 515

That Berlin pack, priest-ridden lot
Their ban I do not heed,
And those who understand me not
Should better learn to read."

Being prepared for all that might be alleged against Werth&r,
I found those attacks, numerous as they were, by no means
annoying ; but I had no anticipation of the intolerable torment
provided for me by sympathizers and well-wishers. These,
instead of saying anything civil to me about my book just as
it was, wished to know, one and all, what was really true in
it ; at which I grew very angry, and often expressed myself
with great discourtesy. To answer this question, I should
have been obliged to pull to pieces and destroy the form of a
work on which I had so long pondered, with the view of giving
a poetical unity to its many elements ; and in this operation, if
the essential parts were not destroyed, they would, at least,
have been scattered and dispersed. However, upon a closer
consideration of the matter, I could not take the public inqui-
sitiveness in ill part. Jerusalem s fate had excited great atten
tion. An educated, amiable, blameless young man, the son of
one of the first theologians and authors, healthy and opulent,
had at once, without any known cause, destroyed himself.
Every one asked how this was possible, and when they heard
of an unfortunate love affair, the whole youth were excited, and
as soon as it transpired that some little annoyances had oc
curred to him in the higher circles, the middle classes also
became excited ; indeed every one was anxious to learn further
particulars. Now Werther appeared an exact delineation, as
it was thought, of the life and character of that young man.
The locality and person tallied, and the narrative was so very
natural, that they considered themselves fully informed and
satisfied. But, on the other hand, on closer examination, there
was so much that did not fit, that there arose, for those who
sought the truth, an unmanageable business, because a critical
investigation must necessarily produce a hundred doubts. The
real groundwork of the affair was, however, not to be fathomed,
for all that I had interwoven of my own life and suffering
could not be deciphered, because, as an unobserved young
man, I had secretly, though not silently, pursued my course.

While engaged in my work, I was fully aware how highly
that artist was favoured who had an opportunity of composing
a Venus from the study of a variety of beauties. Accordingly

516 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

|

I took leave to model my Charlotte according to the shape and
qualities of several pretty girls, although the chief charac
teristics were taken from the one I loved best. The inqui
sitive public could therefore discover similarities in various
ladies ; and even to the ladies themselves it was not quite in
different to be taken for the right one. But these several Char
lottes caused me infinite trouble, because every one who only
looked at me seemed determined to know where the proper one if
really resided. I endeavoured to save myself, like Nathan* I
with the three rings, by an expedient, which, though it might
suit higher beings, would not satisfy either the believing or the
reading public. I hoped after a time to be freed from such
tormenting inquiries, but they pursued me through my whole
life. I sought, on my travels, to escape them, by assuming an
incognito, but even this remedy was, to my disappointment,
unavailing, and thus the author of the little work, had he even
done anything wrong and mischievous, was sufficiently, I may
say disproportionately, punished by such unavoidable impor
tunities.

Subjected to this kind of infliction, I was taught but too
unequivocally, that authors and their public are separated by
an immense gulf, of which, happily, neither of them have any
conception. The uselessness, therefore, of all prefaces I had
long ago seen ; for the more pains a writer takes to render his
views clear, the more occasion he gives for embarrassment.
Besides, an author may preface as elaborately as he will, the
public will always go on making precisely those demands
which he has endeavoured to avoid. With a kindred pecu
liarity of readers, which (particularly with those who print
their judgments) seems remarkably comical, I was likewise
soon acquainted. They live, for instance, in the delusion that
an author, in producing anything, becomes their debtor; and
he always falls short of what they wished and expected of
him, although before they had seen our work, they had not
the least notion that anything of the kind existed, or was even
possible. Independent of all this, it was now the greatest
fortune, or misfortune, that every one wished to make the
acquaintance of this strange young author, who had stepped
forward so unexpectedly and so boldly. They desired to see
him, to speak to him, and, even at a distance, to hear some-

* " Nathan the wise," in Lessing s play, founded on Boccacio s tale of
the rings. Trans.

DRAMATIC TENDENCY. 517

thing from him; thus he had to undergo a very consider
able crowd, sometimes pleasant, sometimes disagreeable, but
always distracting. For enough works already begun lay
before him, nay, and would have given him abundance of work
for some years, if he could have kept to them with his old
fervour ; but he was drawn forth from the quiet, the twilight,
the obscurity, which alone can favour pure creation, into the
noise of daylight, where one is lost in others, where one is led
astray, alike by sympathy and by coldness, by praise and by
blame, because outward contact never accords with the epoch
of our inner culture, and therefore, as it cannot further us,
must necessarily injure us.

Yet more than by all the distractions of the day, the author
was kept from the elaboration and completion of greater works
by the taste then prevalent in this society for dramatizing
everything of importance which occurred in actual life. What
that technical expression (for such it was in our inventive society)
really meant, shall here be explained. Excited by intellectual
meetings on days of hilarity, we were accustomed, in short
extemporary performances, to communicate, in fragments, all
the materials we had collected towards the formation of larger
compositions. One single simple incident, a pleasantly naive
or even silly word, a blunder, a paradox, a clever remark,
personal singularities or habits, nay, a peculiar expression, and
whatever else would occur in a gay and bustling life took the
form of a dialogue, a catechism, a passing scene, or a drama,-
often in prose, but oftener in verse.

By this practice, carried on with genial passion, the really
poetic mode of thought was established. We allowed objects,
events, persons, to stand for themselves in all their bearings,
our only endeavour being to comprehend them clearly, and
exhibit them vividly. Every expression of approbation
or disapprobation was to pass in living forms before the
eyes of the spectator. These productions might be called ani
mated epigrams, which, though without edges or points, were
richly furnished with marked and striking features. The Jahr-
marktsfest (Fair-festival) is an epigram of this kind, or rather a
collection of such epigrams. All the characters there introduced
are meant for actual living members of that society, or for per
sons at least connected and in some degree known to it ; but the
meaning of the riddle remained concealed to the greater part ;
all laughed, and few knew that their own marked peculiarities

518 TETTTH AND POETHY ; PROM MY OWN LIFE.

served as the jest. The prologue to Barttis Newest Revelations
may be looked upon as a document of another kind; the smallest
pieces are among the miscellaneous poems, a great many have
been destroyed or lost, and some that still exist do not admit
of being published. Those which appeared in print only in
creased the excitement of the public, and curiosity about the
author ; those which were handed about in manuscript enter
tained the immediate circle, which was continually increasing.
Doctor Barth, then at Giessen, paid me a visit, apparently
courteous and confiding ; he laughed over the prologue, and
wished to be placed on a friendly footing. But we young
people still continued to omit no opportunity at social festivals,
of sporting, in a malicious vein, at the peculiarities which we
had remarked in others, and successfully exhibited.

If now it was by no means displeasing to the young author
to be stared at as a literary meteor, he nevertheless sought,
with glad modesty, to testify his esteem for the most deserving
men of his country, among whom, before all others, the admi
rable Justus Moser claims especial mention. The little essays
on political subjects by this incomparable man, had been printed
some years before in the Osnaburg Intelligenzblatter, and made
known to me through Herder, who overlooked nothing of worth
that appeared in his time, especially if in print. Moser s daugh
ter, Frau von Voigt, was occupied in collecting these scattered
papers. We had scarcely patience to wait for their publica
tion, and I placed myself in communication with her, to assure
her, with sincere interest, that the essays, which, both in
matter and form, had been addressed only to a limited circle,
would be useful and beneficial everywhere. She and her
father received these assurances from a stranger, not altogether
unknown, in the kindest manner, since an anxiety which they
had felt, was thus preliminarily removed.

What is in the highest degree remarkable and commendable
in these little essays, all of which being composed in one spirit,
form together a perfect whole, is the very intimate knowledge
they display of the whole civil state of man. We see a sys
tem resting upon the past, and still in vigorous existence. On.
the one hand there is a firm adherence to tradition, on the other,
movement and change which cannot be prevented. Here
alarm is felt at a useful novelty, there pleasure in what is new,
although it be useless, or even injurious. With what freedom
from prejudice the author explains the relative position of dif-

JUSTUS MOESER. 519

ferent ranks, and the connexion in which cities, towns, and
villages mutually stand ! We learn their prerogatives, together
with the legal grounds of them ; we are told where the main
capital of the state is invested, and what interest it yields.
We see property and its advantages on the one hand, on
the other, taxes and disadvantages of various kinds; and then
the numerous branches of industry ; and in all this past and
present times are contrasted.

Osnaburg, as a member of the Hanseatic League, we are told,
had in the earlier periods an extensive and active commerce.
According to the circumstances of those times, it had a re
markable and fine situation; it could receive the produce of
the country, and was not too far removed from the sea to
transport it in its own ships. But now, in later times, it lies
deep in the interior, and is gradually removed and shut out
from the sea trade. How this has occurred, is explained in all
its bearings. The conflict between England and the coasts, and
of the havens with the interior, is mentioned ; here are set forth
the great advantages of those who live on the sea-side, and
deliberate plans are proposed for enabling the inhabitants of the
interior to obtain similar advantages. We then learn a great
deal about trades and handicrafts, and how these have been
outstripped by manufactures, and undermined by shop-keeping ;
decline is pointed out as the result of various causes, and this
result, in its turn, as the cause of a further decline, in an end
less circle, which it is difficult to unravel ; yet it is so clearly
set forth by the vigilant citizen, that one fancies one can see
the way to escape from it. The author throughout displays
the clearest insight into the most minute circumstances. His
proposals, his counsel nothing is drawn from the air, and yet
they are often impracticable; on which account he calls his
collection "patriotic fancies," although everything in it is
based on the actual and the possible.

But as everything in public life is influenced by domestic
condition, this especially engages his attention. As objects both
of his serious and sportive reflections, we find the changes in
manners and customs, dress, diet, domestic life, and educa
tion. It would be necessary to indicate everything which exists
in the civil and social world, to exhaust the list of subjects
which he discusses. And his treatment of them is admirable.
A thorough man of business discourses with the people in
weekly papers, respecting whatever a wise and beneficent

520 TllUTH AND POETRY ; 1 ROM MY OWN LIFE.

government undertakes or carries out, that he may bring it to
their comprehension in its true light. This is by no means
done in a learned manner, but in those varied forms which
may be called poetic, and which, in the best sense of the
word, must certainly be considered rhetorical. He is always
elevated above his subject, and understands how to give a
cheerful view of the most serious subjects; now half- concealed
behind this or that mask, now speaking in his own person,
always complete and exhausting his subject, at the same
time always in good humour; more or less ironical, tho
roughly to the purpose, honest, well-meaning, sometimes rough
and vehement; and all this so well regulated, that the spirit,
understanding, facility, skill, taste, and character of the author
cannot but be admired. In the choice of subjects of general
utility, deep insight, enlarged views, happy treatment, pro
found yet cheerful humour, I knoAV no one to whom I can
compare him but Franklin.

Such a man had an imposing effect upon us, and greatly
influenced a youthful generation, which demanded something
sound, and stood ready to appreciate it. We thought we could
adapt ourselves to the form of his exposition ; but who could
hope to make himself master of so rich an entertainment, and
to handle the most unmanageable subjects with so much ease ?

But this is our purest and sweetest illusion one which we
cannot resign, however much pain it may cause us through
life that we would, where possible, appropriate to ourselves,
nay, even reproduce and exhibit as our own, that which we
prize and honour in others.

END OF THE THIRTEENTH BOOK.

LONDON : HARRISON AND CO., PRINTERS, ST. MARTINIS LANE.

Hi!