THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 THE 
 
 TRUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 from tfjt erman 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN OXENFORD. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 [BOOKS L-XIII.-) 
 
 EEVISED EDITION. 
 
 LONDON : GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, 
 COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 1891.
 
 207-3- 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 BEPBINTED FROM STEREOTYPE PLATES BY WM. CLOWES AKD SONS, LIMITED. 
 STAMFOED STREET AND CHAKING CBOSS. 
 
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 301 
 
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 N. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 t ~^~ 
 
 BEFOBE the following translation was commenced, the 
 
 first 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 
 original, it was perceived that the American version was 
 not sufficiently faithful, and therefore the present was 
 undertaken. The Translator, however, is bound to 
 acknowledge, that he found many successful renderings 
 in the work of his predecessor, and these he has 
 engrafted without hesitation. 
 
 The title ".Truth and Poetry " is adopted in common 
 with the American translation, as the nearest rendering 
 of WaJirheit und DicTitung. 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. 
 
 3005624
 
 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 
 nis literary career, and the length of time which has since 
 elapsed, that a dozen small volumes must appear incommen- 
 surate. Nor can one forget that, with respect to the detached 
 pieces, they have mostly been called forth by special occasions, 
 and reflect particular external objects, as well as distinct 
 grades of inward culture ; while it is equally clear, that 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 ATTTHOB S PREFACB. 
 
 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 
 linds to him ; and if it is not granted to every one to step 
 forth anew, at a certain age, with surprising and powerful 
 productions, yet just at that period of life when know- 
 ledge is most perfect, and consciousness most distinct, it 
 must be a very agreeable and re-animating task to treat 
 former creations as new matter, and work them up into a 
 kind of Last Part, which may serve once more for the edifi- 
 cation of those who have been previously edified with and 
 by the artist." 
 
 This desire, so kindly expressed, immediately awakened 
 within me an inclination to comply with it ; for, if in the 
 early years of life our passions lead us to follow our own 
 course, and, in order not to swerve from it, we impatiently 
 repel the demands of others, so, in our later days, it becomes 
 highly advantageous to us, should any sympathy excite and 
 determine us, cordially, to new activity. I therefore instantly 
 undertook the preparatory labour of separating the poems of 
 my twelve volumes, both great and small, and of arranging 
 them according to years. I strove to recall the times and 
 circumstances under which each had been produced. But the 
 task soon grew more difficult, as full explanatory notes and 
 illustrations were necessary to fill up the chasms between those 
 which had already been given to the world. For, in the first 
 place, all on which I had originally exercised myself were 
 wanting, many that had been begun and not finished were 
 also wanting, and of many that were finished even the external 
 form had completely disappeared, having since been entirely 
 reworked and cast into a different shape. Besides, I had also 
 to call to mind how I had laboured in the sciences and other 
 arts, and what, in such apparently foreign departments, both 
 individually and in conjunction with friends, I had practised 
 in silence, or had laid before the public.
 
 TEUTH AND POETRY; 
 
 FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 PART THE FIRST. 
 
 O p.}) Sapeis avflponros oil iraiSeverai. 
 
 FIRST BOOK. 
 
 the 28th of August, 1749, at mid-day, as the clock struck 
 twelve, I came into the world, at Frankfort-on-the-Maine. 
 My horoscope was propitious : the sun stood in the sign of 
 the Virgin, and had culminated for the day ; Jupiter and 
 Venus looked on him with a friendly eye, and Mercury not 
 adversely; while Saturn and Mars kept themselves indifferent; 
 the Moon alone, just full, exerted the power of her reflection 
 all the more, as she had then reached her planetary hour. 
 She opposed herself, therefore, to my birth, which could not 
 be accomplished until this hour was passed. 
 
 These good aspects, which the astrologers managed subse- 
 quently to reckon very auspicious for me, may have been the 
 causes of my preservation ; for, through the unskilfulness of 
 the midwife, I came into the world as dead, and only after 
 various efforts was I enabled to see the light. This event, 
 which had put our household into sore straits, turned to the 
 advantage of my fellow-citizens, inasmuch as my grandfather, 
 the Schultheiss* John Wolfgang Textor, took occasion from 
 it to have an accoucheur established, and to introduce or 
 revive the tuition of midwives, which may have done some 
 good to those who were born after me. 
 
 When we desire to recall what befel us in the earliest 
 period of youth, it often happens that we confound what we 
 nave 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 * A chief judge or magistrate of the town,
 
 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFfi. 
 
 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 (Gerdms). 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 piiblic. We children, too, by 
 means of these frames, were brought into contact with our 
 neighbours, of whom three brothers Von Ochsenstein, the 
 -urviving sons of the deceased Schultheiss, living on the other 
 side of the way, won my love, and occupied and diverted 
 themselves with me in many ways. 
 
 Our family liked to tell of all sorts of waggeries to which I 
 was enticed by these otherwise grave and solitary men. Let 
 one of these pranks suffice for all. A crockery fair had just 
 been held, from which not only our kitchen had been supplied 
 for a while with articles for a long time to come, but a great 
 deal of small gear of the same ware had been purchased as 
 playthings for us children. One fine afternoon, when every 
 thing was quiet in the house, I whiled away the time with 
 my pots and dishes in the Frame, and finding that nothing 
 more was to be got out of them, hurled one of them into the 
 street. The Von Ochsensteins, who saw me so delighted at 
 the fine smash it made, that I clapped my hands for joy, cried 
 out, "Another." I was not long in flinging out a pot, and as 
 they made no end to their calls for more, by degrees the 
 whole collection, platters, pipkins, mugs and all, were dashed 
 upon the pavement. My neighbours continued to express 
 fheir approbation, and I was highly delighted to give them 
 pleasure. But my stock was exhausted, and still they shouted, 
 " More." I ran, therefore, straight to the kitchen, and 
 brought the earthenware, which produced a still livelier spec- 
 tacle in breaking, and thus I kept running backwards and 
 forwards, fetching one plate after another as I could reach it
 
 THE STAG-DITCfl. 3 
 
 trom 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 tfll afterwards 
 that any one appeared to hinder and save. The mischief was 
 done, and in place of so much broken crockery, there was at 
 least a ludicrous story, in which the roguish authors took 
 special delight to the end of their days. 
 
 My father's mother, in whose house we properly dwelt, 
 lived in a large back-room directly on the ground floor, and 
 we were accustomed to carry on our sports even up to her 
 chair, and when she was ill, up to her bedside. I remember 
 her, as it were, a spirit, a handsome, thin woman, always^ 
 neatly dressed in white. Mild, gentle, and kind, she has ever 
 remained in my memory. 
 
 The street in which our house was situated passed by the 
 name of the Stag-Ditch; but as neither stags nor ditches 
 were to be seen, we wished to have the expression explained. 
 They told us that our house stood on a spot that was once 
 outside the city, and that where the street now ran had 
 formerly been a ditch, in which a number of stags were kept. 
 These stags were preserved and fed here because the senate 
 every year, according to an ancient custom, feasted publicly 
 on a stag, which was therefore always at hand in the ditch 
 for such a festival, in case princes or knights interfered witli 
 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 tying 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 
 
 I
 
 4 TBUTH 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 Hb'chst. 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. f^Xjid 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 themseh-es, and could hear the bowls rolling and the 
 nine pins dropping, it early excited within me a feeling of 
 olitude, 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 compelleuto 
 sleep alone, and when we found this impossible, and softly 
 slipped from our beds to seek the society of the servants an 1 
 maids, our father, with his dressing-gown turned inside oui;, 
 which disguised him sufficiently for the purpose, placed hint- 
 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 og the house my eyes were chiefly attracted 
 by a series of Roman Views, with which my father had orna- 
 mented an ante-room. They were engravings by some of the 
 accomplished predecessors of Piranesi, who well understood 
 perspective and architecture, and whose touches were clear
 
 THE 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. Angela, 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 service to him in this work. 
 The old man moreover did not sing badly, and my mother 
 every day must needs accompany him and herself upon the 
 clavichord, and thus I speedily learned the Solitario bosco om- 
 broso so as to know it by heart before I understood it. 
 
 My father was altogether of a didactic turn, and in his 
 retirement from business liked to communicate to others what 
 he knew or was able to do. Thus, during the first years of 
 their marriage, he had kept my mother busily engaged 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- i^. 
 mother, in whose spacious apartment we found plenty of N 
 room for our sports. She contrived to engage us with various 
 trifles, and to regale us with all sorts of nice morsels. But 
 one Christmas evening, she crowned all her kind deeds, by 
 having a puppet-sho* exhibited before us, and thus unfolding 
 a new world in tin 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 TBUTH AND POETKY J FBOM 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 oui 
 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 
 l ;targe plans of building, which were now immediately begun. 
 In Frankfort, as in many other old towns, when anybody put 
 up a wooden structure, he ventured, for the sake of space, to 
 make not only the first, but each successive story project 
 over the lower one, by which means narrow streets especially 
 were rendered somewhat dark and confined. At last a law 
 was passed, that every one putting up a new house from the 
 ground, should confine his projections to the first upper story, 
 and carry the others up perpendicularly. My father, that he 
 might not lose the projecting space in the second story, caring 
 little for outward architectural appearance, and anxious only 
 for the good and convenient arrangement of the interior, 
 resorted to the expedient which others had employed before 
 him, of propping the upper part of the house, until one part 
 after another had been removed from the bottom upwards, 
 and a new house, as it were, inserted in its place. Thus, 
 while comparatively none of the old structure remained, the 
 new one merely passed for a repair. Now as the tearing down 
 and building up was done gradually, my father determined 
 not to quit the house, that he might better direct and give 
 his orders as he possessed a good knowledge of the techni- 
 calities of building. At the same time he would not suffer his 
 family to leave him. This new epoch was very surprising and 
 strange for the children. To see the rooms in which they 
 had so often been confined and pestered with wearisome tasks 
 and studies, the passages they had played in, the walls which 
 had always been kept so carefully clean, all falling before the 
 mason's hatchet and the carpenter's axe and that from the 
 bottom upwards ; to float as it were in the air, propped up by 
 beams, being, at the same time, constantly confined to a 
 certain lesson, or definite task all this produced a commo- 
 tion in our young heads that was not easily settled. But the 
 young people felt the inconvenience less, because they had 
 somewhat more space for play than before, and had many 
 opportunities of swinging on beams, and playing at see-saw 
 with the boards.
 
 THE WALK BOUND FBANKFOET. 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 rudef 
 mass of young creatures, they were compelled unexpectedly to i 
 suffer everything from the vulgar, bad, and even base, since 
 they lacked both weapons and skill to protect themselves. 
 
 It was properly about this period that I first became ac- 
 quainted with my native city, which I strolled over with more 
 and more freedom, in every direction, sometimes alone, and 
 sometimes in the company of lively companions. To convey to 
 others in any degree the impression made upon me by these 
 grave and revered spots, I must here introduce a description 
 of my birth-place, as in its different parts it was gradually 
 unfolded to me. I loved more than anything else to pro- 
 menade on the great bridge over the Maine. Its length, its 
 firmness, and its fine appearance, rendered it a notable struc- 
 ture, and it was, besides, almost the only memorial left from 
 ancient times of the precautions due from the civil govern- 
 ment to its citizens. The beautiful stream above and below 
 bridge, attracted my eye, and when the gilt weathercock on 
 the bridge-cross glittered in the sunshine, I always had a 
 pleasant feeling. Generally I extended my walk through 
 Sachsenhausen, and for a Kreutzer was ferried comfortably 
 across the river. I was now again on this side of the stream, 
 stole along to the wine market, and admired the mechanism 
 of the cranes when goods were unloaded. But it was par- 
 ticularly entertaining to watch the arrival of the market-boats, 
 from which so many and such extraordinary figures were seen 
 to disembark. On entering the city, the Saalhof, which at 
 least stood on the spot where the Castle of Emperor Charle- 
 magne and his successors was reported to have been, was 
 greeted every time with profound reverence. One liked to 
 lose oneself in the old trading town, particularly on market-
 
 8 TRUTH AND 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 Pfarreisen 
 were very important places for us children, and we carried 
 many a Batzen to them in order to purchase sheets of coloured 
 paper stamped with gold animals. But seldom, however, 
 could one make one's way through the narrow, crowded, and 
 dirty market-place. I call to mind, also, that I always flew 
 past the adjoining meat-stalls, narrow and disgusting as they 
 were, in perfect horror. On the other hand, the Roman Hill 
 (Rbmerberg') was a most delightful place for walking. The 
 way to the New-Town, along by the new shops, was always 
 cheering and pleasant ; yet we regretted that a street did not 
 lead into the Zeil by the Church of Our Lady, and that 
 we always had to go a round-about way by tho Hasengasse, 
 or the Catherine Gate. But what chietiy attracted the child's 
 attention, were the many little towns within the town, the 
 fortresses within the fortress ; viz., the walled monastic en- 
 closures, and several other precincts, remaining from earlier 
 times, and more or less like castles as the Nuremberg Court, 
 the Compostella, the Braunfels, the ancestral house of the 
 family of Stallburg, and several strongholds, in later days 
 transformed into dwellings and warehouses. No architecture 
 of an elevating kind was then to be seen in Frankfort, and 
 every thing pointed to a period long past and unquiet, both 
 for town and district. Gates and towers, which defined the 
 bounds of the old city, then further on again, gates, towers, 
 walls, bridges, ramparts, moats, with which the new city was 
 encompassed, all showed, but too plainly, that a necessity 
 for guarding the common weal in disastrous times had in 
 duced these arrangements, that all the squares and streets, 
 even the newest, broadest, and best laid out, owed their 
 origin to chance and caprice and not to any regulating mind. 
 A certain liking for the antique was thus implanted in the 
 Boy, and was specially nourished and promoted by old chro- 
 nicles and wood-cuts, as for instance, those of Grave relating 
 to the siege of Frankfort. At the same time a different taste 
 was developed in him for observing the conditions of man- 
 kind, in their manifold variety and naturalness, without
 
 THE COTTNCIL-HOTTSE. 
 
 regard to their importance or beauty. It was, therefore, one 
 of our favourite walks, which we endeavoured to take now 
 and then in the course of a year, to follow the circuit of tha 
 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 nighj, 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 Romans. In 
 its lower vault-like halls we liked but too well to lose our- 
 selves. We obtained an entrance, too, into the large and 
 very simple session-room of the Council. The walls as well 
 as the arched ceiling were white, though wainscotted to a 
 certain height, and the whole was without a trace of painting, 
 or any kind of carved work ; only, high up on the middle 
 wall, might be read this brief inscription : 
 
 " One man's word is no man's word, 
 Justice needs that both be heard." 
 
 After the most ancient fashion, benches were ranged around 
 the wainscotting, and raised one step above the floor for the 
 accommodation of the members of the assembly. This readily 
 suggested to us why the order of rank in our senate was dis- 
 tributed by benches. To the left of the door, on the oppo- 
 site corner, sat the 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 TRUTH AND POETRY ; 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 Homer , 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 admiraL/ty-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. 
 
 v 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 statute* 
 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 of that brave 
 Gunther, so much prized both by Mend and foe. The famous 
 stone which formerly covered it is set up in the choir. The 
 door close by, leading into the conclave, remained long shut 
 against us, until we at last managed through the higher 
 authorities, to gain access to this celebrated place. But we 
 should have done better had we continued as before to picture 
 it merely in our imagination ; for we found this room, which 
 is so remarkable in German history, where the most powerful 
 princes were accustomed to meet for an act so momentous, in 
 no respect worthily adorned, and even disfigured with beams, 
 poles, scaffolding, and similar lumber, which people had 
 wanted to put out of the way. The imagination, for that 
 very reason, was the more excited and the heart elevated, 
 when we soon after received permission to be present in the 
 Council-House, at the exhibition of the Golden Bull to some 
 distinguished strangers. 
 
 The Boy then heard, with much curiosity, what his own 
 family, as well as other older relations and acquaintances, 
 liked to tell and repeat, viz., the histories of the two last 
 coronations, which had followed close upon each other; fcu 
 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 magnificeni 
 leasts 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 POETHT; FKOM MY OWN LIFR. 
 
 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 
 liis little purse permitted. At the same time he obtained a 
 notion of what the world produces, what it wants, and what 
 the inhabitants of its different parts exchange with each 
 other. 
 
 These great epochs, which came round regularly in spring 
 and autumn, were announced by curious solemnities, which 
 seemed the more dignified because they vividly brought 
 before us the old time, and what had come down from it to 
 ourselves. On Escort-day, the whole population were on 
 their legs, thronging to the fahrgasse, to the bridge, and 
 beyond Sachsenhausen ; all the windows were occupied, though 
 nothing unusual took place on that day ; the crowd seeming 
 to be there only for the sake of jostling each other, and the 
 spectators merely to look at one another ; for the real occa- 
 sion of their coming did not begin till nightfall, and was then 
 rather taken upon trust than seen with the eyes. 
 
 The affair was thus : in those old, unquiet times, when every 
 one did wrong according to his pleasure, or helped the right 
 as his liking led him, traders on their way to the fairs were 
 so wilfully beset and harassed by waylayers, both of noble and 
 ignoble birth, that princes and other persons of power caused 
 their people to be accompanied to Frankfort by an armed 
 escort. Now the burghers of the imperial city would 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, uot only
 
 THE "PIPER'S COURT." 18 
 
 ji regard to matters of trade and fairs, but also when high 
 personages came, in times of peace or war, and especially on 
 the days of election ; and as the affair often came to blows 
 when a train which was not to be endured in the city strove 
 to make its way in along with its lord, many negotiations had 
 from time to time been resorted to, and many temporary 
 arrangements concluded, though always with reservations of 
 rights on both sides. The hope had not been relinquished of 
 composing once for all a quarrel that had already lasted for 
 centuries, inasmuch as the whole institution, on account of 
 which it had been so long and often so hotly contested, might 
 be looked upon as nearly useless, or at least as superfluous. 
 
 Meanwhile, on those days, the city cavalry in several divi- 
 sions, each having a commander in front, rode forth from 
 different gates and found on a certain spot some troopers or 
 hussars of the persons entitled to an escort, who with their 
 leaders were well received and entertained. They stayed till 
 *owards evening, and then rode back to the city, scarcely 
 visible to the expectant crowd, many a city knight not being 
 in a condition to manage his horse, or keep himself in the 
 saddle. The most important bands returned by the bridge- 
 gate, where the pressure was consequently the strongest. Last 
 of all, just as night fell, the Nuremberg post-coach arrived, 
 escorted in the same way, and always containing, as the 
 people fancied, in pursuance of custom, an old woman. Its 
 arrival, therefore, was a signal for all the urchins to break out 
 into an ear-splitting shout, though it was utterly impossible to 
 distinguish any one of the passengers within. The throng 
 that pressed after the coach through the bridge-gate was quite 
 incredible, and perfectly bewildering to the senses. The houses 
 nearest the bridge were those, therefore, most in demand 
 among spectators. 
 
 Another more singular ceremony, by which the people were 
 excited in broad daylight, was the Piper's-court (Pfeifer- 
 gericht}. It commemorated those early times when important 
 larger trading-towns endeavoured, if not to abolish tolls alto- 
 gether, at least to bring about a reduction of them, as they 
 increased in proportion with trade and industry. They were 
 allowed this privilege by the Emperor who needed their aid, 
 when it was in his power to grant it, but commonly only for 
 one year ; so that it had to be annually renewed. This was
 
 14 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN 
 
 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 ScJioffen. 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 Hail, the Schoffen took their elevated seats; 
 a step higher, sat the f'-'ntifheiss 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
 
 StTMMEB AMUSEMENTS. 15 
 
 old felt hat, which was always redeemed again, so that the 
 same one had been a witness of these ceremonies for many 
 years. 
 
 After the deputy had made his address, handed over his 
 present, and received from the Schultheiss assurance of con- 
 tinued favour, he quitted the enclosed circle, the pipers blew, 
 the train departed as it had come, the court pursued its busi- 
 ness, until the second and at last the third deputy had been 
 introduced. For each came some time after the other ; partly 
 that the pleasure of the public might thus be prolonged, 
 and partly because they were always the same antiquated 
 virtuosi whom Nuremberg, for itself and its co-cities, had 
 undertaken to maintain and produce annually at the appointed 
 place. 
 
 We children were particularly interested in this festival, 
 because we were not a little flattered to see our grandfather in 
 a place of so much honour ; and because commonly, on the 
 self-same day, we used to visit him, quite modestly, in order 
 that we might, when my grandmother had emptied the pepper 
 Into her spice box, lay hold of a cup or small rod, a pair of 
 gloves or an old Rader 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 POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIPK. 
 
 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 
 .he 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
 
 FBA.NKFOBT ARTISTS. 1? 
 
 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 oft 7 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 they had 
 become darker and browner ; and that the harmony of tone 
 in such pictures was often vaunted. My father, on the other 
 hand, protested that he had no fear that the new pictures 
 would not also turn black in time, though whether they were 
 likely to gain anything by this he was not so positive. 
 
 In pursuance of these principles, he employed for many 
 years the whole of the Frankfort artists : the painter HIRT, 
 who excelled in animating oak and beech woods, and other so- 
 called rural scenes, with cattle; TRAUTMANN, who had 
 adopted Rembrandt as his model, and had attained great per- 
 fection in inclosed lights and reflections, as well as in effective 
 conflagrations, so that he was once ordered to paint a com- 
 panion-piece to a Rembrandt; SCHUTZ, 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, 
 
 a
 
 18 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFB. 
 
 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 
 sapriciousness. 
 
 Intimations of this event had spread over wide regions 
 more quickly than the authentic reports : slight shocks had been 
 felt in many places : in many springs, particularly those of a 
 mineral nature, an unusual receding of the waters had been
 
 EARTHQUAKE AT LISBON. 19 
 
 remarked; and so much the greater was the effect of the 
 accounts themselves, which were rapidly circulated, at first in 
 general terms, but finally with dreadful particulars. Here- 
 upon, the religious were neither wanting in reflections, nor 
 the philosophic in grounds for consolation, nor the clergy in 
 warnings. So complicated an event arrested the attention of 
 the world for a Jong time ; and, as additional and more de- 
 tailed accounts of the extensive effects of this explosion came 
 from every quarter, the minds already aroused by the misfor- 
 tunes of strangers, began to be more and more anxious about 
 themselves and their friends. Perhaps the demon of terror 
 had never so speedily and powerfully diffused his terrors over 
 the earth. 
 
 The Boy, who was compelled to put up with frequent repe- 
 titions of the whole matter, was not a little staggered. God, 
 the Creator and Preserver of Heaven and Earth, whom the 
 explanation of the first article of the Creed declared so wise 
 and benignant, having given both the just and the unjust a 
 prey to the same destruction, had not manifested Himself, by 
 any means, in a fatherly character. In vain the young mind 
 jtrove 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 
 o 2
 
 20 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 himself had undertaken to give us children. He had passed 
 his youth in the Cobourg 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 adition* 
 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 
 eemed 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
 
 JtTVENlLE STUDIES. 21 
 
 Bang it to myself readily enough. In the same way \ve had a 
 Geography in memory- verses, in which the most wretched 
 doggerel best served to fix the recollection of that which was 
 to be retained : e. g. : 
 
 Upper-Yssel has many a fen, 
 Which makes it hateful to all men. 
 
 The forms and inflections of language I caught with ease ; 
 and I also quickly unravelled what lay in the conception of a 
 thing. In rhetoric, composition, and such matters, no ens 
 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 mauy 
 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 memery and the power 
 to combine, I possessed in common with those children who 
 thus acquire an early reputation. For that reason my father 
 could scarcely wait for me to go to college. He very soon 
 declared, that I must study jurisprudence in Leipzig, for 
 which he retained a strong predilection, and I was afterwards 
 to visit some other university and take my degree. As for 
 this second one he was indifferent which I might choose, 
 except that he had for some reason or other a disinclination 
 to Gottingen, to my disappointment, since it was precisely 
 there that I had placed such confidence and high hopes. 
 
 He told me further, that I was to go to Wetzlar and 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 MT OWN LIFE. 
 
 Private lessons, which now gradually multiplied, were 
 Chared with the children of the neighbours. This learning 
 in common did not advance me ; the teachers followed their 
 routine ; and the rudeness, sometimes the ill-nature, of my 
 companions, interrupted the brief hours of study with tumult, 
 vexation, and disturbance. Chrestomathies, by which learn - * 
 ing is made pleasant and varied, had not yet reached us 
 Cornelius Nepos, so dry to young people, the New Testament 
 which was much too easy, and which by preaching and reli- 
 gious instructions had been rendered even common-place, 
 Cellarius and Pasor could impart no kind of interest ; on the 
 other hand, a certain rage for rhyme and versification, a 
 consequence of reading the prevalent German poets, took 
 complete possession of us. Me it had seized much earlier, as 
 I had found it agreeable to pass from the rhetorical to the 
 poetical treatment of subjects. 
 
 We boys held a Sunday assembly where each of us was to 
 produce original verses. And here I was struck by something 
 strange, which long caused me uneasiness. My poems, what- 
 ever they might be, always seemed to me the best. But I 
 soon remarked, that my competitors who brought forth very 
 lame affairs, were in the same condition, and thought no less 
 of themselves. Nay, what appeared yet more suspicious, a 
 good lad (though in such matters altogether unskilful), whonr. 
 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
 
 POPULAE WOEKS. . 23 
 
 convenient to impart their own education to their successors. 
 Except the Orbis Pictus of Amos Comeuius, 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 Fahenberg was not 
 wanting. Lord Anson's Voyage round the Globe combined 
 the dignity of truth with the rich fancies of fable, and while 
 our thoughts accompanied this excellent seaman, we were con- 
 ducted over all the world, and endeavoured to follow him with 
 our fingers on the globe. But a still richer harvest was to 
 spring up before me, when I lighted on a mass of writings, 
 which, in their present state, it is 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, Volksbiicher (popular 
 works or books), was carried on in Frankfort. The enor- 
 mous sales they met with, led to their being almost illegibly 
 printed from stereotypes on horrible blotting-papei We 
 children were so fortunate as to find these precious ren)ms 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 kreutzer. The Eulenspiegel, the Four Sons of Hai- 
 mon, the Emperor Octavian, the Fair Melusina, the Beautiful
 
 24 THUTH AND POETET ; TBOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Magslone, Fortunatus, with the whole race down to the Wan- 
 dering Jew, were all at our service, as often as we preferred 
 the relish of these works to the taste of sweet things. The 
 greatest benefit of this was, that when we had read through 
 or damaged such a sheet, it could soon be reprocurcd 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 
 race covered, and for several days I lay blind and in great 
 pain. They tried the only possible alleviation, and promised 
 me heaps of gold if I would keep quiet and not increase the 
 mischief by rubbing and scratching. I controlled myself, 
 while, according to the prevailing prejudice, they kept me as 
 warm as possible, and thus only rendered my suffering more 
 acute. At last, after a woful time, there fell as it were a mask 
 from my face. The blotches had left no visible mark upon 
 the skin, but the features were plainly altered. I myself was 
 satisfied merely with seeing the light of day again, and 
 gradually putting off my spotted skin ; but others were piti- 
 less enough to remind me often of my previous condition ; 
 especially a very lively aunt, who had formerly regarded me 
 with idolatry, but in after years could seldom look at me 
 without exclaiming " The deuce, cousin ! what a fright he's
 
 DISEASES OF CHILDHOOD. 25 
 
 grown !" Then she would tell me circumstantially how I had 
 once been her delight, and what attention she had excited 
 when she carried me about ; and thus I early learned that 
 people very often subject us to a severe atonement for the 
 pleasure which we have afforded them. 
 
 I neither escaped measles, nor chicken-pox, nor any other 
 of the tormenting demons of childhood ; and I was assured 
 each time that it was a great piece of good luck that this 
 malady was now past for ever. But, alas ! another again 
 threatened in the back-ground, and advanced. All these 
 things increased my propensity to reflection; and as I had 
 already practised myself in fortitude, in order to remove the 
 torture of impatience, the virtues which I had heard praised 
 in the Stoics appeared to me highly worthy of imitation, and 
 the more so, as something similar was commended by the 
 Christian doctrine of patience. 
 
 While on the subject of these family diseases, I will men- 
 tion a brother about three years younger than myself, who 
 was likewise attacked by that infection, and suffered not a 
 little from it. He was of a tender nature, quiet and capri- 
 cious, and we were never on the most friendly terms. Besides, 
 he scarcely survived the years of childhood. Among several 
 other children born afterwards, who like him did not five long, 
 I only remember a very pretty and agreeable girl, who also 
 soon passed away ; so that, after the lapse of some years, my 
 sister and I remained alone, and were therefore the 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 'id.)
 
 26 TRUTH AND POETEY ; FHOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 to the two neighbouring houses. On entering through a nar- 
 row passage, we reached at last a tolerably broad court, 
 surrounded by irregular buildings, which were now all united 
 into one dwelling. We usually hastened at once into the 
 garden, which extended to a considerable length and breadth 
 behind the buildings, and was very well kept. The walks 
 were mostly skirted by vine trellises ; one part of the space 
 was used for vegetables, and another devoted to flowers, which 
 from spring till autumn adorned in rich succession the borders 
 as well as the beds. The long wall erected towards the south 
 was used for some well-trained espalier peach-trees, the for- 
 bidden fruit of which ripened temptingly before us through the 
 summer. Yet we rather avoided this side, because we here 
 could not satisfy our dainty appetites ; and we turned to the 
 side opposite, where an interminable row of currant and goose- 
 berry bushes furnished our voracity with a succession of har- 
 vests till autumn. Not less important to us was an old, high, 
 wide-spreading mulberry-tree, both on account of its fruits, 
 and because we were told that the silk- worms fed upon its 
 leaves. In this peaceful region my grandfather was found 
 every evening, tending with genial care and with his own 
 hand the finer growths of fruits and flowers ; while a gardene v 
 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 be 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 
 eame down, he always arranged the list of causes for the next
 
 GOETHE'S MATERNAL GRANDFATHER. 27 
 
 day, a.d read the legal papers. In the morning he proceeded 
 to the Council House, dined after his return, then nodded 
 in his easy chair, and so went through the same routine every 
 day. He conversed little, never exhibited any vehemence, 
 and I do not remember ever to have seen him angry. All that 
 surrounded him was in the fashion of the olden time. I never 
 perceived any alteration in his wainscotted room. His library 
 contained, besides law works, only the earliest books of travels, 
 sea voyages, and discoveries of countries. Altogether I can 
 call to mind no situation more adapted than his to awaken 
 the feeling of uninterrupted peace and eternal duration. 
 
 But the reverence which we entertained for this venerable 
 old man was raised to the highest degree by a conviction that 
 he possessed the gift of prophecy, especially in matters that 
 pertained to himself and his destiny. It is true he revealed 
 himself to no one, distinctly and minutely, except to my 
 grandmother; yet we were all aware that he was informed 
 of what was going to happen, by significant dreams. He 
 assured his wife, for instance, at a time when he was still r 
 junior Councillor, that on the first vacancy he would obtain 
 the place left open on the bench of the Schbffen ; and soon 
 afterwards when one of those officers actually died of apoplexy, 
 my grandfather gave orders that his house should be quietly 
 got ready prepared on the day of electing and balloting, to 
 receive his guests and congratulators. Sure enough, the deci- 
 sive gold ball was drawn in his favour. The simple dream 
 by which he had learned this, he confided to his wife as fol- 
 lows : He had seen himself in the ordinary full assembly of 
 Councilmen, where all went on just as usual. Suddenly, the 
 late Schoff rose from his seat, descended the steps, pressed 
 him in the most complimentary manner to take the vacant 
 place, and then departed by the door. 
 
 Something like this occurred on the death of the Schul- 
 theiss. They make no delay in supplying this place, as they 
 always have to fear that the Emperor will at some time 
 resume his ancient right of nominating the officer. On this 
 occasion, the messenger of the Court came at midnight to 
 summon an extraordinary session for the next morning ; and 
 as the light in his lantern was about to expire, he asked for a 
 candle's end to help him on his way. " Give him a whole 
 one," said my grandfather to the ladies, " he takes the trouble
 
 28 TKUTH AND POETEY J FROM MY OWN 
 
 all on my account." This expression anticipated the result- 
 he was made Schultheiss ; and what rendered the circum- 
 stance particularly remarkable was, that although his repre- 
 sentative was the third and last to draw at the ballot, the 
 two silver balls first came out, leaving the golden ball at the 
 bottom of the bag for him. 
 
 Perfectly prosaic, simple, and without a trace of the fan- 
 tastic or miraculous, were the other dreams, of which we 
 were informed. Moreover, I remember that once, as a boy, I 
 was turning over his books and memoranda, and found among 
 some other remarks which related to gardening, such sen- 
 tences as these : " To-night N. N. came to me and said " 
 
 the name and revelation being written in cipher ; or " This 
 
 night I saw " all the rest being again in cipher, except 
 
 the conjunctions and similar words, from which nothing could 
 be learned. 
 
 It is worthy of note also, that persons who showed no signs 
 of prophetic insight at other times, acquired, for the moment, 
 while in his presence, and that by means of some sensible 
 evidence, presentiments of diseases or deaths which were then 
 occurring in distant places. But no such gift has been trans- 
 mitted to any of his children or grandchildren, who for the 
 most part have been hearty people, enjoying life, and never 
 going beyond the Actual. 
 
 While on this subject, I remember with gratitude many 
 kindnesses I received from them in my youth. Thus, for 
 example, we were employed and entertained in many ways 
 when we visited the second daughter, married to the druggist 
 Melber, whose house and 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, which made him take off his hat to her, and thank 
 her quite graciously for her bold salutation. 
 
 Everything in her house was stirring, lively, and cheerful, 
 and we children owed her many a gay hour. 
 
 In a quieter situation, which was however suited to her 
 character, was a second aunt, married to the Pastor Stark, 
 incumbent of St. Catharine's Church. He lived much alone, 
 ; n accordance with his temperament and vocation, and pos- 
 sessed a fine library. Here I first became acquainted with 
 Homer, in a prose translation, which may be found in the 
 seventh part of Herr Von Loen's new collection of the most 
 remarkable travels, under the title, Homer's Description of 
 the Conquest of the Kingdom of Troy, ornamented with copper- 
 plates, in the theatrical French 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. 
 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 were various secessions from the Esta-
 
 80 TBUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Wished Church. Separatists, Pietists, Herrnhuter (Moravians), 
 Quiet-in-the-Land, and others differently named and charac- 
 terized sprang up, all of whom were animated by the same 
 purpose of approaching the Deity, especially through Christ, 
 more closely than seemed to them possible under the forms 
 of the established religion. 
 
 The Boy heard these opinions and sentiments constantly 
 spoken of; for the clergy as well as the laity divided them- 
 selves into pro and con. The minority were composed of 
 those who dissented more or less broadly, but their modes 
 of thinking attracted by originality, heartiness, perseverance, 
 and independence. All sorts of stories were told of their 
 virtues and of the way in which they were manifested. The 
 reply of a pious master-tinman was especially noted, who, 
 when one of his craft attempted to shame him by asking 
 "who is really your confessor?" answered with great cheer- 
 fulness and confidence in the goodness of his cause," I have 
 a famous one no less than the confessor of King David." 
 
 Things of this sort naturally made an impression on the 
 Boy, and led him into similar states of mind. In fact, he 
 ,ame to the thought that he might immediately approach the 
 great God of Nature, the Creator and Preserver of Heaven 
 and Earth, whose earlier manifestations of wrath had been 
 long forgotten in the beauty of the world, and the manifold 
 blessings in which we participate while upon it. The way he 
 took to accomplish this was very curious. 
 
 The Boy had chiefly kept to the first article of Belief. The 
 God who stands in immediate connexion with nature, and 
 owns and loves it as his work, seemed to him the proper God, 
 who might be brought into closer relationship with man, as 
 with everything else, and who would take care of him, as of 
 the motion of the stars, the days and seasons, the animals 
 and plants. There were texts of the Gospels which explicitly 
 stated this. The Boy could ascribe no form to this Being ; 
 he therefore sought Him in His works, and would, in the good 
 Old Testament fashion, build Him an altar. Natural produc- 
 tions were set forth as images of the world, over which a 
 flame was to burn, signifying the aspirations of man's heart 
 towards his Maker. He brought out of the collection of 
 natural objects which he possessed, and which had been in- 
 creased as chance directed, the best ores and other specimens.
 
 THE BOY-FBIEST. 81 
 
 But the next difficulty was, as to how they should be arranged 
 and raised into a pile. His father possessed a beautiful red- 
 lackered music-stand, ornamented with gilt flowers, in the 
 form of a four-sided pyramid, with different elevations, which 
 had been found convenient for quartets, but lately was not 
 much in use. The Boy laid hands on this, and built ufhia 
 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 o* 
 alliances. 
 
 Thus, the Frankforters passed a series of prosperous years 
 during my childhood ; but scarcely, on the 28th of August, 
 *756, had I completed my seventh year, than that world- 
 renowned war broke out, which was also to exert great 
 influence upon the next seven years of my life. Frederick 
 the Second, King of 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, which explained the 
 causes that had moved and justified him in so monstrous a 
 step. The world, which saw itself appealed to not merely as 
 spectator but as judge, immediately eplit 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, hi 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 delightfu. 
 of the whole week. But now I relished no morsel that I 
 Basted, because I was compelled to hear the most horrible 
 slanders of my hero. Here blew another wind, here sounded 
 another tone than at home. My liking and even my respect 
 for my grandfather and grandmother fell off. I could mention 
 nothing of this to my parents, but avoided the matter, both on 
 account of my own feelings, and because I had been warned 
 by my mother. In this way I was thrown back upon myself; 
 and as in my sixth year, after the cnrthqtiake 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
 
 84 TEUTH AND POETKY : FEOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 reverence, and it required a great shock to stagger my faith in 
 anything that was venerable. But alas 1 , they had commended 
 good manners and a 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 everything. But my experience went just to the contrary. 
 The greatest and most signal services were defamed and 
 attacked ; the noblest deeds, if not denied, were at least mis- 
 represented and diminished ; and this base injustice was done 
 to the onl) man who was manifestly elevated above all his con- 
 temporaries, and 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 cultis'a- 
 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 
 r e-sharpening those imaginary evils and capricious disputes ; 
 and thus we continued to tease each other, until the occupa- 
 tion of Frankfort by the French some years afterwards, 
 brought real inconvenience into our homes. 
 
 Although to most of us the important events occurring 
 in distant parts served only for topics of ardent controversy, 
 there were others who perceived the seriousness of the times, 
 and feared that the sympathy of France might open a scene 
 *f war in our own vicinity. Tb,3y kept us children at home
 
 IN-DOOE 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, which were indeed on too grand a scale for so 
 narrow a stage. Although this presumption spoiled and finally 
 quite destroyed what we performed, such childish pleasures and 
 employments nevertheless 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 puppeta. 
 My playfellows, too, prepared for themselves such armouries, 
 which they regarded as quite as fine and good as mine ; but I 
 had made provision not for the wants of one person only, and 
 could furnish several of the little band with every requisite, 
 and thus made myself more and more indispensable to our 
 
 1)2
 
 36 TRUTH AND POETEY : PEOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 little circle. That such games tended to factions, quarrels, 
 and blows, and commonly came to a sad end in tumult and 
 vexation, may easily be supposed. In such cases certain of 
 my companions generally took part with me, while others 
 sided against me ; though many changes of party occurred. 
 One single boy, whom I will call Pylades, urged by the others, 
 once only left my party, but could scarcely for a moment 
 maintain his hostile position. We were reconciled amid many 
 tears, and for a long time afterwards kept faithfully together. 
 
 To him, as well as other well-wishers, I could render myseb 
 very agreeable by telling tales, which they most delighted tc 
 near when I was the hero of my own stoiy. 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 neccssaiy was it for me to select the localities 
 of these occurrences, if not in another world, at least in anothei 
 spot ; and yet all was told as having taken place only to-day 
 or yesterday. They rather, therefore, deceived themselves, 
 than were imposed upon by me. If I had not gradually 
 learned, in accordance with the instincts of my nature, to 
 work up these visions and conceits into artistic forms, such 
 vain-glorious beginnings could not have gone on without 
 producing evil consequences for myself in the end. 
 
 Considering this impulse more closely, we may see in it 
 that presumption with which the poet authoritatively utters 
 the greatest improbabilities, and requires every one to recog- 
 nise as real whatever may in any way seem to him, the 
 inventor, as true. 
 
 But what is here told only in general terms, and by way of 
 reflection, will perhaps become more apparent and interesting 
 by means of an example. I subjoin, thcreftn-e, one of these 
 tales, which, as I often had to repeat it to my comrades, 
 hovers entire in my imagination and memory.
 
 87 
 THE NEW PARIS. 
 
 A BOY'S T.EGEXD. 
 
 ON the night before Whit Sunday, not long since, I dreamed 
 that I stood before a mirror, engaged with the new summer 
 clothes which my dear parents had given me for the holiday. 
 The dress consisted, as you know, of shoes of polished leather, 
 with large silver buckles, fine cotton stockings, black nether 
 garments of serge, and a coat of green baracan with gold 
 buttons. The waistcoat of gold cloth was cut out of my 
 father's bridal waistcoat. My hair had been frizzled and pow- 
 dered, and my curls stuck out from my head like little wings ; 
 but I could not finish dressing myself, because I kept confusing 
 the different articles, the first always falling off as soon as 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 bis hand, and showed me three apples, which 
 it could hardly hold, and which were as wonderfully beautiful 
 as they were large, the one of a red, the other of a yellow, 
 the third of a green colour. One could not help thinking 
 they were precious stones made into the form of fruit. I 
 would have snatched them, but he drew back, and said, " You 
 must know, in the first place, that they are not for you. You 
 must give them to the three handsomest youths of the city, who 
 then, each according to his lot, will find wives to the utmost 
 of their wishes. Take them, and success to you!" said he, as 
 he departed, leaving the apples in my open hands. They 
 appeared to me to have become still larger. I held them up 
 at once against the light and found them quite transparent; 
 but soon they expanded upwards, and became three beautiful* 
 little ladies, about as large as middle-sized dolls, whose clothes 
 were of the colours of the apples. They glided gently up my 
 fingers, and when 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; FROM 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 
 ndroit 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 coidd 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 PARIS. 39 
 
 loped his chin, so that I was inclined to think him a Jew. 
 But he, ax 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 j 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 culled 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 
 r ain 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, 
 ard 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 wajs 
 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 
 Bide exactly fitted a spear or partisan on the other. Thesa 
 and the other ornaments rendered it impossible for one to see
 
 THE NEW PARIS. 41 
 
 through, stuud as one would. Besides, thf 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 COT- fusion l
 
 42 TEUTH AND POETRY; FROM 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, 1 saw before me the peristyle 
 of a magnificent garden-house, which seemed to have similar 
 prospects and entrances on the other sides ! The heavenly 
 music which streamed from the building, transported me 
 still more than this model of architecture. I fancied that I 
 heard now a lute, now a harp, now a guitar, and now some- 
 thing tinkling, which did not belong to any of these instru- 
 ments. The door which we approached opened soon after 
 a light touch by the old man. But how was I amazed, when 
 the porteress, who came out, perfectly resembled the delicate 
 girl who had danced upon my fingers in the dream ! She 
 greeted me as if we were already acquainted, and invited me 
 to walk in. The old man remained behind, and I went with 
 her through a short passage, arched and finely ornamented, to 
 the middle hall, the splendid dome-like ceiling of which 
 attracted my gaze on my entrance, and filled me with asto- 
 nishment. Yet my eye could not linger long on this, being 
 allured down by a more charming spectacle. On a carpet, 
 directly under the middle of the cupola, sat three women, ia
 
 THE NEW 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 floAvcr-bcd. In their arms lay the three instru- 
 ments which I had been able to distinguish from the outside ; 
 for being disturbed by my arrival, they had stopped their play- 
 ing. " Welcome !'' said the middle one, who sat with her face 
 to the door, in a red dress, and with the harp. " Sit down 
 by Alerte, and listen, if you are a lover of music." 
 
 Now first I remarked that there was a rather long bench 
 placed obliquely before them, on which lay a mandoline. The 
 pretty girl took it up, sat down, and drew me to her side. 
 Now also I looked at the second lady on my right. She wore 
 the yellow dress, and had the guitar in her hand ; and if the 
 harp-player was dignified in form, grand in features, and 
 majestic in her deportment, one might remark in the guitar- 
 player an easy grace and cheerfulness. She was a slender 
 blonde while the other was adorned by dark brown hair. 
 The variety and accordance of their music could not prevent 
 me from remarking the third beauty, in the green dress, whose 
 lute-playing was for me at once touching and striking. She 
 was the one who seemed to notice me the most, and to direct 
 her music to me ; only I could not make up my mind about 
 her ; for she appeared to me now tender, now whimsical, now 
 frank, now self-willed, according as she changed her mien and 
 mode of playing. Sometimes she seemed to wish to move me, 
 sometimes to teaze me ; but do what she would, she got little 
 out of me ; for my little neighbour, by whom I sat elbow to 
 elbow, had gained me entirely to herself; and while I clearly 
 saw in those tin-ee 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 
 ]>crform some pleasant little piece. Scarcely had she jingled 
 off some dancing tune, in a most exciting manner, than she 
 sprang up ; I did the same. She played and danced ; I was 
 hurried on to accompany her steps, and we executed a kind of 
 little ballet, with which the ladies seemed satisfied ; for as 
 coon as we had done, they commanded the little girl to refresh
 
 44 TttuiH AND POETRY; FKOM MY OWN LIPS. 
 
 me with something nice till supper should come in. I had 
 indeed forgotten that there was anything in the world beyond 
 this paradise. Alerteled me back immediately into the passage 
 by which I had entered. On one side of it she had two woll- 
 airanged 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, iu 
 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 arc to be opposed to 
 each other." We had now reached the golden trembling 
 floor ; and below me I could hear the waters gurgle, and the 
 fishes splash, while I knelt down to range my columns. All, 
 as I now saw, were cavalry. She boasted that she had the 
 Queen of the Amazons as leader of her female host. I, on 
 the contrary, found Achilles and a very stately Grecian 
 cavalry. The armies stood facing each other, and nothing 
 could have been seen more beautiful. They were not flat 
 leaden horsemen like ours, but man and horse were round and 
 solid, and most finely wrought ; nor could one conceive how 
 they kept their balance, for they stood of themselves, without 
 a support for their feet.
 
 THE NEW PARIS. 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 1 
 would do the same. In fact, I not only went nearer, but iu 
 my rage threw with much more violence, so that it was not 
 long before a pair of her little centauresses flew in pieces. In 
 her eagerness she did not instantly notice it, but I stood 
 petrified when the broken figures joined together again of 
 themselves ; Amazon and horse became again one whole, and 
 also perfectly close, set up a gallop from the golden bridge 
 under the lime-trees, and running swiftly backwards and for- 
 wards, were lost in their career, I know not how, in the 
 direction of the wall. My fair opponent had hardly perceived 
 this, when she broke out into loud weeping and lamentation, 
 and exclaimed that I had caused her an irreparable loss, which 
 was far greater than could be expressed. But I, by this time 
 provoked, was glad to annoy her, and blindly flung a couple 
 of the remaining agate balls with force into the midst of her 
 army. Unhappily I hit the queen, who had hitherto, during 
 oui- 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 POETBY ; FBOM MY OWH 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 sha 
 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 crossways. 
 
 My light garment was in a short time wet through ; it was 
 already rent, and I did not hesitate to tear it entirely off my 
 body. I cast away my slippers, and one covering after 
 another. Nay, at last I found it very agreeable to let such a 
 shower-bath play over me in the warm day. Now, being 
 quite naked, I walked gravely along between these welcome 
 waters, where I thought to enjoy myself for some time. My 
 anger cooled, and I wished for nothing more than a reconcilia- 
 tion with my little adversary. But, in a twinkling the water 
 stopped, and I stood drenched upon the saturated ground. 
 1 he 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 tha green cords, and 
 fitting it, if not to your neck, to your back ?" This threat I 
 took in very ill part. " Refrain," I cried, " from such words, 
 even from such thoughts, for otherwise you and your misJ 
 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 friz/lcd 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 
 \vay, while, at the same time, he pointed backwards to the 
 door. I understood him ; he wished to imprint the objects on 
 my mind, that I might the more certainly find the door, which 
 had unexpectedly closed behind me. I now took good notice 
 of what was opposite to me. Above a high wall rose the 
 boughs of extremely old nut-trees, and partly covered the 
 cornice at the top. The branches reached down to a stone 
 tablet, the ornamented border of which I could perfectly 
 recognise, though I could not read the inscription. It rested 
 on the top-stone of a niche, in which a finely-wrought foun- 
 tain poured water from cup to cup into a great basin, that 
 formed, as it were, a little pond, and disappeared in the 
 earth. Fountain, inscription, nut-trees, all stood directly 
 ono 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 mysei 
 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 &t
 
 48 TRUTH AND FOETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 the. precious door. But, to my great amazement, I found ail 
 changed. Nut-trees, indeed, overtopped the wall, but they 
 did not stand immediately in contact. A tablet also was in- 
 serted in the wall, but far to the right of the trees, without 
 ornament, and with a legible inscription. A niche with a 
 fountain was found far to the left, but with no resemblance 
 whatever to that which I had seen ; so that I almost believed 
 that the second adventure was, like the first, a dream ; for of 
 the door there is not the slightest trace. The only thing that 
 consoles me is the observation, that these three objects seem 
 always to change their places. For in repeated visits to the 
 spot, I think I have noticed that the nut-trees have moved 
 somewhat nearer together, and that the tablet and the 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 : Avhile 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 
 x>art was often desired. I was on my guard, however, not to
 
 JTIVENILE STOICISM. 40 
 
 change the circumstances much, and by the uniformity of the 
 narrative I converted the fablp *n truth in fho ;n f i f r^y 
 hearers. 
 
 "~Yef I was averse to falsehood and dissimulation, and alto- 
 gether by no means frivolous. Rather, on the contrary, tne 
 inward earnestness with which I had early begun to consider 
 myself and the world, was seen even in my exterior, and 1 
 was frequently called to account, often in a friendly way, 
 and often in raillery, for a certain dignity which I had 
 assumed. For, although good and chosen friends were cer- 
 tainly not wanting to me, we were always a minority against 
 those who found pleasure in assailing us with wanton rude- 
 ness, and who indeed often awoke us in no gentle fashion frora 
 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 wo hardened our- 
 selves all the more as obstinacy was forbidden under the 
 severest penalti-s. A great many of the sports of youth, 
 moreover, depend on a rivalry in such endurances ; as, foi 
 instance, when they strike each other alternately, with two 
 fingers or the whole fist, till the limbs are numbed, or 
 when they bear the penalty of blows, incurred in certain 
 games, with more or less firmness ; when in wrestling or 
 scuffling they do not let themselves be perplexed by the pinches 
 of a half-conquered opponent ; or finally, when they suppress 
 the pain inflicted for the sake of teasing, and even treat with 
 indifference the nips and ticklings with which young persons 
 are so active towards each other. Thus we gain a great 
 advantage, of which others cannot speedily deprive us. 
 
 But as I made a sort of boast of this impassiveness, the im- 
 portunity of the others was increased ; and, since rude bar- 
 barity knows no limits, it managed to force me beyond my 
 bounds. Let one case suffice for several. It happened once 
 that the teacher did not come for the usual hour of instruction.
 
 50 TRUTH AtfD POETRt: FROM Mt OWrf 
 
 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 ifeft 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 
 druellest 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 ore, 
 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. Hut 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 fut r> e, on the slightest offence, 
 I would scratch out the eyes, teai )ff the ears, of any one of 
 them, if not throttle him. 
 
 This event, though, as usually happens in childish affairs, 
 it was soon forgotten, and even laughed over, was yet the 
 cause that these instructions in common became fewer, and at 
 last entirely ceased. I was thus again, as formerly, kept 
 more at home, where I found my sister Cornelia, who was only 
 one year younger than myself, a companion always growing 
 more agreeable. 
 
 Still, I will not leave this topic without narrating some more
 
 RUDENESS OF JUVENILE COMPANIONS. 51 
 
 stories of the many vexations caused me by my playfellows ; 
 for this is the instructive part of such moral communications, 
 that a man may learn how it has gone with others, and what 
 he also has to expect from life ; and that whatever comes to 
 pass, he may consider that it happens to him as a man, and 
 not as one specially fortunate or unfortunate. If such know- 
 ledge is of little use for avoiding evils, it is very serviceable 
 so far as it qualifies us to understand our condition, and bear 
 or even to overcome it. 
 
 Another general remark will not be out of place here, which 
 is, that as the children of the cultivated classes grow up, a 
 great contradiction appears. I refer to the fact, that they are 
 urged and trained, by parents and teachers, to deport them- 
 selves moderately, intelligently, and even wisely; to give pain 
 to no one from petulance or arrogance, and to suppress all the 
 evil impulses which may be developed in them ; but yet, on 
 the other hand, while the young creatures are engaged in this 
 discipline, they have to suffer from others that which in them 
 is reprimanded and punished. In this way, the poor things 
 are brought into a sad strait between the natural and civilised 
 states, and after restraining themselves for a while, break out 
 according to their characters into cunning or violence. 
 
 Force is rather to be put down by force ; but a well-disposed 
 child, inclined to love and sympathy, has little to oppose to 
 scorn and ill-will. Though I managed pretty well to keep off 
 the active assaults of my companions, I was by no means 
 equal to them in sarcasm and abuse ; because he who merely 
 defends himself in such cases, is always a loser. Attacks of 
 this sort, consequently, when they went so far as to excite 
 anger, were repelled with physical force, or at least excited 
 strange reflections in me, which could not be without results. 
 Among other advantages which my ill-wishers grudged me, 
 was the pleasure I took in the relations that accrued to the 
 family from my grandfather's position of Schultheiss, since, as 
 he was the first of his class, this had 110 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 my eyes back to my 
 
 aS
 
 62 XBUTH AND POETKY; PEOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 paternal grandfather, who had been keeper of the Willow-inr* 
 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 
 ,hey Drought forward an old story, which they pretended to 
 have overheard from their parents, that my father was the son 
 of some eminent man, while that good citizen had shown him- 
 self willing to take outwardly the paternal office. They had 
 the impudence to produce all sorts of arguments ; as, for 
 example, that our property came exclusively from our grand- 
 mother, that the other collateral relations, who lived in Fried- 
 burg and other places, were all alike destitute of property, 
 and other reasons of the sort, which could merely derive their 
 weight from malice. I listened to them more composedly than 
 they expected, for they stood ready to fly the very moment 
 that I should make a gesture as if I would seize their hair. 
 But I replied quite calmly, and in substance, " that even this 
 was no great injury to me. Life was such a boon, that one 
 might be quite indifferent as to whom one had to thank for 
 it, since at least it must be derived from God, before whom 
 we all were equals." As they could make nothing of it, they 
 let the matter drop for this time ; we went on playing together 
 as before, which among children is an approved mode of 
 reconciliation. 
 
 Still these spiteful words inoculated me with a sort of moral 
 disease, which crept on in secret. It would not have dis-
 
 GOETHE'S REPUTED GHAJUDFATHER. 53 
 
 pleased me at all to have been the grandson of any person of 
 consideration, even if it had not been in the most lawful way. 
 My acuteness followed up the scent my imagination was 
 excited, and my sagacity put in requisition. I began to inves- 
 tigate the allegation, and invented or found for it new grounds 
 of probability. I had heard little said of my grandfather, 
 except that his likeness, together with my grandmother's, had 
 nung in a parlour of the old house ; both of which, after the 
 building of the new one, had been kept in an upper chamber. 
 My grandmother must have been a very handsome woman, and 
 of the same age as her husband. I remembered, also, to have 
 seen in her room the miniature of a handsome gentleman in 
 uniform, with star and order, which, after her death, and 
 during the confusion of house-building, had disappeared with 
 many other small pieces of furniture. These, and many other 
 things, I put together in my childish head, and exercised that 
 modern poetical talent which contrives to obtain the sympa- 
 thies of the whole cultivated world by a marvellous combina- 
 tion of the important events of human life. 
 
 But as I did not venture to trust such an affair to any one, 
 or even to ask the most remote questions concerning it, I wa* 
 not wanting in a secret diligence, in order to get, if possible 
 somewhat nearer to the matter. I had heard it explicitly 
 maintained, that sons often bore a decided resemblance to 
 their fathers or grandfathers. Many of our friends, especially 
 Councillor Schneider, a friend of the family, were connected 
 by business with all the princes and noblemen of the neigh- 
 bourhood, of whom, including both the ruling and the younger 
 branches, not a few had estates on the Rhine and Maine, and 
 in the intermediate country, and who at times honoured their 
 faithful agents with their portraits. These, which I had often 
 seen on the walls from my infancy, I now regarded with re- 
 doubled attention, seeking whether I could not detect some 
 resemblance to my father or even to myself, which too often 
 happened to lead me to any degree of certainty. For now 
 it was the eyes of this, now the nose of that, which seemed 
 to indicate some relationship. Thus these marks led me 
 delusively backwards and forwards ; and though in the end I 
 was compelled to regard the reproach as a completely empty 
 tale, the impression remained, and I could not from time to 
 time refrain from privately culling up and testing all the noble.
 
 54 TEUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 me a whose images had remained very clear in my fancy. So 
 true is it that whatever inwardly confirms man in his self 
 conceit, or flatters 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 earl} 
 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 FRANKFORTERS IN 1757. 55 
 
 scarcely refrain from an opinion and a sympathy. Soon he 
 takes a side, as his character or external circumstances may 
 determine. But when such grand fatalities, such important 
 changes, draw nearer to him, then with many outward incon- 
 veniences remains that inward discomfort, which doubles and 
 sharpens the evil and destroys the good which is still possible. 
 ITicn 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 inhabitant! 
 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 
 tender it impossible, procured the title of Imperial Ctuucillc-r,
 
 56 TRUTH AND POSTRY : FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 which the Sehultheiss and elder Schbffen bear as a special 
 honour. He had thus made himself an equal of the highest, 
 and could not bcgir again at the bottom. The same impulse 
 induced him also to woo the eldest daughter of the Sehultheiss, 
 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 Schdff von Uffenbach, who was generally respected. 
 He had been in Italy, had applied himself particularly to 
 music, sang an agreeable tenor, and having brought home a 
 fine collection of pieces, concerts and oratorios were performed 
 at his house. Now, as he sang in these himself, and held 
 musicians in great favour, it was not thought altogether suit- 
 able to his dignity, and his invited guests, as well as the 
 other people of the country, allowed themselves many a jocose 
 remark on the matter. 
 
 I remember, too, a BARON VON HAKEI,, 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
 
 DH. OETH. 67 
 
 eyes upon him JOHN MICHAEL VON LOEN gained consider- 
 able repute in the literary world, as well as at Frankfort 
 Not a native of Frankfort, he settled there, and married a 
 sister of my grandmother Textor, whose maiden-name was 
 Lindheim. Familiar with the court and political world, and 
 rejoicing in a renewed title of nobility, he had acquired repu- 
 tation by daring to take part in the various excitements which 
 arose in Church and State. He wrote the Count of Rivera, 
 a didactic romance, the subject of which is made apparent by 
 the second title, " or, the Honest Man at Court." This work 
 was well received, because it insisted on morality even in 
 courts, where prudence only is generally at home ; and thus 
 his labour brought him applause and respect. A second work, 
 for that very reason, would be accompanied by more danger. 
 He wrote The Only True Religion, a book designed to ad- 
 vance tolerance, especially between Lutherans and Calvinists. 
 But here he got in a controversy with the theologians : one 
 Dr. Benner, of Giessen, in particular, wrote against him. 
 Von Loen rejoined ; the contest grew violent and personal, 
 and the unpleasantness which arose from it caused him to 
 accept the office of President at Lingen, which Frederick II. 
 offered him, supposing that he was an enlightened, unpreju- 
 diced man, and not averse to the new views that more exten- 
 sively obtained in France. His former countrymen, whom he 
 left in some displeasure, averred that he was not contented 
 there, nay, could not be so, as a place like Lingen was not to 
 be compared with Frankfort. My father also doubted whether 
 the President would be happy, and asserted that the good uncle 
 would have done better not to connect himself with the king, 
 as it was generally hazardous to get too near him, extraordinary 
 sovereign as he undoubtedly was ; for it had been seen how 
 disgracefully the famous Voltaire had been arrested in Frank-\y 
 fort, at the requisition of the Prussian Resident Freitagi/\ 
 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. OKTH, 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 TKUTH AND POETBY J FBOM MY OWM L1PK. 
 
 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 oj 
 Frankfort, a work in which the statutes of the state are col- 
 lected. The historical portions of this book I diligently read 
 in my youth. 
 
 VON OCHSENSTEIN, the eldest of the three brothers whom 
 I have mentioned above as our neighbours, had not been 
 remarkable during his lifetime, in consequence of his recluse 
 habits, but became the more remarkable after his death, by 
 leaving behind him a direction that common working-men 
 should cany him to the grave, early in the morning, in perfect 
 silence, and without an attendant or follower. This was done, 
 and the affair excited v<:at 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 arid customs. The portraits of Frankforters, which 
 existed in great number, were also brought together, and 
 formed a special department of the cabinets. 
 
 * A pan upon the name of Ocbsenstein. Tram,
 
 THE SENKENBERG3. 59 
 
 Such men my father appears generally to have taken as his \ 
 models. He was wanting in none of the qualities that pertain -^ 
 io an upright and respectable citizen. Thus, after he haa 
 built his house, he put his property of every sort in*o 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 impoitant 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 Irian. He had three sous, 
 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 
 Bather 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 was admitted into the magistracy, and displayed 
 eminent abilities, which, however, he subsequently abused in 
 a pettifogging and even infamous way, if not to the injury 
 of his native city, certainly to that of his colleagues. The 
 third brother, a physician and man of great integrity, but who 
 practised little, and that only in high families, preserved even 
 in his old age a somewhat whimsical exterior. He was 
 always very neatly dressed, and was never seen in the street 
 otherwise than in shoes and stockings, with a well-powdered 
 curled wig, and his hat under his arm. He walked 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 on the other side of the 
 way, and formed a complete zigzag as he went. The wags 
 said that he made this irregular step to get out of the way 
 of the departed souls, who might follow him in a straight 
 line, and that he imitated those who are afraid of a cro- 
 codile. But all these jests and many merry sayings were 
 transformed at last into respect for him, when he devoted his 
 handsome dwelling-house in Eschenheimer-street, with court, 
 garden, and all other appurtenances, to a medical establish- 
 ment, where, in addition to a hospital designed exclusively 
 for the citizens of Frankfort, a botanic garden, an anatomical 
 theatre, a chemical laboratory, a considerable library, and a 
 house for the director, were instituted in a way of which no 
 university need have been ashamed. 
 
 Another eminent man, whose efficiency in the neighbour- 
 hood and whose writings, rather than his presence, had a 
 very important influence upon me, was CHARLES FREDERICK 
 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 Von Loen had tried to do in respect to court life, he would 
 have done for business-life, introducing into it a more con- 
 scientious mode of proceeding. The great number of small 
 German courts gave rise t > 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 
 noxiceablc and injurious on a small scale than on a large one. 
 Many families were in debt, and Imperial Commissions of 
 Pebts were appointed: others found themselves sooner or 
 later on the same road; while the officers either reaped 
 an unconscionable profit, or conscientiously made themselves 
 disagreeable and odious. Moser wished to act as a statesman 
 and man of business, and here his hereditary talent, cultivated 
 wO a profession, gave him a decided advantage ; but he at the 
 same time wished to act as a man and a citizen, and surrender 
 MS little as possible of his mora'. dignity. His Prince ana
 
 fcLOPSTOCK's "MESSIAfl." 61 
 
 his Daniel in ike 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 flu's book ; but the friend 
 of the family, Councillor Schneider, smuggled it in, and 
 slipped it into the hands of my mother and her children. 
 
 On this man of business, who read but little, the Messiah, 
 as soon as it appeared, made a powerful impression. Those 
 pious feelings, so naturally expressed, and yet so beautifully 
 elevated, that agreeable language, even if considered merely 
 as harmonious prose, had so won the otherwise dry man of 
 business, that he regarded the first ten cantos, of which alone 
 we are properly speaking, as the finest Book of Devotion, and 
 once every year in Passion week, when he managed to escape 
 from business, read it quietly through by himself, and thus 
 refreshed himself for the entire year. In the beginning he 
 
 * The Metriah is written io hexameter verse. Tram.
 
 62 TRUTH AND POETRY ; PROM MY OWN LIPE. 
 
 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 oil 
 Satan ; my sister seized me with violence, and recited, softly 
 enough, but with increasing passion : 
 
 " Give me thine aid, I intreat tliee, will worship thee, if thou requirest, 
 Thee, thou monster abandoned, yes thee, of all criminals blackest ; 
 Aid me, I suffer the tortures of death, which ia vengeful, eternal, 
 Once, in the times gone by, with a hot fierce hate I could hate thee, 
 N<nr I out bate thee no more I 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 I " 
 
 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 OP 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 
 Zcil, 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 
 
 F
 
 66 TBUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 the pictures by candlelight. He took extreme pleasure in 
 these tilings, 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 bein^ 
 admitted to his presence ; as, moreover, the Count kept an 
 open table every day; it made in the moderately-sized house, 
 arranged only for a family, and with but one open staircase 
 running from top to bottom, a movement and a buzzing like 
 that in a beehive, although everything was managed with 
 moderation, gravity, and severity. 
 
 As mediator between the irritable master of the house, who 
 became daily more of a hypochondriac self-tormentor, and his 
 well-intentioned, but stern and precise military guest, there 
 was a pleasant interpreter, a handsome, corpulent, lively man, 
 who was a citizen of Frankfort, spoke French well, knew 
 how 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 THOBANE. 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 declined receiving gifts which pertained to his 
 situation ; the most trifling thing which could have borne the 
 appearance of bribery, he rejected angrily, and even punished. 
 His people were most strictly forbidden to put the proprietor 
 of the house to the least expense. We children, on the con- 
 trary, were bountifully supplied from the dessert. To give an 
 idea of the simplicity of those times, I must take this oppor- 
 tunity to mention that my mother grieved us excessively one 
 day by throwing away the ices which had been sent us from 
 the table, because she would not believe it possible for the 
 stomach to bear real ice, however it might be sweetened. 
 
 Besides these dainties, which we gradually learned to enjoy 
 and to digest with perfect ease, it was very agreeable for us 
 children to be in some measure released from fixed hours of 
 study and strict discipline. My father's ill-humour increased, 
 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- 
 von for godfather ''or godmother) is that person's Gevattfr, or Geoatte*in 
 (feminine).
 
 68 TBUTH AND POETBY ; PROM MY OWN UPB. 
 
 tormented himself, my mother, the interpreter, the councillors, 
 and all his friends, only to rid him of the Count ! In vain 
 they represented to him that under existing circumstances the 
 presence of such a man in the house was an actual benefit, 
 and that the removal of the Count would be followed by a 
 constant succession of officers or of privates. None of these 
 arguments had any effect. To him the present seemed so 
 intolerable, that his indignation prevented his conceiving any- 
 thing worse that could follow. 
 
 In this way his activity, which he had been used chiefly to 
 employ upon us, was crippled. The lessons he gave us were 
 no longer required with the former exactness, and we tried to 
 gratify our curiosity for military and other public proceedings 
 as much as possible, not only at home, but also in the streets, 
 which was the more easily done, as the front door, open day 
 and night, was guarded by sentries who paid no attention to 
 the running to and fro of restless children. 
 
 The many affairs which were settled before the tribunal of 
 the Royal Lieutenant had quite a peculiar charm, from his 
 making it a point to accompany his decisions with some witty, 
 ingenious, or lively turn. What he decreed was strictly just, 
 his manner of expressing it whimsical and piquant. He 
 seemed to have taken the Duke of Ossuna as his model. 
 Scarcely a day passed in which the interpreter did not tell 
 some anecdote or other of this kind to amuse us and my 
 mother. This lively man had made a little collection of such 
 Sclomonian decisions ; but I only remember the general im- 
 pression, and cannot recall to my mind any particular case. 
 
 By degrees we became better acquainted with the strange 
 character of the Count. This man clearly understood his own 
 peculiarities, and as there were times in which he was seized 
 with a sort of dejection, hypochondria, or by whatever name 
 we may call the evil demon, he withdrew into his room at 
 such hours, which were often lengthened into days, saw no one 
 but his valet, and in urgent cases could not even be prevailed 
 upon to receive any one. But as soon as the Evil Spirit had 
 teft 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 FHANKPUET PA1NTKES. 69 
 
 exposed to the eyes of all the world, he had earnestly resolved 
 to avoid similar aberrations. 
 
 During the very first days of the Count's residence with us, 
 all the Frankfort artists, as Hirt, Schiitz, Trautmann, Noth- 
 nagel, and Junker, were called to him. They showed theii 
 finished pictures, and the Count bought what were for sale. 
 My pretty, light room in the gable-end of the attic was given 
 up to him, and immediately turned into a cabinet and studio, 
 for he designed to keep all the artists at work for a long time, 
 especially Seekatz of Darmstadt, whose pencil, particularly in 
 simple and natural representations, highly pleased him. He 
 therefore caused to be sent from Grasse, where his elder 
 brother possessed a handsome house, the dimensions of all 
 the rooms and cabinets ; then considered with the artists, the 
 divisions of the walls, and fixed accordingly upon the size 01 
 the large oil-pictures, which were not to be set in frames, but 
 to be fastened upon the walls like pieces of tapestry. And 
 now the work went on zealously. Seekatz undertook country 
 scenes, and succeeded extremely well in his old people and 
 children, which were copied directly from nature. His young 
 men did not answer so well, they were almost all too thin, and 
 his women failed from the opposite cause. For as he had a 
 little, fat, good, but unpleasant-looking wife, who would let 
 him have no model but herself, he could produce nothing 
 agreeable. He was also obliged to exceed the usual size of 
 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. 
 
 Schiitz, the landscape painter, had perhaps the best of the 
 matter. He was thoroughly master of the Rhine country, and 
 of the sunny tone which animates it in the fine season. Nor 
 was he entirely unaccustomed to work on a larger scale, and 
 then he showed no want of execution or keeping. His 
 paintings were of a cheerful cast. 
 
 Trautmann Rembrandtized some resurrection-miracles out of 
 the New Testament, and alongside of them set fire to villages 
 and mills. One cabinet was entirely allotted to him, as 1 
 found from the designs of the rooms. Hirt puinted 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 hn
 
 70 TEUTH AND POETBY ; FEOM 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 amateuss, particularly at auctions, which I attended 
 diligently, the reputation of being able to tell at once what 
 any historical picture represented, whether taken from Biblical 
 or Profane History, or from Mythology ; and even if I did 
 not always hit upon the meaning of allegorical pictures, there 
 was seldom any one present who understood it better than I. 
 Often had I persuaded the artists to represent this or that 
 subject, and I now joyfully made use of these advantages. I 
 still remember writing a circumstantial essay, in which I 
 described twelve pictures which were to exhibit the history of 
 Joseph ; some of them were executed. 
 
 After these achievements, which were certainly laudable in 
 a boy, I will mention a little disgrace which happened to me 
 within this circle of artists. I was well acquainted with all 
 the pictures which had been from time to time brought into 
 that room. My youthful curiosity left nothing unseen or 
 unexplored. I once found a little black box behind the stove ; 
 I did not fail to investigate what might be concealed in it, 
 and drew back the bolt without long deliberation. The picture 
 contained was certainly of a kind not usually exposed to view, 
 and although I tried to bolt it again immediately, I was not 
 quick enough. The Count entered and caught me " Who 
 allowed you to open that box ?" he asked, with all his air of a 
 Royal Lieutenant. I had not much to say for myself, and he 
 immediately pronounced my sentence in a very stern manner 
 " For eight days," said he, " you shall not enter this Doom.' 
 I made a bow, and walked out. Even this order I obeyed 
 most punctually, so that the good Seekatz, who was then at 
 work in the room, was very much annoyed, for he liked to 
 have me about him ; and, out of a little spite, I carried my 
 obedience so far, that I left Seekatz's coffee, which I generally 
 Drought him, upon the threshold. He was then obliged to 
 leave his work and fetch it, which he took so ill, that lie almost 
 conceived a dislike to me.
 
 FRENCH THEATRE. 71 
 
 It now seems necessary to state more circumstantially, and to 
 make intelligible how, under these circumstances, I made my 
 way with more or less ease through the French language, which, 
 however, I had never learned. Here, too, my natural gift was 
 of service to me, enabling me easily to catch the sound of a 
 language, its movement, accent, tone, and all other outward 
 peculiarities. I knew many words from the Latin ; Italian sug- 
 gested still more ; and by listening to servants aiid 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 Molie're 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 ef.
 
 72 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFB. 
 
 Lubin, 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 ine 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 tide 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 \isits, 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
 
 "DEKONES" AND HIS SISTER. 73 
 
 boasting, a youth of good manners, and very courteous de- 
 meanour. He made me acquainted with his sister, a girl who 
 was a few years older than we were, and a very pleasant, well- 
 grown girl, of regular form, brown complexion, black hair 
 and eyes ; her whole deportment had about it something quiet, 
 oven sad. I tried to make myself agreeable to her in every way, 
 but I could not attract her notice. Young girls think them- 
 selves far advanced beyond younger boys, and while aspiring 
 to young men, they assume the manner of an aunt towards 
 the boy whose first inclination is turned towards them. With 
 a younger brother of his I had no acquaintance. 
 
 Often, when their mother had gone to rehearsals, or was out 
 visiting, we met at her house to play and amuse ourselves. 
 I never went there without presenting the fair one with a 
 flower, a fruit, or something else, which she always received 
 very courteously, and thanked me for most politely, but I 
 never saw her sad look brighten, and found no trace 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 Schultheiss, gave 
 me access to any of the seats, and therefore also to those in 
 the proscenium. This was very deep, after the French
 
 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, 
 BO that the first seats were but a little elevated above the 
 stage. The whole was considered a place of special honour, 
 and was generally used only by officers, although the nearness 
 of the actors destroyed, I will not say all illusion, but, in a 
 measure, all enjoyment. I have thus experienced and seen 
 with my own eyes the usage or abuse of which Voltaire so 
 much complains. If, when the house was very full at such 
 time as troops were passing through the town, officers of 
 distinction strove for this place of honour, which was gene- 
 rally occupied already, some rows of benches and chairs were 
 placed in the proscenium on the stage itself, and nothing re- 
 mained for the heroes and heroines but to reveal their secrets 
 in the very limited space between the uniforms and orders. 
 I have even seen the Hypermnestra performed under such 
 circumstances. 
 
 The curtain did not fall between the acts, and I must yet 
 mention a strange custom which I thought quite extraordi- 
 nary, as its inconsistency with art was to me, as a good 
 German boy, quite unendurable. The theatre was considered 
 the greatest sanctuary, and any disturbance occurring there 
 would have been instantly resented as the highest crime 
 against the majesty of the public. Therefore in all comedies, 
 two grenadiers stood with their arms grounded, in full view, 
 at the two sides of the back scene, and were witnesses of all 
 that occurred in the bosom of the family. Since, as I said 
 before, the curtain did not fall between the acts, two others, 
 while music struck up, relieved guard, by coming from the 
 wings, directly in front of the first, who retired in the same 
 measured manner. Now, if such a practice was well fitted to 
 destroy all that in the theatre is called illusion, this is the 
 more striking, because it was done at a time when, accord- 
 ing to Diderot's principles and examples, the most natural 
 naturalness was required upon the stage, and a perfect decep- 
 tion was proposed as the proper aim of theatrical art. Tra- 
 gedy, however, was absolved from any such military-police 
 regulations, and the heroes of antiquity had the right of 
 guarding themselves ; nevertheless, the same grenadiers stood 
 near enough behind the side-scenes. 
 
 I will also mention that I saw Diderot's "Father of a
 
 DUEL WITH "DERONES." 75 
 
 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 01 
 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 ; PROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 moral reflection. I said to my companion, " How handsomely 
 this boy was dressed, and how well he looked ; who knows iit 
 how tattered a jacket he may sleep to-night!" All had 
 already risen, but the crowd prevented our moving. A woman 
 who had sat by me, and who was now standing close beside 
 me, chanced to be the mother of the young artist, and felt 
 much offended by my reflection. Unfortunately, she knew 
 German enough to understand me, and spoke it just as much 
 as was necessary to scold. She abused me violently. Who 
 was I, she would like to know, that had a right to doubt the 
 family and respectability of this young man ? At all events, 
 she would be bound he was as good as I, and his talents might 
 probably procure him a fortune, of which I could not even 
 venture to dream. This moral lecture she read me in the 
 crowd, and made those about me wonder what rudeness I had 
 committed. As I could neither excuse myself nor escape from 
 her, I was really embarrassed, and when she paused for a 
 moment, said without thinking, " Well ! why do you make 
 such a noise about it ? to-day red, to-morrow dead."* These 
 words seemed to strike the woman dumb. She stared at me, 
 and moved away from me as soon as it was in any degree 
 possible. I thought no more of my words ; only, some time 
 afterwards, they occurred to me, when the boy, instead of 
 continuing to perform, became ill, and that very dangerously. 
 Whether he died or not, I cannot say. 
 
 Such intimations, by an unseasonably or even improperly 
 spoken word, were held in repute even by the ancients, and it 
 is very remarkable that the forms of belief and of superstition 
 have always remained the same among all people and in all 
 times. 
 
 From the first day ot the occupation of our city, there was 
 no lack of constant diversion, especially for children and young 
 people. Plays and balls, parades, and marches through the 
 town, attracted our attention in all directions. The last par- 
 ticularly were always increasing, and the soldiers' life seemed 
 to us very merry and agreeable. 
 
 The residence of the King's Lieutenant at our house pro- 
 cured us the advantage of seeing by degrees all the distin- 
 guished persons in the French army, and especially of 
 
 * A German proverb, " Heute roth, morgen todt."
 
 MABSHAL DE BBOGLIO. 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 
 PBINCE SOUBISE as a handsome, courteous gentleman, but 
 most distinctly the MABECHAL DE BBOGLIO, 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 month B, when a rumour was obscurely 
 circulated that the Allies were on the march, and that Duke 
 1< erdinand 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, who 
 could bear everything but suspense, imparted her fears to the 
 Count through the interpreter. She received the answer 
 usual in such cases : she might be quite easy, for there was 
 nothing to fear, and should keep quiet and mention the matter 
 to no one. 
 
 Many troops passed through the city ; we learned that they 
 halted at Bergen. The coming and going, the riding and 
 running constantly increased, and our house was in an uproar 
 day and night. At this time I often saw Marshal de Broglio, 
 always cheerful, always the same in look and manner, and I 
 was afterwards pleased to find a man whose form had made 
 such a good and lasting impression upon me, so honourably 
 mentioned in history.
 
 78 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Thus, after an unquiet Passion-week, the Good-Friday of 
 1 759 arrived. A profound stillness announced the approach- 
 ing storm. We children were forbidden to quit the house : 
 my father had no quiet, and went out. The battle began : I 
 ascended to the garret, where indeed I was prevented seeing 
 the country round, but could very well hear the thunder of 
 cannon and the general discharge of musketry. After some 
 hours we saw the first symptoms of the battle in a line of 
 wagons, in which the wounded, with various sad mutilations 
 and gestures, were slowly drawn by us, to be taken to the con- 
 vent of St. Mary, now transformed into a hospital. The com- 
 passion of the citizens was instantly moved. Beer, wine, bread, 
 and money were distributed to those who were yet able to take 
 them. But when, some time after, wounded and captive Ger- 
 mans were seen in the train, the pity knew no limits, and it 
 seemed as if everybody would strip himself of every moveable 
 that he possessed to assist his suffering countrymen. 
 
 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 
 Friedberg 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
 
 QUAEEEL WITH COUNT THOEANE. 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 which 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 on 
 horseback to-day, at last returned home, where his presence 
 was more necessary than ever. We sprang to meet him, 
 kissed his hands, and testified our delight. This seemed 
 much to please him. "Well," said he more kindly than 
 usual, " I am glad also for your sakes, my dear children." 
 He immediately ordered that sweetmeats, sweet wine, and the 
 best of everything should be given us, and went to his room, 
 already surrounded by a crowd of the urgent, the demanding, 
 and the suppliant. 
 
 We had now a fine collation, pitied our poor father who 
 would not partake of it, and pressed our mother to call him 
 in ; but she, more prudent than we, well knew how distasteful 
 such gifts would be to him. In 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 come down 
 into the ordinary dining-room. At last he allowed himself to 
 be persuaded unwillingly, and we had no notion of the mischief 
 which we were preparing for him and ourselves. The stair- 
 case ran through the whole house, along all the ante-rooms. 
 My father in coming down had to go directly past the Count's 
 apartment. This ante-room was so full of people, that the 
 Count, to get through much at once, resolved to come out, 
 and this happened unfortunately at the moment when my 
 father descended. The Count met him cheerfully, greeted 
 him, and remarked, " You will congratulate yourselves and 
 us that this dangerous affair is so happily terminated." " By 
 no means !" 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 TROTH 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 the adjutant, as it were, into her hands, that by 
 prayers and representatians she might gain a brief postpone- 
 ment of the matter. He himself hurried up to the Count, 
 who with great self-command had immediately retired into 
 the inner room, and would rather allow the most urgent 
 affair to stand still, than wreak on an innocent person the ill- 
 humour once excited in him, and give a decision derogatory 
 to his dignity. 
 
 The address of the interpreter to the Count, the train of the 
 whole conversation, were often enough repeated to us by the 
 fat interpreter, who prided himself not a little on the fortunate 
 result, so that I can still describe it from recollection. 
 
 The interpreter had ventured to open the cabinet and enter, 
 an 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. Retire !"
 
 GOSSIP" AND COUNT THO&ANE. 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 
 bis 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, whom you yourself prize as an extraordinary man, a 
 few only as you are aware." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! I have known and suffered it too long ! 
 otherwise this man would not have presumed to utter such 
 insults to my face, and at the most critical moment. Let 
 them be as many as they please, they shall be punished in the 
 person of this their audacious representative, and perceive 
 what they have to expect." 
 
 " Only delay, Count." 
 
 " In certain things one cannot act too promptly." 
 
 " Only a little delay, Count." 
 
 "Neighbour, you think to mislead me into a false step, 
 you shall not succeed." 
 
 " I would neither lead you into a false step nor restrain you 
 from one ; your resolution is just ; it becomes the Frenchman 
 and the King's Lieutenant; but consider that you are also 
 Count Thorane !" 
 
 " He has no right to interfere here." 
 
 " livt the gallant man has a right to be heard."
 
 82 TRUTH AND f OETHT ; FfcOM MY OWN 
 
 "What would he say then?" 
 
 " King's lieutenant," he would begin, " you have so long 
 had patience with so many gloomy, untoward, bungling men, 
 if they were not really too bad. This man has certainly been 
 too bad, but control yourself, King's Lieutenant, and every 
 one will praise and extol you on that account." 
 
 " You know I can often endure your jests, but do not abuse 
 my good- will. These men are they then completely blinded? 
 Suppose we had lost the battle, what would have been their 
 fate at this moment? We fight up to the gates, we shut up 
 the city, we halt, we defend ourselves to cover our retreat 
 over the bridge. Think you, the enemy would have stood 
 with his hands before him? He throws grenades, and what 
 he has at hand, and they catch where they can. This house- 
 holder what would he have ? Here, in these rooms, a bomb 
 might now have burst, and another have followed it; in these 
 rooms, the cursed China-paper of which I have spared, in- 
 commoding myself, by not nailing up my maps! They ought 
 to have spent the whole day on their knees." 
 
 " How many would have done that!" 
 
 "They ought to have prayed for a blessing on us, and 
 to have gone out to meet the generals and 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 
 110 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
 
 THOKANB'8 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 otners, not for me ; but to do right at the moment, not to 
 neglect my duty, not to prejudice my honour that is my 
 care. We have already had too many words ; now go and 
 receive the thanks of the thankless, whom I spare." 
 
 The interpreter, surprised and moved by this unexpectedly 
 favourable issue, could not restrain bis 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 threaten ings 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. 
 
 C)ne iittle incident will show how the Count in general 
 
 a
 
 84 TEUTH AND POETEY ; FEOM 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 move, but the 
 Count, with much cheerfulness, continued, " Well now, for 
 instance, sir, what is your name?" " gpangenberg," replied 
 the other. "And mine," said the Count, "is Thorane. 
 Spangenbevg, 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 DKAMA. 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 by others, whether he has 
 aptitude for it or not. I had soon exhausted the whole range 
 of the French stage ; several pieces I had already witnessed 
 for the third and fourth times ; all had passed before my eyes 
 and mind, from the stateliest tragedy to the most frivolous 
 afterpiece ; and as when a child I had presumed to imitate 
 Terence, I did not fail now as a boy, on a much more inciting 
 occasion, to copy the French forms to the best of my ability 
 and want of ability. There were then performed some half- 
 mythological, half-allegorical pieces in the taste of PIBON ; 
 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 MT OTTK MM. 
 
 To my modest question, whether the piece could by auy 
 chaiicc 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 
 "imc 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 which I have so often in my life been compelled 
 to hear. 
 
 Like the boy in the fable, I carried my mangled offspring 
 home, and strove in vain to bring it to life. As, however, I 
 would not quite abandon it, I caused a fair copy of my first 
 manuscript, after a few alterations, to be made by our clerk, 
 which I presented to my father, and thus gained so much that 
 for a long time he let me eat my supper in quiet after the 
 play was over. 
 
 This unsuccessful attempt had made me reflective, and I 
 resolved now to learn at the very sources, these theories, 
 these laws, to which every one appealed, but which had be- 
 oome suspicious to me chiefly through the impoliteness of my 
 arrogant master. This was notondeed difficult, but laborious.
 
 DBAMATIC THEORIES. 67 
 
 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 meany 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 
 Cut, and read the prefaces in which Corneille and Racine 
 are obliged to defend themselves against the critics and 
 public. Here at least I plainly saw that no man knew what 
 he wanted; that a piece like the Cid, which had produced 
 the noblest effect, was to be condemned at the command of 
 an all-powerful cardinal; that Racine, the idol of the French 
 living in my day, who had now also become my idol (for I 
 had got intimately acquainted with him when Schoff Von 
 Olenschlager made us children act Britannicus, in which the 
 part of Nero fell to me) that Racine, I say, even in his own 
 day, was not able to get on with the amateurs nor critics. 
 Through all this I became more perplexed than ever, and 
 after having pestered myself a long time with this talking 
 backwards and forwards, and theoretical quackery of the pre- 
 vious century, threw them to the dogs, and was the more 
 resolute in casting all the rubbish away, the more I thought 
 I observed that the authors themselves who had produced 
 excellent things, when they began to speak about them, when 
 they set forth the grounds of their treatment, when they 
 desired to defend, justify, or excuse themselves, were not 
 always able to hit the proper mark. I hastened back again, 
 therefore, to the living present, attended the theatre far more 
 zealously, read more scrupulously and connectedly, so that I 
 had perseverance enough this time to work through the whole 
 of Racine and Moliere, and a great part of Corneille. 
 
 The King's Lieutenant still lived at our house. He in no 
 respect had changed his deportment, especially towards us; 
 but it was observable, and the interpreter made it still more 
 evident to us, that he no longer discharged his duties with 
 the same cheerfulness and zeal as at the outset, though always 
 with the same rectitude and fidelity. His character and 
 habits, which showed the Spaniard rather than the French- 
 man ; his caprices, which were not without their influence on 
 his business ; his unbending will under all circumstances ; his 
 susceptibility as to everything that concerned his person or 
 reputation Hill this together might perhaps sometimes bring
 
 88 TRUTH A.ND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFB. 
 
 him into conflict with his superiors. Add to this, that he had 
 been wounded in a duel, whieh had arisen in the theatre, and 
 it was deemed wrong that the King's Lieutenant, himself 
 chief of police, shuld 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 
 Iiostile to each other. These alterations, or rather additions,
 
 THE PAINTER 8EEKATZ. 89 
 
 were made in the before-mentioned studio, where I remained 
 quite alone with the artists ; and it amused me to hunt out 
 from the studies, particularly of animals, this or that indi- 
 vidual or group, and to propose it for the foreground or the 
 distance, in which respect they many times, either from con- 
 viction or kindness, complied with my wishes. 
 
 The partners in this affair were therefore greatly dis- 
 couraged, especially Seekatz, a very hypochondriacal, retired 
 man, who indeed by his incomparable humour was the best 
 of companions among friends, but who, when he worked, 
 desired to work alone, abstracted and perfectly free. This 
 man, after solving difficult problems, and finishing them with 
 the greatest diligence and the warmest love, of which he was 
 always capable, was forced to travel repeatedly from Darm- 
 stadt to Frankfort, either to change something in his own pic- 
 tures, or to touch up those of others, or even to allow, under 
 his superintendence, a third person to convert his pictures into 
 a variegated mess. His peevishness augmented, his resistance 
 oecame more decided, and a great deal of effort was necessary 
 on our part to guide this "gossip" 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 tho 
 gossip interpreter to seat himself in a wagon, and fetch over
 
 90 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 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 was at table, and I can recall but one instance, 
 when, Seekatz having excelled himself, and the wish to see 
 these pictures having brought the whole house together, my 
 father and the Count met, and manifested a common pleasure 
 in these works of art, which they could not take in each other. 
 
 Scarcely, therefore, had the house been cleared of the chests 
 and boxes, than the plan for removing the Count, which had 
 formerly been begun, but was afterwards interrupted, was re- 
 sumed. The endeavour was made to gain justice by repre- 
 sentations, equity by entreaties, favour by influence, and the 
 quarter-masters were prevailed upon to decide thus : the 
 Count was to change his lodgings, and our house, in con. 
 sideration of the burden borne day and night for several 
 years uninterruptedly, was to be exempt for the future from 
 billetting. But, to furnish a plausible pretext for this, we 
 were to take in lodgers on the first floor, which the Count 
 nad occupied, and thus render a new quartering as it were 
 impossible. The Count, who after the separation from his 
 4ear pictures felt no further peculiar interest in the house,
 
 DEPARTUBE OF THOEANE. 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.
 
 FOUBTH BOOK. 
 
 Mr OH inconvenience as the quartering of the French had 
 occasioned us, we had become so accustomed to it, that we 
 could not fail to miss it, nor could we children fail to feel 
 as if the house were deserted. Moreover it was not decreed 
 that we should again attain perfect family unity. New 
 .odgers were already agreed upon, and after some sweeping 
 and scouring, planing and rubbing with bees'-wax, painting 
 and varnishing, the house was completely restored again. The 
 chancery-director Morita r A<4th4iisJaily T JZJery.. wjylhy-friends 
 oCmy_4>areits^_mQYed 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 
 
 & pleasure by helping me on in this branch of study. I 
 was thus enabled to finish my architectural sketc'hes 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 ail 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 Bruu 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 
 oui-selves 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 Pia/etta, 
 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. ~Xt last 
 I went once accidentally into the room of one- f my com- 
 panions, who was just taking his lesson on the harpsichord, 
 and found the teacher a most charming man. For each
 
 94 XKUTH AND POKTHY J FKOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 finger of the right and left hand he had a nickname, by 
 which he indicated in the merriest way when it was to be 
 used. The black and white keys were likewise symbolically 
 designated, and even the tones appeared under figurative 
 names. Such a motley company worked most pleasantly 
 together. Fingering and time seemed to become perfectly 
 easy and obvious, and while the scholar was put into the 
 best humour, everything else succeeded beautifully 
 
 Scarcely had I reached home, than I importuned my 
 parents to set about the matter in good earnest at last, and 
 give us this incomparable man for our master on the harp- 
 sichord. They hesitated, and made inquiries; they indeed 
 heard nothing bad of the teacher; but, at the same time, 
 nothing particularly good. Meanwhile I had informed my 
 sister of all the droll names ; we could hardly wait for 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- 
 erling," or " goldfinger," while the countenance of the man 
 remained as imperturbable during his dry teaching as it had 
 been before during his dry jests. My sister reproached me 
 most bitterly for having deceived her, and actually believed 
 that it was all an invention of mine. But I was myself con- 
 founded and learned little, though the man at once went 
 regularly enough to work ; for I kept always expecting that 
 the former jokes would make their appearance, and so con- 
 soled my sister from one day to another. They did not 
 reappear, however, and I should never have been able to 
 explain the riddle if another accident had not solved it for 
 me. 
 
 One of my companions came in during a lesson, and at 
 once all the pipes of the humorous jet d'eau were opened ; 
 the "thumbUngs" and " pointerlings," the "pickers" and 
 "stealers," as he used to call the fingers, the " falings" 
 *ud "galings," meaning "f" and "g," the "fielings" ami
 
 THE ECCENTRIC MUSIC-MASTER. 95 
 
 "gielings," meaning "f" and "g" sharp,* became once moro 
 extant, and made the most wonderful mannikins. My young 
 friend could not leave off laughing, and was rejoiced that 
 one could learn in such a merry manner. He vowed that \ 
 he would give his parents no peace until they had given him 
 such an excellent man for a teacher. 
 
 And thus the way to two arts was early enough opened to 
 me, according to the principles of ajmodern theory xj 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 iast, 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 
 naturalJhings. 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" ad "gis."
 
 96 TBUTH AND POETRY; FHOM 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 
 etory, 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 (Pensioner*) 
 had arisen from the necessity which every one felt for having 
 the French language taught and communicated orally. My
 
 BOABDIKG-SCHOOI, 97 
 
 ather had brought up a young person who had been his foot- 
 inan, valet, secretary, and ij~-short successively all in all. 
 This man, whose name was (Pfeiji spoke French well. After 
 he had married, and his patrons had to think of a situation 
 for him, they hit upon the plan of making him establish a 
 boarding-school, which extended gradually into a small aca- 
 demy, in which everything necessary, and at last even Greek 
 and Latin, were taught. The extensive connexions of Frank- 
 fort caused young French and English men to be brought to 
 this establishment, that they might learn German and be other- 
 wise cultivated. Pfeil, who was a man in the prime of life, 
 and of the most wonderful energy and activity, superintended 
 the whole very laudably, and as he could never be employed 
 enough, and was obliged to keep music-teachers for his 
 scholars, he set about music on the occasion, and practised the 
 harpsichord with such zeal that, without having previously 
 touched a note, he very soon played with perfect readiness and 
 spirit. He seemedLto have adopted my fhth pi '' g TP nYi ' r "; f l |g * 
 
 nothing raft mr^o fliACT qnfl ttirm'tn ymnw-pofyplo - (1m. > mlmn 
 
 at mature y^ara vn? d?1arps onf*'s self again a learner, and at 
 an age when new accomplishments- are- required- with diffi- 
 culty, one endeavours, nevertheless^by zeal and perseverance, 
 to excel the younger, who are more favoured by nature. 
 
 By this love of harpsichord-playing Pfeil was led to the 
 instruments themselves, and while he hoped to obtain the 
 best, came into connexion with Frederici of Gera, whose in- 
 struments were celebrated far and wide. He took a number 
 of them on sale, and had now the joy of seeing not only one 
 piano, but many, set up in his residence, and of practising 
 and being heard upon them. 
 
 The vivacity of this man brought a great rage for music 
 into our house. My father remained on lasting good terms 
 with 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 longer every day in 
 practice ; while my father as overseer, and Pfeil as a model 
 and encouraging friend, alternately took their positions at 
 her side. 
 
 A singular taste of my father caused much inconvenience to 
 
 H
 
 93 TRUTH ANfl POETRY ; PROM MV OWN 
 
 us children. This was the cultivation of silk, of the advan- 
 tages of which, when it should be more widely extended, ho 
 had a high opinion. Some acquaintances at Hanau, where the 
 breeding of the worms was earned on with great care, gave 
 him the immediate impulse. At the proper season, the egga 
 were sent to him from that place, and as soon as the mulberry- 
 trees showed sufficient leaves, they had to be stripped, and 
 the scarcely visible creatures were most diligently tended. 
 Tables and stands, with boards, were set up in a garret cham- 
 ber, to afford them more room and sustenance ; for they grew 
 rapidly, and after their last change of skin were so voracious, 
 that it was scarcely possible to get leaves enough to feed them ; 
 nay, they had to be fed day and night, as everything depends 
 upon there being no deficiency of 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 uncleanlincss 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 servo 
 to refresh and vivify the impressions shortly before received.
 
 LESSONS IN ENGLISH. 99 
 
 They seem trifling in comparison, and at the best only a 
 melancholy substitute. But as the remembrance of the ori- 
 ginal forms fades more and more, the copies imperceptibly 
 assume their place, they become as dear to us as those once 
 were, and what we at first contemned, now gains esteem and 
 affection. Thus it is with all copies, and particularly with 
 portraits. No one is easily satisfied with the coxmterfeit of an 
 object still present, but how we value every silhouette of one 
 who is absent or departed. 
 
 In short, with this feeling of his former extravagance, my 
 father wished that these engravings might be restored as much 
 as possible. It was well known that this could be done by 
 bleaching ; and the operation, always critical with large plates; 
 was undertaken under rather unfavourable circumstances. 
 For the large boards on which the smoked engravings were 
 moistened and exposed to the sun, stood in the gutters 
 before the garret windows, leaning against the roof, and 
 were therefore liable to many accidents. The chief point 
 was, that the paper should never thoroughly dry, but must 
 be kept constantly moist. This was the duty of my sister 
 and myself ; and the idleness, which would have been other- 
 wise so desirable, was excessively annoying, on account of 
 the tedium and impatience, and the watchfulness which 
 allowed of no distraction. The end, however, was attained, 
 and the bookbinder who fixed each sheet upon thick paper, 
 did his best to match and repair the margins, which had 
 been here and there torn by our inadvertence. All the sheets 
 together were bound in a volume, and for this time preserved. 
 
 That we children might not be wanting in every variety 
 of life and learning, a teacher of the English language must 
 announce himself just at this time, who pledged himself to 
 teach English to anybody not entirely raw in languages, 
 within four weeks ; and to advance him to such a degree that, 
 with some diligence, he could- 4*elp himself further. His 
 price was moderate, and hcTwas-indifferent as to the number 
 of scholars at one^l&ssenr-HMy father instantly determined 
 To~THSk!S~TEe attempt, and took lessons, in connexion with ) 
 my_ sister and myself, from this expeditious master. TKf 
 hours were faithfully kept; there was no want of repeating 
 our lessons ; other exercises were neglected rather than this, 
 during the four weeks ; and tho teacher parted from us, and 
 
 H 2
 
 100 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 we from him, with satisfaction. As he remained longer iu 
 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 liim, 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 anotker, 
 and thus to divert my interest in a subject every hour. It 
 occurred to me, therefore, that I might despatch all at once, and 
 I invented a romance of six or seven brothers and sisters, 
 who, separated from each other and scattered over the world, 
 should communicate with each other alternately as to their 
 conditions and feelings. The eldest brother gives an account 
 in good German of all the manifold objects and incidents 
 of his journey. The sister, in a ladylike style, with short 
 sentences and nothing but stops, much as Siegwart was after- 
 wards written, answers now him, now the other brothers, 
 partly about domestic matters, and partly about aifairs 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 then? 
 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 scorer made aware of the acquirements and the 
 *tft of readiness in which I was wanting.
 
 BECTOB ALBHECHT. 10 
 
 Now, as sucn things once begun have no end and no limits, 
 eo 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 spnn disogrgrgd^flint T <wgU4i-4f>--knf>w-- ; K4*rpw > 
 from which alone the modem 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 halvesT 
 determined to request the rector of our Gymnasium, one Dr.\ 
 ALBKECHT, 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 diligentiee. I was probably gaz- 
 ing very eagerly upon the little bag out of which he drew
 
 102 TBTTTH AND POETKT ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 the medals ; he nodded to me, descended a step, and handed 
 me one of the silver pieces. My joy was great, although 
 others thought that this gift bestowed upon a boy not belong- 
 ing to the school was out of all order. But for this the good 
 old man cared but little, having always played the eccentric, 
 and that in a striking manner. He had a very good repu- 
 tation as a schoolmaster, and understood his business, although 
 age no more allowed him to practise it thoroughly. But 
 almost more than by his own infirmities was he hindered by 
 greater circumstances, and, as I already knew, he was satis- 
 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 
 
 without difficulty, for my teacher could not suppress certain 
 sarcastic remarks as to the real truth about Hebrew. I con- 
 cealed from him my designs upon Jew- German, and spoke of a 
 better understanding of the original text. He smiled at this, 
 and said I should be satisfied if I only learned to read. This 
 vexed me in secret, and I concentrated all my attention when 
 we came to the letters. I found an alphabet something like 
 the Greek, of which the forms were easy, and the names, for
 
 HEBREW STUDIES. 103 
 
 the most 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 was 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 I have gone on along this ancient, and, as 
 it seemed to me, easier path ; but my worthy declared rather 
 sternly, that we must go by the grammar as it had been 
 approved and composed. Reading without these points and 
 strokes, he said, was a very hard undertaking, and coidd 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, and now served as mere equivalents. But, 
 finally, when one fancied that one had well noted every- 
 thing, some of these personages, both great and small, were 
 rendered inoperative, so that the eyes always had very much, 
 and the lips very little to do. 
 
 As that of which I already knew the contents had now to 
 be stuttered in a strange gibberish, in which a certain snuffle 
 and gargle were not a little commended as something unat- 
 tainable, I in a certain degree deviated from the matter, and 
 diverted myself in a childish way with the singular names of 
 these accumulated signs. There were ;t 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 accent* In the Hebrew 
 grammar . Tram .
 
 104 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MTf 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. Th 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, 
 H8 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 sundered. 
 
 But our regards, our interests, are still fastened to these 
 regions. At last the founder of a race again goes forth from 
 hence, and is so fortunate as to stamp a distinct character 
 upon his descendants, and by that means to unite them for all 
 time to come into a great nation, inseparable through all 
 changes of place or destiny. 
 
 From the Euphrates, Abraham, not without divine guid- 
 ance, wanders towards the west. The desert opposes no 
 invincible barrier to his march. He attains the Jordan, passes 
 over its waters, and spreads himself over the fair southern 
 regions of Palestine. This land was already occupied, and 
 tolerably inhabited. Mountains, not extremely high, but 
 rocky and barren, were severed by many watered vales favour- 
 able to cultivation. Towns, villages, and solitary settlements 
 lay scattered over the plain and on the slopes of the great 
 valley, the waters of which are collected in Jordan. Thus 
 inhabited, thus tilled was the land ; but the world was still 
 large enough, and the men were not so circumspect, necessi- 
 tous, and active, as to usurp at once the whole adjacent 
 country. Between their possessions were extended large 
 spaces, in which grazing herds could freely move in every direc- 
 tion. In one of these spaces Abraham resides ; his brother 
 Lot is near him ; but they cannot long remain in such places. 
 The very condition of a land, the population of which is now 
 increasing, now decreasing, and the productions of which are 
 never kept in equilibrium with the wants, produces unex- 
 pectedly a famine, and the stranger suffers alike with the 
 native, whose own support he has rendered difficult by 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 Mamre, Lot departs for 
 the valley of Siddim, which, if our imagination is bold 
 enough to give Jordan a subterranean outlet, so that in place 
 of the present Dead Sea we should have dry ground, can 
 and must appear like a second Paradise ; a conjecture all the 
 more probable, because the residents about there, notorious 
 for effeminacy and wickedness, lead us to infer that they led 
 an easy and luxurious life. Lot lives among them, but apart. 
 
 But Hebron and the wood of Mamre appear to us as the 
 important place where the Lord speaks with Abraham, and 
 promises him all the land as far as his eye can reach in four 
 directions. From these quiet districts, from these shepherd 
 tribes, who can associate with celestials, entertain them as 
 guests, and hold many conversations with them, we are com- 
 pelled to turn our glance once more towards the East, and to 
 think of the condition of the surrounding world, which on the 
 whole, perhaps, may have been like that of Canaan. 
 
 Families hold together : they unite, and the mode of life of 
 the tribes is determined by the locality which they have appro- 
 priated or appropriate. On the mountains which send down 
 their waters to the Tigris, we find warlike populations, who 
 even thus early foreshadow those world-conquerors and world- 
 rulers and in a campaign, prodigious for those times, give 
 us a prelude of future achievements. Chedor Laomer, king 
 of Elam, has already a mighty influence over his allies. He 
 reigns a long while ; for twelve years before Abraham's arrival 
 in Canaan, he had made all the people tributary to him as far 
 as the Jordan. They revolted at last, and the allies equipped 
 for war. We find them unawares upon a route by which pro- 
 bably Abraham also reached Canaan. The people on the left 
 and lower side of the Jordan were subdued. Chedor Laomer 
 directs his march southwards towards the people of the Desert, 
 then wending north, he smites the Amalekites, and when he
 
 108 TRUIH AND POETRY : FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 has also overcome the Amorites, he reaches Canaan, falls upon 
 the kings of the valley of Siddim, smites and scatters them, 
 and marches with great spoil up the Jordan, in order to extend 
 his conquests as far as Lebanon. 
 
 Among the captives, despoiled and dragged along with their 
 property, is Lot, who shares the fate of the country in which 
 he 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 land. To the inhabitants he 
 appears as a protector, saviour, and, by his disinterestedness, 
 a king. Gratefully the kings of the valley receive him : 
 Melchisedek, the king and priest, with blessings. 
 
 Now the prophecies of an endless posterity are renewed, 
 nay, they take a wider and wider scope. From the waters of 
 the Euphrates to the river of Egypt all the lands are promised 
 him ; but yet there seems a difficulty with respect to his next 
 heirs. He is eighty years of age, and has no son. Sarai, less 
 trusting in the heavenly powers than he, becomes impatient ; 
 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 tho 
 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, i 
 his hundredth year, the husband of two women, the father o_ 
 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, 
 \ust as blindly as, undisturbed by doubts, they are unwearied 
 m awaiting the later fulfilments of his promises. 
 
 As a particular revealed religion rests upon the idea that
 
 110 tKUTH AND frOETRt; FROM Stt OWN 
 
 ie man can be more favoured by Heaven than another, so it 
 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 ac^uirc-d 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,
 
 ttifc OtD TESTAMENT. Ill 
 
 So 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 bo 
 earned 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 supposed ; 
 for there he, his sons and his grandsons, were to rest, and 
 by this means, the proximate titlo to the whole land, as well 
 
 * It should be observed that in this Biblical narrative, when we have 
 csed the expressions "Deity," " Godhead," or " Divinity," GiX.hu gene- 
 rally hat " die Gatter," or " the Gods." Trans.
 
 112 TRUTH AND POEXKY ; FfiOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 as the everlasting desire of his posterity to gather themselve* 
 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 Ishmatl, 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- 
 ingthat is, an immovable faith that God has t-pecial 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 
 tomes into the world, the late Iruit of the most passionate 
 attachment. Jacob's fourteen years of service are over, but 
 
 I
 
 114 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFB. 
 
 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 with 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 hit 
 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 sou Joseph. 
 
 Perhaps some one may ask why I have so circumstantial!} 
 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 an4 
 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 greatestjociejty i __ 
 
 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
 
 HI8TOBY OF 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 Lions 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 1 was con- 
 versant with no kind of versification which would have bee", 
 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, tha^ N 
 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 
 
 ' 2
 
 116 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN 
 
 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 
 
 id of another, and my natural gift of feeling and imitation 
 
 ew 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 
 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.
 
 FLITT'S SERMONS. 117 
 
 The so-called texts of the Sunday church-music, which were 
 always to be had printed, I studied with diligence. Thty 
 were, indeed, very weak, and I could well believe that rny 
 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 r\ 
 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 FEESEKIUS, 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. 1 
 was extremely attentive and on the alert ; the moment he said
 
 118 TRUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN LttfE, 
 
 Amen I hastened from the church and consumed a couple of 
 hours in rapidly dictating what I had fixed in my memoiy 
 ,111 d on paper, so that I could hand in the written sermon be- 
 fore dinner. My father was very proud of this success, and 
 I he 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 arst 
 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- 
 jleteness. 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 ifjie^ejjardfidl 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 
 jjit, 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, 
 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 
 biy 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 iunspjrudence. and therefore gave me 
 a small book by Hopp. in the shape of a catechism, and 
 worked up according tcT"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 STRTJVE 
 was taken in hand ; but here affairs did not proceed so rapidly. 
 The form of the work was not so favourable for beginners, 
 that they could help themselves on, nor was my father's 
 method of illustration so liberal as greatly to interest me. 
 Not only by the warlike state in which we lived for some 
 a 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 
 1 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 ot 
 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 meny. 
 
 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 speedily accus- 
 tomed ourselves to move backwards and forwards, make pasae
 
 120 TBUTH AND rOEXKY J FHOM MY OW>T LIFE. 
 
 aud 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 o_ 
 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 world. 
 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 Lersner's Chronicle, and other Frankfortian books a 
 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 historvJH, 
 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 Z felt anxious to know the most minute circumstance,
 
 122 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN Ll, 
 
 and to hear what sort of people they were. When from an 
 eld cotcmporary 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 
 now 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 (Judenstadfy, 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 the Jews 
 towards Christian children, which we had seen hideously illus- 
 trated in Gottfried's Chronicle, hovered gloomily before my 
 yonng 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 BURNING OP A BOOK. 123 
 
 displeased when a Christian lad, meeting them on the eabbath 
 in the Fischerfeld, showed himself kindly and attentive. I was 
 consequently extremely curious to become acquainted with \A 
 their ceremonies. I did not desist until I had frequently Ay 
 visited their school, had assisted at ajiircumcision and a w_e_d- 
 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 \yy 
 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 cifyin 
 an uproar for many weeks. We were forced to be witnesses of 
 different executions ; and it is worth remembering, that I wna 
 also once present at the burning_of_a u bQok. 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 burst asunder in the fire, and were raked 
 apart by an oven-fork, to be brought in closer contact with 
 the flames. It was not long before the kindled sheets were 
 wafted about in the air, and the crowd caught at them with 
 eagerness. Nor could wo 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_Jather had 
 early accustomed me to manage for him his little affairs of 
 business. He charged me particularly to stir up'the labourers" 
 whom he set to work, as they commonly kept him waiting 
 longer than was proper ; because he wished everything 
 done- accurately, and was u.scd 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 
 condituSrSF 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 TEUIH A.ND POETR*; FROM M* 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 alwayg 
 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 the 
 hoped-for peace the arrival of the Emperor, for the corona- 
 tion of his sou, 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 POETBT J FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 for iny 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 
 Bhade, as well as for colour, according to which the single 
 flowers might have been arranged. He examined with mo 
 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 FACTOBY. 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 
 ore 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 was 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 BO many
 
 128 TKUTII AND 1'OETKY; FROM MY OWN LIFH. 
 
 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 
 ./hole district. In the daytime, huzzas and shoutings are 
 heard from every end and corner, and at night rockets and
 
 FRANKFORT CHARACTERS VON OLENSCHLAGER. 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 OI/ENSCHIAGER, 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 tff 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 JEneid and 
 Ovid's Metamorphoses. T now did the same thing with the 
 Golden Bull, and often provoked my patron to a smile, whea- 5 
 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- 
 fc'on ; for the princes thereof have become the associates of robbers.
 
 130 TRUTH AND POETRY J FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 nt a grand Diet, the Emperor had such words published La 
 the face of his princes !" 
 
 There was a great charm in Von Olenschlager's society. Ho 
 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 f 
 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 hud 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 REINECK, 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 whitewasher, 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 
 he 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 tormen' 
 * Racine's tragedy. Trans-
 
 CHARACTERS VON REINECK. 131 
 
 me! 1 ' 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 ether 
 men, which, however, nearly turned out badly. 
 
 About the same age, if indeed not older, was one HEBR 
 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 was 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 ; he 
 therefore took the stalk near the calyx very cautiously between 
 his fore and middle fingers, and lifted the flower so that he
 
 132 TRUTH AND frOKTRYJ FROM MY OWN LIFtt. 
 
 could Well inspect it. But even this gentle handling vexed 
 the owner. Von Malapert courteously, indeed, but stiffly 
 enough, and somewhat self-complacently, reminded him of 
 the Oculis, non manibus.* Von Reineck had already let go the 
 flower, but at once took fire at the words, and said in his 
 usual dry, serious 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. 
 
 HOKRATH HUESGEN, notborn 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 Calvinlst, as distinguished from a Lutheran. 
 Tratit
 
 FRANKFORT CHARACTERS HOFRATH HTTI8GEN. 13S 
 
 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 that one may be 
 saved from dangers and need not always break 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. 1 never saw company nor guests at his house ; 
 and only twice in ten years do I remember to have seen him 
 dressed and walking out of doors. 
 
 My various conversations with these men were not insignifi- 
 cant, and each of them influenced me in his own way. Froir 
 every one I had as much attention as his own children, if uo*.
 
 184 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFH. 
 
 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- 
 ncck 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 
 v ime, an able juris-consult ; a necessary profession, as ke 
 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 
 acqiiired, 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 tho 
 poet.
 
 FIFTH BOOK. 
 
 EVERY bird has^ itsjdgcoy, and eveiy mgnjgjed jM misled in 
 a way peculiar to himself. Nature, education, circumstances, 
 ;md liabit kept me apart from all that was rude ; and though 
 I often came into contact with the lower classes of people, j>ar- 
 toularlymechanics, no close connexion grew out of it. I had 
 indeed boldness enough to undertake sometliing uncommon 
 and perhaps dangerous, and many times felt disposed to do 
 RO ; VniiL JL 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 of friendship broke out immediately. 
 Once we met in the alleys which offer a very agreeable walk 
 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 THUTH AND POETRY J PHOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 verses, for which yon 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 ba 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-
 
 FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH GRETCIIEW. 137 
 
 pelves 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, v.-ith 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 Mend 
 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. x\ ' 
 pleasure in such a malicious deception, and the repetition 
 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 gat down and remained alone, without requiring further 
 service. As there was, however, a want of u-ine at last, one
 
 138 TRTTTH AND POETRY; PEOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 of them called for the maid ; but instead of the inaid there 
 came in a girl of uncommon, and, when one saw her with all 
 around her, of incredible beauty. " What do you desire?" 
 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." "Why not?" 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 
 come. This, also, I was to write, and the waggish com- 
 * The diminutive of Margaret. Tyrant,
 
 Srt2TCllEN'8 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 coxdd 
 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 rshpuldrreadrit over to him ; 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, 
 with a pencil that always lay in tho window, bccauso upon 
 this slato reckonings were often made, and various memor- 
 anda noted down, and those coming in or going out even 
 communicated with each other. 
 
 1 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 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 such matters." She arose from the distaff, and stopping 
 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 shall 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 was 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 indoed 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, t; 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 tovs!, 141 
 
 " that is so vulgar ; but let us love if we can." I had taken 
 up the paper, and tlirust 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. 1 
 pressed _my face upon her hands and hastened away. Never 
 
 "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 eocli
 
 142 TRUTH AND POETRY ; *ROM MT 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 we'll, nay, better than others. 
 Now an opportunity was offered me to show myself, and espe- 
 cially to see myself in print. I did not appear disinclined. 
 They acquainted me with the personal particulars and the 
 position of the family ; I went somewhat aside, made my 
 plan, and produced some stanzas. However, when I returned 
 to the company, and the wine was not spared, the poem 
 began to halt, and I could not deliver it that evening. 
 " There is still time till to-morrow evening," they said ; 
 " and we will confess to you that the fee which we receive 
 for the dirge is enough to get us another pleasant evening 
 to-morrow. Come to us ; for it is but fair that Gretchen 
 too should sup with us, as it was she properly who gave us 
 the notion." My joy was unspeakable. On my way home 
 I had only the remaining stanzas in my head, wrote down the 
 whole before I went to sleep, and the next morning made a 
 very neat fair copy. The day seemed infinitely long to me ; 
 and scarcely was it dusk, than I found myself again in the 
 narrow little dwelling beside the dearest of girls. 
 
 The young persons with whom in this way I formed a 
 closer and closer connexion were not properly low, but 
 ordinary sort of people. Their activity was commendable, and 
 
 * That is to say, a poem written for a certain occasion, as a wedding, 
 funeral, &c. The German word is " GeleyenAeitsgedicht." Trans.
 
 GRETCHEN AND HEK FRIENDS. 148 
 
 I listened to them with pleasure when they spoke of the mani- 
 fold ways and means by which one could gain a living ; above 
 all they loved to tell of people, now very rich, who had begun 
 with nothing. Others to whom they referred had, as poor-^0 
 clerks, rendered themselves indispensable to their employers, 
 and had finally risen to be their sons-in-law : while others had 
 so enlarged and improved a little trade in matches and the 
 like, that they were now prosperous merchants and tradesmen. 
 But above all, to young men, who were active on their feet, 
 the trade of agent and factor, and the undertaking of all sorts 
 of commissions and charges for helpless rich men was, they 
 said, a most profitable means of gaining a livelihood. We all 
 heard this eagerly, and each one fancied himself somebody, 
 when he imagined, at the moment, that there was enough in 
 him, not only to get on in the world, but to acquire an extra- 
 ordinary fortune. But no one seemed to carry on this conver- 
 sation more earnestly than Pylades, who at last confessed that 
 he had an extraordinary passion for a girl, and was actually 
 engaged to her. The circumstances of his parents would not 
 allow him to go to universities, but he had endeavoured to 
 acquire a fine handwriting, a knowledge of accounts, and the 
 modern languages, and would now do his best in hopes of 
 attaining that domestic felicity. The cousins praised him for 
 this, although they did not approve of a premature engage- 
 ment to a girl, and they added, that while forced to acknow- 
 ledge him to be a fine good fellow, they did not consider him 
 active or enterprising enough to do anything extraordinary. 
 While he, in vindication of himself, circumstantially set forth 
 what he thought himself fit for, and how he was going to begin, 
 the others were also incited, and each one began to tell what he 
 was now able to do, doing, or carrying on, what he had already 
 accomplished, and what he saw immediately before him. The 
 turn at last came to me. I was to set forth my course of life 
 and prospects, and while I was considering, Pylades said, " I 
 make this one proviso, if we all would stand on a level, that 
 he does not bring into the account the external advantages of 
 his position. He should rather tell us a tale how he would 
 proceed if at this moment he were thrown entirely upon his 
 own resources, as we are." 
 
 Gretchen, who till this moment had kept on spinning, rose 
 and seated herself as usual at the end of the table. We had
 
 144 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM 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 choso 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 heri 
 gave to what I said such an air of truth and probability, that^j 
 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 
 / noi 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 hie 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 ; Grgtghgn>t dppnrfmfiTit tn\yarJg_HL ft 
 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,j)articularly 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 oft*.- a repeated, and indeed all 
 her attitudes and motions were very u liform, 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 Hdchst market-ship, observed the strange passengers packed 
 away in it, and bantered and teased, now this one, now that, 
 as pleasure or caprice prompted. At Hochst we got out at 
 the same time as the market-boat from Mentz arrived. At a 
 hotel there was a well-spread table, where the better sort of 
 travellers, coming and going, ate with each other, and then 
 proceeded, each on his way, as both ships returned. Every 
 time, after dining, we sailed up to Frankfort, having, with a 
 very large company, made the cheapest water-excursion that 
 was possible. Once I had undertaken this journey with 
 Gretchen's Cousins, when a young man joined us at table in, 
 Hochst, who might be a little older than we were. They knew 
 him, and he got himself introduced to me. He had something 
 very pleasing in his manner, though he was not otherwise dis- 
 tinguished. Coming from Mentz, he now went back with us 
 to Frankfort, and conversed with me of everything that re- 
 lated to the internal arrangements of the city, and the public 
 offices and places, on which he seemed to me to be very well 
 informed. When we separated he bade me farewell, and 
 added, that he wished 1 might think well of him, as he hoped 
 on occasion to avail himself of my recommendation. I did not 
 know what he meant by this, but the cousins enlightened me 
 some days after ; they spoke well of him, and asked me to in- 
 tercede with my grandfather, as a moderate appointment was
 
 146 TRUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN 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 01 
 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 ine 
 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. 
 Hardlv had I entered and greeted the proprietress, than 1 saw 
 sitting in the window a lady, who in a lace cap looked very 
 young and pretty, and in a silk mantilla seemed very well 
 shaped. I could easily recognize that she was an assistant, 
 for she was occupied in fastening a ribbon and feathers upon a 
 hat. The milliner showed me the long box with single flowers 
 of various sorts ; 1 looked them over, and as 1 made my chioce
 
 GHETOHEN'S NEW SITUATIOW. 147 
 
 glanced again towards the lady in the window ; but how 
 great was my astonishment when I perceived an incredible 
 similarity taGretehen, nay, was forced to be convinced at last 
 that it wastGretchen ])erself. No doubt remained, when she 
 winked witn~Eef~eyGsand 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 glection- and coronation-diaries of 
 th_e_t\vo last coronations, as well ;w through the last capitulations 
 of election, in order to remark what new conditions might be 
 added in the present instance. The diaries were opened, and 
 we occupied ourselves with them the whole day till far into 
 the night, while the pretty girl, sometimes in her old house- 
 dress, sometimes in her new costume, ever hovered before me, 
 backwards and forwards among the most august objects of the 
 Holy Roman Empire. This evening it was impossible to see 
 her, and I lay awake through a very restless night. The study 
 of yesterday was the next day zealously resumed, and it waa 
 not till towards evening that I found it possible to visit my 
 fair one, whom I met again in her usual house-dress. She 
 sThiled when she saw me, but I did not venture to mention 
 anything before the others. When the whole company sat 
 quietly together again, she began and said, " It is unfair that 
 you do not confide to our friend what we have lately resolved 
 upon." She then continued to relate, that after our late con- 
 versation, in which the discussion was how any one could get 
 
 z.2
 
 H8 TRUTH 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 want of an assistant. They 
 had, she said, arranged with the woman ; she went there so 
 many hours a-day, and was well paid ; only when there she 
 was obliged, for propriety's sake, to conform to a certain dress, 
 which, however, she left behind her every time, as it did not 
 at all suit her other modes of life and employment. I was 
 indeed set at rest by this declaration, but it did not quite please 
 me to know that the pretty girl was in a public shop, and at a 
 place where the fashionable world found a convenient resort. 
 But I betrayed nothing, and strove to work off my jealous 
 care in silence. For this the younger cousin did not allow me 
 a long time, as he once more came forward with a proposal for 
 an occasional poem, told me all the personalities, and at once 
 desired me to prepare myself for the invention and disposition 
 of the work. He had already spoken with me several times 
 concerning the proper treatment of such a theme, and as I was 
 voluble in these cases, he readily asked me to explain to him 
 circumstantially what is rhetorical in these things, to give him 
 a notion of the matter, and to make use of my own and others' 
 labours in this kind for examples. The young man had some 
 brains, though he was without a trace of a poetical vein, and now 
 he went so much into particulars, and wished to have such an 
 account of everything, that I gave utterance to the remark : "It 
 seems as if you wanted to encroach upon my trade and steal away 
 my customers !" " I will not deny it," said he, smiling, " as 
 I shall do you no harm by it. This will only continue to the 
 time when you go to the university, and till then you must 
 allow me still to profit something by your society." " Most 
 cordially," I replied, and I encouraged him to draw out a plan, 
 to choose a metre according to the character of his subject, 
 and to do whatever else might seem necessary. He went to 
 work in earnest, but did not succeed. I was in the end com- 
 pelled to re- write so much of it, that I could more easily and 
 better have written it all from the beginning myself. Yet this 
 teaching and learning, this mutual labour, afforded us good 
 entertainment: Gretchen took part in it and had many a pretty 
 notion, so that we were all pleased, we may indeed say, happy.
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR THE ELECTION 1 . 149 
 
 During the day she worked at the milliner's : in the evening* 
 we generally met together, and our contentment was not even 
 disturbed when at last the commissions for occasional poems 
 began to leave off. Still we felt hurt once, when one of them 
 came back under protest, because it did not suit the party who 
 ordered it. We consoled ourselves, however, as we considered 
 it our very best work, and could therefore declare the other a 
 bad judge. The cousin, who was determined to learn some- 
 thing at any rate, resorted to the expedient of inventing pro- 
 blems, in the solution of which we always found amusement 
 enough, but as they brought in nothing, our little banquets 
 had to be much more frugally managed. 
 
 That great political object, the election and coronation of a 
 King of 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 1763, 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 chanceiy 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 
 chargb 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 
 it>oms in the town-house had seemed to us worth seeing, after
 
 150 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY O*,VN Llfrfe. 
 
 the arrival of the ambassadors one tfter another, and their first 
 solemn ascent in a body, on the 6th of February, had takeu 
 place, we admired the coming in of the imperial commissioners, 
 and their ascent also to the Romer< which was made with 
 great pomp. The dignified person of the PRINCE of LICHT- 
 ENSTEJN made a good impression; yet connoisseurs main- 
 tained that the showy liveries had already been used or. 
 another occasion, and that this election and coronation would 
 hardly equal in brilliancy that of Charles the Seventh. We 
 younger folks were content with what was before our eyes ; 
 all seemed to us very fine, and much of it perfectly astonishing. 
 
 The electoral congress was fixed at last for the 3rd of March. 
 New formalities again set the city in motion, and the alternate 
 visits of ceremony on the part of the ambassadors kept us 
 always on our legs. We were compelled, too, to watch closely, 
 as we were not only to gape about, but to note everything well, 
 in order to give a proper report at home, and even to make out 
 many little memoirs, on which my father and Herr von K6- 
 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 witlr 
 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 specia* 
 liking for him, because he reminded me of MARSHAL DE BRO- 
 OLIO. Yet the form and dignity of these excellent persona 
 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 
 scveu years' war, as a diplomatic hero. At Ratisbou, when the
 
 BARON VOK PLOTHO. 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, Loth 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 Chronicle 
 of similar incidents on similar occasions, with admiration o| 
 the patience and perseverance of those good old councilmea. 
 caine once more vividly before my eyes.
 
 152 TRUTH AND POETRY; FKOM 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 
 tinder 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 LJs ambassadors about the quartering ever con- 
 tinued. 
 
 Meanwhile I pursued my clerical labours at home very 
 actively, and perceived many little suggestions (monita) which 
 came in from all sides, and were to be regarded in the new 
 capitulation. Every rank desired to see its privileges gua- 
 ranteed and its importance increased in this document. Very 
 many such observations and desires were, however, put aside ; 
 much remained as it was, though the suggestors (monentes) 
 received the most positive assurances that the neglect should 
 in no wise ensue to their prejudice. 
 
 In the meanwhile the office of Imperial Marshal was forced 
 to undertake many dangerous affairs ; the crowd of strangers 
 increased, ani it became more and more difficult to fiui
 
 LAYATEB. 153 
 
 lodgings for them. Nor was tliere 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, LAVAIER, 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 
 etyle, 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 
 a? the persons.
 
 164 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFK. 
 
 We will then for the present allow the ELECTOR EMEKTO 
 JOSEPH to enter the Compostello incognito, so to speak, 
 and turn to Gretchen, whom, just as the crowd was dis- 
 persing, I spied in the crowd, accompanied by Pylades and 
 his mistress, the three now seeming to be inseparable. We 
 nad scarcely come up to each other and exchanged greetings, 
 than it was agreed that we should pass the evening together, 
 and I kept the appointment punctually. The usual company 
 had assembled, and each one had something to relate, to say, 
 or to remark how one had been most struck by this thing 
 and another by that. "Your speeches," said Gretchen at 
 iast, " 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 wi e informed of the affairs of this world, and knew 
 how this and that came about and what it signified. She 
 wished she were a boy, and managed to acknowledge, with 
 much kindness, that she was indebted to me for a great deal 
 of instruction. " If I were a boy," said she, " we would 
 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 lattee
 
 Ai'l'ROACH OP THE ELECTION. I 5 
 
 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 \vas 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 (Sicherheil- 
 beides) by the council, the military, and the body of citizens, 
 not through representatives, but personally, and in mass : first, 
 in the great hall of the Romer, by the magistracy and staff- 
 officers ; then in the great square (Platz), the Romerberg, by 
 all the citizens, according to their respective ranks, grada- 
 tions, or quarterings ; and lastly by the rest of the miKtary. 
 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 " ia St. Preux, in the Nouvelle Heloist of Ro*/-
 
 166 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LTFK. 
 
 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^o great a solemnity. 
 
 iT 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 Romer, which I knew as 
 familiarly as a mouse does the private corn-loft, till I reached 
 the main entrance, before which the Electors and ambassadors, 
 who had first arrived in their state-coaches, and had assem- 
 bled above, were now to mount their horses. The stately, 
 well-trained steeds were covered with richly laced housings, 
 and ornamented in every way. The Elector Emeric Joseph, 
 a comfortable-looking man, looked well on horseback. Of the 
 other two I remember less, excepting that the red princes' 
 mantles, trimmed with ermine, which we had been accus- 
 tomed to see only in pictures before, seemed to us very 
 romantic in the open air. The ambassadors of the absent 
 temporal Electors, with their Spanish dresses of gold bro- 
 cade, embroidered over with gold, and trimmed with gold 
 lace, likewise did our eyes good; and the large feathers par- 
 ticularly, that waved most splendidly from the hats, which were 
 cocked in the antique style. But what did not please me 
 were the short modern breeches, the white silk stockings, 
 and the fashionable shoes. We should have liked half-boots 
 gilded as much as they pleased sandals, or something of 
 the kind, that we might have seen a more consistent costume. 
 In deportment the Ambassador Von Plotho again distin- 
 guished himself from all the rest. He appeared lively and 
 cheerful, and seemed to have no great respect for the whole 
 ceremony. For when his front-man, an elderly gentleman, 
 could not leap immediately on his horse, and he was therefore 
 forced to wait some time in the grand entrance, he did not 
 refrain from laughing, till his own horse was brought forward, 
 upon which he swung himself very dexterously, and was again 
 admired by us as a most woithy representative of Frederick 
 the Second.
 
 APPROACH OF THE EMPEROR AND KINO. 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 weL 
 prepared. The public scenes opened gradually, and went OP 
 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 a : ' 
 last even a well-prepared and firm eye became bewildered. 
 
 The entrance of the Elector of Mentz, which we have re- 
 fused to describe more completely, was magnificent and im- 
 posing enough to suggest to the imagination of an eminent 
 man, the advent of a great prophesied World-Ruler ; even we 
 were not a little dazzled by it. But now our expectation was 
 stretched to the utmost, as it was said that the Emperor and 
 the future King were approaching the city. At a little dis- 
 tance from Sachsenhausen, a tent had been erected, in which 
 the entire magistracy remained, to show the appropriate 
 honour, and to proffer the keys of the city to the chief of the 
 Empire. Further out, on a fair spacious plain, stood another 
 a state pavilion, whither the whole body of electoral princes 
 and ambassadors repaired, while their retinues extended 
 along the whole way, that gradually, as their turns came, they 
 might again move towards the city, and enter properly i
 
 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 tho 
 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 stateC 
 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 caparison? , Attracted every
 
 THE IMPERIAL CAEKIAGfc. 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-_^x 
 ing order, each one in a magnificent state- carriage. Imme- 
 diately behind the Elector of Mentz, ten imperial footmen, one 
 and forty lackeys, and eight Heyducks,* announced their Ma- 
 jesties. The most magnificent state-carriage, furnished even 
 at the back part with an entire window of plate-glass, orna- 
 mented with paintings, lacker, carved work, and gilding, 
 covered with red embroidered velvet on the top and inside, 
 allowed us very conveniently to behold the Emperor and King, 
 the long-desired heads, in all their glory. The procession was 
 led a long circuitous route, partly from necessity, that it might 
 be able to unfold itself, and partly to render it visible to the 
 great multitude of people. It had passed through Sachsen- 
 hausen, over the bridge, up the Fahrgasse, then down the 
 Zeile, and turned towards the inner city through the 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 descent and ascent. With the 
 same view they had also removed all the projecting eaves from 
 the shops and booths in the street, that neither crown, nor eagle, 
 nor the genii should receive any shock or injury. 
 
 Eagerly as we directed our eyes to the high personages when 
 this precious vessel with such precious contents approached us, 
 * A class of attendants dressed in Hungarian costume. Trans.
 
 160 TRUTH AND POETRY J FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 we could not avoid turning our looks upon the noble horses, 
 their harness, and its embroidery ; but the strange coachmen 
 and outriders, both sitting on the horses, particularly struck 
 us. They looked as if they had come from some other nation, 
 or even from another world, with their long black and yellow 
 velvet coats, and their caps with large plumes of feathers, after 
 the imperial court fashion. Now the crowd became so dense 
 that it was impossible to distinguish much more. The Swiss 
 guard on both sides of the carriage, the Hereditary Marshal 
 holding the Saxon sword upwards in his right hand, the Field- 
 Marshals, as leaders of the Imperial Guard, riding behind the 
 carriage, the imperial pages in a body, and finally, the Imperial 
 Horse-guard (Hatschiergarde) itself, in black velvet frocks 
 (Fliigelrdck), with all the seams edged with gold, under which 
 were red coats and leather-coloured camisoles, likewise richly 
 decked with gold ! One scarcely recovered oneself from sheer 
 seeing, pointing, and showing, so that the scarcely less splen- 
 didly clad body-guards of the Electors were barely looked at, 
 and we should perhaps have withdrawn from the windows, if 
 we had not wished to take a view of our own magistracy, who 
 closed the procession in their fifteen two-horse coaches, and 
 particularly the clerk of the council, with the city keys on red 
 velvet cushions. That our company of city grenadiers should 
 cover the rear, seemed to us honourable enough, and we felt 
 doubly and highly edified as Germans and as Frankforters by 
 this great day. 
 
 We had taken our place in a house which the procession 
 had to pass again when it returned from the cathedral. Oi 
 religious services, of music, of rites and solemnities, of addresses 
 and answers, of propositions and readings aloud, there was so 
 much in church, choir, and conclave, before it came to the 
 swearing of the electoral capitulation, that we had time enough 
 to partake of an excellent collation, and to empty many bottles 
 to the health of our old and young ruler. The conversation, 
 in the meanwhile, as is usual on such occasions, reverted to the 
 time past, and there were not wanting aged persons who pre- 
 ferred that to the present, at least with respect to a certain 
 human interest and impassioned sympathy which then pre- 
 vailed. At the coronation of Francis the First all had not 
 been so settled as now ; peace had not yet been concluded ; 
 France and the Electors of Brandenburg and the Palatinate
 
 MAEIA THERESA. 161 
 
 vere 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. MART A TTTV.TVF.SA, f.hmigh 
 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 ricHy blessed with their 
 children, who 'have been tUJ l""|"rtftrBBn!g*fllBi!rTUhon, : tfaat 
 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 firstborn 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 h<td become quite absorbed in the past and future, when 
 some friends who came in recalled us to the JJregcat. 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 
 
 K
 
 162 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FROM MY OWN I,IFE 
 
 humane trait in those exalted personages whom we had seen 
 go by with the greatest pomp. It had been concerted that ou 
 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 andjiie-cityr The latter yielded, the people 
 of Mentz escorted-^he insignia as far as the barricade, and so 
 the^afiair~1]3mnated 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- 
 iplete account of what had lately happened, and of what was 
 to be expected on the coronation-day. This great day ap- 
 pcoachedjl-tfeeugbt^aofe 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 Pyladcs, 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 tr, 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 
 comer. She had laid her head on his shoulder and had gone to
 
 164 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 sleep, and he did not keep long awake. The younger cousis 
 sitting opposite to us by the slate, had crossed his arms before 
 him, and slept with his face resting upon them. I sat in the 
 window-corner, behind the table, and Gretchen by me. We 
 talked in a low voice : but at last sleep overcame her also, she 
 leaned her head on my shoulder, and sank at once into a slumber. 
 Thus I now sat, the only one awake, in a most singular posi- 
 tion, in which the kind brother of death soon put me also to 
 rest. I went to sleep, and when I awoke it was already bright 
 day. Gretchen was standing before the mirror arranging her 
 little cap ; she was more lovely than ever, and when I de- 
 parted cordially pressed my hands. I crept home by a round- 
 about way ; for, on the side towards the little Stay-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 
 bhould converse with a young man and try him. I, on my 
 side, was likewise not particularly skilful in adapting myself 
 to people. Generally I acquired their favour, but not their 
 approbation. Whatever occupied me was completely present 
 to me ; but I did not ask whether it might be also suitable t"
 
 THE COttONATlON-DAT. Id5 
 
 others. I was mostly too lively or too quiet, and appeareJ\ 
 either importunate or sullen, just as persons attracted or ) 
 repelled me ; and thus I was considered to be indeed full or 
 
 promise, but at thpjjgjnft ti'mp wag <W1niWl onfpntrift- ^ 
 
 The doTonation^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 
 Rdmer itself, where we might completely survey the whole. 
 We betook ourselves to the spot very early in the morning, and 
 from above, as in a bird's-eye view, contemplated the arrange- 
 ments which we had inspected more closely the day before. 
 There was the newly-erected fountain, with two large tubs on 
 the left and right, into which the double-eagle on the post was 
 to pour from, its two beaks white wine on this side and red 
 wine on that. There, gathered into a heap, lay the oats ; here 
 stood the large wooden hut, in which we had several days since 
 seen the whole fat ox roasted and basted on a huge spit before 
 a charcoal fire. All the avenues leading out from the Romer, 
 and from other streets back to the Romer, were secured on 
 both sides by barriers and guards. The great square was gra 
 dually filled, and the waving and pressure grew every moment 
 stronger and more in motion, as the multitude always, if pos- 
 sible, endeavoured to reach the spot where some new scene 
 arose, and something particular was announced. 
 
 All this time there reigned a tolerable stillness, and when 
 the alarm-bells were sounded, all the people seemed struck 
 with terror and amazement. What first attracted the atten- 
 tion of all who could overlook the square from above, was the 
 train in which the lords of Aix and Nuremberg brought -the 
 crown-jewels to the cathedral. These, as palladia, had been 
 assigned the first place in the carriage, and the deputies sat 
 before them on the back seat with becoming reverence. Now 
 the three Electors betake themselves to the cathedral. After 
 the presentation of the insignia to the Elector of Mentz, the 
 crown and sword are immediately carried to the imperial 
 quarters. The further arrangements and manifold ceremonies 
 occupied, in the interim, the chief persons, as well as the spec- 
 tators, in the church, as we other well-informed persons could 
 well imagine. 
 
 In the meanwhile before our eves the ambassadors ascended
 
 166 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIVE. 
 
 to the Homer, from -which the canopy is carried by the uu^er- 
 oflicers into the imperial quarters. The Hereditary Marshal 
 COUXT VON PAPPENHEIM instantly mounts his horse ; he v/as 
 a very handsome, slender gentleman, whom the Spanish cos- 
 tume, the rich doublet, the gold mantle, the high feathered 
 hat, and the loose flying hair, became very well. He puts 
 himself in motion, and, amid the sound of all the bells, the 
 ambassadors follow him on horseback to the quarters of the 
 Emperor in still greater magnificence than on the day of elec- 
 tion. One would have liked to be there too, as indeed on this 
 day it would have been altogether desirable to multiply one's- 
 self. However, we told each other what was going on there. 
 Now the Emperor is putting on his domestic robes, we said, 
 a new dress, made after the old Carolingian pattern. The 
 hereditary officers receive the insignia, and with them get on 
 horseback. The Emperor in his robes, the Roman King in the 
 Spanish habit, immediately mount their steeds ; and while 
 this is done, the endless procession which precedes them has 
 already announced them. 
 
 The eye was already wearied by the multitude of richly, 
 dressed attendants and magistrates, and by the nobility who, 
 in stately fashion, were moving along ; but when the Elec- 
 toral envoys, the hereditary officers, and at last, under the 
 richly-embroidered canopy, borne by twelve Schoffen. and 
 senators, the Emperor, in romantic costume, and to the left, 
 a little behind him, in the Spanish dress, his son, slowly floated 
 along on magnificently-adorned horses, the eye was no more 
 sufficient for the sight. One would have liked to detain the 
 scene, but for a moment, by a magic charm ; but the glory 
 passed on without stopping, and the space that was scarcely 
 quitted Avas 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 Rorner 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 bo 
 present in the church
 
 THE CORONATION PROCESSION. 16? 
 
 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 beer, 
 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 Ro'mer. 
 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 Ler 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 tr*in 
 which gently made its way over the many-coloured bridge, 
 announced that all was done. The attention was greater than 
 ever, and the procession more distinct than before, particu- 
 larly for us, since it now came directly up to us. We saw it, 
 as well as the whole of the square, which was thronged with 
 people, almost as if on a ground-plan. Only at the end the 
 magnificence was too much crowded ; for the envoys, the 
 hereditary officers, the Emperor and King, under the canopy 
 (Baldachin), the three spiritual Electors, who immediately 
 followed, the Schoffen and senators, dressed in black, the 
 gold embroidered canopy (Himmer), all seemed only one
 
 L68 TRUttt AJJD fOfcTRY; FROM MY OWN LIFR. 
 
 mass, which moved by a single will, splendidly harmonious, 
 and thus stepping from the temple amid the sound of tho 
 bells, beamed towards us as something holy. 
 
 A politico-religious ceremony possesses an infinite charm. 
 We behold earthly majesty before our eyes, surrounded by all 
 the symbols of its power ; but while it bends before that of 
 heaven, it brings to our minds the communion of both. For 
 even the individual can only prove his relationship with the 
 Deity by subjecting himself and adoring 
 
 The rejoicings, which resounded from the market-place, 
 now spread likewise over the great square, and a boisterous 
 vivat burst forth from thousands upon thousands of throats, 
 and doubtless from as many hearts. For this grand festival 
 was to be the pledge of a lasting peace, which indeed for 
 many a long year actually blessed Germany. 
 
 Several days before, it had been made known by public 
 proclamation, that neither the bridge nor the eagle over the 
 fountain were to be exposed to the people, and were therefore 
 not, as at other times, to te 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 Romer stairs, where the distin- 
 guished and majestic mass, which had been stared at from 
 the distance, was to ascend in its undulating course. The 
 crowd was not great, because the entrances to the council- 
 house were well garrisoned, and I fortunately reached at once 
 the iron balustrades above. Now the chief personages as- 
 cended past me, while their followers remained behind in tho 
 lower arched passages, and I could observe them on the thrioe 
 broken stairs from all sides, and at last quite close.
 
 CORONATION CEREMONIES. 169 
 
 Finally l>oth their Majesties came up. Father and son 
 were altogether dressed like Menaechmi. 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 Romer, and a reiterated shout 
 of vivat gave us to understand that the Emperor and King, in 
 their vestments, were showing themselves to the populace 
 from the balcony of the great hall. But they were not alone 
 to serve as a spectacle, since another strange spectacle occurred 
 before their eyes. First of all, the handsome slender Heredi- 
 tary Marshal flung himself upon his steed ; he had laid aside 
 his sword ; in his right hand he held a silver-handled vessel, 
 and a tin spatula in his left. He rode within the barriers to 
 the great heap of oats, sprang in, filled the vessel to overflow, 
 smoothed it off, and carried it back again with great dignity. 
 The imperial stable was now provided for. The Hereditary 
 Chamberlain then rode likewise to the spot, and brought back 
 a basin with ewer and towel. But more entertaining for the 
 spectators was the Hereditary Carver, who came to fetch a
 
 170 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LltfE. 
 
 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 Romcr. 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 tho
 
 THE OX AND THE \VOODEN 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 Rorner. 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- 
 liently perceptible. The hall-door was guarded, while those 
 who were authorised went frequently in and out. I saw one 
 of the Palatine domestic officials, whom I asked whether he 
 could not take me in with him. He did not deliberate 
 long, but gave me one of the silver vessels he just then bore, 
 d-hich he could do so much the more as I was neatly clad ;
 
 172 TRUTH AN1) POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFB. 
 
 and thus I reached the sanctuary. The Palatine buffet stood 
 10 the loft, 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. L strove to see all as much as 
 possible ; and when the dessert was brought in and the am- 
 bassadors re-entered to pay their court, I sought the open air, 
 and contrived to refresh myself with good friends in the 
 neighbourhpod, after a day's half-fasting, and to prepare for 
 theUlumimitlon iirthe-evennig~ 
 
 This brilliant night I purposed celebrating in a right 
 hearty way ; for I had agreed with Gretchen, and Fylades 
 and his mistress, that we should meet somewhere at nightfall. 
 The city was already resplendent at every end and corner 
 when I met my beloved. I offered Gretchen my arm; we 
 went from one quarter to another, and found ourselves very 
 Uappy in each other's society. The cousins at first were also
 
 THE ILLUMINATIONS. 178 
 
 af our party, but were afterwards lost in the multitude of 
 people. Before the houses of some of the ambassadorsyAdbero 
 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, 1^ had disguised 
 myself to a certain extent, and Gretchcn 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 facades 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 
 had 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 Estcr- 
 ha/y. 
 
 This eminent envoy, to honour the day, had quite passed 
 o\x-r his own unfavourably situated quarters, and in their 
 * A sort of buffoon.
 
 174 TEUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 stead had caused the great esplanade of linden-trees in tho 
 Horsc-markct 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- 
 ^dy 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, 
 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. " Gj^tjip^jshe^^aid^Uind- -prepare, 
 yourself for something unpleasant. It has come out that_y_ou 
 frequent very bad company, and have involved yourself in 
 very dangerous and bad affairs. Your father is beside himself, 
 njufwp have Qft1y freftP nbl/^^dL^hiiF''JTTTi?^rf^^ 
 
 he will investigate the affair by means of a third porty~- Re- 
 main in jour-chamber and await what may happen. Councillor 
 Schneider will come to you; lie has the commission both 
 \ ! from your father and from the authorities ; for the matter is 
 31 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
 
 OOETHE IN TKOUBLE. 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 compose J letters forl/ 
 fKcse 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, iu consideration of your connexions 
 and youth, would spare you and some other young persons.
 
 176 TRUTH AND POETUY; TROM MY OWN LIVE. 
 
 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 
 n: 11 lies. 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 i 
 particularly Gretchen : I saw them arrested, tried, punished, I 
 disgraced, and then it went through my soul like a flash of I 
 aghtning, 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 camjy 
 home later and later, and had little to tell of a cheerful sort. 
 Still jjtept back my confession. _y* Personally," said I, " I am 
 conscious of nothing evil, anoTcan 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
 
 '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 moro 
 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 Doming 
 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, thatif theyjwere 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, hiy 
 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 bnnight aD 
 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 y(- 
 entered, was frightened at my gestures, and did all that she
 
 178 TRUTH A.KD POETIlt J FROM MY OWN LI?2. 
 
 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- 
 puted, 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 helpme through : but tke others, the others," 
 
 -I-eriedj^wiKrwin stamTby-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- 
 pincss 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 
 move me. The Elector of the Palatinate might come and waii
 
 GOETKE'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. J 
 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- V 
 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 itvl 
 had gone with my poor friends and my beloved, what hadT/'r 
 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 1 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 j'elt 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 T)y the sacreS 
 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 
 aud had returned to her own home. They lingered the most
 
 180 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 over this last point, and I did not take it in tho best part ; for 
 I oould discover in it, not a voluntary departure, but only a" 
 shameful banishment. My bodily and mental condition was 
 not improved by this ; my^ distress Jiow.rstreally began, and 
 I had time enough to torment myself by pieturing the strangest 
 romance of sad events, and an inevitably tragical catastrophe.
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 WHATEVER ONE WISHES IN YOUTH : IN AGE ONE HAS ABUNDANCE. T#- 
 
 SIXTH BOOK. 
 
 TFIUS 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 wnt/hr*i 
 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^ddition to my sorrow. 
 I was now for the first time thoroughly_cro8s < and had agam 
 fri^npjjoggimtfes I to exercise my nonjecturea^nd to mislead 
 my^eTfinto the strangest Combinations. 
 
 n~waif 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, con-' 
 strained footing with him. It was not long, then, beforeJEjsooke 
 to him about the utii.ir, refreshed myself by the relation and 
 repetition 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 
 and that too in its details and particulars, BO
 
 182 TRUTH ANI> POETRY J FROM 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 behind 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 bad 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, " when 
 she was interrogated concerning you, and her intercourse 
 with you, she said quite frankly, ' 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 OF FEELING TOWARDS GRETCHE1T. 183 
 
 My friend 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 |" 
 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 -\j 
 older than me, should regard me as a child, while 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 T 
 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 ? _JL 
 really put on the man ; and the first thing^instantly_laid aside 
 \vas 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, I 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 I had constantly Jelt since the 
 discover)', made me banish every weakness. I found it frightful 
 that rhacf sacrificed sleep, repose and health, for the sake of
 
 184 TKTJTH AND POETEY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 a girl who was pleased to consider me a babe, and to imaging 
 herself, with respect to me, something very much like a nurse. 
 
 These depressing reflections, as I was soon convinced, wer 
 only to be bainshed by activity ; but of what was I to take 
 hoto^- 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 1 was now to attend j 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 iif -philosophy. He had studied 
 in Jena, under Daries, andT 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 l)e 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 grouud~3Ifferent from that of the 
 other, and that the sceptic, in the end, pronounced every- 
 thing groundless and useless. 
 
 However, this very history of philosopny, 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 
 IP me as good as another, so far, at least, as I was capable of
 
 niSTOEY OP PHILOSOPHY. 185 
 
 penetrating into it. With the most ancient men and schoolsT^ 
 was best pleased, because poetry, religion, and philosophy werev 
 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 
 Orpheus and Hesiod, seemed to bear valid witness in its favour. 
 My Mend had taken the smaller , "~k of Brucker as the foun- 
 dation of bis 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, onjhe^centfary, 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 docs 
 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 unblamed, 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 scau 
 Bud to find fault. 
 
 I therefore drew my friend into thp woods, and while I
 
 186 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN 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 Mend hither, who would 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
 
 DKAWING FBOM 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 Avho 
 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 orgaB__hy_wJiijch,J -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 struclifme, 
 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- 
 ^air, 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. ut 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 T 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 sou. 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 
 measure strengthen his hopes.
 
 GOETHE'S SISTEIL 189 
 
 They no longer said that I might relapse into hiy 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 ; \ve 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 which 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 which I derived 
 some profit 4 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 stone 
 of Drusus, 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 tliis maj&jjJusJflXft.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 
 true and often repeated, I was again drawn home, and that by
 
 190 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 a magnet which always acted upon me strongly; .this was ..iny_ 
 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. foc-iwins, so did this community, 
 this confidence, rcmainHuring 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
 
 SOHTHE'S SISTEK. 191 
 
 wore forcibly did the sacred awe of their close relationship 
 keep them apart. 
 
 Reluctantly do I mention, in general terms, what I under- 
 took to set forth, 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 
 Avhile it is flowing. But from this beautiful and pious design, 
 as from so many others, the tumult of the world drew me hack, 
 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 JgJl, well and delicately^Jonned, 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 wao 
 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 renel every stranger at the first glance, ai_ 
 Least did not attract mm. She early felt it, and this feeling
 
 192 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIU'S. 
 
 became constantly the more painful to her, the further sh 
 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 favoxir 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 
 arid 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 lady 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^he_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 pasyion 
 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 not but feel a 
 quiet, half-mischievous pleasure, when she did me the justice 
 to assure me that I was the only one who truly loved, under- 
 stood, 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 
 niy lost one awakened in her likewise a similar despairing ini-
 
 THE SISTER'S LJY.EE. 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 could 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. BQ_th_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 
 disfigured by the small-ppx ; 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 con- 
 trolled. 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.
 
 194 TRUTH AND POETRY : FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 The fine weather and the beautiful country did not remain 
 uncnjoyed 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 
 Mend 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 address, how necessary it 
 was that a preacher of repentance should arise and sharpen 
 the conscience of the company. " One part of my noble 
 Mends 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 seeu 
 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 JB 
 sufficiently provided for."
 
 HUMOROUS OBATIOJT. 195 
 
 He then went on \vith constantly increasing liveliness and 
 gaiety to compare the social virtues \rith the tender senti- 
 jnents. " 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 that it would not answer their 
 purpose : 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. 
 
 adornment, 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 eacli 
 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 on what accoxint 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 Anlt'stes, 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 OKATIOX. J97 
 
 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. Tne moment 
 we touched the shore, our Solon cried, " lie. missa estf" 
 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 
 nourt 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; 
 ;md 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 
 < 'apuchinade 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 
 uncl 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 hia 
 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-twcuty
 
 198 TJRUTH AND POETIiY J FHOM MY OWN LIY1. 
 
 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 woiind 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 blue, 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 dancei 
 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, 
 ft new event always arose. But as such social jests commonly
 
 COMIC HEROICAL 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 awkwaid 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 fates 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 
 Walpuryisniyht of Lowen, 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 
 ttied to designate a lighting student. Tratis.
 
 200 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIPH. 
 
 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 Gessner's 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 thej 
 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 FBANKFOBT. 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 Gretcheri's 
 removal, the heart had been broken out of the boyish and 
 youthful plant ; it needed time to bud forth again from it^jj 
 sides, ana 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 detects oi l 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 
 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 couM only free myself by trying to contrive a plan of 
 life altogether different fr</m 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 l>d 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 POETKY ; FKOM MY OWN J,I]?B. 
 
 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, Gcllert, 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 I 
 thing for a young man who intended to cultivate himself and I 
 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 fleyne, 
 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. Howsoever 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 bight ; Moms, too, already awakened much confi- 
 dence. I planned for myself in secj^tjuij^qiosltipjfccourse, 
 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 mating good my footing in a strange place, and 
 in winter, did not make me sad ; suffice it to say, that I only
 
 DEPAHTTTBE TOR 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 whefher 
 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-fasliion over one another, and they shone 
 K> brilliantly that the eye was dazzled. But what stili more
 
 204 TRUTH AND POETBY ; FKOM MY. OWN UFE. 
 
 confused the sight was, that they did not keep still, but jumped 
 about here and there, as well downwards from above as vice 
 versd, 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 luck, 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
 
 LEIPZ:C. 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 Avith 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 
 itselfTo 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 (Feuerkugel), between the 
 Old and the New Newmarket (Neumarkf). A. couple of pleasant 
 rooms looking out upon a court-yard, which, on account of the 
 thoroughfare, was not without animation, were occupied by th
 
 206 TKTTTH AND POETKT J FHOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 bookseller Fleischer during the fair ; and by me taken for 
 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 Hpfrath 
 Bohme, who once a pupil of Maskow, and now his successor, 
 was professor of histoiy 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 v 
 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-1 
 out the permission of my parents, even if he approved of it\ 
 himself, which was not the case in this instance. He their 
 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
 
 207 
 
 concluded that, if I wished to enter more closely into the stud/ 
 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. Prau 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 
 clustering. 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 hpursj 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 Stockhausen for a text-book), and his Practicum 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 seeme^l 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 J0st. 
 
 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 execs-" 
 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 
 studies, in order to be applied to what are called " Realities," 
 which dissipate more than they cultivate, if they ar 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, il 
 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 th^y 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, iu 
 which young minds are dragged hither and thither, and which 
 can scarcely be set right by the middle-aged professors, who, 
 though sufficiently instructed and cultivated, always feel within 
 themselves an active endeavour after knowledge and reflection. 
 
 Now as in this way I learned to know much more than 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 one's / 
 footing when one changes one's place and comes into a new / 
 position. The first thing that the ladies blamed in me related* 
 to my dress ; for I had come from home to the university 
 i ather 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, wlio were obliged to make good use of their 
 time, as they not oniy 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 llerrn 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 flie witti one flapper."
 
 210 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM 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, 
 i 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 J 
 speaking, the element in which the soul draws its breath. 
 Biit 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 Avell as the use of 
 the honest-hearted expressions from the Chronicles. I had to 
 forget that I had read the Kaiser von Geisersberg, and eschew 
 the use of proverbs, which nevertheless, instead of much fiddle- 
 faddle, just hit the nail upon the head ; all this, which I had 
 appropriated to myself with youthful ardour, I was now to do 
 without ; I felt myself paralyzed to the core, and scarcely 
 knew any more how I had to express myself on the commonest 
 things. I was told, besides, that one should speak as one 
 writes, and write as one speaks ; while, to me, speaking and i^J 
 writing seemed once for all two different things, each of which 
 might well maintain its own rights. And even in the Misnian 
 dialect had I to hear many things which would have made no 
 great figure on paper. 
 
 Every one who perceives in this the influence which men. 
 and women of education, the learned, and other persons who 
 take pleasure in refined society, so decidedly exercise over a 
 young student, would be immediately convinced that we were 
 in Leipzig, even if it had not been mentioned. Each one of 
 the German universities has a particular character : for, as no 
 universal cultivation can pervade our fatherland, every place 
 adheres to its own fashion, and carries out, even to the last, 
 
 P*
 
 212 TRUTH AND T KTRY J FROM MT 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 
 w 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- 
 ception of the then prevailing state of social life and manners, 
 which was indeed feeble, but amiable on account of its in- 
 nocence and childlike simplicity. 
 
 All manners which result from the given relations of a 
 common existence are indestructible, and, in my time, many 
 things still reminded us of Zacharia's epic poem. Only one 
 of our fellow-academicians thought himself rich and indepen- 
 dent enough to snap his fingers at public opinion. He drank 
 acquaintance with all the hackney-coachmen, whom he allowed 
 to sit inside the coach as if they were gentlemen, while he 
 drove them on the box, thought it a great joke to upset 
 them now and then, and contrived to satisfy them for their 
 smashed vehicles as well as for their occasional bruises ; but 
 otherwise he did no harm to any one, seeming only to make 
 a mock of the public en masse. Once, on a most beautiful 
 promenade-day, he and a comrade of his seized upon the doa- 
 
 * 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. ThomasVsquare ; 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 
 remonsti - ated with him on the subject, he assured them, quite 
 unembarrassed, that he only wanted to see how the Lord 
 Christ might have looked in a like case. Yet he found no 
 imitators, and few companions. 
 
 For the student of any wealth and standing had every 
 reason to show himself attentive to the mercantile class, and 
 to be the more solicitous about the proper external forms, as the 
 colony* exhibited a model of French manners. TThe 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, 
 coidd 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 fashioni 
 I must now talk according to their tongue also, and as, morej 
 over, I could plainly see that I Avas, 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.
 
 21-i TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM 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 mo 
 in many little external particulars ; for my manners were good, 
 indeed, ^but I was not yet master of what is properly termed 
 ftiqtteite^ 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 thel" 
 greatest sport, yea, the triumph of the critics of those days.f 
 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 kneAv 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 Weissc 
 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 Gottschsd on German literature, of 
 which more is said in the next book. 7Varu.
 
 GEKMAN 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 Moms came to strengthen 
 her instructions. He was an uncommonly gentle and friendly 
 man, with whom I became acquainted at the table of Hofrath 
 Ludwig, o.nd 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 
 Gellert, in his course, was wont to warn us against poetry. 
 He wished only for prose essays, and always criticised these 
 first. Verses he treated as a sorry addition, and what was 
 the worst of all, even my prose found little favour in his eyes ; 
 for, after my old fashion, I used always to lay, as the foundation, 
 a little romance, which I loved to work out in the epistolary - 
 form. The subjects were impassioned, the style went beyond 
 ordinary prose, and the contents probably did not display 
 any very deep knowledge of mankind in the author ; and so 
 I stood in very little favour with our professor, although he 
 carefully looked over my labours as well as those of the 
 others, corrected them with 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 
 eise to put in its place, or can contrive a substitute Every-
 
 216 TRUTH AND POETRY ; PROM MY OWN LIF2. 
 
 body protested against my tastes and inclinations ; and, OTJ 
 the other hand, what they commended to me, lay either BO 
 far from me that 1 could not perceive its excellencies, or stood 
 so near me that I thought it not a whit better than what they 
 inveighed against. I thus became thoroughly perplexed on 
 the subject, and promised myself the best results from a lec- 
 ture of Ernesti's on Cicero de Oratore. I learned something, 
 indeed, from this lecture, but was not enlightened on the 
 subject which particularly concerned me. I required a 
 standard of opinion, and thought I perceived that nobody 
 possessed it ; for no one agreed with another, even when they 
 brought forward examples ; and where were we to get a set- 
 tled judgment, when they managed to reckon up against c 
 man like Wieland so many faults in his amiable writings, 
 which so completely captivated us younger folks ? 
 yt- 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, Linnajus, 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. 
 
 3fr 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 Gormnn literature^ at that tane so 
 much has been written, andthat 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 particular^ excited ; of 
 those two hereditary foes of all comfortable life, and of all 
 cheerful, self-sufficient, living poetiy : 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 Ms 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 foreigk 
 expressions and turns of language. The German, having run 
 wild for nearly two hundred years in an unhappy tumultuary 
 state, went to school to the French to learn manners, and to 
 the Romans in order to express himself_properly. But this 
 was to be done in the mother-tongucr," r whentue literal appli- 
 cation of those idioms, and their half-Germanization, made 
 bofS. *he social and busiucgs style ridiculous. Besides this,
 
 MSKOW. 219 
 
 they adopted without moderation the similes of the southern 
 languages, and employed them most extravagantly. Just so 
 they transferred the stately deportment of the prince-like citi' 
 zens of Rome to the learned German small-town officers, and 
 were at home nowhere, least of all with themselves. 
 
 Bvrh_n.s_jn_t.lijf! ppnnh. wnrkq oj* preirms hnd 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 uitermjxiurajaf 
 foreign words, and as common intelligible sense dictated. By 
 these praiseworthy endeavours, however, the doors and gates 
 were thrown open to an extended national insipidity, nay, the 
 dike was dug through by which the great deluge was shortly 
 to rush in. Meanwhile, a stiff pedantry long stood its ground 
 m all the four faculties, until at last, much later, it fled for 
 refuge from one of them into another. 
 
 Men of parts, children of nature looking freely about them, 
 had therefore two objects on which they could exercise them- 
 selves, against which they could labour, and, as the matter 
 was of no great importance, give a vent to their petulance ; 
 these were : a Janguage disfigured by foreign words, forms, 
 and turns of speech on the one hand, and the worthlessuess oj 
 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. 
 
 TjisKOW, 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 
 vO 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 AND POETKT J FROM 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. 
 
 ix.UjKXKK, well educated, grown up under good scholastic in- 
 struction, of a cheerful, and by no means passionate- or malicious 
 disposition, took up gen3ral satire. His censure of the so- 
 called vices and follies springs from the clear views of a quiet 
 common sense, and from a fixed moral conception of what the 
 world ought to be. His denunciation of faults and 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 to the enjoyment of a pleasant contempt for all that 
 immediately surrounds him. Pedantic literati, vain youngsters, 
 every sort of narrowness and conceit, he banters rather than 
 satirizes, and even his banter expresses no contempt. Just in 
 the same way does he jest about his own condition, his mis- 
 fortune, his life, and his death. 
 
 Therejs 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 lor originals to his general descriptions 
 and found them, was natural ; that individuals complained of 
 .am, 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
 
 EABENEH. 221 
 
 an author. The confidential epistle in which he describes the 
 siege of Dresden, and how he loses his house, his effects, hi% 
 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. 
 
 I*wow 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, t 
 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 
 
 For poetry in itself they had been able to find no funda-
 
 222 TRUTH A5TD POEXXY ; FKOM MY OWN LIFB. 
 
 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, j 
 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 ; 
 Mit 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 LICHTAYER devoted themselves to this de- 
 partment, that even LESSING attempted to labour in it, that
 
 BODMEE BBEITINGER GUENTHEE. 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^ 
 prc ri jc.t. 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 aTchild all his life. BREITIXGER 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 queiy : " 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 
 jfelt themselves thrown by such dislocated maxims, half-under- 
 Jstood 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 j _too j _a national one ; 
 there was never a lack of^taTent. Here we make mention 
 only of GUENTHER, 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 DesidelTj^-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 ; FROJI MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 poems, he elevates all circumstances by the feelings, an<S 
 embellishes them with suitable sentiments, images, and his- 
 torical and fabulous traditions. Their roughness and wild- 
 r.ess 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- 
 i acter. 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 Muhlberg (Das 
 Litstlager bei Muhlberg} 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 lest he should offend the others. He had to consult 
 the Court and State Calendar, and the delineation of the per- 
 sons therefore went off pretty drily ; nay, even his contem- 
 poraries very strongly reproached him with having described 
 the horses better than the men. But should not this redound 
 to his credit, that he showed his art just where an object for 
 it presented itself? The main difficulty, too, seems soon to 
 have manifested itself to him. since the poem never advanced 
 beyond the first canto. 
 
 Amidst such studies and reflections, an unexpected event 
 surprised me, and frustrated my laudable design of becoming 
 acquainted with our new literature from the beginning. My 
 countryman, JOHN GEORGE SCHLOSSER, after spending his 
 Academical years with industry and exertion, had repaired to
 
 SCHLOSSER. 225 
 
 Frankfort-on -the-Mairie, in the customary profession of au 
 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 LUDWIG of WUETEMBERG, 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 aimSv It was this Prince Ludwig who, tfr 
 ask advice about the education of his children, had written to' 
 Rousseau, whose well-known answer began with the suspicious- 
 looking phrase " Si j'avais 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 Briihl (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 
 Frankforters, who used to eat, and, in case of need, even take 
 quarters there also. Thither I hastened to seek after Schlosser, 
 when he had sent to inform me of his arrival. I scarcely 
 remembered having seen him before, and found a young, well- 
 formed man, with a round, compressed face, without the fea- 
 tures losing their sharpness on that account. The form of his 
 rounded forehead, between black eyebrows and locks, indi 
 cated earnestness, sternness, and perhaps obstinacy. He 
 was, in a certain measure, the opposite of myself, and This 
 very thing doubtless laid the foundation of our lasting friend^ 
 
 ship. I hud the greatest respect for his talents,- the 
 
 I very well saw that in the certainty with whir-li he acted and 
 
 produced, he was completely my superior. Tho m<|>eet iu*i
 
 226 TRUTH AND POETRY J 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 wri tings, 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 
 M'hether 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-go wn of green damask lined 
 with red taffeta ; but his monstrous head was bald and jin- 
 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,
 
 FELLOW-BOARDERS AT LEIPZIG. 227 
 
 faised 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 tutor, HOFRATH PFEIL, author of the Count 
 von P., a continuation of Gellert's Swedish Countess ; ZACHA- 
 RI.K, 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 Tlisposition ; 
 anTTlf needed no great persuasion to make me partake of their 
 table in future. In fact, J remained with them after Schlos- 
 scr'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'~excliange 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 tea/e 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, j 
 through examples, and through my own reflections, that the j 
 first step in delivering ourselves from the wishy-washy, long- 
 winded, empty epoch, could- be- taken only by "defihitcnc'si, 
 precision, and breviVfT In the style which had hitherto pre-
 
 228 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 vailed, one could not distinguish the commonplace from what 
 was better, since all were brought down to a level with each 
 other. Authors had already tried to escape from this wide- 
 spread disease, with more or less success. HALLER and 
 RAMT,ER were inclined to compression by nature ; LESSINO 
 and WIELAND 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 
 
 ;at he returned to that serene naivete which becomes him so 
 ell in Nathan. Wieland, who had been occasionally prolix 
 in Agathon, Don Sylvia, and the Comic Tales, becomes con- 
 densed and precise to a wonderful degree, as well as exceed- 
 ingly graceful, in Musarion and Itlris. KLOPSTOCK, in the first 
 cantos of the Messiah, is not without difluseness ; 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. GERSTENBERO, 
 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 ever}' 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 KI.OPSTOCK excited many imitators : others, again, still 
 demanded an intelligible metre, and translated this prose into 
 rhythm. But even these gave nobody satisfaction ; for they 
 <vere 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,
 
 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 itjconsciously, the modes of representation multiplied 
 themselves, among which, indeed, were some which were really 
 caricatures, while many an attempt proved unsuccessful. 
 
 Without question, WIELAND 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. Howjnany of his brilliant productions fall into the 
 time of my academic years! Musarton nad the most effect upon 
 me," and I Catt yet remember the place and the very spot where 
 I got sight of the first proof-sheet, which Oeyer gave me. . 
 Here itTwas that I believed r^aaa-flalauuityagain Eying and ^^ ( 
 fresh! Everything that is plastic in\^eTana'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 Germ&n 
 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 XBUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWK LIFE. 
 
 rowed anything from it, or, under the appearance of such M 
 imilation, has perhaps given us an excellent invention of his 
 own. Of all this there is not a notion, but the poems are 
 praised and blamed by passages. The reviewer, as he himself 
 confesses, has marked so much that pleased him, that 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 poetiy in which the different nations hail 
 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 
 Gottschcd in his Critical Art of Poetry, and it had been shown 
 at the same time that German poets, too, had already known 
 NL how to fill up all the rubrics with excellent works. And tbu
 
 POPULAR PHILOSOPHY. 2S1 
 
 it ever went on. Each year the collection was more consider- 
 able, hut every year one work pushed another out of the place 
 in which it had hitherto shone. We now possessed, if not 
 Homers, yet Virgils and Miltons ; if not a Pindar, yet a Ho- 
 race ; of Theocrituses there was no lack ; and thus they 
 weighed themselves by comparisons from without, whilst the 
 mass of poetical works always increased, so that at last there 
 could be a comparison from within. 
 
 Now, though matters of taste stood on a very uncertain foot- 
 ing, there could be no dispute but that, within the Protestant 
 part of Germany and of Switzerland, -what is generally calico, _J 
 common-sense began to bestir itself briskly at that epoch,. The 
 scholastic philosophy which always has the merit of pro- 
 pounding according to received axioms, in a favourite order, 
 and under fixed rubrics, everything about which man can at 
 all inquire, had, by the frequent darkness and apparent use- 
 lessness of its subject-matter, by its unseasonable application 
 of a method in itself respectable, and by its too great extension 
 over so many subjects, made itself foreign to the mass, unpa- 
 latable, and at last superfluous. Many a one became con- 
 vinced that nature had_ endowed him with as great a portion 
 of good and straightforward sensfi M T perchance, he required 
 to fom? sunh a. Hpar notum -of- objeete that he could, .manage 
 them and turn them jto his. own. profit, and -that jpf, others, 
 witEouTIatoriously troubling himself about the most universal 
 problems, ;ui<l inquiring how the most remote things which do 
 not particularly affect us may hangtogether. Men niade the 
 trfaCopened Lheii eves, look t'd""Slraight before them, observant, 
 industrious, active, and believed that when one judges 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 j 
 himself a philosopher. Philosophy, therefore, was more or I 
 less sound and practised common sense, which ventured to j 
 enter upon the universal, and to decide upon inner and outeor 
 experiences. A clear-sighted acuteness and an especial Tnooe- 
 ~r.ition, white the middle path and fairness to all opinions was 
 iii'ld 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.
 
 JJ32 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN t,Ttfi. 
 
 In this way the theologians could not help inclining to what 
 is called n:ituiid_ieji^ion, and when the discussion was how far 
 the light pfnafure 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. Asfor 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,
 
 8TATK OP THEOLOGT. 233 
 
 flitnral product", and phenomena, and in this manner to make 
 present to oiuTs-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 wliilst 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 BENGEL 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 weH 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 CRUSIUS 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. 
 
 wns unpleasant. I attached myself to the lucid party, and 
 sought to appropriate to myself their principles and advan. 
 tngcs, although I ventured to forehode, that by this extremely 
 praiseworthy, intelligent method of interpretation, the poetic 
 contents of the writings must at last be lost along with the 
 V prophetical. 
 
 But those who devoted themselves to German literature and 
 the belles letttes were more nearly concerned with the efforts of 
 such men, who, as JERUSALEM, ZOLLIKOFER, and STALL- 
 ING, tried, by means ofa goodlmd pure style in their sermons 
 ami 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 toTwrite 
 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 
 
 A ^ HALLER, UNZER, ZIMMERMAN had a very great influence, 
 Vt and whatever may be said against them in detail, especially 
 ^ \ the last, they produced a very great effect in their time. And 
 
 ^V \ T ' -1 1J 1 -1 f At ' 1 "A 1 A A" 1 1__ " _ 
 
 A 
 
 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 enjoyjL 
 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 VON MOSER had already shown himself an inde- 
 pendent and original writer, and PUTTER, by the clearness of 
 his delivery, had also brought clearness into his subject, and 
 the style in which he was to treat it. All that proceeded from 
 his school was distinguished by this. And even the philo- 
 sophers, in order to be popular, now found theniselves com-
 
 THE "IMAGE-HUNT." 235 
 
 polled to write clearly and intelligibly. MENDELSOHN 
 and GARVE appeared, and excited universal interest and 
 admiration. 
 
 With die 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 aturbrief en), 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 rappntmg a saying of KLEIST. 
 which we had to hear often enough. He had sportively, in- 
 geniously, and truly replied to th6se 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 Apcl'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 
 oftcu induced by that motive to contrive that my walk BhriiVH 
 be solitary, and, because many objects neither beautiful nor 
 PiifiTiiiic met the eye of the beholder, and in the truly splendid 
 Itosenthal, 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 pntall life of
 
 236 TRUTH AND POETttY ; FKOM MY OWN 1.1 VK. 
 
 nature, (I would use this word after the analogy of " still 
 liTe, rr ) and since the pretty events which one perceives withiiv 
 this circle represent but little in themselves, so I accustomed 
 myself to see in them a significance, which inclined naw to- 
 wards the symbolical, now towards the allegorical side, accord- 
 ingly as intuition, feeling, or reflection hadThe 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 H 
 down everywhere. Once I had carved it very handsomely 
 ami accurately on the smooth bark of a linden-tree of mode- 
 rate age. The following autumn, when my affection for Aji- 
 nrtte was in itsTfullcst 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 jdeeds 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 ven* 
 means, they appear as the first, because they determine and. 
 
 * " Die Laune des Vcrlicbten," translated as The Lover's Capritus, 
 e<> p. '241
 
 SI/EIM RAM LEU. 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 poems are full of matter, and occupy 
 us with great, heart-elevating objects, and thus already main- 
 tain an indestructible value. 
 
 For the internal matter piihejsubject 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 subdiie^the most refractory material. But when closely 
 examined, the result is rather a trick of art than a work of 
 art, which should rest upon a worthy object, that the treat- 
 ment of it by skill, pains, and industry, may present to us 
 the dignity of the subject-matter only the more happily and 
 splendidly. 
 
 The Prussians, and with them Protestant Germany, ac- 
 quired thus for their literature a treasure which the opposite 
 party lacked, and the want of which they have been able to 
 supply by no subsequent endeavours. Upon the great idea 
 which the Prussian writers could well entertain of their 
 king, they first established themselves, and the more zealously 
 as he, in whose name they did it all, wished once for all to 
 know notlxing 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 Priussia, 
 which was highly advantageous to the Germans, since by it 
 they were cliallenged to contradiction _and resistance ; thus 
 the very aversion of Frederick from German was a fortunate 
 tiling for the formation of its litcruxy-character They did
 
 2?.8 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN 
 
 everything to attract the king's attention, not indeed to 1)6 
 honoured, but only noticed by him ; yet they did it in Ger- 
 man fashion, from an internal conviction ; they did what thej 
 held to be right, and desired and wished that the king should 
 recognize and prize this German uprightness. That did not 
 and could not happen ; for how can it be required of a king, 
 who wishes to live and enjoy himself intellectually, that he 
 shall lose his years in order to see what he thinks barbarous 
 developed and rendered palatable too late? In matters of 
 trade and manufacture, he might indeed force upon himself, 
 but especially upon his people, very moderate substitutes 
 instead of excellent foreign wares ; but here everything comes 
 to perfection, more rapidly, and it needs not a man's life-time 
 to bring such things to maturity. 
 
 But I must here, first of all, make honourable mention of 
 one work, the most genuine production of the Seven Years' 
 War, and of perfect North German nationality ; it is the first 
 theatrical production caught from the important events of life, 
 one of specific temporary value, and one which therefore pro- 
 duced an incalculable effect, Minnavon Barnhelm. Lessing, 
 who, in opposition to Klopstock andTJIeim, waS4bnd Offcast- 
 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- 
 *"'.oned piece was generate^ betwixt war and peace^_ha^ed. 
 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. 
 
 Th"e intense hatred in which the Prussians and Saxons 
 stood towards each other during this war, could not be re- 
 moved by its termination. The Saxon now first felt, with 
 true bitterness, the wounds which the upstart Prussian had 
 inflicted upon him. Political peace could not immediately 
 re-establish a peace between their dispositions. But this was 
 to be brought about symbolically by the above-mentioned 
 drama. The grace and amiability of the Saxon ladies con- 
 quer the worth, the dignity, and the stubbornness of the
 
 GOETHE'S PECULIAR TEXDENCY. 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 ^ have put my reader in some perplexity by these 
 sory and desultory remarks on German literature, I have sue- / 
 ceeded in giving them a conception of that chaotic condition 
 iujyhich my poor brain found itself, when, in the conflict of 
 two epochs so important for the literary fatherland, so much 
 \hi\t 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 jearned 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 desFrcd a true basis in feeling or reflection 
 for my poems, I was forced to grasp into my own bosom ; iLl 
 required for my poetic representation an immediate intuition, of 
 an object or an event, I could not step outside the circle which 
 was lilted 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 I'RUTU AND POETIIY ; 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 rnindat' 
 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 lias been confessed by me, consists of fragments of a great 
 confession, and this little book is an attempt which XJiaxe 
 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, 
 aud so agreeable that she welTi 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 dranE7 and indeed 
 ouF select club of noon- day boarders was a warranty that Ihe 
 little house, which was visited by few guests except dui'ing 
 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/fof Zacha- 
 ria, played the Duke Michael of Kriiger, in whieii a knotted 
 handkerchief had to take the place of the nightingale f-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 devotgd* 
 '" wanton and tyrannical caprice. My ill-humour at 
 
 thefailure of my poetical attempts, at the apparent impossi- 
 bility of coming to a clear understanding about them, and at 
 everything else th.#t might pinch me here and there, I thought 
 I might vent on her, becausejshe truly loved me with all her 
 heart, and did whatever" she could to please me. By un- 
 fouiukl and absurd fits ot jealousy, I destroyed our most
 
 DIE LAUNE DBS VERLIEBTEN". 241 
 
 delightfuLdays both for myself and^ her. She endured it for 
 a timejwith incredible patience, which I was cruel "enough 
 tcftry to the uttermost. But to my shame and despair I was 
 at last forced to'femark 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 terriblg scopes between us, in which I gained 
 nothing ; and I then first felt that I had truly Ipvedjier^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 COllld notTenounce the hope of winning her again. But it 
 was too late ! I had lost her really, and the frenzy with which 
 I revenged my fault upon myself, by assaulting in various 
 frantic ways my physical nature, in order to inflict some hurt 
 on my moral nature, contributed very much to the bodily 
 maladies-under which I lost some of the best years of my life ; 
 / indeed I should perchance have been completely ruined by 
 this loss, had not my poetic talent here shown itself parti- 
 cularly helpful with its healing power. 
 
 Already, at many intervals before, I had clearly enough 
 perceived my ill-conduct. I really pitied the poor child,' 
 when I saw her so thoroughly wounded by me, without 
 necessity. I pictured to myself so often and so circumstan- 
 tially, her condition and my own, and, as a contrast, the con- 
 tented state of another couple in our company, that at last 1 
 could not forbear treating this situation dramatically, as a 
 painful and instructive penance. Hence arose the oldest of 
 my extant dramatic labours, the little piece entitled, Die 
 Laune des Verliebten ( The Lover's Caprice') ; in the simple 
 nature of which one may at the same time perceive the 
 impetus of a boiling passion. 
 
 But before this, a deep, significant, impulsive world had 
 already interested me. ^ Through my adventure with Gretchen 
 and-- its consequencesv I had early looked into the strange 
 labyrinths by which civil society is undermined. Reli- 
 gion, morals, law, rank, connexions, custom, all rule only 
 1 the fnirfnce of city existence. Tho streets, bordered by 
 \fi).cfl<lid houses, are kept neat, and every one behaves him-
 
 242 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 self there properly enough; but indoors, it often scema 
 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 conies into the midst of a condition, of 
 v rgpose.il low 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 1 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 Fellow-sinners) is the only one that was finished, the 
 cheerful and burlesque tone of which upon the gloomy family- 
 ground appears as if accompanied by somewhat of apprehen- 
 sion, so that on the whole it is painful in representation, 
 although it pleases in detached passages. The illegal deeds, 
 harshly expressed, wound the aesthetic and moral feeling, and 
 the piece could therefore find no favour on the German stage, 
 although the imitations of it, which steered clear of those 
 
 cks, 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 tcho 
 is without sin among you, cast the first stone. 
 
 Through this earnestness, which cast a gloom over mjzjjrst 
 
 * "Exposition," in a dramatic sense, properly means a statement of 
 the events which take place before the action of the play commences. 
 Trans.
 
 TOTTTHFTJI, PRANKS. 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. 1 "* 
 
 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 
 bo remote. Beaumarchais has seized their full value, and the. 
 effects oT~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 iipon the stage. 
 
 To enliven the endless tedium of daily life, I played off 
 numberless tricks of the sort, partly without any aim at all, ) 
 partly in the service of my friends whom I Kkejl Jtp_pje_ase^-^ 
 For myself, I could laot 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 hejxrt 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," 
 fe used also with the university word " Suite," so that one can say " SuitTO 
 reissen." Trant. 
 
 E2
 
 244 TRUTH AND POETRY; 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 tkan before, and at last I 
 ehunned him in order to avoid his reproaches. But it was 
 peculiarly unfortunate that Gellert would not use the power 
 which he might have exercised over us. Indeed he had not 
 time to play the father-confessor, and to inquire after the cha- 
 racter and faults of everybody ; he therefore took the matter 
 very much in the lump, and thought to curb us by means of 
 the church forms. For this reason, commonly, when he once 
 admitted us to his presence, he used to lower his little head, 
 and, in his weeping, winning voice, to ask us whether we 
 went regularly to church, who was our confessor, and whether 
 we took the holy communion? If now we came off badly 
 at this examination we were dismissed with lamentations ; 
 we were more vexed than edified, yet could not help loving 
 the man heartily. 
 
 On this occasion, I cannot forbear recalling somewhat of 
 my earlier youth, in order to make it obvious that the great 
 affairs of the ecclesiastical religion must be carried on with 
 order and coherence, if they are to prove as fruitful as is
 
 SACRAMENTS OP HE CHUBCH. 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 w 
 ^--inatters, 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~5i- 
 vestigateoTTn 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 : tor 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 ot % it with 
 the true joy for which "it" is given, TiTthe 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, indestructiblenese, 
 and eternity.
 
 246 TRUTH AND POETRY; FBOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Here a youthful pair give their hands to one another, not 
 for a passing salutation or for the dance; the priest pio- 
 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 OAvn 
 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 Jiat satisfies, it is a heavenly 
 fejustrjathich makes him thirst after heavenly drink. 
 
 Yet let not the youth believe that this is all he has to do ; 
 
 I let not even the man believe it. In earthly relations we are 
 
 |nt last accustomed to depend on ourselves, and, even there. 
 
 knowledge, understanding, and character, will not always 
 
 suffice ; in heavenly things, on the contraiy, we have never 
 
 finished learning. The higher feeling within us. which often
 
 CATHOLIC SACRAMENTS. 247 
 
 finds itself not even truly at home, is, besides, oppressed by 
 so much from without, that our own power hardly administers 
 all that is necessary for counsel, consolation, and help. But, 
 to this end, that remedy is instituted for our whole life, and 
 an intelligent, pious man is continually waiting to show the 
 right way to the wanderers, and to relieve the distressed. 
 
 And what has been so well tried through the whole life, ] 
 is now to show forth all its healing power with tenfold 
 activity at the gate of Death. According to a trustful cus- 
 tom, inculcated from youth upwards, the dying man receives 
 with fervour those symbolical, significant assurances, and 
 there, where every earthly warranty fails, he is assured, by 
 a heavenly one, of a blessed existence for ail eternity. He 
 feels himself perfectly convinced that neither a hostile element 
 nor a malignant spirit can hinder him from clothing himself 
 with a glorified body, so that, in immediate relation with the 
 Godhead, he may partake of the boundless happiness which 
 flows forth from Him. 
 
 Then in conclusion, that the whole may be made holy, the 
 
 I feet also are anointed and blessed. They are to feel, even in 
 
 / the event of possible recovery, a repugnance to touching this 
 
 I 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 bi-illiant 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 en earth by spiritual heirship. In the very
 
 248 TKTTTM AND POETRY ; I'HO.M MV OWN 1. 1 1'E. 
 
 ordination of the priest, is comprehended all that is necessary 
 for the effectual solemnizing of those holy acts, by which the 
 multitude receive grace, without any other activity being 
 needful on 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. 
 f How is tliis 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 higlTHigmtyDf-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,'! 
 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 ~oM-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 
 my hat the loose leaves borrowed from an older friend, wh 
 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 
 were not obliged to acknowledge anything in particular in the
 
 TtELlGIOtJS 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 
 base -ad_ 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 appi'oached 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, tRe 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 dayjyith 
 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, thai 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 Themstories 
 ol 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, 
 all this pictured itself to my imagination ; and formed itself
 
 850 TROTH AND POETKT ; PKOM MY OWW LIFE. 
 
 into the most frightful combinations, since false vows, hy- 
 pocrisy, pei jury, 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 ve 
 
 * The lecture-room. The word is also used in univi:rsity languor tr 
 denote a professor's audience.
 
 DECLINE OP GEI.LERT 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 centiiry, 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 bis plans, and in
 
 262 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 nothing that he had, properly speaking, undertaken. So long 
 ns 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 
 inits. If one goes through the Seven Years' War, step by step, 
 it will be found that the king quite uselessly sacrificed his 
 fine army, and that it was his own fault that this ruinous feud 
 had been protracted to so great a length. A truly great man 
 and general would have got the better of his enemies much 
 sooner." In support of these opinions they could cite infinite 
 details, which I did not know how to deny ; and I felt the 
 unbounded reverence which I had devoted to this remarkable 
 prince, from my youth upwards, gradually cooling away. 
 
 As the inhabitants of Leipzig had now destroyed for me the 
 pleasant feeling of revering a great man, so did a new friend 
 whom I gained at the time very much diminish the respect 
 which I entertained for my present fellow-citizens. This 
 friend was one of the strangest fellows in the world. He was 
 named Behrisclvand was tutor to the young Count Lindenau. 
 Even his exterior was singular enough. Lean and well-built, 
 far advanced in the thirties, a very large nose, and altogether 
 marked features ; he wore from morning till night a scratch 
 which might well have been called a peruke, but dressed him- 
 self very neatly, and never went out but with his sword by 
 his side, and his hat under his arm. He was one of those 
 men who have quite a peculiar gift of killing time, or rather, 
 who know how to make something out of nothing, in order to 
 pass time away. Everything that he did must be done with 
 slowness, and a certain deportment which might have been 
 called affected, if Behrisch Lad not even by nature had some- 
 thing affected in his manner. He resembled an old French- 
 man, and also spoke and wrote French very well and easily. 
 His greatest delight was to busy himself seriously about drol- 
 leries, and to follow up without end any silly notion. Thus he 
 was constantly dressed in grey, and as the different parts of his 
 attire were of different stuffs, and also of different shades, he 
 could reflect for whole days as to how he should procure one 
 grey more for his body, and was happy when he had succeeded
 
 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 io him. My intercourse, 
 too, served him for a special amusement, since he took plea- 
 sure in taming my restlessness and impatience, with which, 
 on the other hand, I gave him enough to do. Jn_thearLof 
 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 receivedlSy~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 hft 
 thought good, and would present me with them in a hand- 
 some volume. Thisjundertaking 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 
 WB8 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 tilings 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
 
 2M 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 rcasou 
 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. lie 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 how 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 
 possiblyhave made for the alteration and modification~of his 
 
 The direction of my poetizing, which I only carried on the 
 more zealously as the transcript w r ent 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 \m- 
 dcrstand, what a great thing it was to write down a vcrseoD
 
 FROFKSSOR CLODIUB. 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 manoDuvre 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- v 
 inenced by him, and, as far as the principal matter was con- 
 cerned, we remarked little difference. He, too, only criticised 
 details, corrected likewise with red ink, and one found oneself 
 in company with mere blunders, without a prospect as to where 
 the right was to be sought. I had brought to him some of 
 my little labours, which he did not treat harshly. But just 
 at this time they wrote to me from home, that I must without 
 fail furnish a poem for my uncle's wedding. I felt myself far
 
 256 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 from that light and frivolous period in which a similar thinj? 
 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 h'ttle. 
 
 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-Sft 
 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, willii>gly 
 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 hud
 
 OF CLODIUS. 257 
 
 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 (Kohlgarteri), 
 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 Sild zum Norden reicht, 
 Veniimm den P'dan der zn 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 stisser als der Saft der vom Hymettus fliesst. 
 Dein Haus ein Monument, wie wir den KUnsten lohnen 
 Umhangen mit Troph'dn, erziihlt den Nationen : 
 Auch ohne Diadem fand Hendel hier sein Gltick 
 Und raubte dem Cothurn gur manch Achtgroschenstiick. 
 Glanzt deine Urn dereinst in majestiits'chen Pompe, 
 Dann weint der Patriot un denr-m Kaiacombe. 
 Doch leb ! dein Torus sey von edler Brut ein Nmt, 
 Steh'hoch wie der Olymp, wie der Parnassus fest ! 
 Kein Phalanx Griechenland mit Romischen Jlallixtc* 
 Vennog Germanien und Hendel zu verwiisten. 
 Dein Wohl is unser Stolz, dein Leiden unser Schmerz 
 Und HendeFs Tempel ist der Musensd/ine Herz.*" 
 
 * TaJ humour of the above consists, not in the thoughts, but in the 
 particular words employed. These have no remarkable effect in English, 
 
 I
 
 2C8 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN T.TFE. 
 
 Tliis 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 Mulon, 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 t^eir 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 
 q\iite 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 ballistte be able to 
 destroy Germania and Hendel. Thy weal is our pride, thy suffering our 
 pain, and Hendel's temple is the heart of the sons of ike Muses." Trans.
 
 JtCCfcfcT&ICITIES OF BEIiniSCtt. 259 
 
 formed the Harlequin very prettily, took it into his head to 
 enlarge my poem to Hendel by several verses, and then to 
 make it refer to Medon. He read it aloud to us, and we 
 could not take any pleasure in it, for we did not find the 
 additions even ingenious, while the first poem, being written 
 for quite a different purpose, seemed to us disfigured. Our 
 friend, out of humour at our indifference, or rather cen- 
 sure, may have shown it to others, who found it new and 
 amusing. Copies were now made of it, to which the reputa- 
 tion of Clodius's Medon gave at once a rapid publicity. Uni- 
 versal disapproval was the consequence, and the originators 
 (it was soon found out that the poem had proceeded from our 
 clique) were severely censured : for nothing of the sort had 
 been seen since Cronegk's and Host's attacks upon Gottsched. 
 We had besides already secluded ourselves, and now found 
 ourselves quite in the case of the owl with respect to the 
 other birds. In Dresden, too, they did not like the affair, and 
 it had for us serious, if not unpleasant consequences. For 
 some time, already, Count Lindenau had not been quite 
 satisfied with his son's tutor. For, although the young man 
 was by no means neglected, and 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 chamhre, and went in quest of us to the wine-house, 
 whither, however, lie never used to come but in shoes and 
 stockings, with his sword by hif side, and commonly his hat 
 under his arm. The jokes and fooleries, which he generally 
 started, went on ad infnitum. 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, Behriscb 
 secretly determined that he would not let him off this time. 
 At iLe stroke of ten, the other arose and took leave. Behriscb 
 
 a
 
 160 TKUTH A.ND POEtBY; tROM MY O\Vft 
 
 culled after him nnd 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 110 sem 
 dependence in such things, so when I was alone again, I iml - 
 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 
 tUcnated many with whom I had hitherto stood on a tolerable
 
 WHAT IS EXPERIENCE ? 2G1 
 
 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 Belirisch, too, that he 
 would make plain to me what experience might be ? But, 
 because he was full of nonsense, he put me off with fail- 
 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, anTPfliu craving to make it clear to me pas- 
 sionate^ Upen-nearted as I was, I diacluee^ to rffin the 
 uneasmcss~~m "which I found niysellT ~IIei snillcd,~an(l was 
 kind enough to tell me, as an answer to my question, some- 
 thing of his own life, and generally of the world immediately 
 sibiiul us ; from which, indeed, little Letter was to Le gathered 
 than that experience convinced us that our best thoughts,
 
 262 TRUTH AND POETRY J FROM MY OWN T/IFE. 
 
 wishes and designs are unattainable, and that ho \vlio 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 renia*<l. He then felt obliged to tell me a great 
 deal about wan) about the sort of life in the field, about skir- 
 mishes andoaules, especially so far as he had taken part in 
 them ; whenthese_iast^e vents, by being considered in relation 
 to a. singleTTndividual, gained a very marvellous aspect. I 
 then led him on to an open narration of tEe Tale~sif uation of 
 the court, which seemed to me quite like a tale. I heard of 
 the bodily strength of Augustus the Second, of his many 
 children and his vast expenses, then of his successor's love of 
 art and of making collections, of Count Briihl and his bound- 
 less love of magnificence, which in detail appeared almost 
 absurd, of his numerous banquets and gorgeous amusements, 
 which were all cut off by Frederick's invasion of Saxony. 
 The royal castles now lay in ruins, Briihl' s splendours were 
 annihilated, and, of the whole, a glorious land, much injured 
 alone remained. 
 
 When he saw me astonished at that mad enjoyment of 
 fortune, and then grieved by the calamity that followed, and 
 informed me that one expects from an experienced man 
 exactly this, that he shall be astonished at neither the one 
 nor the other, nor take too lively an interest in them, I 
 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 
 were disagreeable as much as possible, if they should intiniue 
 themselves upon .me. But once, when 'the discussion wa. 
 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? 20.^ 
 
 Cheerful manner, " If you will allow mo, 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_oiie experiences what one does not wish to experience ; 
 which is-what it amounts to for the most part, at least iu tliis 
 world."
 
 EIGHTH BOOK. 
 
 ANOTHER man, although infinitely different from Behrisch iu 
 every respect, might yet be compared with him in a certain 
 sense ; I mean QESEU, who was also one of those men who 
 dream away theirlives 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 laboriousncss. 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, naving just passed between the 
 whole suite of them and an extensive granary. The first 
 apartment was adorned with pictures from the later Italian 
 school, by masters whose grace he used highly to commend. 
 As I, with some noblemen, had taken private lessons of him, 
 we were permitted to draw here, and we often penetrated into 
 his adjoining private cabinet, which contained at the samp 
 time his few books, collections of art and natural curiosities, 
 and whatever else might have most interested him. Every- 
 thing was arranged with taste, simply, and in such a manner 
 that the little space held a great deal. The furniture, presses, 
 and portfolios were elegant, without affectation or superfluity. 
 Thus also the first tiling 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. 2"5 
 
 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- 
 zanrnt. 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 tvhimsical 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 TOKTRY ; FROM MY OWN IJFK. 
 
 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 winters 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 OESEE. 267 
 
 wros now compelled to think over the matter, and soon came 
 to a far deeper insight. Thns, for instance, I had very care- 
 fully executed, after a pattern, a nosegay on blue paper, witn 
 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, ne 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 it 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 COD*
 
 2G8 TRUTH .VXD rorTKY; FROM MY OWN LTFE. 
 
 sidrr the arts in connexion with each other. Even the mistakes 
 which I made, so that my poems were often descriptive, wero 
 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 
 Dad arranged ; but there is nothing left of them now. 
 
 The atmosphere of art and taste in which Oeser lived, and 
 into which one was drawn, provided one visited him fre- 
 quently, was the more and more worthy and delightful, because 
 he was fond of remembering departed or absent persons, with 
 whom he had been, or still continued to be, on good terms ; 
 for if he had once given any one his esteem, he remained un- 
 alterable in his conduct towards him, and always showe*'. 
 himself equally friendly. 
 
 After we had heard CAYLUS 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. HEINECKEN, 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 oasts 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, WIXCKELMANN^'S lofty life of art in Italy was pointed 
 out, and we took his first writings in hand with devotion: for 
 Ocscr had a passionate reverence for him, which he was able 
 o;isily to instil into us. The problematical part of those little 
 treatisca, which are, besides, confused even from their irouy.
 
 FEELIKG FOB AB1 1 IN .LEIPZIG. 26- 
 
 and fiom 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 
 TIS 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. HUBER, 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 ; KREUCHAUF, an 
 amateur with a practised eye, who, as the friend of the whole 
 society of art, might regard all collections as his own ; WINK- 
 r.Ett, 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 
 ihe endless merits of the north- western artist, a look of rcve- 
 /entia] 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- 
 
 ession of those localities, too, in which I received such 
 jrtart incitements, has always remained to me most det<
 
 270 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FfcOM MY OWN t.ttt. 
 
 and precious. The old Pleisscnlmrg, the rooms of the Aca- 
 demy, but. above nil, the abode of Oeser, nud no less the col- 
 lections of Winkler nnd Ilichter, I have always vividly proscnt 
 before me. 
 
 But n young man who, while older persons are conversing 
 with each other on subjects already familiar to them, is in- 
 structed only incidentally, and for whom the most difficult part 
 of the business, that of rightly arranging all, yet remains, must 
 find himself in a very painful situation. I therefore, as well 
 as others, looked about with longing for some new light, 
 which was indeed to come to us from a man to wiom we owed 
 so much already. 
 
 The mind can be highly delighted in two ways, by percep- 
 tion and conception, lint the former demands a worthy object, 
 which is not always at hand, and a proportionate culture, 
 which one does not immediately attain. Conception, on the 
 other hand, requires only susceptibility ; it brings its subject- 
 jiatter with it, and is itself the instrument of culture. Hence 
 that beam of light was most welcome to us which that most 
 excellent thinker brought down to us through dar^ clouds. 
 One must be a young man to render present to oneself the 
 effect which losing's Laocoon produced upon us, by trans- 
 polling us out of the region of scanty perceptions into the 
 open fields of thought. The so long misunderstood ut pictura 
 pocsis 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 
 eacli 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 
 venture 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 " Mlex f?/tre" woulcl 
 be the ordinary rendering. 7V-ans.
 
 I.ESSING'S LAOCOOW. 271 
 
 wise so splendid sixteenth century, when, in German sculptures 
 and poems, they knew how to represent life only under the 
 fm-m 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 
 tl; on glit, that the ancients had recognised death as the brother 
 of sleep, and had represented them similar even to confusion, 
 as becomes Menjrchmi. 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 ut whose disposal such nourishment is placed, fondly 
 occupy whole periods of their lives with it, and rejoice in 
 a superabundant growth ; while men are not wanting, mean- 
 while, who resist such an effect on the spot, nor others who 
 afterwards haggle and cavil at its high meaning. 
 
 Jiut as conception and perception mutually require each 
 
 her, 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 Jh-csden without delay. I was not in want of the 
 necessary casF; but there were other difficulties to overcome, 
 which I needlessly increased still further, through my whim- 
 sical disposition ; for I kept my purpose a secret from every 
 one, because I wished~to contemplate the treasures of art 
 there quite after my own way. and, as I thought, to allow n 
 one to perplex me. Besides this, eo simple a matter became 
 more complicated By stfll" 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 TOKTRY ; FttOM MY OWN LIFE 
 
 ms aid when he was very cheerful, yet he used often to icpeat 
 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 iigain 
 implucked. 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 dl gamba with success and applause, was 
 well received and entertained. With such youthful impres- 
 K sions, which nothing had as yet nibbed off, how could I have 
 r^ 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 
 Tuan had been highly remarkable to me on account of his ex- 
 pressions, and the arrival of one of his letters was always 
 celebrated by us as a holiday. The mode in which he replied 
 to the complaints of his cousin, who feared blindness, was 
 quite peculiar ; for he did not trouble himself about grounds 
 of consolation, which are always hard to find ; but the 
 cheerful way in which he looked upon his own narrow, poor, 
 toilsome life, the merriment which he drew even from evils 
 and inconveniences, the indestructible conviction that life is 
 in itself and on its own account a blessing, communicated itself 
 to him who read the letter, and, for the moment at least, trans- 
 posed 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
 
 B DRESDEN SHOEMAKER* 273 
 
 Rnndidate, 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. 
 
 j. looked for my shoemaker, and soon found him in the 
 suburb (Vorstadt}. He received me in a friendly manner, 
 sitting upon his stool, and said smiling, after he had read the 
 letter, " I see from this, young Sir, that you are a whimsical 
 Christian." "How so, master?" replied I. "No offence 
 meant by ' whimsical,' " he continued ; " one calls every one so 
 who is not consistent with himself; and I call you a whimsical 
 Christian because you acknowledge yourself a follower of our 
 Lord in one thing, but not in another." On my requesting 
 him to enlighten me, he said further : " It seems that your 
 view is to announce glad tidings to the poor and lowly ; that 
 is good, and this imitation of the Lord is praiseworthy ; but 
 you should reflect besides, that he rather sat down to table 
 with prosperous rich folks, where there was good fare, and 
 that he himself did not despise the sweet scent of the oint- 
 ment, of which you will find the opposite in my house." 
 
 This pleasant beginning put me at once in good-humour, 
 and we rallied each other for some time. His wife stood 
 doubting how she should board and lodge such a guest. On 
 this point, too, he had notions which referred not only 
 to the Bible, but also to Gottfried's Chronicle, and when we 
 were agreed that I was to stay, I gave my purse, such as it 
 was, into the charge of my hostess, and requested her to fur- 
 nish herself from it, if anything should be necessary. When 
 he would have declined it, and somewhat waggishly gave mo 
 to understand that he was not so burnt out as he might 
 appear, I disarmed him by saying, " Even if it were only 
 to change water into wine, such a well-tried domestic re- 
 source would not be out of place, since there are no more 
 miracles now-a-days." The hostess seemed to find my con- 
 duct less and less strange ; we had soon accommodated our- 
 selves to each other, and spent a very merry evening. He 
 remained always the same, because all flowed from one source. 
 His peculiarity woa an apt common-sense, which rested upon 
 ft cheerful dispositiou, and took delight in uniform habitual 
 activity. That he should labour incessantly was his first and 
 necessary cure; that he regarded everything else aa 
 z
 
 274 TRUTH AND POETRY , FRO\t Mt OWN llffi 
 
 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 bauctuary, 
 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, Lq 
 scarcely believed my eyes ; for I fancied I saw before me a 
 picture by Ostade, so perfect that one could only hung it up 
 in the gallery. The position of the objects, the light, the 
 shadow, the brownish tint of the whole, the magical harmony, 
 everything that one admires in those pictures, I here saw in 
 reality. It was the first time that I perceived, in so high a 
 degree, the faculty which I afterwards exercised with more 
 consciousness, namely, that of seeing nature with the eyes of 
 this or that artist, to whose works I had devoted a particular 
 attention. This faculty has afforded me much enjoyment, 
 
 * " Pratische Philosophen, 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 
 hare but one. Tratu.
 
 COUNSELLOR BIEDEL. 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 ecstasy at many precious works. 
 I thus frustrated my laudable purpose of remaining unknown 
 and unnoticed ; and whereas only one of the under-keepers 
 had liitherto had intercourse with me, the gallery-inspector, 
 Counsellor Riedel, now also took notice of me, and made me 
 attentive to many things which seemed chiefly to lie within 
 my sphere. I found this excellent man just as active and 
 obliging then, as when I afterwards saw him during many 
 years, and as he shows himself to this day. His image has, 
 for me, interwoven itself so closely with those treasures of 
 art, that I can never regard the two apart ; the remembrance 
 of him has even accompanied me to Italy, where, in many 
 large and rich collections, his presence would have been very 
 desirable. 
 
 Since, even with strangers and unknown persons, one cannot 
 gaze on such works silently and without mutual sympathy, nay, 
 since the first sight of them is rather adapted, in the highest 
 degree, to open hearts towards each other, I fell there into 
 conversation with a young man who seemed to be residing at 
 Dresden, and to belong to some embassy. He invited me to 
 come in the evening to an inn where a lively company met, 
 and where, by each one's paying a moderate reckoning, one 
 could pass some very pleasant hours. 
 
 I repaired thither, but did not find the company ; and the 
 waiter somewhat surprised me when he delivered the compli- 
 ments of the gentleman who made the appointment with me, 
 by which the latter sent an excuse for coming somewhat later, 
 with the addition that I must not take offence at anything 
 that might occur ; also, that I should have nothing to pay 
 beyond my own score. I knew not what to make of these 
 words ; my father's cobwebs came into my head, and I com- 
 posed myself to await whatever might befall. The company 
 assembled, my acquaintance introduced me, and I could not 
 be attentive long, without discovering that they were aiming 
 at the mystification of a young man, who showed himself 
 a novice by an obstreperous, assuming deportment ; I there- 
 fore kept very much on my guard, so that they might not 
 
 T 2
 
 276 TRUTH AND fOKTKY ; FROM MY OWN LlPft. 
 
 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 
 lar 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, 
 even-body 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 sucft 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, 011 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 
 ( Frauenkirche) 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. 
 
 Hut 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 incrcascth sorrow," had
 
 278 TKUTH AND POBTRY J 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. 
 He permitted me the use of a fine library, which related 
 principally to the origin and progress of printing, and thus I 
 gained some knowledge in that department. I found there
 
 TASTE 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 casts had fallen into disorder in moving. I set them 
 right again as well as I could, and in doing so was compelled 
 to search Lippert and other authorities. A physician, Doctor 
 REICHEL, likewise an inmate of the house, I consulted from 
 time to time when I felt, if not sick, yet unwell, and thus wo 
 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 
 pei-severing 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,
 
 230 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 gave me variety of occupation, and I soon got so far that 1 
 could assist my master in many things. I did not lack the 
 attention necessary for the biting, and I seldom failed in any- 
 thing ; but I had not care enough in guarding against the 
 deleterious vapours which are generated, on such occasions, 
 and these may have contributed to the maladies which after- 
 wards troubled me for a long time. Amidst such labours, 
 that everything might be tried, I often made wood-cuts also. 
 I prepared various little printing-blocks after French patterns, 
 and many of them were found fit for use. 
 
 Let me here make mention of some other men who resided 
 in Leipzig, or tarried there for a short time. WEISSE, the 
 custom-house collector of the district, in his best years, cheer- 
 ful, friendly, and obliging, was loved and esteemed by us. 
 We would not, indeed, allow his theatrical pieces to be models 
 throughout, but we suffered ourselves to be carried away by 
 them, and his operas, set to music by Hiller in an easy style, 
 gave us much pleasure. SCHIEBLER, of Hamburgh, pursued 
 the same track ; and his Lisuard and Dariolette was likewise 
 favoured by us. ESCHENBURG, a handsome young man, but 
 little older than we were, distinguished himself advantageously 
 among the students. ZACHARIJE 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 \\hen 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 WINCK.ELMANN before our 
 eyes, whose ability was acknowledged in his fatherland with 
 \Vc read his writings diligently, and tried to
 
 DEATH OF WINCRELMJLNN. 281 
 
 make ourselves acquainted with the circumstances under 
 which he had written the first of them. We found in them 
 many views which seemed to have originated with Ocser, 
 even jests and whims after his fashion, and we did not rest 
 until we had formed some general conception of the occasion 
 on which these remarkable and sometimes so enigmatical 
 writings had arisen, though we were not very accurate ; for 
 youth likes better to be excited than instructed, and it was 
 not the last time that I was to be indebted to Sibylline leaves 
 for an important step in cultivation. 
 
 It was then a fine period in literature, when eminent men 
 were yet treated with respect, although the disputes of Klotz 
 and Lessing's controversies, already indicated that this epoch 
 would soon close. Winckelmann enjoyed an universal, unas- 
 sailcd 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 shown himself truly desirable. Winckelmann was 
 in the highest degree delighted with him, and, whenever lie 
 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 Winckelmanu 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 ail, 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 Winc|clmunij's death fell down into the midst
 
 282 TRUTH AND FOETUY. ; KROM 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 tho 
 Pleisseriburg, 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 
 Rousseau, would, it was promised, bring us nearer to nature, ' 
 and deliver us from the conniption of morals. Now, all the 
 above, without discrimination, applied with injudicious alter- 
 nation, were felt by many most injuriously, and I irritated my 
 * Winckelmaim was assassinated-
 
 DR. HERMANK. 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. Recovery is, however, always pleasing and 
 delightful, even though it takes place slowly and painfully ; 
 and since nature had helped herself with me, I appeared now 
 to have become another man : for I had gained a greater 
 cheerfulness of mind than I had known for a long time, and~I 
 was rejoiced to feel my inner self at liberty, although externally 
 a wearisome affliction threatened me. 
 
 But what particularly set me up at this time was, to see 
 how many eminent men had, undeservedly, given me their 
 affection. Undeservedly, I say : for there was not one among 
 them to whom I had not been troublesome through contradic- 
 tory humours, not one whom I had not more than once wounded 
 by morbid absurdity, nay, whom I had not stubbornly avoided 
 for a long time, from a feeling of my own injustice. All this 
 was forgotten ; they treated me in the most affectionate man- 
 ner, and sought, partly in my chamber, partly as soon as I 
 could leave it, to amuse and divert me. They drove out with 
 me, entertained me at their country-houses, and I seemed soon 
 to recover. 
 
 Among these friends I name first of all Doctor HERMANN-, 
 then senator, afterwards burgomaster of Leipzig. He was 
 among those boarders with whom I had become acquainted 
 through Schlosser, the one with whom an always equable and 
 enduiing connexion was maintained. One might well reckon 
 him the most industrious of his academical fellow-citizens. 
 He attended his lectures with the greatest regularity, and his 
 private industry remained always the same. Step by step, 
 without the slightest deviation, I saw him attain his Doctor's 
 degree, and then raise himself to the assessorship, without any- 
 thing of all this appearing arduous to him, or his having in the 
 least hurried or been too late with anything. The gentleness
 
 18^ TRTTTH 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-t$te 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, GROENINO 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. 
 
 Hen-, too, it was that friend HORN uninterruptedly brought
 
 LANGKB. 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 frequently found means of 
 meeting me indirectly. I soon gained his affection, and he, 
 more prudent than Behrisch, called for me by night ; we went 
 walking together, conversed on interesting things, and at 
 last I accompanied him to the very door of his mistress ; for 
 even this externally severe, earnest, scientific man had not 
 kept free from the toils of a very amiable lady. 
 
 German literature, and with it my own poetical undertak- 
 ings, had already for some time become strange to me, and as 
 is usually the result in such an auto-didactic: circular course, I 
 turned back towards the beloved ancients who still constantly, 
 like distant blue mountains, distinct in their outlines and 
 masses, but indiscernible in their parts and internal relations, 
 bounded the hori/on of my intellectual wishes. I made an 
 exchange with Langcr, 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 HIE. 
 
 The confidence which new friends repose in each othct 
 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 
 u lower depth which opens itself, if the connexion is to be 
 perfected ; the religious sentiments, the affairs of the heart 
 which relate to the imperishable, are the things which both 
 establish the foundation and adorn the summit of a friendship. 
 
 The Christian religion was wavering between its own histo- 
 rically positive base and a pure deism, which, grounded on 
 morality, was in its turn to lay the foundation of ethics. The 
 diversity of characters and modes of thought here showed itself 
 in infinite gradations, especially when a leading difference was 
 brought into play by the question arising as to how great a share 
 the reason, and how great a share the feelings could and should 
 bear a part in such convictions. The most lively and inge- 
 nious men showed themselves, in this instance, like butterflies, 
 who, quite regardless of their caterpillar state, throw away the 
 chrysalis veil in which they have grown up to their organic 
 perfection. Others, more honestly and modestly minded, might 
 be compared to the flowers, which, although they unfold them- 
 selves to the most beautiful bloom, yet do not tear themselves 
 from the root, from the mother stalk, nay, rather through this 
 family connexion first bring the desired fruit to maturity. Of 
 this 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 worldly things by an annoy- 
 ing illness, found it highly desirable to turn the activity of his 
 tnind 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
 
 felOT AT LEIPZIG. 287 
 
 ftnth 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 uj> and down the empty
 
 288 TRUTH AND POETRY J FUOM MY OWN LlFfi. 
 
 ide-walk, with the greatest apparent composure, but as sdon 
 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 a (Fair had no further consequences. 
 
 With such a ringing echo of university exploits, I left Leip- 
 zig in the September of 1768, in a comfortable hired coach, 
 and in the company of some respectable persons of my acquaint- 
 ance. In the neighbourhood of Auerstadt I thought of that 
 previous accident ; but I could not forebode that which many 
 years afterwards would threaten me from thence with still 
 greater danger ; just as little as in Gotha, where we had the 
 castle shown to us, I could think in the great hall adorned with 
 stucco figures, that so much favour and affection would befall 
 me on that very spot. 
 
 The nearer I approached my native city, the more I recalled 
 to myself doubtingly the circumstances, prospects, and hopes 
 with which I had left home, and it was a very disheartening 
 feeling that I now returned, as it were, like one shipwrecked. 
 Yet since I had not very much with which to reproach myself, 
 I contrived to compose myself tolerably well ; however, the 
 welcome was not without emotion. The great vivacity of my 
 nature, excited and heightened by sickness, caused an impas- 
 sioned scene. I might have looked worse than I myself knew, 
 since for a long time I had not consulted a looking-glass ; and 
 who does not become used to himself? Enough, they silently 
 resolved to communicate many things to me only by degrees, 
 and before all things to let me have some repose both bodily 
 and mental. 
 
 My sister immediately associated herself with me, and as 
 previously, from her letters, so I could now more in detail 
 and accurately understand the circumstances and situation of 
 the family. My father had, after my departure, concentrated 
 all his didactic taste upon my sister, and in a house completely 
 shut up, rendered secure by peace, and even cleared of lodgers, 
 he had cut off from her almost every means of looking about 
 and recreating herself abroad. She had by turns to pursu^ 
 and work at French, Italian, and English, besides which he 
 compelled her to practise a great part of the day on the harp_ r ) 
 tfhord. Her writing also could not be neglected, and I hud
 
 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 midefinable being, 
 the most singular mixture of strength and weakness, of stub- 
 bornness and pliability, which qualities operated now united, 
 now isolated by will and inclination. Thus she had, in a man- 
 ner which seemed to me fearful, turned the hardness of her 
 character against her father, whom- she did not forgive for hav- 
 ing hindered or embittered to her so many 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 mjr 
 sister as to any human being, she turned Her affection wholly 
 o"h me. Her care in nursing and entertaining me absorbed all 
 her time ; her female companions, who \vere swayed by her 
 without her intending it, had likewise to contrive all eorts of 
 things to be pleasing and consolatory to rae. 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 coidd 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 
 gdoli~ 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 surfer 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 POETEY ; 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 
 Mndorf, whose opinions and actions bore witness to a higher
 
 . FEAEULEIN VON KLETTENBEBO. 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 
 tgrnos 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 which, as it seemed to me, He should 
 have given better assistance. It may be imagined how often 
 I and my female Mend 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, e^y-look- 
 
 u 2
 
 292 TRUTH AND POETRY; FBOM 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 
 arork, 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 TURN. 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 Valcntinus ; 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 Mend, who, without parents or brothers and sisters, lived 
 in a large, well-situated house, had already before this begun 
 to purchase herself a little air-furnace, alembics and retorts of 
 moderate size ; and, in accordance with the hints of Welling, 
 and the significant signs of our physician and master, ope- 
 rated principally on iron, in which the most healing powers 
 were said to be concealed, if one only knew how to open. it.
 
 294 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 And as the volatile salt -which must be produced made a great 
 figure 1 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 fii 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 
 ell the crystallizations that might occur, and became acquainted
 
 CHARACTER OF THE LETTERS FROM LEIPZIG. 295 
 
 with the external forms of many natural things, and inasmuch 
 as I well knew that in modern times chemical subjects were 
 treated more methodically, I wished to get a general con- 
 ception of them, although, as a half-adept, I had very 
 little respect for the apothecaries and all those who operated 
 with common fire. However, the chemical Compendium of 
 Boerhaave attracted me powerfully, and led me on to read 
 several of his writings, in which (since, moreover, my tedious 
 illness had inclined me towards medical subjects,) I found 
 an inducement to study also the Aphorisms of this excellent 
 man, which I was glad to stamp upon my mind and in my 
 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 written home from Leipzig. 
 Nothing reveals more with respect to ourselves, than when 
 we again see before us that which has proceeded from us years 
 before, so that we can now consider ourselves as an object.of 
 contemplation. Only, in truth, I was then too young, and the 
 epoch which was represented by those papers was still too 
 near. As in our younger years we do not in general easily 
 cast off a certain self-complacent conceit, this especially 
 shows itself in despising what we have been but a little tim^ 
 before ; for while, indeed, we perceive, as we advance from 
 step to step, that those things which we regard as good and 
 excellent in ourselves and others do not stand their ground, 
 we think we can best extricate ourselves from this dilemma 
 by ourselves throwing away what we cannot preserve. So - 
 it was with me also. For as in Leipzig I had gradually 
 learned to set little value on my childish labours, so now my 
 academical course seemed to me likewise of small account, 
 and I did not understand that for this very reason it must be 
 of great value to me, as it elevated me to a higher degree of 
 observation and insight. My father had carefully collected -j\ 
 and sewed together my letters to him, as well as those to my 
 sister ; nay, he had even corrected them with attention, aud 
 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, 1 765, to the middle of the fol- 
 lowing January. But, in the middle of March, there nppeared
 
 290 TEUTH AND POETRY; FUGM 3JY OWN LIFE. 
 
 nil 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- 
 I 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. 
 v He had, 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 
 N father's warnings were only against the abuse. Now as 1 
 ' 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 ana rapidly, 
 but I could never keep up the proper attention for a whole 
 evening. Therefore, when I began very well, I invariably 
 failed at the end, and made myself and others lose ; through 
 which I went off, always out of humour, either to the supper- 
 table or out of the company. Scarcely was Madame Bohme 
 dead, who, moreover, had no longer kept me in practice 
 during her tedious illness, than my father's doctrine gained 
 force ; 1 at first excused myself from the card-tables, and ae
 
 TASTE FOR DRAWING REVIVED. 297 
 
 they now did not know what else to do with me, I became 
 even more of a burden to myself than to others, and declined 
 the invitations, which then became more rare, and at last 
 ceased altogether. Play, which is much to be recommended 
 to young people, especially to those who have a practical 
 sense, and wish to look about in the world for themselves, 
 could never, indeed, become a passion with me ; for I never 
 got further, though I might play as long as I would. Had 
 any one given me a general view of the subject, and made me 
 observe how here certain signs and more or less of chance J^j 
 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, ^r 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 pi'oportion and the proper vigour, besides whi<jh 
 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 whichj
 
 293 TEUTH AND POETEY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 since the originals stood as patterns before me, I could work witft 
 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 :ny 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 convinces
 
 STTBVEY OF WORKS WRITTEN AT LEIPZIG. 299 
 
 as. Could we, without being morbidly anxious, keep watch 
 over ourselves as to what operates favourably or unfavourably 
 upon us in our complicated civil and social life, and would we 
 leave off what is actually pleasant to us as an enjoyment, for 
 the sake of the evil consequences, we should thus know how 
 to remove with ease many an inconvenience which, with a 
 constitution otherwise sound, often troubles us more than even 
 a disease. Unfortunately, it is in dietetics as in morals ; 
 we cannot see into a fault till we have got rid of it; by 
 which nothing is gained, for the next fault is not like the 
 preceding one, and therefore cannot be recognised under the 
 same form. 
 
 In reading through those letters which had been written 
 from Leipzig to my sister, this remark, among others, could 
 not escape me, that from the very beginning of my academical 
 course, I had esteemed myself very clever and wise, since, as 
 soon as I had IcarnecTanything, 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 j'oung 
 man without being suitable for a young lady ; and we both 
 together made merry over these mimicries. The goemsjtlso 
 which I had composed in Leipzig were already too pb6r for 
 me ; and they seemed to me cold, dry, and in respect to that 
 which was meant to express the state of the human heart or 
 mind, too superficial. This induced me, now that I was to 
 leave my father's house once more, and go to a second univer- 
 sity, again to decree a great high auto-da-fe against my labours. 
 Several commenced plays, some of which had reached the 
 third or the fourth act. while others had only the plot fully 
 made out, together with many other poems, letters, and 
 papers, were given over to the fire, .and scarcely anything 
 was spared except the manuscript by Behrisch, Die Laune des 
 Verliebten and Die 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 V 
 in which a drama should be developed, and nothing was to ' 
 me of greater conceni thau to enter thoroughly into his mini 
 and his views.
 
 300 I14UIH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 The recital of whatever moved, excited, and occupied ma 
 at this time, is already circumstantial enough ; but I must 
 nevertheless again recur to that interest with which super- 
 sensuous things had inspired me, of which I, once for all, so 
 far as might be possible, undertook to form some notion. 
 
 I experienced a great influence from an important work 
 that fell into my hands ; it was Arnold's History of the Church 
 and of Heretics. This man is not merely a reflective histo- 
 rian, but at the same time pious and feeling. His sentiments 
 chimed in very well with mine, and what particularly de- 
 lighted me in his work was, that I received a more favourable 
 notion of many heretics, who had been hitherto represented to 
 me as mad or impious. The spirit of contradiction and the love 
 of paradoxes stick fast in us all. I diligently studied the differ- ^ 
 ent opinions, and as I had often enough heard it said that \ 
 every man has his own religion at last, so nothing seemed 
 more natural to me than that I should form mine too, and this 
 1 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 crea* 
 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 OF THEOLOGY. 301 
 
 believed that he could find himself in himself, and from this 
 first ingratitude sprang all that does not seem to us in accord- 
 ance with the will and purposes of the Godhead. Now thr 
 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 would, to seize upon that which 
 existed already, and supply the want, according to their own 
 eternity. Now they chose the latter, and by their mere will 
 supplied in an instant the whole want which the consequence 
 of Lucifer's undertaking drew after it. They gave to the 
 Eternal Being the faculty of expanding itself, of moving itself 
 towards them ; the peculiar pulse of life was again restored, 
 and Lucifer himself could not avoid its effects. This is the 
 epoch when that appeared which we know as light, and when 
 that began which we are accustomed to designate by the word 
 creation. Greatly now as this multiplied itself by progressive 
 degrees, through the continually working vital power of the 
 Elohim, still a being was wanting who might be able to restore 
 the original connexion with the Godhead ; and thus man was 
 produced, who in all things was to be similar, yea, equal to
 
 302 TKUTH AND POETRY J 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 
 oiore natural than for the Divinity himself to take the form of 
 man, which had already prepared itself as a veil, and to share 
 Iiis 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 verselboteji), 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 
 bring. The word, which is most useful to the Germans, can never be ren- 
 dered properly in English. Trans. 
 
 t If we could make use of some such verbs as " inself " and " unsel/," 
 we should more accurately render this passage. Tram.
 
 NINTH BOOK 
 
 " THE heart is often affected, moreover, to the advantage of 
 different, but especially of social and refined yirtues, and the 
 more tender sentiments we excited and unfolded in it. Many 
 touches, in particular, will impress themselves, which give 
 the young reader an insight into the more hidden corner 
 of the human heart and its passions a knowledge which is 
 more worth than all Latin and Greek, and of which Ovid was 
 a very excellent master. But yet it is not on this account 
 that the classic poets, and therefore Ovid, are placed in the 
 hands of youth. We have from the kind Creator a variety of 
 mental powers, to which we must not neglect giving their 
 proper culture in our earliest years, and which cannot 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 significant passage, which is found in the Universal 
 German Library, 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 wo desire ? Philosophy, with its abstruse questions, 
 was set aside the classic languages, Ihe acquisition of which 
 is accompanied by so much drudgery, one saw thrust into the
 
 304 TRUTH AND POETHY J FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 background the compendiums, about the sufficiency of which 
 Hamlet had already whispered a doubtful word into the ear, 
 came more and more into suspicion. We were directed to 
 the contemplation of an active life, which we were so fond of 
 leading, and to the knowledge of the passions which we partly 
 felt, partly anticipated, in our own bosoms, and which, if 
 though they had been rebuked formerly, now appeared to us a& 
 something important and dignified, because they were to be the 
 chief object of our studies, and the knowledge of them was ex- 
 tolled as the most excellent means of cultivating our mental 
 powers. Besides this, such a mode of thought was quite in 
 accordance with my own conviction, nay, with my poetical 
 mode of treatment. I therefore, without opposition, after I 
 had thwarted so many good designs, and seen so many fair 
 hopes vanish, reconciled myself to my father's intention of 
 sending me to Strasburg, where I was promised a cheerful, 
 gay life, while I "should 'prosecute my studies, and at last take 
 my degree. 
 
 In spring I felt my health, but still more my youthful 
 spirits, again restored, and once more longed to be out of my 
 father's house, though with reasons far different from those on 
 the first time. The pretty chambers and spots where I had 
 suffered so much had become disagreeable to me, and with 
 my father himself there could be no pleasant relation. I 
 could not quite pardon him for having manifested more impa- 
 tience than was reasonable at the relapse of my disease, and 
 at my tedious recovery ; nay, for having, instead of comfort- 
 ing me by forbearance, frequently expressed himself in a cruel 
 manner, about that which lay in no man's hand, as if it de- 
 spended only on the will. And he, too, was in various ways 
 flHrt 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
 
 AEEIVAL AT STHASBUKO. 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 rne 
 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 
 pet and interwoven with magnificent trees, that striking 
 richness of vegetation wbich follows in the windings of the
 
 806 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, and an unsatisfied craving secretly demands that which 
 is to come and may come, and which, at all events, whether for 
 good or ill, will imperceptibly assume the character of the 
 spot in which we find ourselves. 
 
 Descended from the height, I still tarried awhile before the 
 face of the venerable pile ; but what I could not quite clearly 
 make out, either the first or the following time, was that I 
 regarded this miracle as a monster, which must have terrified 
 me, if it had not, at the same time, appeared to me compre- 
 hensible by its regularity, and even pleasing in its finish. 
 Yet I by no means busied myself with meditating on this con- 
 tradiction, but suffered a monument so astonishing quietly to 
 work upon me by its presence. 
 
 I took small, but well-situated and pleasant lodgings, on 
 the summer side of the Fish-market, a fine long street, where
 
 MEYER. 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 
 v MjexEfc, 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 j but the majority were students, all really good and
 
 808 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY O\VN 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 
 study jurisprudence at Strasburg, so as to be able to take my 
 degree as soon as possible. Since he was exactly informed of 
 everything, I asked him about the lectures I should have to 
 hear, and what he generally thought of the matter. To this 
 he replied, that it was not in Strasburg as in the German uni- 
 versities, where they try to educate jurists in. the large and 
 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 -ia^given. They tried to impart 
 to every one certain general principles and preliminary know- 
 ledge, they compressed as much as possible, and communi- 
 cated only what was most necessary. Hereupon he made 
 me acquainted with a man, in whom, as a Repetent,* great con- 
 fidence was entertained ; which he very soon managed to gain 
 from me also. By way of introduction, I began to speak with 
 him on subjects of jurisprudence, and he wondered not a 
 little at my swaggering ; for during my residence at Leipzig, 
 I had gained more of an insight into the requisites for the 
 law than I have hitherto taken occasion to state in my narra- 
 tive, though all I had acquired could only be reckoned as a 
 
 A Repetent is one of a class of persons to be found in the German 
 universities, and who assist students in their studies. They are some- 
 what analogous to the English Tutors, but not precisely ; for the lattei 
 render their aid before the recitation, while the Repetent repeats with the 
 student, in private, the lectures he has previously heard from the pro- 
 fessor. Kence his name, which might be rendered Repeater, had we any 
 corresponding class of men in England or America, which would justifjr 
 aa English word. American Nrte.
 
 TASTE FOB 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 we are always surrounded by men who either possess 
 or are seeking science, so that, even if unconsciously, we are 
 constantly drawing some nourishment from such an atmo- 
 sphere. 
 
 My repetent, after he had had patience with my rambling 
 discourse for some time, gave me at last to understand that 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 were medical students. These, 
 as is well known, are the only students who zealously converse 
 about their science and profession even out of the hours of 
 study. This lies in the nature of the case. The objects of their 
 endeavours are the most obvious to the senses, and at the same
 
 310 TEUTH 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 hei 
 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 veiy well as a pleasure-house for persons
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR RECEPTION OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 311 
 
 of rank. But that which particularly interested me, and 
 for which I did not grudge many a biisel (a little silver cpin 
 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 flourished 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-possee-
 
 312 TRUTH AND POETfiT J FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 sion, and with animation and vehemence I called on my com- 
 rades to witness such a crime against taste and feeling. 
 "What!" cried I, without regarding the bystanders, "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 queea 
 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 upoa the world particularly 
 on account of the sick and the lame, with the arrival of the 
 queen, who scared these unfortunates away. My friends let 
 it pass ; a Frenchman, on the contrary, who lived with us, 
 criticised the language and metre very unmercifully, although.
 
 DREADFUL ACCIDENT AT PARIS. 313 
 
 as it seemed, with too much foundation, and I do not remem- 
 ber that I ever made a French poem afterwards. 
 
 Scarcely had the news of the queen's happy arrival rung 
 from the capital, than it was followed by the horrible intelli- 
 gence that, owing to an oversight of the police during the 
 festal fireworks, an infinite number of persons, with horses and 
 carriages, had been destroyed in a street obstructed by build- 
 ing materials, and that the city, in the midst of the nuptial 
 solemnities, had been plunged into mourning and sorrow. 
 They attempted to conceal the extent of the misfortune, both 
 from the young royal pair and from the world, by burying the 
 dead in secret, so that many families were convinced only by 
 the ceaseless absence of their members that they, too, had been 
 swept off by this awful event. That, on this occasion, those 
 ghastly figures in the grand saloon again came vividly before 
 my mind, I need scarcely mention ; for every one knows how 
 powerful certain moral impressions are, when they embody 
 themselves, as it were, in those of the senses. 
 
 This occurrence was, however, destined moreover to place 
 my friends in anxiety and trouble by means of a prank in which 
 I indulged. Among us young people who had been at Leip- 
 zig, there had been maintained ever afterwards a certain itch 
 for imposing on and in some way mystifying one another. 
 With this wanton Jove 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 THUTH 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 manner which redounded to his highest honour. He was 
 actuary to the Court of Wards (Pupillen- Collegium), and there, 
 indeed, like the perpetual secretary of an university, he had,
 
 STB-ASBUBG 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 ^f 
 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 
 flayed 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 AXD POETKYJ FHOM. Mlf 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 consequence. 
 
 A certain kind of general society is not to be thought of 
 without card-playing. Salzmann renewed the good instruc- 
 tions of Madame Bohme, and I was the more docile as I had 
 really seen that by this little sacrifice, if it be one, one may 
 procure oneself much pleasure, and even a greater freedom 
 in society than one would otherwise enjoy. The old piquet, 
 which had gone to sleep, was again looked out; I learned 
 whist ; I made myself, according to the directions of my Mentor, 
 a card-purse, which was to remain untouched under all cir- 
 cumstances ; and I now found opportunity to spend most of 
 my evenings with my friend in the best circles, where, for the 
 most part, they wished me well, and pardoned many a little 
 irregularity, to which, nevertheless, my friend, though kindly 
 enough, used to call my attention. 
 
 But that I might experience symbolically how much one, 
 even in externals, has to adapt oneself to society, and direct 
 oneself according to it, I was compelled to something which 
 seemed to me the most disagreeable thing in the world. I had 
 really veiy 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 an J 
 powdered from early in the morning, and at the same time to 
 take csre 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 eveniugs r 
 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, wliich 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 disfigurev* 
 his significant and pleasing countenance. His voice was 
 mild, without being soft and weak ; it became even melodious 
 and powerful as soon as his ardour was roused, which was 
 very easily done. On learning to know him better, one 
 found in him a sound common-sense, which rested on feeling, 
 and therefore took its tone from the affections and passions, 
 and from this very feeling sprang an enthusiasm for the good, 
 the true, and the just, in the greatest possible purity. For 
 the course of this man's life had been 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 iu on uninterrupted providence, and in au
 
 318 XEUIH AND POETRY; 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
 
 LER8E. 319 
 
 not call, lest lie should fall from his elevation, or like a gentle 
 stream, to which one dare oppose nothing, lest it should foam, 
 he was often constrained to feel uncomfortable in a more 
 numerous company. His faith tolerated no doubt, and his 
 conviction no jest. And if in friendly communication he was 
 inexhaustible, everything came to a standstill with him when 
 he suffered contradiction. I usually helped him through oil 
 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 intellect was pleasing to me, and his faith in miracles, 
 which was so useful to him, I left unmolested. Sakmann 
 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 wich 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 ail 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 chairg 
 were not found perfectly clean. With all this, he had nothing 
 stiff in his exterior. He spoke cordially, with precise ana
 
 820 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 dry liveliness, in wliich 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 wm'ch 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- 
 ^tfnued always to remind us of what one owed to oneself and 
 /to others, and how one ought to behave in order to live at 
 peace with men as long as possible, and thus gain a certain 
 position towards them, I had to fight, both Inwardly and out- 
 wardly, with quite different circumstances and adversaries, 
 being at strife with myself, with the objects around me, and even 
 with the elements. I found myself in a state of health which
 
 SUBJUGATION Off NATURAL ANTIPATHIES. 321 
 
 furthered me sufficiently in all that I would and should under- 
 take ; only there was a certain irritability left behind, which 
 did not always let me be in equilibrium. A loud sound was dis- 
 agreeable to me, diseased objects awakened in me loathing and 
 horror. But I was especially troubled by a giddiness which 
 came over me every time that I looked down from a height. 
 All these infirmities I tried to remedy, and, indeed, as I wished 
 to lose no time, in a somewhat violent way. In the evening, 
 when they beat the tattoo, I went near the multitude of drums, 
 the powerful rolling and beating of which might have made 
 one's heart burst in one s bosom. All alone I ascended the 
 highest pinnacle of the minster spire, and sat in what is called 
 the neck, under the nob or crown, for a quarter of an hour, 
 before I would venture to step out again into the open air, 
 where, standing upon a platform scarce an ell square, without 
 any particular holding, one sees the boundless prospect before, 
 while the nearest objects and ornaments conceal the church, 
 and everything upon and above which one stands. It is exactly 
 as if one saw oneself carried up into the air in a balloon. Such 
 troublesome and painful sensations I repeated until the im- 
 pression became quite indifferent to me, and I have since then 
 derived great advantage from this training, in mountain travels 
 and geological studies, and on great buildings, where I have 
 vied with the carpenters in running over the bare beams and the 
 cornices of the edifice, and even in 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 tibia, also, I went so far that day and night, and every
 
 H2'2 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 locality, were quite the same to me ; so that even when, in 
 later times, a desire came over me once more to feel in such 
 scenes the pleasing shudder of youth, I could scarcely force 
 this, in any degree, by the strangest and most fearful images 
 which I called up. 
 
 In my efforts to free myself from the pressure of the too- 
 gloomy and powerful, which continued to rule within me, 
 and seemed to me sometimes as strength, sometimes as weak- 
 ness, I was thoroughly assisted by that open, social, stirring 
 manner of life, which attracted me more and more, to which 
 I accustomed myself, and which I at last learned to enjoy 
 with perfect freedom. It is not difficult to remark in the 
 world, that man feels himself most freely and most perfectly.^' 
 rid of his own failings, when he represents to himself the 
 faults of others, and expatiates upon them with complacent 
 censoriousness. It is a tolerably pleasant sensation even to 
 set ourselves above our equals by disapprobation and misre- 
 presentation, for which reason good society, whether it con- 
 sists of few or many, is most delighted with it. But nothing 
 equals the comfortable self-complacency, when we erect 
 ourselves into judges of our superiors, and of those who are 
 set over us, of princes and statesmen, when we find public 
 institutions unfit and injudicious, only consider the possible 
 and actual obstacles, and recognise neither the greatness of 
 the invention, nor the co-operation which is to be expected 
 from time and circumstances in every undertaking. 
 
 Whoever remembers the condition of the French kingdom, 
 and is accurately and circumstantially acquainted with it from 
 later writings, will easily figure to himself how, at that time, 
 in the Alsatian semi-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 dig- 
 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 accepted, but not to be put into execution at once, 
 now, should in course of time have been approaching com- 
 pletion, and, meanwhile, the city oddly enough wavered 
 between form and formlessness. If, for instance, a crooked 
 side of a street was to be straightened, the first man who 
 felt disposed to build moved forward to the appointed line 
 perhaps, too, his next neighbour ; but perhaps, also, the third 
 or fourth resident from him, by which projections the most 
 awkward recesses were left, like front court-yards, before the 
 houses in the background. They would not use force, yet with- 
 out compulsion they would never have got on ; on which account 
 no man, when his house was once condemned, ventured to 
 improve or replace anything that related to the street. All 
 these strange accidental inconveniences gave to us rambling 
 idlers the most welcome opportunity of practising our ridi- 
 cule, of making proposals, in the manner of Behrisch, for 
 accelerating the completion, and of constantly doubting the 
 possibility of it, although many a newly-erected handsome 
 building should have brought us to other thoughts. How 
 far that project was advanced by the length of time, I cannot 
 say. 
 
 Another subject on which the Protestant Strasburgers liked 
 to converse was the expulsion of the Jesuits. These fathers, 
 as soon as the city had fallen to the share of the French, had 
 made their appearance and sought a domicillum. But they 
 soon extended themselves and built a magnificent college, 
 which bordered so closely on the minster that the back of the 
 church covered a third part of its front. It was to be a com- 
 plete quadrangle, and have a garden in the middle; threo 
 sides of it were finished. It is of stone, and solid, like all the 
 buildings of these fathers. That the Protestants were pushed
 
 334 (TRUTH AKD POETRY; FROM MY OWN LlFti, 
 
 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 Praetor Kling- 
 ling, who, after he had mounted the highest step of earthly 
 felicity, ruled city and country with almost absolute power, 
 and enjoyed all that wealth, rank, and influence could afford, 
 had at last lost the favour of the court, and was dragged up 
 to answer for all in which he had been indulged hitherto ; 
 nay, was even thrown into prison, where, more than seventy 
 years old, he died an ambiguous death. 
 
 This and other tales, that knight of St. Louis, our fellow- 
 boarder, knew how to tell with passion and animation, for 
 which reason I was fond of accompanying him in his walks, 
 unlike the others, who avoided such invitations, and left me 
 alone with him. As with new acquaintances I generally 
 suffered myself to go on for a long time without thinking 
 much about them or the effect which they were exercising 
 upon me, so I only remarked gradually that his stories -and 
 opinions rather unsettled and confused, than instructed and 
 enlightened me. I never knew what to make of him, al- 
 though the riddle might easily have been solved. He be- 
 longed to the many to whom life offers no results, and who 
 therefore, from first to last, exert themselves on individual 
 objects. Unfortunately he had, with this, a decided desire, 
 nay, even 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 
 6uch a fixed view he always came back again, and was thus 
 in the long-run excessively tiresome. He used bitterly to 
 complain of the decline of his memory, especially with regard 
 to the latest events, and maintained by a logic of his own, that 
 all virtue springs from a good memory, and all vice, on the
 
 THE KNIGHT OF ST. LOUIS. 325 
 
 eontraiy, from forgetfulness. This doctrine he contrived to 
 carry out with, much acuteness ; as, indeed, everything can be 
 maintained when one permits oneself to use words altogether 
 vaguely, and to employ and apply them in a sense now wider, 
 now narrower, now closer, now more remote. 
 
 At first it was amusing to hear him ; nay, his persuasive- 
 ness even astonished us. We fancied we were standing before 
 a rhetorical sophist, who for jest and practice knew how to give 
 a fair appearance to the strangest things. Unfortunately this 
 first impression blunted itself but too soon ; for at the end of 
 every discourse, manage the thing as I would, the man came 
 back again to the same theme. He was not to be held fast 
 to older events, although they interested him, although he 
 had them present to his mind with their minutest circum- 
 stances. Indeed he was often, by a small circumstance, 
 snatched out of the middle of a wild historical narrative, and 
 thrust into his detestable favourite thought. 
 
 One of our afternoon walks was particularly unfortunate in 
 this respect; the account of it may stand here instead of 
 similar cases, which might weary, if not vex the reader. 
 
 On the way through the city we were met by an old female 
 mendicant, who by her beggings and importunities disturbed 
 him in his story. " Pack yourself off, old witch!" said he, 
 and walked by. She shouted after him the well-known 
 retort, only somewhat changed, since she saw well that the 
 unfriendly man was old himself, " If you did not wish to be 
 old, you should have had yourself hanged in your youth ! " 
 He turned round violently, and I feared a scene. " Hanged ! " 
 cried he, " have myself hanged ! No, that could not have 
 been ; I was too honest a fellow for that ; but hang myself- 
 hang up my own self that is true that I should have done ; 
 I should have turned a charge of powder against myself, that 
 I might not live to see that I am not even worth that any 
 more." The woman stood as if petrified ; but he continued, 
 " You have said a great truth, witch-mother ! and as they have 
 neither drowned nor burned you yet, you shall be paid for 
 your proverb." He handed her a 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 
 laid 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 
 bis forehead with both his fists : " O what an ass I am!" ex- 
 claimed he, " what an old ass I am ! Now, you see whether I 
 am right or not." And then, in a very violent manner, he 
 went on with his usual sayings and opinions, in which this case 
 still more confirmed him. I cannot and would not repeat what 
 a philippic discourse he held against himself. At last he turned 
 to me and said : " I call you to witness ! You remember that 
 small- ware woman at the corner, who is neither young nor 
 pretty ? I salute her every time we pass, and often exchange 
 a couple of friendly words with her ; and yet it is thirty years 
 ago since she was gracious to me. But now I swear it is not 
 four weeks since this young lady showed herself more complai- 
 sant to me than was reasonable, and yet I will not recognise 
 her, but insult her in return for her favours ! Do I not always 
 say that ingratitude is the greatest of vices, and no man would 
 be ungrateful if he were not forgetful! " 
 
 We went into the inn, and nothing tut the tippling, swarm- 
 ing crowd in the ante-rooms stopped the invectives which he 
 rattled off against himself and his contemporaries. He was 
 silent, and I hoped pacified, when we stepped into an upper 
 chamber, where we found a young man pacing up and down 
 alone, whom the captain saluted by name. I was pleased to 
 become acquainted with him ; for the old fellow had said 
 much good of him to me, and had told me that this young man, 
 being employed in the war-bureau, had often disinterestedly 
 done him very good service when the pensions were stopped. 
 I was glad that the conversation took a general 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 KKIGHI 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 \vithout moderation. His last vexation 
 about himself had not yet died away, and now was added 
 something new, although of quite a different kind. He had 
 not long cast his eyes here and there before he noticed on the 
 table a double portion of coffee and two cups, and might be- 
 sides, being a man of gallantry, have traced some other indi- 
 cation that the young man had not been so solitary all the 
 time. And scarcely had the conjecture arisen in his mind, 
 and ripened into a probability, that the pretty girl had been 
 paying a visit here, than the most outrageous jealousy added 
 itself to that first vexation, so as completely to perplex him. 
 
 Now before I could suspect anything, for I had hitherto 
 been conversing quite harmlessly with the young man, the 
 captain, in an unpleasant tone, which I well knew, began to 
 be satirical about the pair of cups, and about this and that 
 The young man, surprised, tried to turn it off pleasantly and 
 sensibly, as is the custom among men of good-breeding ; but 
 the old fellow continued to be unmercifully rude, so that there 
 was nothing left for the other to do but to seize his hat and cane, 
 and at his departure to leave behind him a pretty unequivocal 
 challenge. The fury of the captain now burst out the more 
 vehemently, as he had in the interim drunk another bottle of 
 wine almost by himself. He struck the table with his fist, 
 and cried more than once : " I strike him dead ! " It was not, 
 however, meant quite so badly as it sounded, for he often used 
 this phrase when any one opposed or otherwise displeased him. 
 Just as unexpectedly the business grew worse on our return : 
 for I had the want of foresight to represent to him his ingrati- 
 tude towards the young man, and to remind him how strongly 
 he had praised to me the ready obligingness of this official 
 person. No ! such rage of a man against himself I never saw 
 again ; it was the most passionate conclusion to that beginning 
 to which the pretty girl had given occasion. Here I saw sorrow 
 and repentance carried into caricature, and as all passion 
 supplies the place of genius, to a point really genius-like. 
 He then went over all the incidents of our afternoon ramble 
 again, employed them rhetorically for his own self-reproach, 
 brought up the old witch at last before him once more, and
 
 328 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 perplexed himself 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 immediately confided the affair to Lerse, and we went the 
 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 friends, who might have foretold me, from their own expe- 
 rience, how troublesome the friendship of the captain could 
 become upon occasion. 
 
 But now, while I am thinking what should be imparted next , 
 there comes again into my thoughts, by a strange play of me- 
 mory, that reverend minster-building, to which in those days 
 I devoted particular attention, and which, in general, con- 
 stantly presents itself to the eye both in the city and in the 
 country. 
 
 The more I considered the facade, the more was that first 
 impression strengthened and developed, that here the sublime 
 has entered into alliance with the pleasing. If the vast, when 
 it appears as a mass before us, is not to terrify ; if it is not to 
 confuse, when we seek to investigate its details, it must enter 
 into an unnatural, apparently impossible connexion, it must 
 associate to itself the pleasing. But now, since it will be im- 
 possible for us to speak of the impression of the minster except 
 by considering both these incompatible qualities as united, so 
 do we already see, from this, in what high value we must hold 
 this ancient monument, and we begin in earnest to describe 
 how such contradictory elements could peaceably interpene- 
 trate and unite themselves. 
 
 First of all, without thinking of the towers, we devote our con- 
 siderations to the/bf ade alone, which powerfully strikes the eye as 
 an upright, oblong parallelogram. If we approach it at twilight, 
 in the moonshine, oa a starlight night, when the parts appear 
 Oiore or less indistinct and at last disappear, we see only a colos-
 
 STRASBUEO MINSTER 329 
 
 Pal 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. SUCD 
 a mrc^foldness always gives great pleasure, since it flows of \tf
 
 330 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN I.IPE. 
 
 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 pails, 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, seems like a flower-head and row of 
 leaves, or some other natural object transformed into stone. 
 One may compare, if not the building itself, yet representations 
 of the whole and of its parts, for the purpose of reviewing and 
 giving life to what I have said. It may seem exaggerated to 
 many, for I myself, though transported into love for this work 
 at first sight, required a long time to make myself intimately 
 acquainted with its value. 
 
 Having grown up among those who found fault with Gothiq 
 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-
 
 STBASBURG 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 the memory of 
 Ervinus a Steinbach. 
 
 If my biographical narrative should come down to the epoch 
 when the said sheet appeared in print, which Herder after- 
 wards inserted in his pamphlet : Von Deutscher Art und Jfunsf, 
 ( 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 li
 
 332 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 within us, and harbingers of that which we shall be in a 
 dition to perform. Whatever we are able and would like to do, 
 presents itself to our imagination, as without us and in the 
 future ; we feel a longing after that which we already possess 
 in secret. Thus a passionate anticipating grasp changes the 
 truly possible into a dreamed reality. Now if such a bias lies 
 decidedly in our nature, then, with every step of our develop- 
 ment will a part of the first wish be fulfilled under favourable 
 circumstances in the direct way, under unfavourable in the 
 circuitous way, from which we always come back again to the 
 other. Thus we see men by perseverance attain to earthly 
 wealth ; they surround themselves with riches, splendour, and 
 external honour. Others strive yet more certainly after intel- 
 lectual advantages, acquire for themselves a clear survey of 
 things, a peacefulness of mind, and a certainty for the present] 
 and the future. 
 
 But now there is a third direction, which is compounded of 
 both, and the issue of which must be the most surely success- 
 ful. When, namely, the youth of a man falls into a pregnant 
 time, when production overweighs destruction, and a pre- 
 sentiment is early awakened within him as to what such an 
 epoch demands and promises, he will then, being forced by 
 outward inducements into an active interest, take hold now 
 here, now there, and the wish to be active on many sides will 
 be lively within him. But so many accidental hindrances are 
 associated with human limitation, that here a thing, once 
 begun, remains unfinished, there that which is already grasped 
 falls out of the hand, and one wish after another is dissipated. 
 But had these wishes sprung out of a pure heart, and in con- 
 formity with the necessities of the times, one might composedly 
 let them lie and fall rigkt 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. 
 
 TUis contemplation is here in the right place ; for wheij I
 
 SlUUY OF GfERMAN ARCHITECTUBE. 382 
 
 reflect on the affection which drew me to these antique edifice?, 
 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 a.nd 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 thorouglily, 
 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 knowa
 
 334 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWST 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 bo 
 enjoyed at once, fresh, like ripe fruits. Let me be permitted, 
 with this sudden turn, to mention dancing, of which the ear 
 is reminded, as the eye is of the minster, every day and every 
 hour in Strasburg and all Alsace. From early youth my father 
 himself had given my sister and me instruction- in_dancing, 
 a task which must have comported strangely enough with so 
 stern a man ; but he did not suffer his composure to be put 
 out by it ; he drilled us in the positions and steps in a manner 
 the most precise, and when he had brought us far enough to 
 dance a minuet, he played for us something easily intelligible 
 in three-four time, on a flute-douce, and we moved to it as 
 well as we could. On the French theatre, likewise, I had 
 seen from my youth upwards, if not ballets, yet pas seuls and 
 pa* de deux, and had noticed in them various strange motions 
 of thVfeet, and all sorts of springs. When now we had enough 
 of the minuet, I begged my father for other dancing music, 
 of which our music-books, in their jigs and murkies,* offered 
 us a rich supply ; and I immediately found out, of myself, 
 the steps and other motions for them, the time being quite 
 suitable to my limbs, and, as it were, born with them. This 
 pleased my father to a certain degree ; indeed, he often, by 
 way of joke for himself and us, let the " monkies " dance in 
 this way. After my misfortune with Gretchen, and during 1 
 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, botl 
 measure and motion seemed to have abandoned my limbs, and 
 
 * A. *' murki " is defined as an old species of short composition for th 
 harpsichord, with a lively murmuring accompaniment ia the bass.
 
 1 
 
 th 
 
 THE DANCING-MASTEB'S DATTGHTEBS. 33d 
 
 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 
 lifeVlEere'sobn arose in my limbs the faculty of keeping time. 
 On Sundays and week-days, one sauntered by no pleasure- 
 ground without finding there a joyous crowd assembled for 
 the dance, and for the most part revolving in the circle. 
 Moreover, there were private balls in the country-houses, and 
 people were already talking of the brilliant masquerades of 
 the coming winter. Here, indeed, I should have been out of 
 nay place, and useless to the company ; when a friend, who 
 waltzed very well, advised me to practise myself first in par- 
 tics 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 N 
 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 
 )ven 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 aiid
 
 830 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIF2. 
 
 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, " LeP 
 us remain here a little longer ; for I will confess to you that 
 my sister has with her a woman who tells fortunes from cards, 
 and who is to reveal to her how matters stand with an absent 
 lover, on whom her whole heart hangs, and upon whom she_ 
 has placed all her hope. Mine is free," she continued, " and 
 I must accustom myself to see it despised." I thereupon said 
 sundry pretty things to her, replying that she could at once 
 convince herself on that point by consulting the wise woman 
 likewise ; that I would do so myself, for I had lojig_wishe.d 
 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 oracle7~dnry"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, arid
 
 THE FOBTTJNE-TELLEK. 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 tiuTied 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 love^r 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 "Tknow not whether my presence will do her good," 
 replied she. Yet we went, but found the door bolted. Lu- 
 cinda made no answer ; we might knock, shout, entreat, as 
 we would. "We must let her have her own way," said 
 Emilia; " she will not have it otherwise now!" And, in- 
 deed, when I called to my mind her manner from our very 
 
 I
 
 338 TfUJTH AND POETRY; FROM MT 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 fae 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 
 i be concerned about it. Her mental illness is first alleviated 
 when she fancies herself bodily sick ; she does not like to die, 
 " and therefore she then does what we wish. We have certain 
 family medicines which she takes, and reposes ; and thus, by 
 degrees, the swelling waves subside. She is, indeed, too good 
 and amiable in such an imaginary sickness, and as she is in 
 reality vey well, and is only attacked by passion, she ima- 
 gines various kinds of romantic deaths, with which she 
 frightens herself in a pleasant manner, like children when we 
 tell them ghost-stories. Thus, yesterday evening, she an- 
 nounced to me with great vehemence, that this time she should 
 certainly die, and that only when she was really near death, 
 they should bring again before her the ungrateful false friend, 
 who had at first acted so handsomely to her, and now treated 
 her so ill ; she would reproach him bitterly, and then give up 
 the ghost." " I know not that I 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." Emili*
 
 SCENE WITH 1'HE TWO SISIEHS 339 
 
 milled and rejoined, " I understand you ; and if we are noi, 
 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 sisterTnTparticular 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 eamebetween. 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 jne 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 wo shall speak to 
 each other, take what I would otherwise have denied you." 
 She fell upon my neck, and kissed me most tenderly. I 
 embraced her, and pressed her to my bosom. 
 
 At this moment the side-door flew open, and her sister, in 
 a light but becoming night-dress, sprang out and cried, " You 
 shall not be the only one to take leave of him!" Emilia 
 let me go, and Lucinda seized me, clasped herself fast to my 
 
 z X
 
 340 TRUTH AND FOETBY J FBOM 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 i 
 the dilemma between two sisters which Emilia had prophe-^fe 
 sied to me a moment before. Lucinda let me loose, and 
 looked earnestly into my face. I would have taken her hand 
 nnd 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 eo 
 with him who is absent, and who at last betrothed himself to 
 you under my very eyes ? I was compelled to look on ; I en- 
 dured it ; but I know how many thousand tears it has cost me. 
 This one, too, you have now taken away from me, without 
 letting the other go ; and how many do you not manage to 
 keep at once ? I am frank and good-natured, and every one 
 thinks he knows me soon, and may neglect me. You are 
 secret and quiet, and people think wonders of what may be 
 concealed behind you. Yet there is nothing behind but a 
 cold, selfish heart that can sacrifice everything to itself; this 
 nobody learns so easily, because it lies deeply hidden in your 
 breast ; and just as little do they know of my warm, true 
 heart, which I carry about with me as open as my face." 
 
 Emilia was silent, and had sat down by her sister, who became 
 constantly more and more excited in her discourse, and let cer- 
 ; tain private matters slip out, which it was not exactly proper for 
 me to know. Emilia, on the other hand, who was trying to 
 pacify her sister, made me a sign from behind that I should 
 withdraw ; but as jealousy and suspicion see with a thousand 
 eyes, Lucinda seemed to have noticed this also. She sprang 
 np and advanced to me, but not with vehemence. She stood 
 before me, and seemed to be thinking of something. Then sho 
 said, " I know that I have lost you ; I make no further pre- 
 tensions to you. But neitaer shall you have him, sister 1 "
 
 LtTClNDA's CURSE. 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 
 to have anything more to do with him ! I know heaven hears 
 me this time. And you, Sir, hasten now, hasten away as fast 
 as you can I " 
 
 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 Giinther'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 war
 
 KLOFSTOCK. 348 
 
 combined in KLOPSTOCK. Considered both from the sensual 
 ancTmoral 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 intenja> 
 nature, towards the loftiest and most grateful theme. The 
 Messiah, a name which betokens infinite attributes, was to be 
 glorified afresh by him. The Redeemer was to be the here 
 whom the poet thought to accompany through earthly lowli- 
 ness and sorrows to the highest heavenly triumphs. Every- 
 thing Godlike, angelic, and human that lay in the young soul 
 was here called into requisition. Brought ut> 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, 
 which even here every feeling, pious heart had fondly paid in 
 many a pure tear these were such innocent, childlike thoughts 
 and hopes, as only a well-constituted mind can conceive and 
 cherish. Thus Klopstock gained the perfect right to regard 
 himself as a consecrated person, and thus in his actions he 
 studied the most scrupulous purity. Even in his old age it 
 troubled him exceedingly that he had given his earliest lovo
 
 844 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM 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 poetiy and making presents, and by helping needy
 
 KLOPSTOCK AND OLEIM. 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 undertaken 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 acquaintarce 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 bis 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 
 lie returned it with great friendliness, and as we mounted tho
 
 HERDER. 347 
 
 Btairs, showed himself ready immediately for animated com- 
 munication. I have forgotten whom we visited then ; it is 
 sufficient to say, that at parting I begged permission to wait 
 on him at his own residence, which he granted me kindly 
 enough. I did not neglect to avail myself repeatedly of this 
 favour, and was more and more attracted by him. He had 
 somewhat of softness in his manner, which was very suitable 
 and becoming, without being exactly easy. A round face, an 
 imposing forehead, a somewhat puggish nose, a mouth some- 
 what prominent, but highly characteristic, pleasing, and ami- 
 able ; a pair of coal-black eyes under black eye-brows, which 
 did not fail of their effect, although one of them used to be red 
 and inflamed. By various questions he tried to make himself 
 acquainted with me and my situation, and his power of attrac- 
 tion operated on me with growing strength. I was, generally 
 speaking, of a very confiding disposition, and with him espe- 
 cially I had no secrets. It was not long, however, before the 
 repelling pulse of his nature began to appear, and placed me 
 in no small uneasiness. I related to him many things of my 
 youthful occupations and taste, and among others, of a collec- 
 tion of seals, which I had principally gotten together through 
 the assistance of our family friend, who had an extensive cor- 
 respondence. I had arranged them according to the State 
 Calendar, and by 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 and unpleasant, and the more troublesome since it can 
 be cured only by a painful, highly irritating and uncertain 
 operation. The tear-bag is closed below, so that the moisture 
 contained in it cannot flow off to the nose, and so much the 
 less as the adjacent bone is deficient in the aperture by which 
 this secretion should naturally take place. The bottom of the
 
 348 TRUTH AND POETRY : FROM MY OWK LIFE. 
 
 tear-bag must therefore be cut open, and the bone borcJ 
 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. All men, indeed, have 
 this attraction and repulsion, according to their nature, some 
 more, some less, some in longer, some in shorter pulsations ; 
 few can really control their peculiarities in this respect, many 
 in appearance. As for Herder, the preponderance of his con- 
 tradictory, bitter, biting humour was certainly derived from his 
 disease and the sufferings arising from it. This case often 
 occurs in life ; one does not sufficiently take into consideration 
 the moral effect of sickly conditions, and one therefore judges 
 many characters very unjustly, because it is assumed that all 
 men are healthy, and required of them that they shall conduct 
 themselves accordingly. 
 
 During the whole time of this cure I visited Herder morn- 
 ing and evening ; I even remained whole days with him, and 
 in a short time accustomed myself so much the more to his 
 abiding and fault-finding, as I daily learned to appreciate his
 
 HERDER. 349 
 
 beautiful and great qualities, his extensive knowledge, and hig 
 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. 
 
 \Vc had not lived together long in this manner when he 
 uoufided to me that he meant to be a competitor for the prizo
 
 350 TBXJTH AND POETBT; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 which was offered, at Berlin, for the best treatise en tho 
 origin of language. His work was already nearly aom- 
 pleted, and, as he wrote a very neat hand, he could soon coin- 
 municate to me, in parts, a legible manuscript. I had nevet 
 reflected on such subjects, for I was yet too deeply involved 
 in the midst of things to have thought about their beginning 
 and end. The question, too, seemed to me in some measure 
 an idle one ; for if God had created man as man, language 
 was just as innate in him as walking erect; he must have 
 just as well perceived that he could sing with his throat, and 
 modify the tones in various ways with tongue, palate, and 
 lips, as he must have remarked that he could walk and take 
 hold of things. If man was of divine origin, so was also lan- 
 guage itself; and if man, considered in the circle of nature, 
 was a natural being, language was likewise natural. These 
 two things, like soul and body, I could never separate. 
 Siissmilch, with a realism crude yet somewhat fantastically 
 devised, had declared himself for the divine origin, that is, 
 that God had played the schoolmaster to the first men. Her- 
 der's treatise went to show that man as man could and must 
 have attained to language by his own powers. I read the 
 treatise with much pleasure, and it was of special aid in 
 strengthening my mind ; only I did not stand high enough 
 either in knowledge or thought to form a solid judgment upon 
 it. I therefore gave the author my applause, adding only a 
 few remarks which flowed from my way of viewing the sub- 
 ject. But one was received just like the other ; there was 
 scolding and blaming, whether one agreed with him condi- 
 tionally or unconditionally. The fat surgeon had less patience 
 than I ; he humorously declined the communication of this 
 prize-essay, and affirmed that he was not prepared to medi- 
 tate on such abstract topics. He urged us in preference to a 
 game of ombre, which we commonly played together in the 
 evening. 
 
 During so troublesome and painful a cure, Herder lost 
 nothing of his vivacity ; but it became less and less amiable. 
 He could not write a note to ask for anything, that would not 
 be spiced with some scoff or other Once, for instance, ho 
 wrote to me thus :
 
 HEBDEB'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 scratch and scrape without wounding 
 the man himself. 
 
 The first reproach, on the contrary, was better founded. 
 I had brought with me to Strasburg the authors I had ob- 
 tained, by exchange, from Langer, with various fine editions 
 from my father's collection besides, and had set them up on a 
 neat book-case, with the best intentions of using them. But 
 how should my time, which I split up into an hundred 
 different activities, suffice for that ? Herder, who was most 
 attentive to books, since he had need of them every moment, 
 perceived my fine collection at his first visit, but soon saw, 
 too, that I made no use of them. He, therefore, as the 
 greatest enemy to all false appearances and ostentation, was 
 accustomed, on occasion, to rally me upon the subject. 
 
 Another sarcastic poem occurs to me, which he sent me 
 one evening, when I had been telling him a great deal about 
 the Dresden gallery. I had, indeed, not penetrated into the 
 higher meaning of the Italian school ; but Dominico Feti, an 
 excellent artist, although a humorist, and therefore not of 
 the first rank, had interested me much. Scripture subjects 
 had to be painted. He confined himself to the New Testa- 
 ment parables, and was fond of representing them with much 
 originality, taste, and good-humour. He brought them alto- 
 gether into every-day fife, 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 " Gthe," "Gutter," "Gothen," arij 
 Koth." Tram.
 
 852 TBUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 " From sympathy, 
 The master I like best of oil 
 Dominico Feti they call. 
 A parable from Scripture he is able 
 Neatly to turn into a crazy fable 
 From sympathy : thou crazy parable 1 " 
 
 I could mention many jokes of the kind, more or less clear 
 rr 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 
 Boon accommodated myself, and only sought, as far as it was 
 possible for me from my point of view, to distinguish just 
 blame from unjust invectives. And thus no day passed over 
 that had not been, in the most fruitful manner, instructive 
 to me. 
 
 I was made acquainted by him with poetry from quite a 
 different side, in another light than heretofore, and one, too, 
 which suited me well. The poetic art of the Hebrews, which 
 he treated ingeniously after his predecessor Lowth popular 
 poetry, the traditions of which in Alsace he urged us to 
 search after ; and the oldest records existing as poetry all 
 bore witness that poetry in general was a gift to the world 
 and to nations, and not the private inheritance of a few re- 
 fined, cultivated men. I swallowed all this, and the more 
 eager I was in receiving, the more liberal was he in giving, 
 so that we spent the most interesting hours together. The 
 other natural studies which I had begun, I endeavoured to 
 continue, and as one always has time enough, if one will apply 
 it well, so amongst them all I succeeded in doing twice or thrice 
 as much as usual. As to the fulness of those few weeks during 
 which we lived together, I can well say that all which Herder 
 has gradually produced since, was then announced in the 
 germ, and that I thereby fell into the fortunate condition that 
 I could completely attach to something higher, and expand all 
 that I had hitherto thought, learned, and made my own. 
 Had Herder been methodical, I should have found the most 
 precious guide 4>r 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, uuou which lie 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 extraordinary mind intelligible to me, it 
 generally only served him for amusement when I behaved 
 strangely enough, in trying to get at the meaning of such sibyl- 
 line leaves. However, I could well feel that something in 
 Hamann's writings appealed to me ; and to this I gave myself 
 up, without knowing whence it came or whither it was leading 
 me. 
 
 After the cure had lasted longer than was reasonable, Lob- 
 stein had begun to hesitate, and to repeat himself in his treat- 
 ment, so that the affair would not come to an end; and 
 Peglow, too, had confided to me in private that a favourable 
 issue was hardly to be expected ; the whole position became 
 gloomy; Herder became impatient and out of temper, he 
 could not succeed in continuing his activity as heretofore, 
 and was obliged to restrain himself the more, as they began 
 to lay the blame of the surgical failure upon his too great 
 mental exertion, and his uninterrupted, animated, nay, merry 
 intercourse with us. It is sufficient to say, that after so much 
 trouble and suffering, the artificial tear-channel would not 
 form itself, and the communication intended would not take 
 place. It was necessary to let the 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 
 day. The time passed without the arrival of the money. My 
 Of editor, indeed, did not dun me ; but I was for several weclis 
 
 9*
 
 354 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FKOM MY O'.VN LIFE. 
 
 in embarrassment. At last the letter and the money came, 
 and even here he did not act unlike himself; for, instead ot 
 thanks or an apology, his letter contained nothing but satirical 
 things in doggerel verse, which would have puzzled, if not 
 alienated, another ; but it did not move me at all, for I had 
 conceived so great and powerful an idea of his worth that it 
 absorbed everything of an opposite nature which could have 
 injured it. 
 
 One should never speak, publicly at least, of one's own 
 faults, or those of others, if one does not hope to effect some 
 useful purpose by it ; on this account I will here insert cer- 
 tain remarks which force themselves upon me. 
 
 Gratitude and ingratitude belong to those events whicU 
 appear every moment in the moral world, and about which 
 men can never agree among themselves. I usually distinguish 
 between non -thankfulness, ingratitude, and aversion from 
 gratitude. The first is innate with men, nay, created with 
 them ; for it arises from a happy volatile forgetfulness of the 
 repulsive as well as of the delightful, by which alone the con- 
 tinuation of life is possible. Man needs such an infinite 
 quantity of previous and concurrent assistances for a tolerable 
 existence, that if he would always pay to the sun and the 
 earth, to God and nature, to ancestors and parents, to friends 
 and companions, the thanks due to them, he would have 
 neither time nor feeling left to receive and enjoy new benefits. 
 But if the natural man suffers this volatility to get the control 
 in and over him, a cold indifference gains more and more the 
 ascendancy, and one at last regards one's benefactor as a 
 stranger, to whose injury, perhaps, anything may be under- 
 taken, provided it be advantageous to ourselves. This alone 
 ?an properly be called ingratitude, which results from the 
 rudeness into which the uncultivated nature must necessarily 
 lose itself at last. Aversion from gratitude, however, the 
 rewarding of a benefit by ill-natured and sullen conduct, is 
 very rare, and occurs only in eminent men, such as, with great 
 natural gifts, and a presentiment of them, being born in a 
 lower rank of society or in a helpless condition, must, from 
 their youth upwards, force themselves along, step by step, and 
 receive, at every point, aids and supports, which are often 
 embittered and repulsive to them through the coarseness of 
 their benefactoi-s, 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, comes, with friendly aid, the light of 
 nature, which is always active in enlightening him about 
 his condition ; and generally, in many moral points of culture, 
 one should not construe the failings too severely, nor look 
 about after the most serious and remote means of correcting 
 them ; for certain faults may be easily and even playfully 
 removed. Thus, for instance, by mere habit, we can excite 
 gratitude in ourselves, keep it alive, and even make it neces- 
 sary to us. 
 
 In a biographical attempt, it is proper to speak of oneself. 
 I am, by nature, as little grateful as any man, and on forget- 
 ting the benefit received, the violent feeling of a momentary 
 disagreement could very easily beguile me into ingratitude. 
 
 To obviate this, I accustomed myself, in the first place, 
 with everything that I possessed, to call to mind with pleasure 
 how I came by it, from whom I received it, whether it was 
 by way of present, exchange, or purchase, or in any other 
 manner. I have accustomed myself, in showing my collec- 
 tions, to mention the persons by whose means I obtained each 
 article, nay, even to do justice to the occasion, to the accident, 
 to the remotest cause and coincidence, by which things which 
 are dear and of value to me have become mine. That which 
 surrounds us thus receives a life ; we see in it a spiritual com- 
 bination, full of love, reminding us of its origin ; and, by thus 
 making past circumstances present to us, our momentary 
 existence is elevated and enriched, the originators of the gifts 
 rise repeatedly before the imagination, we connect with their 
 image a pleasing remembrance, ingratitude becomes impos- 
 sible, and a return, on occasion, becomes easy and desirable. 
 At the same time, we are led to the consideration of that 
 which is not a possession palpable to the senses, and we Jove 
 8Ai
 
 856 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 to recapitulate to whom owe higher endowments are to bo 
 ascribed, and whence they take their date. 
 Before I turn my attention from that connexion with Her- 
 der, which was so important and so rich in consequences for 
 me, I find yet something more to adduce. Nothing was more 
 natural than that I should by degrees become more and more 
 reserved towards Herder, in communicating those things 
 which had hitherto contributed to my culture, but especially 
 such as still seriously occupied my attention at the moment. 
 He had destroyed 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 
 tny 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, 
 avrakened my deepest sympathy. The significant puppet-
 
 HBBDEB'S INFLUENCE ON JUNG. 357 
 
 ahow fable of the latter resounded and vibrated inany-toned 
 within me. I had also wandered about in all sorts of science, 
 and had early enough been led to see its vanity. I had, more- 
 over, tried all sorts of ways in real life, and had always returned 
 more unsatisfied and troubled. Now these things, as well as 
 many others, I carried about with me, and delighted myself 
 dth 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 w&s 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 TKUTH AND POETRY ; FROM 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, Avhen we 
 young fellows often appointed an evening meeting to greet the 
 departing sun with brimming goblets. Here all conversation * 
 was lost in the contemplation of the country : here sharpness 
 of eye-sight was put to the proof, and every one strove to per- 
 ceive, nay, plainly to distinguish, the most distant objects. 
 Good telescopes were employed to assist us, and one friend 
 after another exactly pointed out the spot which had become 
 the most dear and precious to him ; and I also did not lack 
 such a little spot, which, although it did not come out with 
 importance in the landscape, nevertheless more than all the 
 rest attracted me with an amiable magic. On these occasions 
 the imagination was excited by relating our adventures, and 
 several little jaunts were concerted, nay, often undertaken on 
 the spur of the moment, of which I will circumstantially relate 
 only one instead of a number, since in many respects it was 
 of consequence to me. 
 
 With two worthy friends and fellow-boarders, Engelbach and 
 Weyland, both natives of Lower Alsace, I repaired on horse- 
 back to Zabern, where, in the fine weather, the friendly little 
 place smiled pleasantly upon us. The sight of the bishop's 
 castle awakened our admiration ; the extent, height, and 
 splendour of a new set of stables bore witness to the other 
 comforts of the owner. The gorgeousness of the staircase 
 surprised us, the chambers and saloons we trode with rever- 
 ence, only the person of the cardinal, a little wreck of a man, 
 whom we saw at table, made a contrast. The view of the 
 garden is splendid, and a canal, three quarters of a league long, 
 which leads straight up to the middle of the castle, gives a 
 high idea of the taste and resources of the former possessors. 
 We rambled up and down there, and enjoyed many parts of 
 this beautifully situated whole, which lies on the outskirts of 
 the magnificent plain of Alsace, at the foot of the Vosges. 
 
 After we had enjoyed ourselves at this clerical outpost of a 
 royal power, and had made ourselves comfortable in its region, 
 we arrived early next morning at a public work, which most 
 nobly opens the entrance into u mighty kingdom. Illumined
 
 ZABEBN BUCHSWEILEH. 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- 
 ingwe heard music ; they were already waltzing in the 
 tavern to their hearts' content, and as the inhabitants did not 
 suffer themselves to be disturbed in their pleasures by the 
 great scarcity, nay, by the threatened famine, so also our 
 youthful cheerfulness was not at all troubled when the bake* 
 on the road refused us some bread, and directed us to the 
 tavern, where perhaps we might procure provisions at the 
 usual place. 
 
 We now very willingly rode down the Zabern-stairs again 
 to gaze at this architectural wonder a second time, and to en- 
 joy once more the refreshing prospect over Alsace. We soon 
 reached Buchsweiler, where friend Weyland had prepared for 
 us a good reception. To a fresh youthful mind the condition 
 of a small town is well suited ; family connexions are closer 
 and more perceptible ; domestic life, which, with moderate 
 activity, moves hither and thither between light official duties, 
 town business, agriculture and gardening, invites us to a 
 friendly participation; sociableness is necessary, and the 
 stranger finds himself very pleasantly situated in the limited 
 circles, if the disputes of the inhabitants, which in such places 
 are more palpable, do not everywhere come in contact with 
 him. This little town was the chief place of the county of 
 Hanau-Lichteuberg, belonging to the Landgrave of Darm- 
 sUidt, under French sovereignty. A regency and board of
 
 360 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN 
 
 officers established here 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 relics of many similar arrangements, showed 
 how pleasant this little residence must formerly have been. 
 
 Yet all these views were surpassed by the prospect which 
 met the eye, when, from the neighbouring Basohberg, one 
 looked over the perfectly paradisiacal region. This height, 
 wholly heaped together out of different kinds of shells, attracted 
 my attention for the first time to such documents of antiquity; 
 I had never before seen them together in so great a mass. 
 Yet the curious eye soon turned itself exclusively to the land- 
 scape. You stand on the last landward* mountain-point; 
 towards the north lies a fruitful plain, interspersed with little 
 forests, and bounded by a stern tow 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 fines, 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 tAe Land by pre-eminence. 
 Avurican Note.
 
 SAAEBRUCK. 361 
 
 The evening passed away iu familiar conversation, in which 
 we tried to cheer ourselves up under a joyless present, by re- 
 membrances of a better past. Here, as in the whole of this 
 small country, the name of the last Count Reinhard von Hanau 
 was blessed above all others ; his great understanding and 
 aptitude had appeared in all his actions, and many a beautiful 
 memorial of his existence yet remained. Such men have the 
 advantage of being double benefactors : once to the present, 
 which they make happy, and then to the future, the feeling 
 of which and courage they nourish and sustain. 
 
 Now as we turned ourselves north-westward into the moun- 
 tains, passed by Llitzelstein, an old mountain tower, in a very 
 hilly country, and descended into the region of the Saar and 
 the Moselle, the heavens began to lower, as if they would 
 render yet more sensible to us the condition of the more rugged 
 western country. The valley of the Saar, where we first found 
 Bockenheim, a small place, and saw opposite to it Neusaarwer- 
 den, which is well-built, with a pleasure-castle, is bordered on 
 both sides by mountains which might be called melancholy, if 
 at their foot an endless succession of meadows and fields, called 
 the Huhuau, 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 Saargemund 
 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 lastly filled up with earth and 
 planted. The time of this undertaking fell in the epoch when 
 they used to consult the architects about laying out gardens.
 
 862 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 just as at present they call in the aid of the landscape-painter's 
 eye. The whole arrangement of the castle, the costly and thy 
 agreeable, the rich and the ornamental, betokened a life-enjoy- 
 ing owner, such as the deceased prince had been ; the present 
 sovereign Avas not at home. President von Giinderode 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 which can attract us only by the internal contents 
 of its bosom. We were made acquainted with one simple, 
 and one complicated piece of machinery, within a short dis- 
 tance of each other ; namely, a scythe-smithy and a wire- 
 drawing factory. If one is pleased at the first because it 
 supplies the place of common hands, one cannot sufficiently 
 admire the other, for it works in a higher organic sense, from 
 which understanding and consciousness are scarcely to be 
 separated. In the alum-works we made accurate inquiries 
 after the production and purifying of this so necessary mate- 
 rial, and when we saw great heaps of a white greasy, loose, 
 earthy matter, and asked the use of it, the labourers answered, 
 smiling, that it was the scum thrown up in boiling the alum, 
 and that Herr Stauf had it collected, as he hoped perchance 
 to turn it to some profit. "Is Herr Stauf alive yet?" ex- 
 claimed my companion in surprise. They answered in the 
 affirmative, and assured us that according to the plan of our 
 journey we should not pass far from his lonely dwelling. 
 
 Our road now led up along the channels by which the alum- 
 water is conducted down, and the principal horizontal works 
 (sloUen), which they call the " landyrube" and from which the
 
 COAL AND ALTJM-WOUKS. 863 
 
 famous Dutweil coals are procured. These, when they aro 
 dry, have the blue colour of darkly tarnished steel, and the 
 most beautiful succession of rainbow tints plays over the sur- 
 face with every movement. The deep abysses of the coal-levels, 
 however, attracted us so much the less as their contents lay 
 richly poured out around us. "NVe now reached the open mine, in 
 which the roasted alum-scales are steeped in ley, and soon 
 after, a strange occurrence surprised us, although we had been 
 prepared. We entered into a chasm and found ourselves in 
 the region of the Burning Mountain. A strong smell of sul- 
 phur surrounded us ; one side of the cavity was almost red- 
 hot, covered with reddish stone burnt white ; thick fumes 
 arose from the crevices, and we felt the heat of the ground 
 through our strong boot-soles. An event so accidental, for it 
 is not known how this place became ignited, affords a great 
 advantage for the manufacture of alum, since the alum-scales 
 of which the surface of the mountain consists, lie there per- 
 fectly roasted, and may be steeped in a short time and very 
 well. The whole chasm had arisen by the calcined scales 
 being gradually removed and used up. We clambered up ou. 
 of this depth, and were on the top of the mountain. A plea- 
 sant beech-grove encircled the spot, which followed up to the 
 chasm and extended itself on both sides of it. Many trees 
 stood already dried up, some were withering near others, 
 which, as yet quite fresh, felt no forebodings of that fierce heat 
 which was approaching and threatening their roots also. 
 
 Upon this space different openings were steaming, others 
 had already done smoking, and this fire had thus smouldered 
 for ten years already through old broken-up pits and horizontal 
 shafts, with which the mountain is undermined. It may, too, 
 have penetrated to the clefts through new coal-beds : for, some 
 hundred paces further into the wood, they had contemplated 
 following up manifest indications of an abundance of coal ; but 
 they had not excavated far before a strong smoke burst out 
 against the labourers and dispersed them. The opening was 
 filled up again, yet we found the place still smoking as we 
 went on our way past it to the residence of our hermitlikc 
 chemist. This lies amid mountains and woods ; the vallies 
 there take very various and pleasing windings, the soil round 
 about is black and of the coal kind, and strata of it frequently 
 come in sight. A coal philosopher -philosophus ver igneni, ea
 
 364 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM 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 
 QIC alum-works, as well as many other well-meant establish- 
 ments, on account of external and perhaps internal circum- 
 stances also, did not pay their expenses ; with much else of 
 the sort. He belonged to the chemists of that time, who, 
 with a hearty feeling for all that could be done with the 
 products of nature, took delight in abstruse investigations of 
 trifles and secondary matters, and with their insufficient know- 
 ledge were not dexterous enough to do that from which pro- 
 perly economical and mercantile profit is to be derived. Thus 
 the use which he promised himself from that scum lay very 
 far in the distance ; thus he had nothing to show but a cake 
 of sal-ammoniac, with which the Burning Mountain had 
 supplied him. 
 
 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 accovmt of the many ends in view. 
 During the life-time of the former prince, the business had 
 been carried on in the spirit of an amateur, and in hope ; 
 now they asked for the immediate use, which was not to be 
 shown. 
 
 After we left our adept to his solitude, we hastened for it 
 was now late to the glass-house in Friedrichsthal, where we 
 became acquainted, on our way, with one of the most impor- 
 tant and most wonderful operations of human ingenuity. 
 
 Nevertheless, some pleasant adventures, and a surprising fire- 
 work at night-fall, not far from Neukirch, interested us young 
 fellows almost more than these important experiences. For as
 
 ZWEY-BRUCKEN. 365 
 
 a few nights before, on the banks of the Saar, shining clouds of 
 glow-worms hovered around us, betwixt rock and thicket, 
 so now the spark-spitting forges played their sprightly firework 
 towards us. We passed, in the depth of night, the smelting- 
 houses situated in the bottom of the valley, and were de- 
 lighted with the strange half-gloom of these dens of plank, 
 which are but dimly lighted by a little opening in the glowing 
 furnace. The noise of the water, and of the bellows driven 
 by it, the fearful whizzing and shrieking of the blast of air 
 which, raging into the smelted ore, stuns the ears and con- 
 fuses the senses, drove us away, at last, to turn into Neukirch, 
 which is built up against the mountain. 
 
 But, notwithstanding all the variety and fatigue of the day, 
 I could find no rest here. I left my friend to a happy sleep, 
 and sought the hunting-seat, which lay still further up. It 
 looks out far over mountain and wood, the outlines of which 
 were only to be recognised against the clear night-sky, bnt the 
 sides and depths of which were impenetrable to my sight. This 
 well-preserved building stood as empty as it was lonely ; no 
 castellan, no huntsman was to be found. I sat before the 
 great glass doors upon the steps which run around the whole 
 terrace. Here, surrounded by mountains, over a forest-grown, 
 dark soil, which seemed yet darker in contrast with the clear 
 horizon of a summer night, with the glowing starry vault 
 above me, I sat for a long time by myself on the deserted 
 spot, and thought 1 never had felt such a solitude. How 
 sweetly, then, was I surprised by the distant sound of a couple 
 of French horns, which at once, like the fragrance of balsam, 
 enlivened the peaceful atmosphere. Then there awakened 
 within me the image of a lovely being, which had retired into 
 the background before the motley objects of these travelling 
 days, but which now unveiled itself more and more, and drove 
 me from the spot back to my quarters, where I made prepa- 
 rations to set off with the earliest. 
 
 The return was not used like the journey out. Thus we 
 hurried through Zwey-briicken (Deux-Ponts), which, as a 
 beautiful and notable residence, might well have deserved our 
 attention. We cast a glance upon the great, simple castle, 
 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' houees which the princo 
 had built to be raffled foi. All this, as well as the costume
 
 866 TRUTH AND POETRY; VROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 mid manners of the inhabitants, especially of the matrons and 
 maids, had reference to a distant connexion, and made plainly 
 visible the relation with Paris, from which, for a long time, 
 nothing transrhenane had been able to withdraw itself. We 
 visited also the ducal wine-cellars, situated before the city, 
 which are extensive, and furnished with large, well-made tuns. 
 We went on further, and at last found the country like that 
 in the neighbourhood of Saarbruck. Between wild and savage 
 mountains are a few villages ; one here gets rid of the habit 
 of looking about for corn. We mounted up, by the side of 
 the Hombach, to Bitsch, which lies on the important spot 
 where the waters divide, and fall, a part into the Saar, a part 
 into the Rhine. These last were soon to attract us towards 
 them. Yet we could not refuse our attention to the little city 
 of Bitsch, which very picturesquely winds around the moun- 
 tain, nor to the fortress, which lies above. This is partly 
 built on rocks, and partly hewn out of them. The subterra- 
 neous chambers are particularly worthy of remark; here is 
 not only space sufficient for the abode of a number of men 
 and cattle, but one even lights upon large vaults for the dril- 
 ling of troops, a mill, a chapel, and whatever else could be 
 required under-ground, provided the surface were in a state 
 of disturbance. 
 
 We now followed the down-rushing brooks through Baren- 
 thal. The thick forests on both the heights remain unused 
 by the hand of man. Here trunks of trees 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 Von Dieterich, 
 earlier than others, had known how to make successful use 
 of the mountain treasures, iron, coal, and wood, and had 
 worked his way to an ever-growing opulence.
 
 SESENHEIM. 367 
 
 Niedeibrunn, where we now arrived, was a new proof of 
 this. He had purchased this little place from the Count of 
 Leiningen and other part-owners, to erect important iron- 
 works in the place. 
 
 Here in these baths, already founded by the Romans, floated 
 around me the spirit of antiquity, venerable relics of which, 
 in fragments of bas-reliefs and inscriptions, capitals and shafts, 
 shone out strangely towards me, from farm-houses, amidst 
 household lumber and furniture. 
 
 As we were ascending the adjacent Wasenburg also, I 
 paid my respects to a well-preserved inscription, which dis- 
 charged a thankful vow to Mercury, and is situated upon 
 the great mass of rock which forms the base of the hill on 
 one side. The fortress itself lies on the last mountain, looking 
 from Bitsch towards Germany. It is the ruin of a German 
 castle built upon Roman remains. From the tower the whole 
 of Alsace was once more surveyed, and the conspicuous 
 minster-spire pointed out the situation of Strasburg. First 
 of all, however, the great forest of Hagenau extended itself, 
 and the towers of this town peered plainly from behind. I 
 was attracted thither. We rode through Reichshof, where 
 Von Dieterich built an imposing castle, and after we had 
 contemplated from the hills near Niedermoder the pleasing 
 course of the little river Moder, by the forest of Hagenau, I 
 left my friend on a ridiculous coal-mine visitation, which, at 
 Dutweil, might have been a somewhat more serious business, 
 and I then rode through Hagenau, on the direct road 
 already indicated by my affection to my beloved Sesenheim. 
 
 For all these views into a wild, mountain region, and then, 
 again, into a cheerful, fruitful, joyous land, could not rivet my 
 mind's eye, which was directed to an amiable, attractive 
 object. This time, also, the hither way seemed to me more 
 charming than its opposite, as it brought me again into the 
 neighbourhood of a lady to whom I was heartily devoted, 
 and who deserved as much respect as love. But before I lead 
 my friends to her rural abode, let me be permitted to men- 
 tion a circumstance which contributed very much to enliven 
 and enhance my affection, and the satisfaction which it 
 afforded me. 
 
 How far I must have been behindhand in modern literature, 
 may be gathered from the mode of life which I led at Frank-
 
 888 TRUTH AND POETRY J FROM MY. OWN 
 
 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 
 Wdkefield as an excellent work, with the German translation 
 of which he would make us acquainted by reading it aloud to 
 us himself. 
 
 His method of reading was quite peculiar ; whoever has 
 heard him preach will be able to form a notion of it. He 
 delivered everything, this romance included, in a serious and 
 simple style, perfectly removed from all dramatically imitative 
 representation ; he even avoided that variety which is not only 
 permitted, but even required, in an epical delivery a slight 
 change of tone when different persons speak, by which what 
 every one says is brought into relief, and the actor is distin- 
 guished from the narrator. Without being monotonous, 
 Herder let everything go on in the same tone, just as if 
 nothing was present before him, but all was merely historical ; 
 as if the shadows of this poetic creation did not act livingly 
 before him, but only glided gently by. Yet this manner of 
 delivery from his 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 was not disturbed by details 
 sharply spoken out, nor interrupted in the feeling which the 
 whole was meant to produce. 
 
 A Protestant country clergyman is, perhaps, the most beau- 
 tiful subject for a 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- 
 s olation is not sufficient for the present, to call up and guaran- 
 tee the hope of a happier future. Imagine such a man, with
 
 "VICAB OP WAKEFIBLD.'* 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, 
 Us 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 
 etrange 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 Bails 
 around it. 
 
 I may suppose that my readers know this work, and have 
 
 tm
 
 370 TRUTH AtfD 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 over 
 in his narration from the third to the first person, that he him- 
 Belf is the lord of whom he is speaking ; and when, finally, we 
 rejoiced like children at the discovery and the transformation 
 of the poor, needy wanderer, into a rich, powerful lord, he 
 immediately recalled the passage, which, according to the 
 author's plan, we had overlooked, and read us a powerful 
 lecture on our stupidity. It will be seen from this that he re- 
 garded the work merely as a production of art, and required 
 the same of us, who were yet wandering in that state where it 
 is very allowable to let works of art affect us like productions 
 of nature. 
 
 I did not suffer myself to be at all perplexed by Herder'*
 
 PLEASURES OF TRAVELLING INCOGNITO. 871 
 
 invectives; for young people have the happiness or unhap- 
 piness, that, when once anything has produced an effect on 
 them, this effect must be wrought out within themselves ; 
 from which much good, as well as much mischief, arises. The 
 above work had left with me a great impression, for which I 
 could not account, but properly speaking, I felt myself in har- 
 mony with that ironical tone of mind which elevates itself 
 above every object, above fortune and misfortune, good and 
 evil, death and life, and thus attains to the possession of a truly 
 poetical world. I could not, indeed, become conscious of this 
 until later ; it was enough that it gave me much to do at the 
 moment ; but I could by no means have expected to be so soon 
 transposed from this fictitious world into a similar real one. 
 
 My fellow-boarder, Weyland, who enlivened his quiet, labo- 
 rious life by visiting from time to time his friends and relations 
 in the country (for he was a native of Alsace), did me many 
 services on my little excursions, by introducing me to different 
 localities and families, sometimes in person, sometimes by re- 
 commendations. He had often spoken to me about a country 
 clergyman who lived near Drusenheim, six leagues from Stras- 
 burg, in possession of a good benefice, with an intelligent wife 
 and a pair of amiable daughters. The hospitality and agree- 
 ableness of this family were always highly extolled. It scarcely 
 needed so much to draw thither a young knight who had 
 already accustomed himself to spend all his leisure days and 
 hours on horseback and in the open air. We decided there- 
 fore upon this trip, and my friend had to promise that on 
 introducing me he would say neither good nor ill of me, but 
 would treat me with general indifference, and would allow me 
 to make my appearance clad, if not meanly, yet somewhat 
 poorly and negligently. He consented to this, and promised 
 himself some sport from it. 
 
 It is a pardonable whim in men of consequence, to place 
 their exterior advantages in concealment now and then, so as 
 to allow their own internal human nature to operate with the 
 greater purity. For this reason the incognito of princes, and 
 the adventures resulting therefrom, are always highly pleas- 
 ing ; these appear disguised divinities, who can reckon at 
 double its value all the good offices shown to them as indivi- 
 duals, and are in such a position that they can either make 
 light of the disagreeable or avoid it. That Jupiter should bo 
 2*2
 
 372 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWW LIPK. 
 
 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 vre like it well ; but that a 
 young man without importance or name, should take it into 
 Ids 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, 
 BO 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 tune, 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 
 'Toad, 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. Re bade us welcome, and offered 
 us some refreshment, which we declined. My friend hurried 
 away to look after the ladies, and I remained alone with our 
 host. " You are perhaps surprised," said he, " to find me so 
 miserably quartered iii a wealthy village, and with a lucrative 
 benefice ; but," he continued, " this proceeds from irresolu- 
 tion. Long since it has been promised me by the parish, and 
 even by those in higher places, that the house shall be rebuilt ; 
 many plans have been already drawn, examined and altered, 
 none of them altogether rejected, and none carried into execu- 
 tion. This has lasted so many years, that I scarcely know how 
 to command my impatience." I made him an answer such as 
 I thought likely to cherish his hopes, and to encourage him to 
 pursue the affair more vigorously. Upon this he proceeded to 
 describe familiarly the personages on whom such matters de- 
 pended, and although he was no great delineator of character, 
 I could nevertheless easily comprehend how the whole busi- 
 ness must have been delayed. The confidential tone of the 
 man was something peculiar ; he talked to me as if he had 
 known me for ten years, while there was nothing in his look 
 from which I could have suspected that he was directing any 
 attention to me. At last my friend came in with the mother. 
 She seemed to look at me with quite different eyes. Her 
 countenance was regular, and the expression of it intelligent ; 
 she must have been beautiful in her youth. Her figure was 
 tall and spare, but not more so than became her years, and 
 when seen from behind, she had yet quite a youthful and pleas-J\ 
 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
 
 874 TRUTH AND POETRY J 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, 
 gf 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 
 
 lojeliuess. . _^ 
 
 Xjt 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 cony 
 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 
 i 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 ho 
 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 " VICAB 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, occtiX 
 pied me to such a degree, that I became meditative and silent, 
 although the liveliness of the elder sister, and the gracefulness, i 
 of the younger, shook me often enough out of my contempla*^ 
 tions. My astonishment at finding myself so actually in tne 
 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 aJvi- 
 good education ; her demeanour was quiet, easy, cheerful, and ' 
 inviting. 
 
 If the elder daughter had not the celebrated beauty of Oli- 
 via, yet she was well-made, lively, and rather impetuous ; she 
 everywhere showed herself active, and lent a helping hand to 
 her mother in all things. To put Frederica in the place of 
 Primrose's Sophia was not difficult ; for little is said of the 
 latter, it is only taken for granted that she is amiable ; and 
 this girl was amiable indeed. Now as the same occupation 
 knd the same situation, wherever they may occur, produce 
 similar, if not the same effects, so here too many things were 
 talked about, many things happened, which had already taken 
 place in the Wakefield family. But when at last a younger 
 son, long announced and impatiently expected by the father, 
 at last sprang into the room, and boldly sat himself down by 
 us, taking but little notice of the guests, I could scarcely help 
 exclaiming, " Moses, are you here too ! " 
 
 The conversation at table extended my inygfat into jhis 
 country and family circle, since the diaoourae WM about TMJ 
 ous droll incidents which had happened now here, now there. 
 Frederica, who sat by me, thence took occasion to describe to 
 me different localities which it was worth while to visits As ono 
 little story always calls forth smother, 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
 
 376 TRUTH AND POETRY; FEOM MY OWN LIFE 
 
 means spared, I jstood in danger f>f slipping mit nf my rhnmo 
 ter, for which reason my more prudent friend took advantage 
 6F~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 Frederica's discourse ; by the clearness with 
 which she spoke she turned ^nlghtjnto day, andjthere was no- 
 thing in it which would have indicated or exGited_an3Lfeeling, 
 except that her expressions related more than hitherto to me, 
 since she represented io me_her own situation, as well as the 
 neighbourhood amTher acquauSance^rj^st 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 
 more and more silent. It was so pleasant to listen to he 
 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 " VICAK OT WAKEFTELD." 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 wgnj; 
 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 for 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 pot now to be thought
 
 878 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MT OWN I,IFE. 
 
 of, no more was any other feasible accommodation. To appearr 
 again before Frederica in the figure in which my Mend could 
 give me out as a laborious and accomplished but poor student 
 of theology, before Frederica, who the evening before had 
 spoken so friendly to my disguised self. that was altogether 
 impossible. There I stood, vexed and thoughtful, and sum^ 
 moned all my power of invention ; but it deserted me ! But 
 now when he, comfortably stretched out, after fixing his eyes 
 upon me for a while, all at once burst out into a loud laugh, 
 and exclaimed, " No ! it is true, you do look most cursedly !" 
 I replied impetuously, " And I know what I will do. Good 
 bye, and make my excuses!" "Are you mad?" cried he, 
 spinging out of bed and trying to detain me. But I was 
 already out of the door, down the stairs, out of the house and 
 yard, off to the tavern ; in an instant my horse was saddled, 
 and I hurried away in mad vexation, galloping towards Dru- 
 senheim, then through that place, and still further on. 
 
 As I now thought myself in safety, I rode more slowly, 
 and now first felt how infinitely against my will I was going 
 away. But I resigned myself to my fate, made present to my 
 mind the promenade of yesterday evening with the greatest 
 calmness, and cherished the secret hope of seeing her soon 
 again. But this quiet feeling soon changed itself again into 
 impatience, and I now determined to ride rapidly into the 
 city, change my dress, take a good, fresh horse, since then, as 
 my passion made me believe, I could at all events return before 
 dinner, or, as was more probable, to the dessert, or towards 
 evening, and beg my forgiveness. 
 
 I was just about to put spurs to my horse to execute this 
 plan, when another, and, as seemed to me, a very happy thought, 
 passed through my mind. In the tavern at Drusenheim, the 
 day before, I had noticed a son of the landlord very nicely 
 dressed, who, early this morning, being busied about his rural 
 arrangements, had saluted me from his court-yard. He was 
 of my figure, and had for the moment reminded me of myself. 
 No sooner thought than done ! My horse was hardly turned 
 round, when I found myself in Drusenheim ; I brought him 
 into the stable, and in a few words made the fellow my pro- 
 posal, namely, that he should lend me his clothes, as I had 
 something merry on foot at Sesenheiin. I had no need to talk 
 long ; he agreed to the proposition with joy, aiid praised mo
 
 THE EXCHANGE OP 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 friend seemed to regard his counterpart with 
 complacency. "Topp,f Mr. Brother!" said he, giving me 
 his hand, which I grasped heartily, "don't come too near 
 my girl ; she might make a mistake !" 
 
 My hair, which had now its full growth again, I could part 
 at top, much like his, and as I looked at him repeatedly, I 
 found it comical moderately to imitate his thicker eyebrow* 
 with a burnt cork, and bring mine nearer together in the 
 middle, so that with my enigmatical intentions, I might make 
 myself an external riddle likewise. "Now have you not," 
 said I, as he handed me his be-ribboned hat, " something or 
 other to be done at the parsonage, that I might announce 
 myself there in a natural manner?" "Good!" replied he, 
 " but then you must wait two hours yet. There is a woman 
 confined at our house ; I will offer to take the cake to the 
 parson's wife,J and you may carry it over. Pride must pay 
 its penalty, and so must a joke." I resolved to wait, but 
 these two hours were infinitely long, and I was dying of im- 
 patience when the third hour passed before the cake came out 
 of the oven. At last I got it quite hot, and hastened away 
 with my credentials in the most beautiful sunshine, accom- 
 panied for a distance by my counterpart, who promised to 
 come after me in the evening and bring me my clothes. This, 
 however, I briskly declined, and stipulated that I should 
 deliver up to him his own. 
 
 I had not skipped far with my present, which I carried in a 
 
 * Abbreviation for Frederica. Trant. 
 
 t The exclamation used on striking a bargain. It is, we believe, 
 employed by some trades in England. Trant. 
 
 J The general custom of the country villages in Protestant German/ 
 on such interesting occasions. American Nott.
 
 380 TRUTH A.NP POETRY; FROM MY OWN T.TTK. 
 
 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 agaiii 
 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 heartf 
 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." Tra nt
 
 GOETHE 8 DISGUISE. 381 
 
 what's the matter with you to-day again? Has Barbchen* 
 been looking again at somebody else ? Don't let us suffer for 
 that ! You will make a happy couple if you cany on so ! " 
 As she spoke pretty loud, the pastor came to the window and 
 asked what was the matter. She showed him to me ; I stood up 
 and turned myself towards him ; but still kept the hat over my 
 face. When he had spoken somewhat friendly to me, and had 
 asked me to remain, I went towards the garden, and was just 
 going in, when the pastor's wife, who was entering the court- 
 yard gate, called to me. As the sun shone right in my face, 
 I one more availed myself of the advantage which my hat 
 afforded me, and greeted her by scraping a leg ; but she went 
 into the house after she had bidden me not to go away without 
 eating something. I now walked up and down in the garden ; 
 everything had hitherto had the best success, yet I breathed 
 hard when I reflected that the young people now would soon 
 return. But the mother unexpectedly stepped up to me, 
 and was just going to ask me a question, \vhen 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 f 
 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 
 Rhine ; 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 dowu 
 * Diminutive of Barbara. Tratu.
 
 382 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 upon one of the benches, and noticed on the largest tree au 
 oblong little board with the inscription, " Frederica's Repose." 
 It never occurred to me that I might have come to disturb 
 this repose ; for a budding passion has this beauty about it, 
 that, as it is unconscious of its origin, neither can it have 
 any thought of an end, nor, while it feels itself glad and 
 cheerful, have any presentiment that it may also create 
 mischief. 
 
 I had scarcely had time to look abont 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, upTS 
 this morning, from your friend," said she, "now do you tell 
 me the rest." I did not let her say that twice, but describ~ea 
 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^ 
 BO great that, in my eloquence, I did not remark how medi-j( 
 tative and silent she was. Once more she deeply fetched her 
 breath, and over and over again I begged her forgiveness few
 
 " FHKT>T.BICA'S REPOSE." 388 
 
 the fright which I had caused her. How long we may 1m e 
 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 fronT) 
 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-j 
 pectedly, we see with our own eyes what we have believed) 
 morall/ impossible. " What is this ? " cried the elder, wltn 
 the rapidity of one who is frightened; " what is this? you with 
 Geyrge, 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 i-are 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 twc 
 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 THUTH: Axb POETHY; FBOM MY OWN 
 
 The elder sister manifested the most extravagant delight, aid 
 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. 
 Ou 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 terrible 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, mado
 
 GOETHE'S DISGUISE. 885 
 
 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 dooi 
 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 bis 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 wins and a bit of 
 bis 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. 
 }>ut 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 ( Pekesche) of a cousin of theirs, in 
 wliich, when there, he used to go sporting, was hanging in the 
 olothes-press. I, however, declined it, externally with all sorts 
 cf jokes, but internally with a feeling of vanity, not wishing, 
 
 2c
 
 886 TKTJTH AND POETBT ; 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 New Paris as the youth bears to the boy, and I would 
 insert it here, were I not afraid of injuring, by odd plays of 
 fancy, the rural reality and simplicity which here agreeably 
 surround us. Enough: I succeeded in gaining 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 endo^yment I was 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 Wilhelm Meister's Wanderjahre. Tram.
 
 THE " NEW MELTJSIITA.** 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 he- 
 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, 
 everything that I undertook would have proved a failure, from 
 the fact that with my nation there was nothing to harangue 
 about. 
 
 2c2
 
 PART THE THIRD. 
 
 CARE IS TAKEN THAT TREES DO NOT GROW INTO THE SKY. 
 
 ELEVENTH BOOK. 
 
 AFTER I had, In that bower of Sesenheim, finished my talo, 
 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 full 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 stun , of which they had better beei
 
 BETURJT TO STRASBUBO. 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 
 fctated how I came by the notion. In thought I liked to sport 
 with such pleasantries, without any particular reference, and 
 I believed thai if I narrated them, it would be the same with 
 others. 
 
 When I retni-ned to my occupations in the city, I felt them 
 more than usually wearisome, for a man born to activity 
 forms pkns too extensive for his capacity, and overburdens 
 himself with labour. This goes on very well till some phvsi- 
 cal or moral impediment comes in the way, and clearly snows 
 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 I hod fallen in for much 
 both of lovo and honour. All thie 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 liternture ; 
 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 XBUXH AND POETRY; FEOM 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 which 
 recovery 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 lie 
 did not conclude his lecture, as usual, with a doctrine which 
 might hava 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
 
 RETURN TO SESENHF.IM. 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 not 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 te 
 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, I 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 ? 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 iu
 
 892 TRUTH AND POETRY ', TROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 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- 
 nomenon 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 t 
 beloved girl I enjoyed the noble Sunday morning in the coun-N^ 
 try, as the inestimable Hebel has depicted it. She described' i 
 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," 
 ehe 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 good qualities which she had just unfolded so freely before 
 me her circumspect cheerfulness, her naivete combined 
 Mnth 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 reflection? 
 upon myself t jEhich^Eere_gomewhat prejudicial to a free state 
 of cheerfulness. 
 
 Since that impassioned girl had cursed and sanctified my lips 
 (for every consecration involves both), I had, superstitiously 
 enough, taken care not to kiss anj girl, because I feared that 
 I might injure her in some unheard-of spiritual manner. I 
 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 LUCINDA's CURSE. 393 
 
 ore more or less ingenious, and by which a joyous young circlo 
 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 wasv 
 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 gatnes 
 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 deaFgirl, and roguishly took the greatest pains to forco 
 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 4 
 passion has been declared, they take trouble on purpose tat 
 part them again. Thus, f.o the man of society, it is totally 
 indifferent whether he confers a benefit or an injury, provided 
 only he is amused. 
 
 This morning I could observe, with more attention, tho 
 whole character of Frederica, so that for the whole time sh
 
 894 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. Hcederica 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 anithere. 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 
 ijdth,. 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 hervL 
 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, BO as to meditate upon them, and to con-
 
 PLAN FOR THE NEW PARSONAGE. 395 
 
 sider tills 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 
 u;is 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
 
 896 TRUTH AND POETRY; PROM MY OWN LIFK. 
 
 the plan, which I drew as neatly as possible. In the mean- 
 while I had sent Frederica some books, accompanied by a lew 
 kind words. I received an answer at once, and was charmed 
 with her light, pretty, hearty hand. Contents nd style wore 
 natural, good, amiable, as if they came from within ; and thus 
 the ploasing 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 hopr 
 that I should see he. 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 Frederica became more animated. She invited me to a 
 festival, to which also some friends 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 hiri 
 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 net to 
 be thought of. 
 
 I was scarcely able to console the extremely irritated man, 
 whose pleasures had been so outrageously destroyed, much ns 
 I assured him that I myself looked upon them only as sketches, 
 wliich we would talk over, and on which we would construct 
 uew drawings. In spite of all this he went ofi in a very ill-
 
 FESTIVAL AT THK PABSONAGE. 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 were to be solved, all showed a mad 
 joy which knew no limits. I myself heightened these wild 
 jokes by many a comical prank, and Frederica shone by many 
 a droll thought ; she appeared to me more charming than ever, 
 all hypochondriacal superstitious fancies iad vanished, aad\ 
 \theiL_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 wat 
 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. ajcery 
 e~xpert 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
 
 898 TKUTH AND POETRY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 thai quiet spot, by the warmest embrace and the most faithful 
 assurance that wejpved_eax5h_ 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. Myjmaginatiou 
 
 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 thfim, 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, 
 
 \j and now her love to me wore a most unhappy aspect, and I 
 
 '\ wished myself at the other side of the world. 
 
 ' 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 mor<flinportant than usual, and with 
 no little complacencv was I aware of mv 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 my own heart. 
 
 All this together raged in my blood, already excited by love 
 and passion, wine and dancing, confused my thoughts and tor- 
 tured my feelings, so that, especially as contrasted with the 
 joys of the day before, I felt myself in a state of despair which
 
 CORRESPONDENCE WITH FREDERICA. 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 ia 
 power, when, instead of flattering our vanity, it stands in its 
 way, and would fain produce an evil hour to this delicate being. 
 We then see well enough thatT we can get rid of it when we 
 choose ; we renounce it the more easily, as all of which we 
 deprive ourselves turns to our own advantage. The sight of 
 Frederica, the feelingjrf her love, the cheerfulness of every T 
 thing around me all reproved me, that in the midst of the 
 happiest days I could harbour such dismal night-birds in my 
 bosom7~ 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^ myjeifibr the sakq pf niy 
 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 wa* sure. I 
 also Kked very much to write to her, for the act of rendering 
 present her good qualities increased my affection even during 
 absence, so that this intercourse was little inferior to a personal 
 one, nay, afterwards became pleasanter and dearer to me. 
 
 For that superstition had been forced to give way altogether. 
 It was indeed based upon the impressions of earlier years, but 
 the spirit of the day, the liveliness of youth, the intercourse 
 with cold sensible men, all was unfavourable to it, so that it 
 would not have been easy to find among all who surrounded 
 me a single person to whom a confession of my whims would 
 not have been perfectly ridiculous. But the worst of it was, 
 that the fancy, while it fled, left behind it a real contemplation 
 of that state in which young people are placed, whose early 
 affections can promise themselves no lasting result. So little 
 was I assisted in getting free from error, that understanding 
 and reflection used me still worse in this instance. My passioo
 
 400 TRUTH AND POETRY J FROM Ml 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 llaymond 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 ay&tig persons akin 
 both by mind and ieeliBg^^ 
 
 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 JQ 
 much ? or do the necessities of the day so completely absorb 
 the man, that he must refuse every beautiful dematd which 
 is made upon him?
 
 BESULTS OF NOVEL-READING. 401 
 
 The historico-poetical Christian names which havo 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 au 
 imaginary world with the real one diffuses an agreeable lustre 
 over the whole life of the person. A beautiful child, whom 
 with satisfaction we call " Bertha," we should think we offended 
 if we were to call it " Urselblandine." With a cultivated man, 
 not to say a lover, such a name would certainly falter on the 
 lips. The cold world, which judges only from one side, is not 
 to be blamed if it sets down as ridiculous and objectionable all 
 that comes forward as imaginary, but the thinking connoisseur 
 of mankind must know how to estimate it according to its 
 worth. 
 
 For the position of the loving couple on the fair Khine- 
 bank, this comparison, to which a wag had compelled them^ 
 produced the most agreeable results. We do not think of our- 
 selves when we look in a mirror, but we feel ourselves, anxi 
 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 tg/ 
 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- 
 ( finned for life, better than it could have been produced by a 
 ^ long arranged plan. 
 
 It was thougnt that perfect confidence conid be placed both 
 in Frederica's sentiments and in my rectitude, of which, on 
 account of my forbearance even from innocent caresses, 8 
 / favourable opinion had been entertained. We were left unob- 
 gerved, 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. 
 
 2 D
 
 402 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 On both sides of the Rhine, in Hagenau, Fort-Louis, Philipps- 
 burg, the Ortenau, I found dispersed those persons whom I 
 had seen united at Scsenheim, 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 for our water-expedi- 
 tions. There, without pity, we put the cool inhabitants of tho 
 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 (Rhein-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 
 
 _ 
 
 However, the enjoyment of the^fay--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, having watered the earth with superfluous dew ; and
 
 THE PASTOR'S CHAIR. 403 
 
 that this spectacle might not become too simple, clouds after 
 clouds piled themselves over the distant mountains, now in this 
 spot, now in th^t. They g^ntLfor days, nay, for weeks, wlth- 
 out obscuring the pure sky. and even the transient storms re- 
 freshed the country, and gave lustre to the green, which again 
 glisjteued in the sunshine before it could become dry. 
 double rainbow, the two-colonred borders of a dark grey anc 
 nearly black streak in the sky, were nobler, more highly coloure ~ 
 more decided, but also more transient, than I had ever observed. 
 
 In the midst of these objects the desire of poetising, whic 
 I had not felt for a long time, again came forwarcT E ~ ForFre- 
 derica I compogedjnany songs to well-known melodies The'y 
 would have made a pretty little b6olcT"a"ffew~<5f "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 
 I that unpleasantness which usually attaches itself as an annoy* 
 - ing consequence to such little love-affairs. Though far from 
 me7 she yet laboured for me, and thought of some new amuse- 
 ment against I should return ; though far fromJifir^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 IlflTe poem, as on this occasion I 
 fnropfl tn stop away longer than I had anticipated, 
 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 wi%/' 
 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 AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 requisites were fetched from the tradesmen and apothecaries of 
 the nearest towns. Hut 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 
 1-eaven'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 friojula 
 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 
 mvself 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, bererjroached_with the fact, that on this very 
 account sueh -tJEespassed the more quicklv. _and vanished 
 sooner. 
 
 But now our love was to undergo a singular trial. I will 
 call it a trial (Pm/img], 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 the 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 VISIT TO STEASBUEG. 405 
 
 There 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 jf 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" o"BJects have little to do with it, but neverthe- 
 less the Tieart desires that these shall be the suitable, natural, 
 and usual objects. With my lively feeling for everything pre- 
 s-cnt, I could not at once adapt myself to the contradiction of 
 the moment. The respectable and calmly noble demeanour 01 
 the mother was perfectly adapted to the circle ; she 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 the most unimportant things in the world 
 to say to me no tiling but what I knew already ; for instance, 
 that she wished herself by the Rhine, over the Rhine, or even 
 in Turkey. Fredcrica, on the contrary, was highly remarkabley 
 in this situation. Prgperly_speaking, she also did not suit iv^ 
 but it bore witness tether character, that, instead of finding 
 nerself 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
 
 405 TBUTH AND POETRY J >'KOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 the desire of her town aunts, who wished for once, 011 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 sKeTconfidently laid claim on one of the fol- 
 lowing days, when she privately told me that the ladies wished/ 
 to hear me read. iThe daughters of the house had spoken 
 much on this subject, for at Sesenheim I had read what 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, J 
 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 4ong^ but the depar- 
 ture was deltryettr Frederica did her part for the sociaT^nTuse- 
 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 inv 
 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 " DI8PUTATIOX." 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 aa 
 though a stone fell from my heart ; for my own feelings had | 
 shared the condition of Frederica and Olivia ; I was not pas- j 
 sionately tormented like the latter, but I felt by no means 
 as comfortable as the former. 
 
 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 juns^ 
 prudence and all its framework I had pretty well acquircdj 
 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 TRvni AND POFTHY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Been 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 no 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- 
 ththg 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 was 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 r 4; 
 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. Irons.
 
 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_jjbelieved 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 wa.jioj;. 
 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 
 Behrisch 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 deau,
 
 410 TRUTH AND POETK1 ; FKOJI MT 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 mi^hf 
 hope the best ; they would willingly, not to delay the affair, 
 allow me to dispute on theses. I could afterwards publish m^ n 
 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 
 bis 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, ana 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 tc 
 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
 
 SCHOEPFLIN. 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 BJiine, 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 citizcii- 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 Prater Kling- 
 lin, 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 shotdd 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 
 Bort of character, and, as an orator, to the multitude. His
 
 412 TBUTH AND POETBY J FEOM 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 tliis 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 
 of 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 
 lue acquainted with the ruins and remains, the seals and docu-
 
 KOCH AND OBEELIH. 413 
 
 ments, which those times have left behind them ; nay, sought 
 to inspire me with an inclination for what we called the 
 Minne-singers and heroic poets. To this good man, as well 
 as to Herr Koch, I have been greatly indebted ; and if things 
 had gone according to tlifiir 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. Strasbourg itself offered advantages 
 enough. The prospect of the German Chancery at Ver- 
 sailles, the precedent of Schopflin, whose merits, indeed, 
 seemed to me unattainable, were to incite to emulation, if 
 not to imitation ; and perhaps a similar talent was thus to 
 be cultivated, which might be both profitable to him who 
 could boast of it, and useful to others who might choose to 
 employ it on their own account. These, my patrons, and 
 Salxmann 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 arc 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's, 
 of what we shall do, under all circumstances. But these cir- I 
 cumstances lay hold on us iu their own fashion. The what j 
 lies in us, the how seldom depends on us, after the wherefore/ 
 we dare not ask, and on this account we are rightly referred 
 to the quia. 
 
 The French tongue I had liked from my youth upwards ; I 
 /had learned to know the language through a bustling life, 
 and a bustling life through the language. It had become 
 my own, like a second mother-tongue, without grammar and 
 instruction by mere intercourse and practice. I now wished 
 to use it with Btill greater fluency, and gave Strasburg the 
 preference, as a second university residence, to other high 
 schools ; but, alas ! it was just there that I had to experience 
 the very reverse of my hopes, and to be turned rather from 
 than to this language and these manners. 
 
 The French, who generally aim at good behaviour, are in- 
 dulgent towards foreigners who begin to speak their lan- 
 guage ; they will not laugh any one out of countenance at a 
 fault, or blame him in direct terms. However, since they 
 cannot endure sins committed against their language, they 
 have a manner of repeating, and, as it were, courteously con- 
 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 FKENCH LANGUAGE. 415 
 
 ingredient, as I liked to hear the French reformed clergy, and 
 visited their churches the more willingly, as a Sunday walk to 
 Bockenheim was on this account not only permitted but or- 
 dered. But even this was not enough ; for as in my youthful 
 years, I had always been chiefly directed to the German of the 
 16th century, I soon included the French also of that noble 
 ^poch among the objects of my inclination. Montaigne, Amyot, 
 llabelais, Marot, were my friends, and excited in mo sympathy 
 and delight. Now all these different elements moved in my 
 discourse chaotically one with another, so that for the hearer 
 the meaning was lost in the oddity of the expression ; nay 
 an educated Frenchman could no more courteously correct 
 me, but had to censure me and tutor me in plain terms. It 
 therefore happened with me here once more as it had hap- 
 pened in Leipzig, only that on this occasion I could not appeal 
 to the right of my native place to speak idiomatically, as well 
 as other provinces ; but being on a foreign ground and soil, 
 was forced to adapt myself to traditional laws. 
 
 Perhaps we might even have resigned ourselves to this, if 
 an evil genius had not whispered into our ears that all endea- 
 vours by a foreigner to speak French would remain unsuc- 
 cessful ; for a practised ear can perfectly well detect a Ger- 
 man, Italian, or Englishman under a French mask. One is 
 tolerated, but never received into the bosom of the only 
 church of language. 
 
 Only a few exceptions were granted. They named to us a 
 Herr von Grimm; but even Schopflin, it seemed, did not 
 reach the summit. They allowed that he had early seen the 
 necessity of expressing himself in French to perfection ; they 
 approved of his inclination to converse with every one, and 
 especially to entertain the great and persons of rank ; they 
 praised him, that living in the place where he was, he had 
 made the language of the country his own, and had endea- 
 oured as much as possible to render himself a Frenchman of 
 ociety and orator. But what docs 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 TRUTH AND POETRY J 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 foi 
 a longer or shorter time at Strasburg. 
 
 At our table nothing but German was spoken. Salzmann 
 expressed himself in French with much fluency and elegance ; 
 but, with respect to his endeavours and acts, was a perfect 
 German. Lerse might have been set up as a pattern of a 
 German youth. Meyer, of Lindau, liked to get on with good 
 German too well to shine in good French ; and if, among the 
 rest, many were inclined to the Gallic speech and manners, 
 they yet, while they were with us, allowed the general tone 
 to prevail with them.
 
 DISLIKE TO THE FBENCH. 417 
 
 From the language we turned to political affairs. We 
 had not, indeed, much to say in praise of our own imperial 
 constitution. We granted that it consisted of mere legal 
 contradictions ; but exalted ourselves so much the more 
 above the present French constitution, which lost itself in 
 mere lawless abuses, while the government only showed its 
 energy in the wrong place, and was forced to admit that a 
 complete change in affairs was already publicly prophesied 
 with black forebodings. 
 
 If, on the other hand, we looked towards the north, we were 
 shone upon by Frederic, the polar-star, who seemed to turn 
 about himself Germany, Europe, nay, the whole world. His 
 preponderance in everything was most strongly manifested 
 when the Prussian exercise and even the Prussian stick was 
 introduced into the French army. As for the rest, we forgave 
 him his predilection for a foreign language, since we felt satis- 
 faction that his French poets, philosophers, and litterateurs 
 continued to annoy him, and often declared that he was to be 
 considered and treated only as an intruder. 
 
 But what, more than all, forcibly alienated us from the French, 
 was the uupolite opinion, repeatedly maintained, that the 
 Germans in general, as well as the king, who was striving 
 after French cultivation, were deficient in taste. With re- 
 spect to this kind of talk, which followed every judgment like 
 a burden, we endeavoured to solace ourselves with contempt ; 
 but we could so much the less come to a clear understanding 
 about it, as we were assured that Menage had already said, 
 that the French writers possessed everything but taste ; and 
 had also learned from the then living Paris, that all the 
 authors were wanting in taste, and that Voltaire himself could 
 not escape this severest of reproaches. Having been before 
 and often directed to nature, we would allow of nothing but 
 truth and uprightness of feeling, and the quick, blunt expres- 
 sion of it. 
 
 " Friendship, love, and brotherhood, 
 Are they not self-understood?" 
 
 was the watchword and cry of battle, by which the members 
 of our little academical horde used to know and enliven each 
 other. This maxim lay at the foundation of all our social 
 banquets, on the occasions of which we did not fail to pay 
 
 a E
 
 <I8 TRUTH AND POETRY; VROM MY OWN I.IFE. 
 
 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 cirrnmstano.es, 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 CprneilUVa works, that 
 ho; 
 
 he might-showiew^efeetiv-e his-predecessor had been, whom 
 according to the general voice, he had not equalled. 
 S~ And even this very Voltaire, the wonder of his time, had 
 grown old, like the literature, which, for nearly a century,h(i, 
 had animated and governed. J3y 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 tL* 
 English. Transt.
 
 VOLTAIRE. 416 
 
 of such judgments against the authors; the authors, with 
 somewhat less decorum, proceeded in the same manner 
 against each other, nay, against their patrons. If the public 
 was not to be awed, they endeavoured to take it by surprise, 
 or gain it by humility ; and thus apart from the movements 
 which shook church and state to their inmost core there 
 arose such a literary ferment, that Voltaire himself stood in 
 need of his full activity, and his whole preponderance, to keep 
 himself above the torrent of general disesteem. Already he 
 was openly called an old capricious child ; his endeavours, 
 carried on indefatigably, were regarded as the vain 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 
 euperior 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 uisatisfactory 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 txrth 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 TRTTTK AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Cor the sake of injuring priestcraft,* as they called it, and Imd 
 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 exuvice of its 
 original inhabitants. These mountains had certainly been 
 once covered with waves, whether before or during the deluge 
 did not concern me ; it was enough that the valley of the 
 Rhine had been a monstrous lake, a bay extending beyond 
 the reach of the eyesight ; out of this I was not to be talked. 
 I thought much more of advancing in the knowledge of lands 
 and mountains, let what would be the result. 
 
 French literature, then, had grown old and genteel in itself, 
 t nd through Voltaire. Let us devote some further considera- 
 -tion to this remarkable man. 
 
 From his youth upwards, Voltaire's wishes and endeavours 
 had been directed to an active and social life, to politics, to 
 gain on a large scale, to a connexion with the heads of the 
 earth, and a profitable use of this connexion, that he hirnseh 
 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 SUL 
 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 tlip 
 word for a priest, which exactly expresses the contempt involved in 
 * Pfaffe," the word " priestcraft " has been introduce .1. JVarw.
 
 THE ENCYCLOPEDISTS. 421 
 
 noble views, he had been somewhat more practically clever,* 
 Hid a better appreciator of the mind. 
 
 What I have here stated in a compressed form, and in some 
 connexion, sounded at that time as a cry of the moment, as a 
 perpetual discord, unconnected and uninstructive, in our ears. 
 Nothing was heard but the praise of those who had gone be- 
 fore. Something good and new was required ; but the newest 
 was never liked. Scarcely had a patriot exhibited on the long 
 inanimate stage national-French, heart-inspiring subjects, 
 scarcely had the Siege of Calais gained enthusiastic applause, 
 than the piece, together with all its national comrades, was 
 considered empty, and in every sense objectionable. The 
 delineations of manners by Destouches, which had so often 
 delighted me when a boy, were called weak ; the name of this 
 honest man had passed away ; and how many authors could 
 T dot point out, for the sake of whom I had to endure the 
 reproach that I judged like a provincial, if I showed any sym- 
 pathy for such men and their works, in opposition to any one 
 who was carried along by the newest literary torrent. 
 
 Thus, to our other German comrades we became more and 
 more annoying. According to our view, according to the 
 peculiarity of our own nature, we had to retain the im- 
 pressions of objects, to consume them but slowly, and if it 
 was to be so, to let them go as late as possible. We were 
 convinced that by faithful observation, by continued occupa- 
 tion, something might be gained from all things, and that by 
 persevering zeal we must at last arrive at a point where the 
 ground of the judgment may be expressed at the same time 
 with the judgment itself. Neither did we fail to perceive 
 that the great and noble French world offered us many an ad- 
 vantage and much profit ; for Rousseau had really touched our 
 sympathies. But if we considered his life and his fate, ho 
 was nevertheless compelled to find the great reward for all he 
 did in this that he could live unacknowledged and forgotten 
 at Paris. 
 
 If we heard the encyclopedists mcnt'oned, or opened a 
 volume of their monstrous work, we felt as if we were going 
 between the innumerable moving spools and looms in a grent 
 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 TKUTH AND POETRY ; FHOBI MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 what with all the mechanism, embarrassing both eyes and 
 senses what with the mere incomprehensibility of an arrange- 
 ment, the parts of which work into each other in the most 
 manifold way what with the contemplation of all that is 
 necessary to prepare a piece of cloth, we feel disgusted with 
 the very coat which we wear upon our backs. 
 
 Diderot was sufficiently akin to us, as, indeed, in every- 
 thing, for which the French blame him, he is a true German. 
 But even his point of view was too high, his circle of vision 
 was too extended for us to range ourselves with him, and 
 place ourselves at his side. Nevertheless, his children of 
 nature, whom he continued to bring forward and dignify with 
 great rhetorical art, pleased us very much ; his brave poachers 
 and smugglers enchanted us ; and this rabble afterwards 
 throve but too well upon the German Parnassus. It was he 
 also, who, like Rousseau, diffused a disgust of social life a 
 quiet introduction to those monstrous changes of the world, 
 in which everything permanent appeared to sink. 
 
 However, we ought now to put aside these considerations, 
 and to remark what influence these two men have had upon 
 art. Even here they pointed even from here they urged us 
 towards nature. 
 
 The highest problem of any art is to produce by appearance 
 the illusion of a higher reality. But it is a false endeavour 
 to realize the appearance until at last only something com- 
 monly real remains. 
 
 As an ideal locality, the stage, by the application of the laws 
 of perspective to coulisses ranged one behind the other, had 
 attained the greatest advantage ; and this very gain they now 
 wished wantonly to abandon, by shutting up the sides of the 
 theatre, and forming real room- walls. With such an arrange- 
 ment of the stage, the piece itself, the actors' mode of playing, 
 in a word, everything was to coincide ; and thus an entirely 
 new theatre was to arise. 
 
 The French actors had, in comedy, attained the summit of 
 the true in art. Their residence at Paris, their observations 
 of the externals of the court, the connexion of the actors anil 
 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
 
 BOUSSEAU'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 prose for the higher mode of 
 expression, and thus banished unnatural verse, together with 
 unnatural declamation and gesticulation. 
 
 It is extremely remarkable, and has not been generally 
 noticed, that at this time, even the old, severe, rhythmical, 
 artistical tragedy was threatened with a revolution, which 
 could only be averted by great talents and the power of 
 tradition. 
 
 In opposition to the actor Lecain, who played his heroes 
 with especial theatrical decorum, with deliberation, elevation, 
 and force, and kept himself aloof from the natural and ordi- 
 nary, came forward a man named Aufresne, who declared war 
 against everything unnatural, and in his tragic acting sought 
 to express the highest truth. This mode might not have 
 accorded with that of the other Parisian actors. He stood 
 alone, while they kept together, and adhering to his views 
 obstinately enough, he chose to leave Paris rather than alter 
 them, and came through Strasburg. There we saw him play 
 the part of Augustus in CVnna, that of Mithridates, and 
 others of the sort, with the truest and most natural dignity. 
 He appeared as a tall, handsome man, more slender than 
 strong, not, properly speaking, with an imposing, but never, 
 theless with a noble, pleasing demeanour. His acting was 
 well-considered and quiet, without being cold, and forcible 
 enough where force was required. He was a very well- 
 practised actor, and one of the few who know how to turn 
 the artificial completely into nature, and nature completely 
 into the artificial. It is really those few whose misunder- 
 stood good qualities always originate the doctrine of false 
 " naturalness." 
 
 And thus will I also make mention of a work, which is 
 indeed small, but which made an epoch in a remarkable man- 
 ner, I mean Rousseau's Pygmalion. A great deal could be 
 said upon it ; for this strange production floats between nature 
 and art, with the full endeavour of resolving the latter into 
 the former. We see an artist who has produced what is 
 most perfect, and yet does not find any satisfaction in having, 
 according to art, represented his idea externally to himself, 
 and given to it a higher life ; no, it must also be drawn dowu
 
 424 TRUTH 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 li a trouble to endure its presence, 
 and shuddered at it as at a spectre. The author fancies he 
 gives his book a peculiar recommendation, when he declares 
 in his preface, that as a decrepid old man, just sinking into 
 the grave, he wishes to announce the truth to his cotempora- 
 ries and to posterity. 
 
 We laughed him out ; for we thought we had observed that 
 by old people nothing in the world that is loveable and good 
 is in fact appreciated. " Old churches have dark windows ; 
 to know how cherries and berries taste, we must ask children 
 and sparrows." These were our gibes and maxims ; and thus 
 that book, as the very quintessence of senility, appeared to 
 us as unsavoury, nay, absurd. " All was to be of necessity,' 1 
 so said the book, " and therefore there was no God." But 
 could there not be a God by necessity too? asked we. We 
 indeed confessed, at the same time, that we could not with- 
 draw ourselves from the necessities of day and night, the 
 seasons, the influence of climate, physical and animal condi- 
 tion ; but nevertheless we felt within us something that ap- 
 peared like perfect freedom of will, and again something 
 which sought to counterbalance this freedom.
 
 " SYSTEMS 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, ho 
 quits them at once, for the sake of changing that which 
 appears as higher than nature, or as a higher nature withiu 
 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 Ot
 
 42fi TRUTH AND POETRY , FROM MY OWJT LIFE. 
 
 rid and clear of everything French about us. The French way 
 of life we found too defined and genteel, their poetry cold, 
 their criticism annihilating, their philosophy abstruse, and yet 
 insufficient, so that we were on the point of resigning our- 
 selves to rude nature, at least by way of experiment, if another 
 influence had not for a long time prepared us for higher and 
 freer views of the world, and intellectual enjoyments as true 
 as they were poetical, and swayed us, first moderately and se- 
 cretly, but afterwards with more and more openness and force. 
 
 I need scarcely say that Shakspeare is intended ; and having 
 once said this, no more need be added. Shakspeare has been 
 acknowledged by the Germans, more by them than by other 
 nations, perhaps even more than by his own. We have richly 
 bestowed on him all that justice, fairness, and forbearance 
 whicn we refuse to ourselves. Eminent men have occupied 
 themselves in showing his talents in the most favourable light ; 
 and I have always readily subscribed to what has been said 
 to his honour, in his favour, or even by way of excuse for 
 him. The influence of this extraordinary mind upon me 
 has been already shown ; an attempt has been made with 
 respect to his works, which has received approbation ; and 
 therefore this general statement may suffice for the present, 
 until I am in a position to communicate to such friends as like 
 to hear me, a gleaning of reflections on his great deserts, such 
 as I was tempted to insert in this very place. 
 
 At present I will only show more clearly the manner in 
 which I became acquainted with him. It happened pretty 
 soon at Leipzig, through Dodd's Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 Whatever may be said against such collections, which give 
 authors in a fragmentary form, they nevertheless produce 
 many good effects. We are not always so collected and so 
 ready that we can take in a whole work according to its 
 merits. Do we not, in a book, mark passages which have an 
 immediate reference to ourselves ? Young people especially, 
 who are wanting in a thorough cultivation, are laudably 
 excited by brilliant passages ; and thus I myself remember, 
 as one of the most beautiful epochs of my life, that which is 
 characterised by the above-mentioned work. Those r.oble 
 peculiarities, those great sayings, those happy descriptions, 
 those humorous traits all struck me singly and powerfully. 
 
 Wieiand's translation now made its appearance. It was
 
 INFLUENCE OF SHAKSPEARE. 42t 
 
 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. 1 will only, in favour of my proposi- 
 tion, mention Luther's translation of the Bible ; for the cir- 
 cumstance that this excellent man handed down a work, com- 
 posed in the most diffeient styles, and gave us its poetical, 
 historical, commanding didactic tone in our mother-tongue, 
 as if all were cast in one mould, has done more to advance 
 religion than if he had attempted to imitate, in detail, the 
 peculiarities of the original. In vain has been the subsequent 
 endeavour to make Job, the Psalms, and the other lyrical 
 books, capable of affording enjoyment in their poetical form. 
 For the multitude, upon whom the effect is to be produced, 
 a plain translation always remains the best. Those critical 
 translations which vie with the original, really only seem to 
 amuse the learned among themselves. 
 
 And thus in our Strasburg society did Shakspeare,
 
 428 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 lated and in the original, by fragments and as a whole, by pas- 
 sages and by extracts, influence us in such a manner, that as there 
 are Bible-firm (Bibelfesf) 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 iibers 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 whicb 
 LC gives the name Amor mnctt omnia. Tram.
 
 LEXZ 429 
 
 t'ul 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 Lenz as a favoured man, 
 when he succeeded in rendering as follows the epitaph on the 
 deer shot by the princess : 
 
 " Die schone Princessin sclioss und traf 
 
 Eines jungen Hirschleins Leben ; 
 
 Es fiel dahin in schweren Schlaf 
 
 Und wird ein Bratlein geben. 
 
 Der Jagdhund boll 1 Ein L zu Hirscb 
 
 So wird es denn ein Hirschel ; 
 
 Doch sctzt ein romisch L zu Hirsch 
 
 So macht es funfzig Hirschel. 
 
 Ich mache hundert Hirsche draus 
 
 Schreib Hirscbell mit xwei LLen." * 
 
 * The lines in Shakspeare, which the above are intended to imitate, arc 
 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, furnUh 
 an instance of GCthe's meaning, when he commends Lenz as happily catch, 
 ing the spirit of the original, without the slightest pretence to accuracy.- v 
 Tratt.
 
 430 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN IIFE. 
 
 The tendency towards the absurd, which displays itself free 
 and unfettered in youth, but afterwards recedes more into the 
 background, without being on that account utterly lost, was 
 in full bloom among us, and we sought even by original jests 
 to celebrate our great master. We were very proud when we 
 could lay before the company something of the kind, which 
 was in any degree approved, as, for instance, the following on 
 a riding-master, who had been hurt on a mid horse. 
 
 " A rider in this house you'll find, 
 A master too is he, 
 The two into a nosegay bind, 
 'Twill riding-master be. 
 If master of the ride, I wis, 
 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, 
 fhe 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 
 origoud. 
 
 " Ein Ritter wohnt in diesem Haus ; 
 Eii. Meister auch daneben ; 
 Macht man davon einen Blumenstrauss 
 So wird's einen Rittmeister geben. 
 1st er nun Meister von dem Ritt 
 FUhrt er mit Recht den Namen ; 
 Doch nimmt der Ritt den Meister mit, 
 Web iliin und seinem Samen." Trmu.
 
 THE OTTILIETTBERG. 
 
 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 pious 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, woods, fields, meadows, 
 and districts near and in the distance. They wished to show 
 us even Basle in the horizon ; that we saw it, I will not swear, 
 but the remote blue of the Swiss mountains even here exer- 
 cised its rights over us, by summoning us to itself, and since 
 we could not follow the impulse, by leaving a painful feeling. 
 
 To such distractions and cheerful recreations I abandoned 
 myself the more readily, and even with a degree of intoxica- 
 tion, because my passionate connexion with Frederica now 
 began to trouble me. Such a youthful affection cherished at 
 random, may be compared to a bomb-shell thrown at night, 
 which rises with a soft brilliant track, mingles with the stars, 
 nay, for a moment, seems to pause among them, then, in de- 
 scending, describes the same path in the reverse direction, and 
 
 * By this daughter he means " Ottilie" in the Elective Affi:iiti*. 
 Treats.
 
 432 TRUTH AND POETRY J FROM MY OWN LIFF. 
 
 At last brings destruction to the place where it has terminated 
 its course. Frederica always remained equal to herself; she 
 seemed not to think, nor to wish to think, that the connexion 
 would so soon terminate. Olivia, on the contrary, who indeed 
 also missed ine with regret, but nevertheless did not lose so 
 much as the other, had more foresight, or was more open. She 
 often spoke to me about my probable departure, and sought to 
 console herself both on her own and her sister's account. A 
 girl who renounces a man to whom she has not denied her 
 affections, is far from being in that painful situation in which 
 a youth finds himself who has gone so far in his declarations 
 to a lady. He always plays a pitif J. part, since a certain 
 survey of his situation is expected of him as a growing man, 
 and a decided levity does not suit him. The reasons of a 
 girl who draws back always seem sufficient, those of a man 
 never. 
 
 But how should a flattering passion allow us to foresee 
 whither it may lead us ? For even when we have quite sen- 
 sibly renounced it, we cannot get rid of it ; we take pleasure 
 in the charming habit, even if this is to be in an altered 
 manner. Thus it was with me. Although the presence of 
 Frederica pained me, I knew of nothing more pleasant than to 
 think of her while absent, and to converse with her. I went 
 to see her less frequently, but our correspondence became so 
 much the more animated. She knew how to bring before me 
 her situation with cheerfulness, her feelings with grace, and I 
 called her merits to mind with fervour and with passion. Absence 
 made me free, and my whole affection first truly bloomed by 
 this communication in the distance. At such moments I could 
 quite blind myself as to the future ; and was sufficiently dis- 
 tracted by the progress of time and of pressing business. I 
 had hitherto made it possible to do the most various things by 
 always taking a lively interest in what was present and be- 
 longed to the immediate moment ; but towards the end all 
 became too much crowded together, as is always the case when 
 one is to free oneself from a place. 
 
 One more event, which happened in an interval, took from 
 me the last days. I found myself in a respectable society at 
 a country-house, whence there was a noble view of the front 
 of the minster, and the tower which rises over it. " It is a 
 pity," said some one, " that the whole was not finished, and
 
 STRASBL'KQ AllMSTJiR. 433 
 
 that we have 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 iu 
 the. middle where the clumsy cross is standing." 
 
 When I had expressed this strong opinion with my accus- 
 tomed animation, a little lively man addressed me, and asked, 
 " Who told you so ? " " The tower itself," I replied ; " I have 
 observed it so long and so attentively, and have shown it so 
 much affection, that it at last resolved to make me this open 
 confession." " It has not misinformed you," answered he ; " I 
 am the best judge of that ; for I am the person officially placed 
 over the public edifices. We still have among our archives 
 the original sketches, which say the same thing, and which I 
 can show to you." On account of my speedy departure I 
 pressed him to show me this kindness as speedily as possible. 
 He let me see the precious rolls ; I soon, with the help of oiled 
 paper, drew the spires, which were wanting in the build- 
 ing as executed, and regretted that I had not been sooner 
 informed of this treasure. But this was always to be the case 
 with me, that by looking at things and considering them, I 
 should first attain a conception, which perhaps would not 
 have been so striking and so fruitful, if it had been given 
 ready made. 
 
 Amid all this pressure and confusion I could not fail to see 
 Frederica once more. Those were painful days, the memory of 
 which has not remained with me. When I reached her my 
 hand from my horse, the tears stood in her eyes, and I felt 
 very uneasy. I now rode along the footpath towards Drusen- 
 heim, and here one of the most singular forebodings took pos- 
 session of me. I saw, not with the eyes of the body, but with 
 those of the mind, my own figure coming towards me, on 
 horseback, and on the same road, attired in a dress which I 
 had never worn ; it was pike-grey (hecht-grau) with somewhat 
 of gold. As soon as I shook myself out of this dream, the 
 figure had entirely disappeared. It is strange, however, that 
 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 strango 
 illusion in some measure calmed me at the moment of parting. 
 
 2 F
 
 434 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 The pain of quitting for ever the noble Alsace, with all that 1 
 had gained in it, was softened, and having at last escaped the 
 excitement of a farewell, I found myself on a peaceful and 
 quiet journey, pretty well recovered. 
 
 Arrived at Mannheim, I hastened with great eagerness to 
 see the hall of antiquities, of which a great boast was made. 
 Even at Leipzig, on the occasion of 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 oasts in the academy, and whatever Oeser 
 chose to say to us on the subject of those works, was enigma- 
 tical enough. How can a conception of the end of art be given 
 to beginners ? 
 
 Director Verschaffel's reception was kind. I was conducted 
 to the saloon by one of his associates, who, after he had opened 
 it for me, left me to my own inclinations and reflections. 
 Here I now stood, open to the most wonderful impressions, in 
 a spacious, four-cornered, and, with its extraordinary height, 
 almost cubical saloon, in a space well lighted from above 
 by the window's 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 populai 
 assembly, through which one was forced to nress. All these 
 noble figures could, bv opening ana 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 
 faat, but the group of Castor and Pollux, that precious though
 
 ANTIQUITIES AT MANNHEIM. 435 
 
 problematical relic, I bad especially to tbank for my happiest 
 moments. I did not know how impossible it was at once to 
 account to oneselt lor a sight affording enjoyim nt. I forced 
 myself to reflect, and little as I succeeded in attaining any 
 sort of clearness, I felt tbat 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 iny 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 dc 
 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 1 was
 
 436 TRUTH AND POETEY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE 
 
 brought back into this sphere. However, the quiet fruitfulnees 
 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. 
 
 ^HE 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 
 fiillyindicate mental health. jAt the very first I put my 
 TfioEEer 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 & 
 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 jge^younger people gather round 
 me and attach themselves to me, by whlch^ indeed, I am at 
 last encumbered with their fate. One unpleasant experience 
 after another could not reclaim "me S-om 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-house? 
 to earn iis brcad.^ 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. Avfter several 
 years I saw him again, when he had grown taller and uore 
 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 wai 
 taken. My Disputation had obtained his applause ; a furthei 
 examination of it, and many a preparation for a future edition.
 
 438 TRUTH AND POETRY; 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-sease. 
 My sister had collected around her a circle of intelligenLand 
 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 plaving 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 Riese, 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 
 ipofitable, the fecoltiers Schlosser certainly stood at the head. 
 r f he v elder, Hieronymus, a profound and elegant jurist, enjoyed 
 .Universal confidence as counsellor. His favourite abode was 
 /amongst his books and papers, in rooms where the greatest 
 ; order prevailed ; there I have never found him otherwise than 
 cheerful and sympathising. In a larger society also he showed 
 himself agreeable and entertaining, for his mind, by extensive 
 reading, was adorned with all the beauty of antiquity. He 
 did not, on occasion, disdain to increase the social pleasures 
 by agreeable Latin poems ; and I still possess several sportive 
 distiches which he wrote under some portraits drawn by me 
 of strange and generally known Frankfort caricatures. Often 
 I consulted with him as to the course of life and business I 
 was now commencing ; and if an hundredfold inclinations 
 and passions had not torn me from this path, he would have 
 been my surest guide. 
 
 Nearer to me, in point of age, was his brother George, who 
 had again returned from Treptow, from the service of the Duke 
 Eugene of Wurtemberg. While he had advanced in know- 
 ledge of the world and in practical talent, he had not re* 
 mained behindhand in a survey of German and foreign litera- 
 ture. He liked, as before, to write in all languages ; but did
 
 MEECK. 439 
 
 vwt further excite me in this respect, as I devoted myself 
 exclusively to German, and only cultivated other languages 
 so far as to enable me, in some measure, to read the best 
 authors in the original. His honesty showed itself the same 
 as ever ; nay, his acquaintance with the world may have oc- 
 casioned him to adhere with more severity and even obstinacy 
 to his well-meaning views. 
 
 Through these two friends, I very soon became acquainted 
 with Merck, to whom I had not been unfavourably announced 
 by Herder^ from Strasburg. This strange man, who had the 
 greatest influence on my life, was a native of Darmstadt. Of 
 his early education I can say but little. After finishing his 
 studies, he conducted a young man to Switzerland, where he 
 remained for some time, and came back married. When I 
 made his acquaintance, he was military paymaster at Darm- 
 stadt. Born with mind and understanding, he had acquired 
 much elegant knowledge, especially in modern literature, and 
 had paid attention to aii 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 
 thoe morally restless mind, by this necessity of treating mea
 
 440 TKTTTH AND POETEY; FKOM 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 relatively 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 noAV 
 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 Hesse, Minister of the Landgrave, 
 Professor Petersen, Eector Wenck, and others, were the natu- 
 rajized 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 1 was animated and advanced by this circle is^ 
 not to be expressed. They readily heard me read aloud my 
 completed or begun works; they encouraged me, when 1
 
 PAPER OK GEKMAN AECHITIJCTUKE. 441 
 
 jpenly and circumstantially told what I was then planning, and 
 blamed me when on every new occasion I laid aside what I 
 had already commenced. Faust had already advanced ; Gotz 
 von Berlichingen was gradually building itself up in my mind ; 
 ..he study of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries occupied 
 toe ; and" the minster had left in me a very serious impres- / 
 ion, which could well stand as a background to such poetical 
 inventions. 
 
 What I had thought and imagined with respect to that 
 style of architecture, I wrote in a connected form. The first 
 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 walls, have to revere 
 the genius who discovered the means of endowing massive 
 walls with variety, of apparently breaking them through, and 
 of thus occupying the eye in a worthy and pleasing manner 
 on the broad surface. The same principle applied to the 
 steeples, which are not, like cupolas, to form a heaven within, 
 but to strive towards heaven without, and to announce to the 
 countries far around the existence of the sanctuary which 
 lies at their base. The interior of these venerable piles I only 
 ventured to touch by poetical contemplation and a pious / 
 tone. 
 
 If I had been pleased to write down these views, the value 
 of which I will not deny, clearly and distinctly, in an intelli- 
 gible style, the paper " On German Architecture, I: M: Ervini 
 a Steinbach," would then, when I published it, have produced 
 more effect, and would sooner have drawn the attention of the 
 native friends of art. But, misled by the example of Herder 
 and Hamann, I obscured these very simple thoughts and 
 observations by a dusty cloud of words and phrases, and 
 ooth 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 flattering to my little self-conceit, since this 
 view was then by no means predominant, much less~was it 
 received in the circle in which I lived. With respect to the 
 chief sense, I adhered to Luther's expression ; in matters of 
 detail, I went to Schmidt's literal translation, and sought to 
 use my little Hebrew as well as possible. That there are 
 contradictions in the Bible, no one will now deny: These 
 they sought to reconcile by laying down the plainest passage as 
 a foundation, and endeavouring to assimilate to that those tEaiT 
 were contradictory and less clear. I, on the contrary, wished 
 to find out, by examination, what passage best expressed the 
 sense of the matter. To this I adhered, and rejected the rest^ 
 as interpolated. 
 
 For a fundamental opinion had already confirmed itself in 
 me, without my being able to say whether it had been im- 
 parted to me, or had been excited in me, or had arisen from 
 my own reflection. It was this, that in anything which_is 
 handed down to us, especially in writing, the real point is the 
 ground, the interior, the sense, the tendency of the. work; 
 that here lies the original, the divine, the effective, the intae^ 
 the indestructible ; and that no time, no external operation, or 
 condition, can in any degree affect this internal primeval 
 nature, at least no more than the sickness of the body affects 
 a well- cultivated soul. Thus, according to my view, the lan- 
 guage, the dialect, the peculiarity, the style, and finally the 
 writing, were to be regarded as the body of every work of 
 mind ; this body, although nearly enough aldn 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. 44: 
 
 organs through which the tradition is made, the latter 01. 
 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 duty to seek out for what is inter- 
 in a book which particularly interests~us, 
 
 and at the same time, above all things, to weigh in what 
 relation it stands to our own inner nature, and how far, by 
 tKat vitality, our own is excited and rendered fruitful. On 
 flie other hand, everything external that is ineffective with 
 respect to ourselves, or is subject to a doubt, is to be con- 
 signed over to criticism, which, even if it should be able 
 to dislocate and dismember the whole, would never succeed 
 in~~depfiving us of the only ground to which we hold fast, 
 nor even in perplexing us for a moment with respect to our 
 nncu formed (juiiliilunce. 
 
 This conviction, sprung from faith and sight, which in all 
 cases that we recognise as the most important, is applicable 
 and strengthening, lies at the foundation of the moral as well 
 as the literary edifice of my life, and is to be regarded as a well- 
 invested and riclily productive capital, although in particular 
 cases ws may be seduced into making an erroneous application. 
 By this notion, the Bible first became really accessible to me. 
 I had, as is the case in the religious instruction of Protestants, 
 run through it several times, nay, had made myself acquainted 
 with it, by way of leaps from beginning to end and back again. 
 The blunt naturalness of the Old Testament, and the tender 
 ndivett of the New, had attracted me in particular instances ; 
 as a whole, indeed, it never properly appeaiuu to me ; but now 
 the diverse characters of the different books no more perplexed 
 me ; I knew how to represent to myself their significance 
 faithfully and in proper order, and had too much feeling for 
 the book to be ever able to do without it. By this very side 
 of feeling I was protected against all scoffing, because I saw 
 its dishonesty at once. I not only detested it, but could even 
 fall in a rage about it ; and I still perfectly remember that in 
 my childishly fanatical zeal I should have completely throttled 
 Voltaire, on account of his Saul, if I could only have got at 
 him. On the other hand, every kind of honest investigation 
 pleased me greatly ; the revelations as to the locality and 
 costume of the East, which diffused more and more light, 1
 
 414- OMUTH AND POETI1Y; PliOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 received with joy, and continued to exercise all my acutenese 
 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 w.<^ '* 
 not our ten commandments which stood upon the tableg 
 that the Israelites did not wander through the desert fcK 
 forty years, but only for a short time ; arid 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 jonly 
 the gospel does not contradict itself.". In this region also I 
 thought I should make all sorts of discoveries. That gift of 
 tongues imparted at Pentecost with lustre and clearness, I 
 interpreted for myself in a somewhat abstruse manner, not 
 adapted to procure many adherents. 
 
 Into one of the chief Lutheran doctrines, which has been 
 still more sharpened by the Hernhuters, namely, that of 
 regarding the sinful principle as predominant in man, I en- 
 deavoured to accommodate myself, but without remarkable 
 success. Nevertheless I had made the terminology of this 
 doctrine tolerably my own, and made use of it in a letter, 
 which, in the character of country pastor, I was pleased to 
 send to a new brother in office. However, the chief theme in 
 the paper was that watchword of the time, called " Tolera-
 
 . 445 
 
 tion," which prevailed among the better order of brains and 
 minds. 
 
 Such things, which were produced by degrees, I had printed 
 at my own cost in the following year, to try myself with 
 the public, made presents of them, or sent them to Eichen- 
 berg's shop, in order to get rid of them as fast as possible, 
 without deriving any profit myself. Here and there a review 
 mentions them, now favourably, now unfavourably, but they 
 soon passed away. My father kept them carefully in his 
 archives, otherwise I should not have possessed a copy of them. 
 I shall add these, as well as some things of the kind which 
 I have found, to the new edition of my works. 
 
 Since I had really been seduced into the sybilline style of 
 such papers, as well as into the publication of them, by Hamann, 
 this seems to me a proper place to make mention of thia 
 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 Klettenberg, 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 knovra
 
 446 TBUTH AND POETBY; FBOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 on what account, returned at once, though a friendly corre. 
 spondence was kept up. I still possess two letters from tho 
 Konigsberger to his patron, which bear testimony to tho 
 wondrous greatness and sincerity of their author. 
 
 But so good an understanding was not to last long. These 
 pious men had thought the other one pious in their own 
 fashion ; they had treated him with reverence as the " Magus 
 of the North," and thought that he would continue to exhibit 
 himself with a reverend demeanour. But already in the 
 Clouds, an after-piece of Socratic Memorabilia, he had given 
 some offence ; and when he now published the Crusades of a 
 Philologist, on the title-page of which was to be seen not only 
 the goat-profile of a horned Pan, but also on one of the first 
 pages, a large cock, cut in wood, and setting time to some 
 young cockerels, who stood before h:~ with notes in their 
 claws, made an exceedingly ridiculous appearance, by which 
 certain church-music, of which the author did not approve, 
 was to be made a laughing-stock, there arose among well- 
 minded and sensitive people a dissatisfaction, which was 
 exhibited to the author, who, not being edified by it, 
 shunned a closer connexion. Our attention to this man 
 was, however, always kept alive by Herder, who, remain- 
 ing in correspondence with us and his betrothed, communi- 
 cated to us at once all that proceeded from that extraordinary 
 man. To these belonged his critiques and notices, inserted 
 in the Kbnigsberg Zeitung, all of which bore a very singular 
 character. I possess an almost complete collection of his 
 works, and a very important essay on Herder's prize paper 
 concerning the origin of language, in which, in the most 
 peculiar manner, he throws flashes of light upon this specimen 
 of Herder. 
 
 I do not give up the hope of superintending myself, or at 
 least furthering, an edition of Hamann's works ; and then, 
 when these documents are again before the public, it will be 
 time to speak more closely of the author, his nature and cha- 
 racter. In the meanwhile, however, I will here adduce some- 
 thing concerning him, especially as emiment men are stiil 
 living who felt a great regard for him, and whose assent 01 
 correction will be very welcome to me. The principle to 
 which all Hamann's expressions may be referred is this : " Al] 
 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, but in 
 every communication by words, that is not exactly poetic, 
 there is, on the contrary, a grand difficulty ; for a word must 
 sever itself, isolate itself, to say or signify anything. Man, 
 while he speaks, must, for the moment, become one-sided ; 
 there is no communication, no instruction, without severing. 
 Now since Hamann, once for all, opposed this separation, and 
 because he felt, imagined, and thought in unity, chose to 
 speak in unity likewise, and to require the same of others, he 
 came into opposition with his own style, and with all that 
 others produced. To produce the impossible, he therefore 
 grasps at every element ; the deepest and most mystical con- 
 templations in which nature and mind meet each other- 
 illuminating flashes of the understanding, which beam forth 
 from such a contact significant images, which float in these 
 regions forcible aphorisms from sacred and profane writers 
 with whatever else of a humorous kind could be added 
 all this forms the wondrous aggregate of his style and his com- 
 munications. If, now, one cannot associate oneself with 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 dun 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; TROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 me that lie was extremely elear in the relations of life ami 
 friendship, and that he had a correct feeling for the positions 
 of persons among each other, and with reference to himself. 
 All the letters which I saw by him were excellent, and much 
 plainer than his works, because here the reference to time, 
 circumstances, and personal affairs, was more clearly promi- 
 nent. I thought, however, that I could discern this much gene- 
 rally, that he, feeling the superiority of his mental gifts, in 
 the most naive manner, always considered himself somewhat 
 wiser and more shrewd than his correspondents, whom he 
 treated rather ironically than heartily. If this held good only 
 of single cases, it applied to the majority, as far as my own 
 observation went, and was the cause that I never felt a desire 
 to approach him. 
 
 On the other hand, a kindly literary communication be- 
 tween Herder and us was maintained with great vivacity, 
 though it was a pity that he could not keep himself quiet. But 
 Herder never left off his teazing and scolding ; and much was 
 not required to irritate Merck, who also contrived to excite me 
 to impatience. Because now Herder, among all authors and 
 men, seems to respect Swift the most, he was among us 
 called the " Dean," and this gave further occasion to all sorts 
 of perplexities and annoyances. 
 
 Nevertheless we were highly pleased when we learned that 
 he was to have an appointment at Biickeburg, which would 
 bring him double honour, for his new patron had the highest 
 fame as a clear-headed and brave, though eccentric man. 
 Thomas Abbt had been known and celebrated in this service ; 
 his country still mourned his death, and was pleased with the 
 monument which his patron had erected for him. Now Her- 
 der, in the place of the untimely deceased, was to fulfil aL 
 those hopes which his predecessor had so worthily excited. 
 
 The epoch in which this happened gave a double brilliancy 
 and value to such an appointment ; for several German princes 
 already followed the example of the Count of Lippe, inas- 
 much as they took into their service not merely learned men, 
 and men of business, properly so called, but also persons of 
 mind and promise. 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 
 he useful to the higher society. As now the regard felt fof
 
 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 
 *o do with important scientific books, belonging to the diffe- 
 rent faculties with stock-works, for which a moderate remu- 
 neration was paid. Butjhe 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 iu 
 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 unfrcquent 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 
 
 2 a
 
 450 TRUTH AND POETRY J FROM MY OWN LIFB- 
 
 not poor condition, with the wealth of the eminent booksellers ; 
 they considered how great was the fame of a Gellert, of a 
 Rabener, and in what narrow domestic circumstances an uni. 
 versally esteemed German poet must struggle on, if he did not 
 render life easy by some other calling. Even the mediocre 
 and lesser minds felt a strong desire to see their situation 
 improved, to make themselves free of the publishers. 
 
 Now Klopstock came forward and offered his " Republic of 
 Letters" (Gelehrten-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 y+
 
 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. Thf 
 nstonishment 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 nov; no further thought about subscriptions and prepay- 
 ments ; nevertheless the wish had been too generally diffused 
 for the attempt not to be renewed. The Dessau publishing- 
 house now offered to do this on a large scale. Learned men 
 and publishers were here, by a close compact, to enjoy, both 
 in a certain proportion, the hoped-for advantage. The neces- 
 sity, so long painfully felt, again awakened a great confidence ; 
 "jut this could not last long ; and after a brief endeavour the 
 parties separated, with a loss on both sides. 
 
 However, a speedy communication among the friends of lite- 
 rature was already introduced. The 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 1 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 eveiy 
 one a happy influence in his own fashion; and from this 
 whirling and working, this living and letting-live, this taking 
 and giving, which was carried on by so many youths, from 
 their own free hearts, without any theoretical guiding-star, 
 according to the innate character of each, and without any 
 special design, arose that famed, extolled, and decried epo-jn 
 in literature, when a mass of young genial men, with all tlut 
 * Annual publications devoted to poetry only. Tr.in*.
 
 452 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FHOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 audacity and assumption which is peculiar to their own pericx 
 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 
 volume^- 
 
 -fat "'what can young people take the hignest 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 meTfiitcTlind tolerant, and more agreeable to^ocleTy 
 than in those brilliant times when nothing reminded me of a 
 want or a fault, and I went storming along completely "mthcut 
 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 veryjlepjhs ; 
 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 wilMive ; and hence 
 I4eok dii huuesL interest uTothers; 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- 
 iucing that calm for my mind, which I felt under the open 
 sky, in the valleys, on the heights, in the fields and in the 
 woods, the situation of Frankfort was serviceable, as it lay in 
 the middle between Darmstadt and Hamborg, two pleasant 
 places, which are on good terms with each other, through 
 the relationship of both courts. I accustomed myself to live 
 on the road, and, like a messenger, to wander about between 
 the mountains and the flat country Often I went alone, o*
 
 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 conscientious 
 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 Gbtz 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\ 
 lor a sick one, and allow it time to grow healthy again, cor- \ 
 poreal exercises, on many a favourable opportunity, came for- i 
 ward with very advantageous effect ; and I was excited in/ 
 many ways to man myself afresh, and to seek new pleasures 
 of life_and__enjoyjnents. 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 pk~ate. an exercise which I had never a*~ 
 tcrcptod, and, in a short time, by practice, reflection, and 
 
 if
 
 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, 
 IJar 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 sank 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 he 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 t3 
 honour and worthily to extend an earthly act by spiritual 
 incitement.
 
 H1STOKY OF THE IMPERIAL CHA.M1 ER. 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, Dt 
 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 Suabiau 
 law, which prevailed in the south of Germany, nor ti:e Saxoa
 
 456 TRUTH AND POETRY; 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 ? 
 But who could urge an efficient arrangement ? The emperor 
 could not favour an institution which seemed to work more 
 against him than for him ; far more reason had he to complete 
 the formation of his own court his own council. If, on the 
 other hand, we regard the interest of the estates, all that 
 they could properly have to do with was the stoppage of 
 bloodshed. Whether the wound was healed, did not so much 
 concern them : and now there was to be, besides, a new ex- 
 pense. I*, may not have been quite plainly seen that by thi&
 
 HISTORY OP THE IMPERIAL CHAMBER. 457 
 
 jistitution 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 " 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 
 >f itself ; it feels the eminence on which it is placed ; it re- 
 cognises its own great political importance. It now endea- 
 vours, by a striking activity, to acquire for itself a more 
 decided respect ; they briskly got through what can sod must 
 be rapidly dispatched, what can be decided at the moment, or 
 what can otherwise be easily judged ; and thus, throughout 
 the empire, they appear effective and dignified. On the 
 other hand, matters of weightier import, the law-suits, pro- 
 perly so called, remained behindhand, and this was no mis- 
 fortune. The only concern of the state is, that possession 
 shall be certain and secure ; whether it is also legal, is of 
 less consequence. Hence, from the monstrous and ever- 
 swelling number of delayed suits, no mischief arose to the 
 empire. Against people who employed force, provision was 
 already made, and with such matters could be settled ; but 
 those, on the other hand, who legally disputed about posses- 
 sion, lived, enjoyed, or starved, as they could ; they died, were 
 ruined, or made it up ; but all this was the good or evil of 
 Individual families. the empire was gradually tranquillised. 
 For the Imperial Chamber was endowed with a legal club-law 
 against the disobedient ; had it been able to hurl the bolt of 
 excommunication, this would havo been more effective. 
 
 But now, what with the somet : mes 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 nece-sarily increased
 
 458 TRUTH AND POKTBT; 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 could double that amount have 
 been raised in Germany ? The proposition to endow the Im- 
 perial Chamber with confiscated church property could not 
 pass, for how could the two religious parties agree to such a 
 sacrifice ? The Catholics were not willing to lose any more, 
 and the Protestants wished to employ what they had gained, 
 each for his own private ends. The division of the empire 
 into two religious parties had here, in several respects, the 
 worst influence. The interest which the estates took in this 
 their court diminished more and more ; the more powerful 
 wished to free themselves from the confederation ; licenses 
 exempting their possessor from being prosecuted before any 
 higher tribunal were sought with more and more eagerness ; 
 the greater kept back with their payments, while the lesser, 
 who, moreover, believed themselves wronged in the estimates, 
 delayed as long as they could. 
 
 How difficult was it, therefore, to raise the supplies necessary 
 for payment. Hence arose a new occupation, a new loss of 
 time for the chamber ; previously the so-called annual " visi- 
 tations" had taken care of this matter. Princes in person, or 
 their councillors, went only for months or weeks to the place 
 of the court, examined the state of the treasury, investigated 
 the arrears, and undertook to get them in. At the same time, 
 \f 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
 
 HISTORY OF THE IMPERIAL CHAMBER. 459 
 
 were to discover and remove, but it was not till afterwards 
 that the investigation and punishment of the personal crimes 
 of its members became a part of their duty. But because 
 parties engaged in litigation always like to extend their hopes 
 a moment longer, and on this account always seek and appeal to 
 higher authorities, so did these " visitators " become a court 
 of revision, from which, at first in determined manifest cases, 
 persons hoped to find restitution, but at last in all cases, delay 
 and perpetuation of the controversy, to which the appeal to 
 the Imperial diet, and the endeavour of the two religious 
 parties, if not to outweigh each other, at any rate to preserve 
 an equilibrium, contributed their part. 
 
 But if one considers what this court might have been with- 
 out such obstacles, without such disturbing and destructive 
 conditions, one cannot imagine it remarkable and important 
 enough. Had it been supplied at the beginning with a suffi- 
 cient number of persons, had a sufficient support been secured 
 to them, the monstrous influence which this body might have 
 attained, considering the aptness of the Germans, would have 
 been immeasurable. The honourable title of " Amphictyons," 
 which was only bestowed on them oratorically, they would 
 actually have deserved, nay, they might have elevated them- 
 selves into an intermediate power, while revered by the head 
 and the members. 
 
 But far removed from such great effects, the court, except- 
 ing for a short time under Charles V., and before the Thirty 
 Years' war, dragged itself miserably along. One often cannot 
 understand how men could be found for such a thankless and 
 melancholy employment. But what a man does every day he 
 puts up with, if he has any talent for it, even if he does not 
 exactly see that anything will come of it. The German espe- 
 cially is of this persevering turn of mind, and thus for three 
 hundred years the worthiest men have employed themselves orj 
 these labours and objects. A characteristic gallery of such 
 figures would even now excite interest and inspire courage. 
 
 For it is just in such anarchical times that the able man 
 takes the strongest position, and he who desires what is good 
 finds himself right in his place. Thus, for instance, the Direc- 
 torium of Fiirstenberg was still held in blessed memory, and 
 with the death of this excellent man begins the epoch of many 
 pernicious
 
 460 TRUTH AND POETBY J FBOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 But all these defects, whether later or earlier, arose from ono 
 only original source, the small number of persons. It was de- 
 creed that the assistants were to act in a fixed order, and accord- 
 ing to a determined arrangement. Every one could know when 
 the turn would come to him, and which of the cases belonging 
 to him it would affect ; he could work up to this point, he 
 could prepare himself. But now the innumerable arrears had 
 heaped themselves up, and they were forced to resolve to select 
 the more important cases, and to deal with them out of order. 
 But with a pressure of important affairs, the decision as to 
 which matter has the more weight, is difficult, and selection 
 leaves room for favour. Now, another critical case occurred. 
 The Referent tormented both himself and the court with a 
 difficult involved affair, and at last no one was found willing 
 to take up the judgment. The parties had come to an agree- 
 ment, had separated, had died, had changed their minds. 
 Hence they resolved to take in hand only the cases of which 
 they were reminded. They wished to be convinced of the 
 continued obstinacy of the parties, and hence was given an 
 introduction to the greatest defects, for he who commends his 
 affairs, must commend them to somebody, and to whom can 
 one commend them better, than to him who has them already 
 in his hands ? To keep this one regularly secret was im- 
 possible ; for how could he remain concealed with so many 
 subordinates, ail 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 
 Rtirred 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," ami 
 hastened its opening. For one hundred and sixty years no 
 regular " visitation." had taken place ; a monstrous chaOvS of
 
 THE "VISITATION" AT WETZLAB, 461 
 
 papers lay swelled up and increased every year, since tho 
 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 
 *-he Protestants, there was necessarily always, according to the 
 diversity of interest, a diversity of opinion, and always aa 
 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 
 i night also be drawn into the impending investigation ; persons 
 c>f consideration, long held in respect, convicted of the most
 
 462 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Bcandalous 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 r 
 sions, was enriched with many allusions. To every one a name 
 with an epithet was assigned. Me they called " Gotz von Ber- 
 lichiagen 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 BO to
 
 WHIMSICAL SOCIETIES AT WETZLAB. 433 
 
 direct several little trifles, that they appearet 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 
 svith 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 
 oIT~publicly, and yet nothing was 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 
 .entured to scoff at this, and to declare the whole matter 
 i bsurd and ridiculous, they were punished by an intrigue being 
 i-urried 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 
 >t' the connexions. 
 
 Into this chivalric state of existence another strange order 
 Siad insinuated itself, which was to be philosophical and mys- 
 tical, and had no name of its own. The first degree was called 
 he " Transition," the second the " Transition's transition," 
 lie third the " Transition's transition to the transition," and 
 he fourth the " Transition's transition to the transition'? 
 transition." To interpret the high sense of this series ol 
 'IrgreetTwas now the duty of the initiated, and this was done 
 a -cording to the standard of a little printed book, in which 
 :hese strange words were explained, or rather amplified, in a 
 umnor still more strange. Occupation with these things was 
 . i ie most desirable pastime. The folly of Behrisch and the 
 i;>TversIty of Lenz seemed here to have united themselves ; I 
 ily repeat that not a trace of purpose was to be found behind 
 . iH'ge veils. 
 
 Although I very readily took part in such fooleries, had first 
 ought into order the extracts from " The Four Sons of Hai-
 
 464 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 mon," 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 
 nioral 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 Gdttingen, he desired some of my poems for Boie's 
 Almanack. 
 
 I thus came into contact witir those, who, young and full of 
 talent, held themselves together, and afterwards effected so 
 nuch 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_J 
 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; we 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 arose a certain 
 moral feud, a mixture of individuals with the government^
 
 DIFFICULTY OF GEKMAN PATKIOTISM. *65 
 
 which, with laudable beginnings, led to inevitably unfortunate 
 results. 
 
 Voltaire, by the protection which he had bestowed on 
 family of Galas, had excited great attention and made himself 1 
 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 imputations and instigations, which 
 the writers of periodical publications and journals with a 
 sort of passion 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 posses- 
 sion of us. 
 
 By his Hermann' 8-ScJilacht,* and the dedication of it to 
 oseph the Second, Klopstock had produced a wonderful ex- 
 citement. The Germans who freed themselves from Roman 
 oppression were nobly and powerfully represented, and tliis 
 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 " Arniinius " <n Tacitus, against the 
 Komani. Traaw. 
 
 2 H
 
 466 TBtrm AND POETUS ; FUOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 ance? what direction should it take, and what effect pro- 
 duce ? At first it was merely a poetical form, and the songs 
 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 were 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 Gbttin- 
 yen Musenalmanach. But from whatever of the above-men- 
 tioned mania had worked itself into me, I shortly endeavoured 
 to free myself in Gotzvon 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 re- 
 veres, 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 
 Resenius 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 aU
 
 TASTE FOB HOMES. 46? 
 
 events, they had their abode out of the Nature, which I under- 
 stood how to imitate. What now could have induced to sub- 
 stitute Woden for Jupiter, and Thor for Mars, and instead 
 of the Southern, accurately described figures, to introduce 
 forms of mist, nay, mere verbal sounds, into my poems ? 
 On the one side, they were related to the equally formless 
 heroes of Ossian, only they were ruder and more gigantic ; 
 on the other, I brought them into contact with the cheerful 
 tale ; for the humoristic vein which runs through the whole 
 Northern nrythus, 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 persona 
 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 ill- 
 deed quite in the spirit of the time, which highly favoured 
 such an appearance ; for the constant reference to nature had 
 at last the effect, that we learned to regard even the works of 
 the ancients from this side. What several travellers had done 
 for explanation of the Holy Scriptures, others had done for 
 Homer. By Guys the matter was introduced ; Wood gave 
 it an impulse. A Gottingen review of the original work, 
 which was at first very rare, made us acquainted with the 
 design, and taught us how far it had been carried out. Wo 
 uow no longer saw in those poems a strained nnd iiiflaU\l 
 2K2
 
 463 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FKOM MY OWN tIFE. 
 
 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 
 <!ny to experience that I was residing in. Wetxlar. The con- 
 versation on the situation of the business of the " Visitation," 
 and its ever-increasing obstacles, the discovery of new offences, 
 was heard every hour. Here was the holy Roman Empire 
 once more assembled, not for mere outward forms, but for an 
 occupation which penetrated to the very depths. But even 
 here that half-empty banqueting-hall on the coronation-day 
 occurred to me, where the bidden guests remained without, 
 because they were too proud. Here, indeed, they had come, but 
 even worse symptoms were to be seen. The want of coherence 
 in the whole, the mutual opposition of the parts, were con- 
 tinually apparent ; and it remained no secret that princes had 
 confidentially communicated to each other this notion, that 
 they must see whether, on this occasion, something could not 
 be gained from the supreme authority. 
 
 What a bad impression the petty detail of all the anecdotes 
 of neglects and delays, of injustices and corruptions, must 
 make upon a young man who desired what was good, and 
 with this view cultivated his mind, every honest person will 
 feel. Under such circumstances, where was a reverence for 
 the law and the judge to arise ? Even if the greatest confi- 
 dence had been placed in the effects of the " Visitation," if 
 it could have been believed that it would fully accomplish its 
 high purpose, there was still no remedy to be found here for 
 a joyous, inwardly-striving youth. The formalities of the 
 proceeding all tended towards delay ; if any one desired to 
 co anything, and to be of any importance, lie was oblige J
 
 -ESTHETIC SPECULATIONS. 469 
 
 bo 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 
 sesthetic 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 IIQJT
 
 470 TRUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 night, j.ay 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. 
 
 Tue 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\j 
 
 v the external with love, and to allow all beings, from man 
 ownwards, as low as they were comprehensible, to act upon 
 le, each after its own kind. Thus arose a wonderful affinity 
 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 t.ha timps_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/siirce I had left the family circle in Sesenheim, and M 
 again my family circle at Frankfort and Darmstadt, a vacuum "' 
 had remained in my bosom which I was not able to fill up ; I 
 therefore found myself in a situation where the inclinations, if 
 they appear in any degree veiled, gradually steal upon us, and 
 can render abortive all our good resolutions. 
 
 And now, when the author has attained this step of his 
 undertaking, he for the first time feels light-hearted in his 
 labour, since from henceforward this book first becomes what it 
 properly ought to be. It has not been announced as an inde- 
 pendent work ; it is much more designed to fill up the gaps of 
 an author's life, to complete much that is fragmentary, and to 
 preserve the memory of lost and forgotten ventures. But what 
 is already done neither should nor can be repeated, and the 
 poet would now vainly call upon those darkened powers of the 
 soul, vainly ask of them to render present again those charm- 
 ing circumstances, which rendered the period in Lahnthal so 
 agruealtle to hiai. Fortunately the genius had already pr*
 
 ORIGIN OF " WERTHEE." 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 Weriher is here 
 meant, requires no further indication, but something is to be 
 gradually revealed, both of the persons introduced in it and 
 the views which it exhibits. 
 
 Among the young men, who, attached to the embassy, had 
 to prepare themselves for their future career of office, was one 
 whom we were accustomed to call only the "Bridegroom..* 
 He distinguished himself by a calm, agreeable deportment, 
 clearness of views, definiteness both in speaking and in acting. 
 His cheerful activity, his persevering industry so much recom- 
 mended him to his superiors, that an appointment at an early 
 period was promised him. Being justified by this, he ventured 
 to betroth himself to a lady, who fully corresponded to his tone 
 of mind and his wishes. After the death of her mother, she 
 had shown herself extremely active as the head of a numerous 
 young family, and had alone sustained her father in his widow- 
 hood, so that a future husband might hope the same for him- 
 self and his posterity, and expect a decided domestic felicity, 
 Every one confessed, without having these selfish ends imme- 
 diately in view, that she was a desirable lady. She belonged to 
 those who, if they do not inspire ardent passion, are neverthe- 
 less formed to create a general feeling of pleasure. A figure 
 lightly built and neatly formed, a pure healthy temperament, 
 with a glad activity of life resulting from it, an unembarrassed 
 management of the necessities of the day all these were given 
 her together. I always felt happy in the contemplation of such 
 qualities, and I readily associated myself to those who possessed 
 them ; and if I did not always find opportunity to render them 
 real service, I rather shared with them than with others the 
 enjoyment of those innocent pleasures which youth can always 
 find at hand, and seize without any great cost or effort. 
 Moreover, since it is now settled that ladies decorate them- 
 selves only for cadi 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 thri all is really 
 done for him alone, and that a whole life could be so carried 
 on without much circumstance and outlay 
 
 r
 
 472 TRUTH AND 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. Lottie 
 for so we shall call her was unpretending in two senses ; 
 first, by her nature, which was rather directed to a genera) 
 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.
 
 TO UNO JERUSALEM. 473 
 
 customed themselves to each other without inten^on, and did 
 not know how they had become so mutually indispensable. 
 During the splendid summer they lived through a real Ger- 
 man idyl, to which the fertile land gave the form and a pure 
 affection the poetry. Wandering through ripe corn-fields, 
 they took delight in the dewy morning ; the song of the lark, 
 the cry of the quail, were pleasant tones ; sultry hours fol- 
 lowed, monstrous storms came on, they grew more and more 
 attached to each other, and by this continuous love many a 
 little domestic annoyance was easily extinguished. And thus 
 one ordinary day followed another, and all seemed to be holi- 
 days, the whole calendar should have been printed red. He 
 will understand me who recollects what was predicted by the 
 happily unhappy friend of the " New Heloise : " " And sitting 
 at the feet of his beloved, he will break hemp, and he will 
 wish to break hemp to-day, to-morrow, and the day after, 
 nay, for his whole life." 
 
 I can say but little, though just as much as may be neces- 
 8.uy, 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, noi saw him. 
 at his own residence, but often met him among his friends. 
 The exf -essions of this young man were moderate but kindly. 
 He took interest in productions of the most different kinds, 
 and esp -cially 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 iis 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 au
 
 474 TRUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 opulent man, he had no occasion either painfully to devote 
 himself to business, or to make pressing applications for au 
 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 (sehnsuchf), 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 o
 
 HOEPFNEB. 475 
 
 these particulars would singly have sufficed to me.t the heart 
 and oppress the bosom. But, that the sweetly suffering youth 
 might be torn out of this state, and that new circumstances 
 might be prepared for new disquiet, the following events 
 occurred : 
 
 Hopfner, professor of law, was at Giessen. He was ac- 
 knowledged and highly esteemed by Merck and Schloeser as 
 clever in his office, and as a thinking and excellent man. 
 I had long ago desired his acquaintance, and now, when these 
 two friends thought to pay him a visit, to negotiate about 
 some literary matters, it was agreed that I should likewise go 
 to Giessen on this opportunity. Because, however as gene- 
 rally happens with the wilfulness of glad and peaceful times 
 we could not easily do anything in the direct way, but, 
 like genuine children, sought to get a jest even out of what 
 was necessary, I was now, as an unknown person, to appear 
 in a strange form, and once more satisfy my desire to appear 
 disguised. One cheerful morning, before sunrise, I went 
 from Wetzlar along the Lahn, up the charming valley; 
 euch 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 Hdpfner'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- 
 buch* or for me to take my leave. Nevertheless, I managed 
 to delay my departure, as I expected with certainty the 
 arrival of Schlosser, whose punctuality was well known tc 
 
 * A "Stammbuch " is a eort of nlbuin for autographs and abort con- 
 tributions. Trans.
 
 476 TRUTH AND POETRY J FROM MY OWN J.IFK. 
 
 me. He came in reality, and after a side glance, took little 
 notice of me. Hopfner, however, drew me into conversa- 
 tion, and showed himself throughout as a humane and kindly 
 man. I at last took my leave, and hastened to the inn, where 
 I exchanged a few hurried words with Merck, and awaited 
 further proceedings. 
 
 The friends had resolved to ask Hopfner to dinner, and also 
 that Christian Heinrich Schmid who had played a part, though 
 a very subordinate one, in German literature. For him the 
 affair was really designed, and he was to be punished in a 
 mirthful manner. When the guests had assembled in the 
 dining-room, I asked, through the waiter, whether the gen- 
 tlemen would allow me to 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 Merck put no restraint upon themselves, and went on 
 about many subjects as freely as if no stranger were present. 
 I now showed myself somewhat bolder, and did not allow my- 
 self to be disturbed when Schlosser threw out at me much 
 that was in earnest, and Merck something sarcastic ; but I 
 directed against Schmid all my darts, which fell sharply and 
 surely on the uncovered places which I well knew. 
 
 I had been moderate over my pint of table- wine, but the 
 gentlemen ordered better wine to be brought, and did not fail to 
 give me some. After many affairs of the day had been talked 
 over, conversation went into general matters, and the question 
 was discussed, which will be repeated as long as there are 
 authors in the world, the question, namely, whether litera- 
 ture was rising or declining, progressing or retrograding? 
 This question, about which old and young, those commencing 
 and those retiring, seldom agree, was discussed with cheerful- 
 ness, though without any exact design of coming decidedly to 
 terms about it. At last 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 bo
 
 JOKE UPON C. H. SCHMID. \f7 
 
 praised or blamed on the whole ; especially it displeases me 
 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 Schmid, who was present, and 
 that class of characterless litterateurs, I was reminded that 
 a simile carried too far at last becomes nothing. " Well, 
 then, I will return to the earth," I replied, " and speak of 
 the ivy. As these creatures have no bones, so this has 
 no trunk; but wherever it attaches itself, it likes to play 
 the chief part. It belongs to old walls, in which there is 
 nothing more to destroy ; but from new buildings it is pro- 
 perly removed. It sucks up the goodness of the trees ; and 
 is most insupportable to me when it clambers up a post, and 
 assures me that this is a living trunk, because it has covered 
 it with leaves." 
 
 Notwithstanding I was again reproached with the obscurity 
 and inapplicability of my similes, I became more and more 
 warm against all parasitical creatures, and as far as my know- 
 ledge of nature then extended, managed the affair pretty well. 
 I at last sang a vivat to all independent men, a pereal to those 
 who forced themselves upon them, seized Hdpfner's hand 
 after dinner, shook it violently, declared him to be the best 
 man in the world, and finally embraced both him atvl the
 
 478 TRUTH A.ND 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 Schmid himself, who was appeased by 
 an acknowledgment of his real merits, and the interest we 
 took in his tastes. 
 
 This ingenious introduction could not do otherwise than 
 animate and favour the literary congress, which was indeed, 
 chiefly kept in view. Merck, active now in aesthetics, now in 
 literature, now in commerce, had stimulated the well-thinking, 
 well-informed Schlosser, whose knowledge extended to so many 
 oranches, to edit the Frankfort Gelehrte Anzeige (Learned Ad- 
 vertiser) for that year. They had associated to themselves 
 Hopfner, and other university-men in Giessen, a meritorious 
 schoolman, Rector Wenck in Darmstadt, and many other good 
 men. Every one of them possessed enough historical and 
 theoretical knowledge in his department, and the feeling of 
 the times allowed these men to work in one spirit. The human 
 and cosmopolitan is encouraged ; really good men justly 
 celebrated are protected against obtrusion of every kind ; their 
 defence is undertaken against enemies, and especially against 
 scholars, who use what has been taught them to the detriment 
 of their instructors. Nearly the most interesting articles are 
 the critiques on other periodical publications, the Berlin Library 
 (ibliothek\ 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 wha* 
 preceded or what followed. Thus a certain theoretico-practicai 
 sense had been awakenod in nie,Uy which I could give account 
 of things, rather as they should be than as they were, without 
 any proper philosophical connection, but by way of leaps. To 
 this was added a very easy power of apprehension, and a
 
 FRANKFORT " GELEHRTE ANZEIGE." 479 
 
 friendly reception of the opinions of others, if they did not 
 Eland 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 works, and to appear independently with objects to which 
 I felt myself equal, and in which I especially took interest. In 
 vain should I endeavour, either by description or reflection, to 
 recall the proper spirit and sense of those days, if the two years 
 of the above-mentioned periodical did not furnish me with the 
 most decisive documents. Extracts from passages, in which I 
 again recognise myself, may appear in future in their proper 
 place, together with similar essays. 
 
 During this lively interchange of knowledge, opinions, and 
 convictions, I very soon became better acquainted with Hopfner, 
 and became very fond of him. As soon as we were alone I spoke 
 with him about subjects connected with his department, which 
 was to be my department also ; and found a very naturally 
 connected explanation and instruction. I was not then as yet 
 plainly conscious that I could learn something from books and 
 conversation, but not from continuous professional lectures. 
 A book allowed me to pause at a passage, and even to look 
 back, which is impossible with oral delivery and a teacher. 
 Often at the beginning of the lecture, some thought in which 
 I indulged laid hold of me, and thus I lost what followed, and 
 altogether got out of the connexion. Thus it had happened 
 to me with respect to the lectures on jurisprudence ; and on 
 this account I could take many opportunities of talking with 
 Hopfner, who entered very readily into my doubts and scruples, 
 and filled up many gaps, so that the wish arose in me to re- 
 main with him at Gicssen, and derive instruction from him, 
 without removing myself too far from Wet/lar inclinations. 
 Against this wish of mine my two friends had laboured, firs*. 
 Taconsciously, 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 about my sister ; a feeling which I 
 concealed irom mysell tne less, as, since my return from Stras- 
 burg, our connexion had been much more intimate. How 
 'much time had we not expended in communicating each 
 little affair of the heart, love-matters, and other matters, which 
 had occurred in the interval. In the field of imagination too, 
 had there not been revealed to me a new world, into which I 
 sought to conduct her also ? My own little productions, and 
 a far-extended world-poetry, was gradually to be made known 
 to her. Thus I made for her impromptu translations of those 
 passages of Homer, in which she could take the greatest inte- 
 rest. Clarke's literal translation I read into German, as well 
 as I could ; my version generally found its way into metrical 
 turns and terminations, and the liveliness with which I had 
 apprehended the images, the force with which I expressed 
 them, removed all the obstacles of a cramped order of words ; 
 what I gave with mind, she followed with mind also. We 
 passed many hours of the day in this fashion ; while, if her 
 company met, the Wolf Fenris and the Ape Hannemann were 
 unanimously called for, and how often have I not been obliged 
 to repeat circumstantially how Thor and his comrades were 
 deluded by the magical giants ! Hence from these fictions 
 such a pleasant impression has remained with me, that they 
 belong to the most valuable things which my imagination can 
 recall. Into the connexion with the Darmstadt people I had 
 drawn my sister also, and now my wanderings and occasional 
 absence necessarily bound us closer together, as I discoursed 
 with her by letter respecting every thing that occurred to me, 
 communicated to her every little poem, if even only a note of 
 admiration, and let her first see all the letters which I received, 
 and all the answers which I wrote. All these lively impulses 
 bad been stopped since- my departure from Frankfort, my re-
 
 MERK'S HATRED OF STUDENTS. 481 
 
 ridence at Wetzlar was not fertile enough for such a corres- 
 pondence, and, moreover, my attachment to Charlotte may* 
 have infringed upon my attentions to my sister ; enough, she 
 felt herself alone, perhaps neglected, and therefore the more 
 readily gave a hearing to the honest wooing of an honourable 
 man, who, serious and reserved, estimable and worthy of con- 
 fidence, had passionately bestowed on her his affections, with 
 which he was otherwise very niggardly. I was now forced to 
 resign myself and grant my friend his happiness, though I did 
 not fail in secret to say confidently to myself, that if the brother 
 had not been absent, it would not have gone so well with the 
 friend. 
 
 My friend ana probable brother-in-law was now very anxious 
 that I sLould return home, because, by my mediation, a freer 
 intercourse was possible, of which the feelings of this man, so 
 unexpectedly attacked by a tender passion, seemed to stand 
 extremely in need. Therefore, on his speedy departure, he 
 elicited from me the promise that I would immediately follow 
 im. 
 
 Of Merck, whose time was free, I hoped that he would delay 
 his sojourn in Giessen, that I might be able to pass some hours 
 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 
 ne often made me laugh by his witty descriptions o/ their mon- 
 strous appearance and behaviour. Hopmer's invitations and 
 my persuasions were of no avail ; I was obliged to depart with 
 Him as soon as possible for Wetzlar. 
 
 I could scarcely wait any time, till I had introduced him to 
 Charlotte, but his presence in this circle did me no good ; for 
 as Mephistopheles, let him go when he will, hardly brings a 
 blessing with him, so did he, by his indifference towards that 
 beloved person, cause me no joy, even if he did not make me 
 waver. This I might have foreseen, if I had recollected that 
 it was exactly those slender, delicate persons, who diffuse a 
 lively cheerfulness around them, without making further pre- 
 tensions, who did not remarkably please him. He very quickly 
 preferred the Juno-form of one of her friends, and since he 
 lacked time to form a close connexion, he bitterly blamed me 
 for not exerting myself to gain this magnificent figure, espe- 
 cially as she was free and without any tie. He thought that 
 I did not understand my own advantage, and that he here 
 very unwillingly perceived my especial taste for wasting my 
 time. 
 
 If it is dangerous to make a friend acquainted with the per- 
 fections of one's beloved, because he also may find her charm- 
 ing and desirable ; no less is the reverse danger, that he may 
 perplex us by his dissent. This, indeed, was not the case here, 
 for I had too deeply impressed upon myself the picture of her 
 amiability for it to be so easily obliterated ; but his presence 
 and his persuasions nevertheless hastened my resolution to 
 leave the place. He represented to me a journey on the 
 Rhine, which he was going to take with his wife and son, in 
 the most glowing colours, and excited in me the desire to see, 
 at last, with my eyes those objects of which I had often 
 heard with envy. Now, when he had departed, I separated* 
 myself from Charlotte with a purer conscience indeed than 
 from Frederica, but still not without pain. This connexion 
 also had by habit and indulgence grown more passionate than 
 was right on my side, while, on the other hand, she and her 
 bridegroom kept themselves with cheerfulness in a measure 
 which could not be more beautiful and amiable, and the secu- 
 rity which resulted just from this caused me to forget every
 
 SEPARATION FEOM CHAELOTTE. 483 
 
 danger. I could not, however, conceal from myself that this 
 adventure must come to a speedy end ; for the union of the 
 young man with the amiable girl depended on a promotion 
 which was immediately to be expected, and as man, if he is in 
 any degree resolute, even dares to make a virtue of neccs ity, 
 so did I embrace the determination voluntarily to depart before 
 I was driven away by anything insupportable.
 
 THIETEENTH BOOK. 
 
 IT was agreed with Merck, that in the fine season we should 
 meet at Coblentz at Frau von Laroche's. I sent to Frankfort 
 my baggage and whatever I might want on my way down the 
 Lahn by an opportunity which offered, and now wandered 
 down that beautiful river, so lovely in it? 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 
 4id not interpret this phenomenon in my favour, and the
 
 THE FAMILY VON LABOCHE. 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, 
 Limburg, 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 Merck, 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, Leucbsenring, who came up 
 from Diisseldorf, 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
 
 436 TRUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 people, that one could not speak or write to a single individual, 
 k without considering it directed to many. One explored one's 
 own heart and that of others, and with the indifference of tho 
 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. 
 
 Leuchsenring's boxes contained many treasures in this sense. 
 The letters of one Julie Bondelli were very much esteemed ; 
 she was famed as a lady of sense and merit, and a friend of 
 *iL 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 Thura and Taxis, hi 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 VOX LA.ROCHE AXD HIS PRECEPTOR. 487 
 
 same way he 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 worldliness 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 noik and talent. If he stopped in her 
 society till late at night, his secretary was, 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. !?uch 
 early experiences were scarcely fitted to give the youth \he 
 most exalted notion of written communications about lovt 
 
 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- 
 '.ism caused great attention ; they were received with great 
 applause by all Protestants and many Catholics. 
 
 If Herr von Luroche opposed everything that can be
 
 488 TRUTH AND POETET: 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 
 ras 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, acd 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 u&-
 
 MEBCK'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 Merck came with his family. Here arose at once new af- 
 finities ; for while the two ladies approached each other, Merck 
 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 Carthaus on 
 tne 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. Merck, 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- 
 f the sort. Since such persons usually change their place, 
 fcnd, as travellers come, now here, now there, they have the 
 advantage of novelty, wliich should neither be envied nor
 
 490 TRUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN I.TFE. 
 
 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 
 these guild- brethren 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. 
 Cr /^However, the strange elements of our little society still 
 r 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. 
 
 Merck 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, Ellfeld, 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 
 Merck 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 naturn, again turned to the con-
 
 EKVIVINO TASTE FOE AET. 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. Ettling 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 little room, where 1 
 found every thing that was requisite foroil painting, and pain ted 
 after nature some simple subjects of still life, one of which, a 
 tortoise-shell knife-handle, inlaid with silver, so astonished my 
 master, who had last 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, 1 
 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 
 Drought 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 
 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 
 x talent, taste, or other inclination that might live in me, I
 
 492 TKUTH AND POETBY ; i'ROM MI OWN LIFE. 
 
 /applied a good part of the day, according to my father' < wish, 
 / in the duties of on advocate, for the practice of which I cl anced 
 I to find the best opportunity. After the death of my grand- 
 1 father, my uncle Textor had come into the council, and con- 
 \ signed to me the little offices to which I was equal ; while the 
 Vbrothers Schlosser did the same. I made myself acquainted 
 with the documents ; myjathgr also read them with much plea- 
 sure, as by means of his^on, 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 
 a harvest of fame as an author. 
 
 Because now, in every epoch, all things are connected to- 
 sther, 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 asjumiane 
 as possible, even in legal affairs. Prisons were improved, 
 crimes excused, punishments lightened, legitimations rendered 
 easy, separations and unequal marriages 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 inn*;:- 
 ence, when the effort was made to recommend to that good- 
 numoured 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 w
 
 STATE OF THE GilRMAN STAGE. 498 
 
 bustled abtnit 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 plaidoyts served 
 us for patterns and for stimulants. *_ 
 
 We were thus on the way to become better orators than Vv 
 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." x i/) 
 
 As the occupations to which one devotes one's day are never\ (^ ^ 
 so serious and pressing that one cannot find time enough in \ iCjft 
 the evening to go to the play, thus was it also with me, who, 1 (,W\> 
 in the want of a really good stage, did not cease thinking of I gjv/fr 
 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 inseyt 
 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 acceleratca oy 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 J 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 Sampsort 
 treated the same themo: whilst the Merchant of London 
 exhibited a misguided youth in the most terrible situa- 
 tion. The French dramas had the same end, but pro- 
 ceeded more moderately, and contrived to please by some 
 accommodation at the end. Diderot'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. Eckhof by his noble per- 
 sonality, 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 
 prompted by 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'* 
 broad comedies. Trans.
 
 SCHROEDEK'S ADAPTATION or ENGLISH COMEDIES. 4&5 
 
 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 
 mto 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 pre- 
 vented 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 country 
 noblemen, comically sets forth their tastes and peculiarities ; 
 but this is done without contempt. Thummers 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 1'OETUY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 delineated in a bitter and cutting manner. All these things 
 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 conditionally7~sinee 
 she doubted that I should go on so ; nay, she even 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 Merck, 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 hnd 
 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 
 ^0 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, t.isting off the fetters of art, 
 thought to try himself in a new fit Id. This defect, or rathei 
 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 COP 
 * The peasant war, answering to the Jayuerie in Fran*?. Tran*. 
 2 R
 
 498 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 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 Morck 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 
 zny dread of the press gradually vanished, I had wished to see 
 printed my comedy Die Mitschmdigen, upon which I set some 
 value, but I found no publisher inclined in my favour. 
 
 Here the technically mercantile taste of my friend 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 
 otners, he used often to reckon up for the booksellers their 
 * Anylice : MaVe hay when the sun shines. Trans.
 
 GOETZ VON BEM.ICHINGES- 499 
 
 profit, which with many works was certainly great, especially 
 if one left out of the account how much was lost by other 
 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 bestowed 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, Merck, 
 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 
 fcid blame, especially as for many years I had constantly fol- 
 jowed 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 would 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 Wieland, 
 who in general opposed the critic, and took my part against 
 him. However, the former review was printed likewise ; I saw 
 on example of the dull state of mind among well-informed 
 2 K 2
 
 500 TBUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 and cultivated men. How, then, would it look with the guat 
 public ! 
 
 The pleasure of talking over such things with Merck, 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 
 was deprived just at this important epoch 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 1 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- 
 Uener. However, this learning and profound knowledge of 
 tune were much doubted by others. A respectable man of 
 business Quite unexpectedly pays me a visit. I find myself
 
 QOETZ TON BEKLTCHINGEN'. 501 
 
 highly honoured by this, especially as he opens his discourse 
 with the praise of my Gotz 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, 
 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 position. Trans.
 
 502 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 of calling before his mind ar.y person of his acquaintance. 
 This person he entreated to sit down, walked up and down by 
 him, remained standing before him, and discoursed with bin: 
 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 cany 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 natuie, 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 nearly such a mental dialogue is akin to a written cor- 
 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 whoever resigns himself to it flies all opposition, 
 and what is more opposed to him than a cheerful society? 
 The enjoyment in life felt by others is to him a painful 
 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 g.ow still more obdurate. The
 
 WEARINESS OF LIFE. 503 
 
 letters of Werther, which are written in this spirit, have go 
 various a charm, precisely because their different contents wero 
 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 retur" of' 
 love. The first love, it is rightly said, is the only one, fl * 
 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 ANIi POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Moreover, a young man soon perceives in others, if not inj^ 
 nimself, 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 w.e 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 art accompanied by an earnest melancholy, which it 
 communicates to every one who occupies himself \vith it. The 
 intellectual Briton, from his youth upwards, sees himself sur- 
 rounded by a significant world. \\ hich 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 thei 1 fortune in worldly 
 occupations, have taken parts, principal or subordinate, in 
 parliament, at court, iu the ministry, in situations with the
 
 EFFECT OF ENGLISH POETRY. 505 
 
 embassy, shown their active co-operation in the internal 
 troubles and changes of state and government, and if iiot in 
 themselves, at any rate in their friends and patrons, more fre- 
 quently made sad than 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, band in hand, 
 Lead him to death, and make him understand, 
 After a search BO 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 commou.
 
 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 and hostility, he exercises 
 his 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 ro3 7 al father to avenge
 
 SUICIDE. 507 
 
 But that to all this melancholy a perfectly suitable locality 
 might not be wanting, Ossian had charmed us even to the 
 Ultima 7%ule, 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 Werther produced its grea 
 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
 
 503 TKUTH AND PUETHY; FBOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 pain I suffered in it. and the exertion it cost me to free rnyselt 
 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 
 lie 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 J extinguished the candle, I tried whether I could 
 Fucceed 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- 
 certed 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 altesation, 
 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 
 
 * "Jialbheit," "Halfneaa*' if there were such a word would be tlic 
 proper expression. Trans.
 
 510 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 contact with the whole circle, which consisted of persons woo 
 had partly contributed to the marriage, partly wished for it a 
 happy result. The Dean of St. Leonhard, Dumeitz, 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 
 Alessina-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 
 olessed 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 tho 
 dream, and, because I not only visibly contemplated that 
 which had occurred to him and me, but something similar
 
 WEETHER. 511 
 
 vhich befel me at the moment, also stirred me to passionate 
 "motion, 1 could not do otherwise than brpathe 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 [ 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 Werther in four weeks without any scheme 
 of the whole, or treatment of any part, being previously put 
 on paper. 
 
 The manuscript, which was 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, a, 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 nostrum 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 
 t'> reality, that such a moral was to be imitated, and that at
 
 512 THUTH A.ND 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 : Merck 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 sigu of admiration, I adopted a more 
 pathetic strain, but what were my feelings, when at a pause 
 which I made, he struck rue 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 Merck, 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
 
 EFFECT 01? WEETHER. 513 
 
 aeration I received for it was not entirely swallowed up by 
 the debts which I had been forced to contract on account of 
 Gotz von Bet-licking en. 
 
 The effect of this little book was great, nay immense, and 
 chiefly because it exactly hit the temper of the times. For as 
 it requires but a little match to blow up an immense mine, so 
 the explosion which followed my publication was mighty, 
 from the circumstance that the youthful world had already 
 undermined itself; and the shock was great, because all extra- 
 vagant demands, unsatisfied passions, and imaginary wrongs, 
 were suddenly brought to an eruption. It cannot be expected 
 of the public that it should receive an intellectual work intel- 
 lectually. In fact, it was only the subject, the material part, 
 that was considered, as I had already found to be the case 
 among my own friends ; while at the same time arose that old 
 prejudice, associated with the dignity of a printed book, 
 that it ought to have a moral aim. But a true picture of life 
 has none. It neither approves nor censures, but developes 
 sentiments and actions in their consequences, and thereby 
 enlightens and instructs. 
 
 Of the reviews I took little notice. I had completely 
 washed my hands of the matter, and the good folks might 
 now try what they could make of it. Yet my friends did not 
 fail to collect these things, and as they were already initiated 
 into my views, to make merry with them. The Joys of 
 Young Werther, with which Nicolai came forth, gave us occa- 
 sion for many a jest. This otherwise excellent, meritorious, 
 and well-informed man, had already begun to depreciate and 
 oppose everything that did not accord with his own way of 
 thinking, which, as he was of a very narrow mind, he held to 
 be the only correct way. Against me, too, he must needs try 
 his strength, and his pamphlet was soon in our hands. The 
 very delicate vignette, by Chodowiecki, gave me much delight ; 
 as at that time I admired this artist extravagantly. The 
 jumbling medley itself was cut out of that rough house- 
 hold stuff, which the human understanding, in its homely 
 limits, takes especial pains to make sufficiently coaree. 
 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 t) 
 pass current up to the two hundred and fourteenth page, and 
 then, when the desolate mortal is preparing for the fatal step 
 
 2 L
 
 514 TEUTH AND POETEY j FEOM 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; W'erther bitterly complains that his deliverance by 
 chickens' blood has turned out so badly. His life is saved, it is 
 true, but he has shot his eyes out. He is now in despair at 
 being her husband, without being able to see her ; for the 
 complete view of her person would to him be much dearer 
 than all those pretty details of which he could assure himself 
 by the touch. Charlotte, as may be imagined, has no great 
 catch in a blind husband, and thus occasion is given to abuse 
 Nicolai pretty roundly, for interfering unasked in other peo- 
 ple's affairs. The whole was written in a good-natured spirit, 
 and painted, with prophetic forebodings, that unhappy, con- 
 ceited humour of Nicolai's, which led him to meddle with 
 things beyond his compass, which gave great annoyance both 
 to himself and others, and by which, eventually, in spite of his 
 undoubted merits, he entirely destroyed his literary repu- 
 tation. The original of this jeu d'esprit was 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 hy the water scar'd,
 
 EFFECT OF WEETHEK. 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 Werthtr, 
 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 TKTTTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 I took leave to model my Charlotte according to the shape and 
 qualities of several pretty girls, although the chief charac- 
 teristics were taken from the one I loved best. The inqui- 
 sitive public could therefore discover similarities in various 
 ladies ; and even to the ladies themselves it was not quite in- 
 different to be taken for the right one. But these several Char- 
 lottes caused me infinite trouble, because every one who only 
 looked at me seemed determined to know where the proper one 
 really resided. I endeavoured to save myself, like Nathan* 
 with the three rings, by an expedient, which, though it might 
 suit higher beings, would not satisfy either the believing or the 
 reading public. I hoped after a time to be freed from such 
 tormenting inquiries, but they pursued me through my whole 
 life. I sought, on my travels, to escape them, by assuming an 
 incognito, but even this remedy was, to my disappointment, 
 unavailing, and thus the author of the little work, had he even 
 done anything wrong and mischievous, was sufficiently, I may 
 say disproportionately, punished by such unavoidable impor- 
 tunities. 
 
 Subjected to this kind of infliction, I was taught but too 
 unequivocally, that authors and their p iblic are separated by 
 an immense gulf, of which, happily, neither of them have any 
 conception. The uselessness, therefore, of all prefaces I had 
 long ago seen ; for the more pains a writer takes to render his 
 vie-vYS 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 thoF? 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 tho 
 acquaintance of this strange young author, who had stepped 
 forward so unexpectedly and so boldly. They desired to see 
 him, to speak to him, and, even at a distance, to hear some- 
 
 * " Nathan the wise," in Lessing's play, founded on Boccacio's tale of 
 the rings. T^am.
 
 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 
 uoise of daylight, where one is lost in others, where one is led 
 astray, alike by sympathy and by coldness, by praise ana by 
 blame, because outward contact never accords with the epoch 
 of our inner culture, and therefore, as it cannot further us, 
 must necessarily injure us. 
 
 Yet more than by all the distractions of the day, the author 
 was kept from the elaboration and completion of greater works 
 by the taste then prevalent in this society for dramatizing 
 everything of importance which occurred in actual life. What 
 that technical expression (for such it was in our inventive society) 
 really meant, shall here be explained. Excited by intellectual 
 meetings on days of hilarity, we were accustomed, in short 
 extemporary performances, to communicate, in fragments, all 
 the materials we had collected towards the formation of larger 
 compositions. One single simple incident, a pleasantly naive 
 or even silly word, a blunder, a paradox, a clever remark, 
 personal singularities or habits, nay, a peculiar expression, and 
 whatever else would occur in a gay and bustling life took the 
 form of a dialogue, a catechism, a passing scene, or a drama, 
 often in prose, but oftener in verse. 
 
 By this practice, carried on with genial passion, the really 
 poetic mode of thought was established. We allowed objects, 
 events, persons, to stand for themselves in all their bearings, 
 our only endeavour being to comprehend them clearly, and 
 exhibit them vividly. Every expression of approbation 
 or disapprobation was to pass in living forms before the 
 eyes of the spectator. These productions might be called ani- 
 mated epigrams, which, though without edges or points, were 
 richly furnished with marked and striking features. The Jahr- 
 marktsfest (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 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FHOM MY OWN" LIFE. 
 
 served as the jest. The prologue to Bahrdfs Newest Eevelations 
 may be looked upon as a document of another kind ; the smallest 
 pieces are among the miscellaneous poems, a great many have 
 been destroyed or lost, and some that still exist do not admit 
 of being published. Those which appeared in print only in- 
 creased the excitement of the public, and curiosity about the 
 author ; those which were handed about in manuscript enter- 
 tained the immediate circle, which was continually increasing. 
 Doctor Bahrdt, then 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 Mo'ser claims especial mention. The little essays 
 on political subjects by this incomparable man, had been printed 
 some years before in the Osnaburg Intelligenzbldtter, 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. 
 
 Osuaburg, 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 hie 
 collection "patriotic fancies," although everything in it it 
 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 bis 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 TRUTH AJTD POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 government undertakes or carries out, that he may bring it to 
 their compreheiision in its true light. This is by no means 
 done in a learned manner, but in those varied forms which 
 may be called poetic, and which, in the best sense of the 
 word, must certainly be considered rhetorical. He is always 
 elevated above his subject, and understands how to give a 
 cheerful view of the most serious subjects ; now half-concealed 
 behind this or that mask, now speaking in his own person, 
 always complete and exhausting his subject, at the same 
 time always in good humour; more or less ironical, tho- 
 roughly to the purpose, honest, well-meaning, sometimes rough 
 and vehement; and all this so well regulated, that the spirit, 
 understanding, facility, skill, taste, and character of the author 
 cannot but be admired. In the choice of subjects of general 
 utility, deep insight, enlarged views, happy treatment, pro- 
 found yet cheerful humour, I know no one to whom I can 
 compare him but Franklin. 
 
 Such a man had an imposing effect upon us, and greatly 
 influenced a youthful generation, which demanded something, 
 sound, and stood ready to appreciate it. We thought we could 
 adapt ourselves to the form of his exposition ; but who could 
 hope to make himself master of so rich an entertainment, and 
 to handle the most unmanageable subjects with so much ease : 
 
 But this is our purest and sweetest illusion one which we 
 cannot resign, however much pain it may cause us through 
 life that we would, where possible, appropriate to ourselves, 
 nay, even reproduce and exhibit as our own, that which we 
 orizc end honour in others. 
 
 END OF THE THIRTEENTH BOOK 
 
 LGKlXlK: PRINTED BT WILLIAM CLOWES D SONS, L!M!TtI>, 
 STAMFORD STREET AND CHASING CROSS.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF GOETHE. 
 
 Tliit index includes the completion of the Autobiography contained in 
 Vol. ii., but not the " Annals," which are separattly indexed. 
 
 ABEL, musician, i. 272 
 
 Abelard, the old and the new, i. 
 
 155 
 Abraham, and God, i. Ill ; and 
 
 Lot, i. 106 
 Abt, Thomas, i. 448 
 Accomplices, the, i. 242, 299, 357, 
 
 498 
 
 Accoucheurs, i. 1 
 Acerra Philologica, the, i. 23 
 Action in life, i. 185 
 Aesop's Fubles, i. 222 
 Aesthetic speculations, i. 469 
 Affections, culture of the, i. 303 
 Ah! why resistless, etc., song, ii. 
 
 163 
 
 Albrecht, Dr., the rector, i. 101 
 Alchemical studies, i. 293, 294, 
 
 357 
 
 Allesina. See Alosino-Schweizer. 
 Almanach, Boie's, i. 464 
 Alms-bag, Lavater's, ii. 137 
 Alosino-Schweizer family, i. 510 
 Alsace, i. 322, 334, 416, 431. See 
 
 also Strasburg, &c. 
 Altar, Goethe's boyish, i. 31 
 Alum works at Dutweil, i. 362 
 American Revolution, the, ii. 97 
 Amos, J., of Comna. See Comenius. 
 Amusements, i. 124 
 
 Anatomy, &c., studies in, i. 321 
 Andre, John, composer, ii. 80, 89, 
 
 91 
 
 Annette, i. 236, 210 
 Anson's Voyage, i. 23 
 Antipathies, i. 481 ; subjugation of, 
 
 321 
 Antiquities, study of, i. 8, 206 ; at 
 
 Mannheim, i. 434 
 Antiquity, ii. 24 
 Apollo Belvedere, the, i. 434 
 Architecture, i. 435 ; Gothic and 
 
 German, 330, 331, 333; studies 
 
 in, 304 
 Argenville, D ', his Livea of the 
 
 Painters, i. 267 
 Aristotle, i. 185 
 Arnold, Gottfried, his History of 
 
 the Church and of Heretics, i. 
 
 300 
 Art, in Leipzig, i. 269 ; studies in, 
 
 484, 491. See also under Draw- 
 ing, Painting, &c. 
 Art and Nature, i. 4'22 
 Artistic vision, Faculty of, i. 274 
 Auerstiidt, accident at, i. 282, 288 
 Austria, Archduke Joseph. See 
 
 under Joseph II. 
 Authors, on, i. 500 ; and publishers, 
 
 449, 498 ; and readers, 516
 
 522 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Autobiography, Goethe's, i. 470, ii. 
 61, 156 
 
 BADEN, Charles, Margrave of, i. 
 
 448, ii. 68 
 
 , Margravine of, ii. 68 
 
 Earth, Dr., i. 518 
 
 Baschberg, i. 360 
 
 Basedow, J. P., ii. 16, 20, 21 
 
 Bathing, ii. 112, 134 
 
 Bayle, i. 200, ii. 62 
 
 Beaumarchais' Ne'moire, and Cla- 
 
 vigo, ii. 58 
 
 Beautiful Magelone, i. 23 
 Beauty, want of, in women, i. 192 
 Beer-drinking, effects of, i. 282 
 Behrisch, E. W., i. 252, 256, 259, 
 
 2G4, 299 
 
 Belvedere, ii, 156 
 Bengel, commentator, i. 233 
 Benuer, Dr., i. 57 
 Berendis, ii. 156 
 Bernhard, N., of Offenbach, ii. 82, 
 
 89 
 
 Bertuch, F. J. J., ii. 155 
 Betrothal, ii. 93 
 Biberich, i. 189 
 Bible, tl.e. i. 286; an English 
 
 commentary on, i. 104 ; inspira- 
 tion of, i. 232 ; Luther's, i. 427 ; 
 
 myths of the, i. 153; and the 
 
 drama, ii. 138. See also under 
 
 Religion, &c. 
 history, a summary of, i. 105 
 
 et seq. 
 studies, i. 101, 104, 105, 117, 
 
 232, 442, 443 
 Boarding-school, Pfeil't-, i. 97, 193, 
 
 227 
 Bodmer, J. J., i. 115, 119, 121, 223, 
 
 230 
 
 Boerhaave, i. 295, ii. 64 
 Bo'hiue, Prof, and Frau, L 206, 
 
 207, 213, 244, 296 
 Bole's Almanack, i. 464 
 Boisseree, Sulpiz, i. H33 
 Bondcli, Julie, i. 48a 
 Book-burning, a, in Frankfort, i. 
 
 123 
 Bcok-trade, the, i. 449 
 
 Books, popular, in Frankfort, i. 23 
 
 preferable to lectures, i. 479 
 
 Booksellers and authors, i. 498 
 
 Botany, ii. 65 
 
 Boucher, ii. 153 
 
 Bower's History of the Popes, i. 
 
 118 
 
 Boy priest, the, i. 81 
 Breitinger. and his work on poetry, 
 
 i. 221, 223 
 Breitkopf, B. C., printer, and his 
 
 family, i. 22C, 278, 285, 449 
 
 , J. G. I., printer, i. 278 
 
 Brinkmann, painter, i. 69 
 
 Brinn, Frederica Elizabeth. See 
 
 Frederica. 
 
 , J. J., pastor, i. 372 et seq., 394 
 
 Brockes, i. 342 
 
 Broglie, Marshal de, i. 77, 150 
 
 Brueker, i. 185 
 
 Brunswick, Duke Ferdinand of, 
 
 i. 77 
 
 Brutes and man, ii. 65 
 Buchsweiler, i. 359 
 Buff, Charlotte. See Charlotte. 
 Buffon, i. 216 
 Biirgel, ii. 155 
 Burger, i. 46 1, 500 ; his " Leonore," 
 
 ii. 83 
 Burials, in Frankfort, i. 58 
 
 CAKE-GIVING custom, i. 379 
 Calvinists, of Frankfort, ii. 103; 
 
 and Lutherans, i. 132 
 Canitz, painter, i. 61 
 Car -playing, i. 296, 316 
 Carlsruhe, ii. llS 
 Catherine, Empress, ii. 97 
 Catholics. See Roman Catholics. 
 Caylus, painter, i. 268 
 Cellarius (Christof), i. 21, 22 
 Ceremonies, state, i. 168 
 Changes, moral, and other, i. 504 
 Charles VII., Emperor, i. 29, 32, 150 
 Charlnfe, i. 481, 482 
 Chemistry, studies in, i. 294 
 Children, cruelty, &c., in, i. 4; 
 
 frightening, i. 4 ; HI raries for, 
 
 i. 22 ; and youths, i. 69 
 Chodowiecki, artist, i. 513
 
 IXDEX. 
 
 Christ, different views of, by men 
 
 anil women, ii. 14 ; Lavater'a 
 
 view of. ii. 130 
 Christ, Prof., i. 268 
 Christian maxim, a, i. 242 
 " Christian or Atheist ? " ii. 
 Christianity and Deism, i. 28G 
 Church, a Stite, i. 408 
 
 Protestantism, i. 29 
 
 attendance, &c., i. 245 
 Clavichord, the, i. 5 
 Clavigo, i. 453, ii. 58 
 Cleitryinan, a Protestant country, 
 
 i. 308 
 
 Clodius, Prof., i. 255, 256 
 Clucr, secretary, i. 115 
 Coal-ininr at Dutwei 1 , i. 362 
 Coburg Gymnasium, the, i. 20 
 Coffee, effects of, i. 282 
 Cologne, ii. 22, 24 ; the cathedral, 
 
 i. 333, ii. 24 
 
 Comedies, F.njrlish, i. 405 
 Comcnius' Orbis Pictus, i. 23 
 Comic actors, i. 41)4 
 Common-s. nse. i. 231. 273 
 Conception and perception, i. 270 
 Conftmtiota of a Seuutiful Soul, the, 
 
 i. 290 
 
 C->rneille, i. 87, 418 
 Cornelia, G. ethe's sister. See 
 
 Goethe, Cornelia. 
 
 Coronation at Frankfort, i. 165, 178 
 Coronat ous. Imperial, i. 11 
 Court life, ii. 43, 99 
 Ciespel, J. B.,i. 194, ii. 57 
 Crcuz, painter, i. 61 
 Criticism, i. 218, 221, 229, 235, 
 
 436, 478, 499 
 Criticisms, early, i. 478 
 Ciockery episode, the, in Goethe's 
 
 child-life, i. 2 
 Cruelty in chillrcn, i. 95 
 Cruseus. Dr., i. 233 
 Curiosity, i. 70 
 
 DAEMONIC principle, the, in life, 
 
 ii. 157, 159, 164 
 Dancing, i. 334, 397 
 Dancing-mubtcr's daughters, the, 
 
 i. 335 
 
 Danish History, Malli-t's, i. 466 
 
 Daries, i. 184 
 
 Darnibtadt, i. 162, 440, 464, ii. Ill 
 
 Daun, Count, i. 34 
 
 ''Dean, tlie," a nickname for 
 
 Herder, i. 448 
 
 Decoys and habits in life, i. 134 
 De Foe, i. 23 
 Deism, i. 286 
 
 Dclf, Mdlle., ii. 92, 165, 167 
 Deluge, the, i. 420 
 Derones, actor, and his sister, i. 72, 
 
 75,85 
 
 Despotism, ii. 151 
 Dessau, Prince of, i. 281 
 Destiny, ii. 168 
 Destouches, P. N., i. 71 
 Deutsche Merkur, the, i. 499, ii. 41 
 Devin du Village, the, i. 71 
 Dialects, German, i. 210 
 Diderot, i. 422 
 Dietetics, i. 299 
 Dietrich, von, 366, 367 
 Dilettantism, i. 20 
 Disguise, a, i. 379 
 Disputation at Law, the, i. 407, 
 
 437 
 Dodd's "Beauties of Shakespeare," 
 
 i. 426 
 
 D'Orville. See Orville. 
 Drama, the, and the Bih'e, ii. 138 
 Dramatic theories, i. 87 ; unities, 
 
 &c., i. 87 
 Drawing, from nature, i. 187; 
 
 studies, i. 93, 95, 265, 266, 297, 
 
 ii. 108 
 
 Dreams, i. 27 
 Dresden, i. 271 ; a shoemaker of, 
 
 i. 272 ; state of, i. 277 
 Drcs !en Gallery, the, i. 275, 351 
 Dress, i. 209. See also Tailoring, 
 
 &c. 
 
 Drinking beer, effects of, i. 282 
 Drollinger, pointer, i. 01 
 Duel with Deiones, i. 75 
 Dumcix, D. F., Dean of St 
 
 Leonards, i. 510 
 
 Diirkheim. Hcrr von, ii. 160, 161 
 DiiBKeldorf Gallery, ii. 28 
 Dutweil coal*, i. 303
 
 524 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 EARTHQUAKE, the, at Lisbon, i. 19 
 
 Eckhoff, actor, i. 494 
 
 Edda, fablea of the, i. 466 
 
 Education, verse in, i. 20, 22 
 
 Egraont, Count, ii. 157 
 
 Egmont, ii. 151, 153, 157, 162 
 
 Ehrenieich, M., i. 491 
 
 Ehrmann, Dr. J. F., i. 321 
 , J. C., i. 321 
 
 Eichenberg, bookseller, i. 445 
 
 Elberfeld, ii. 28 
 
 Elective Affinities, the, i. 431 
 
 Electors, the, of Germany, i. 158, 
 165, 172 
 
 Electricity, i. 96 
 
 Emmendingen, ii. 114 
 
 " Emperor Octavian, the," i. 23 
 
 Encyclopedists, the, i. 421 
 
 Engelbach, i. 358 
 
 English, the, i. 369 ; their melan- 
 choly, i. 504, 507; their poetry, 
 i. 505 
 
 English studies, i. 99, 193, 200 
 
 Englishman, an, i. 193 
 
 Engravings, bleaching, &c., i. 99 
 
 Enthusiasm, ii. 23 
 
 Equality, i. 121 
 
 Ernesti, J. A., i. 202, 216, 233 
 
 Erthal, Baron von, i. 150 
 
 Erwin and Elmire, ii. 150 
 
 Erwin, a Steiubach. architect, i 
 331, 441 
 
 Eschenburgh, i. 280 ; his Shake- 
 speare, i. 427 
 
 E^terhazy, Prince, i. 150, 173 
 
 Etching, studies in, i. 279, 
 298 
 
 Eternity, Lavater on, ii. 137, 
 139 
 
 Ethics, the foundation of, i. 286 
 
 Etling, M., i. 491 
 
 Ettenburg, ii. 156 
 
 Eulenspiegel, i. 23 
 
 Ewald, J. L., pastor, ii. 83, 86 
 
 Exercise books, i. 100 
 
 Experience ? what is, i. 261 
 
 Experience, Zimmerman's work 
 on, ii. 51 
 
 FABLES and poetry, i. 222 
 
 Fahlmer, Mdlle., ii. 22 
 
 Fair Melmina, the, i. 23 
 
 Fairs in Frankfort, i. 12 
 
 Faith and knowledge, ii. 15 
 
 Faithless Boy, the, ii. 25 
 
 Famous people, ii. 71 
 
 Fashions, women's, i. 191 
 
 Fault-rinding, i. 354 
 
 Faults, growth of, i. 504 
 
 Faust, i. 356, 441, ii. 5, 113 
 
 Fencing, lessons in, i. 119 
 
 Feti, Dominico, i. 351 
 
 Fettmilch rebels, the, i. 121 
 
 Fiction and real life, i. 314 
 
 Fictitious names, i. 72 
 
 Figaro, the, of Beaumarchais, i. 243 
 
 Fire, scene at a, ii. 69 
 
 Fluchslund, Maria Caroline (after- 
 wards Herder), i. 440 
 
 Flattery, mutual, i. 346 
 
 Fleischer, J. G., bookseller, i. 203 
 
 Forfeits and kissing, i. 393 
 
 Furtunatus, i. 24 
 
 Fortune-telling, i. 327 
 
 Four Sons of Haimon, i. 23 
 
 France before the Devolution, ii. 
 98. See also under French, &o. 
 
 Francis L, Emperor, i. 32, 167, 
 178; his coronation, i. 161 
 
 Frankfort-on-the-Maine, i. 6, 25, 
 121, 201, 288, ii. 96, 98, 103, 110, 
 163; story of the Bad Wall thero, 
 i. 38 : Goethe's birth-place in 
 Stag-Ditch, i. 3, 7, 1 6 ; celebrities 
 of, i. 55, 129; its constitution, ii. 
 103; coronation at, i. 165 ; Coun- 
 cil-House there, i. 9 ; election 
 there, i. 149, 155; occupation of, 
 by the French, i. 64 ; painters of, 
 i. 17, 69 ; the Seven Years' War 
 and, i. 32, 55; the theatre, ii. 
 82 ; the Schotfen of, i. 27 
 
 Frankfurter gelehrte Anzeigen, the, 
 478 
 
 Franklin, Benjamin, ii. 97 
 
 Fr.derica, i. 374, 379, 388,390, 431, 
 433, 452, 453; correspondence, 
 i. 399 
 
 Frederici, of Gtra, his pianos, i. 97 
 
 Frederick II. of Prussia, i. 32, 33,
 
 INDEX. 
 
 525 
 
 55, 57, 156, 236, 237, 251, 417, 
 465, ii. 97 ; and the Seven Years' 
 War, i. 252 ; and Voltaire, ii. 45 
 
 Freemasonry, ii. 96 
 
 Freethinking in religion, i. 133 
 
 French, the, i. 200, 414; in Stras- 
 burg, i. 3J3; and German pain- 
 ters, ii. 153 
 
 , the, criticism of, i. 418 ; their 
 
 influence in Germany, i. 237 ; 
 their language,!. Tl, 414; their 
 literature, i. 418 ; their opinions, 
 i. 308; their painters, ii. 153; 
 their philosophy, i. 425; theatre 
 of. the, i. 71, 81, 423; their 
 tragedy, i. 423 
 - studies, i. 71 
 
 Fresenius, J. P., pastor, i. 117 
 Freyburg Cathedral, i. 333 
 Friendship and love, ii. 108 
 Funerals, silent, i. 58 
 
 GALL, Dr., i. 387 
 
 Garve, Christian, i. 235 
 
 Gelehrte Anzeigen, the. See Frank- 
 furter geleJirte Anzeigen. 
 
 Gellcrt, O. F., the poet, i. 61, 206, 
 207, 215, 222, 244, 250, 255, 2% 
 
 Genius, application of the word, 
 ii. 141 
 
 Geognosy, it. 124 
 
 Geology, ii. 124 
 
 German, archit cture, i. 331, 833, 
 441 (tee also under Gothic); 
 dialects, i. 210; history, lessons 
 in, i. 10; literature, i. 214, 218, 
 342, 389 (see also under Litera- 
 ture, &c.) ; painters, ii. 153, 331 ; 
 patriotism, i. 465 ; poetry, i. 236, 
 ii. 104; universities, i. 211 
 
 Architecture, estay on, i. 441 
 
 Art, on, i. 331 
 
 Mercury, the, i. 499 ; ii. 41 
 
 Germans, the, and the French, i. 
 417 ; and the English, i. 505 
 
 Germany, i. 465, ii. 131 ; Empire 
 of, i. 151 (see also under Charles 
 II., Imperial Chamber, Joseph 
 II., Ac.) ; rise of, i. 218 ; ruling 
 princes of, ii. 98 ; state of, ii. 98, 
 
 156. See also under Seven Years' 
 War, &c. 
 
 Gerock, Antoinette, ii. 58 
 
 family, ii. 116 
 
 Gerstenberg, i. 228 
 
 Gessner, i. 228, 230, ii. 104, 134; 
 his Isagoge, i. 200 
 
 Geyser, engraver, i. 265, 279 
 
 Giovinazzi, teacher, i. 5 
 
 Gleim, J. W. L., poet, i. 228, 238, 
 344, ii. 22; his war songs, i. 237 
 
 Gnats, the, of the Rhine, i. 402 
 
 God, opinions on, i. 19, 291, ii. 26 
 (see also under Religion, &c.); 
 and Abraham, i. Ill; and the 
 gods, i. 133 ; and Lucifer, i. 300 ; 
 and Nature, i. 30, 425 See also 
 under Nature. 
 
 Gods, Heroes, and Wieland, ii. 46 
 
 Godfather and gossip, the \vori!s, 
 i. 67 
 
 Goethe, the name, i. 351 
 
 , Cornelia Friederike, after- 
 wards Schlosser, Goethe's sister, 
 i. 21, 50, 94, 146, 170, 190, 191, 
 193, 288, 438, 480, 496, ii. 23, 
 114, 148 
 
 , Friedrich Georg, Goethe's 
 
 paternal grandfather, i. 52 
 
 , Joliann Kaspar, Goethe's 
 
 father, i. 4, 5, 32, 55, 59, 65, 67, 
 78, 84, 93, 116, 118, 119, 123, 
 124, 126, 149, 174, 188, 189, 190, 
 201, 209, 271, 288, 296, 304, 334, 
 386, 437, ii. 43, 77, 84, 147, 150, 
 152, 161, 162 ; his books, i. 16 ; 
 his education and dissertation, 
 i. 20; his pictures, i. 17; his 
 quarrel with Count Thorane, i. 
 79 ; his travels in Italy, i. 5 
 -, Johann Wolfgang von, the 
 
 poet, his family, i. 25, 28, 32, 52 
 ( .- also under several names) ; 
 his birth and child-life, i 1 ; 
 education at home, i. 7, 19, 25, 
 50, 71, 93, 100 ; and the Lisbon 
 earthquake terror, i. 19 ; his legal 
 studies and practice, i. 21, 119, 
 808, 389, 407, 410, 492 ; attack 
 of small-pox, i. 25 ; religious in-
 
 526 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Btruction, i. 29 ; the boy priest, 
 i. 31 ; early amusements, i. 35 ; 
 bis story-telling, i. 36, 886; his 
 personal appearance and dress, 
 i. H7, 75, 316, ii. 12, 14 ; his play- 
 fellows, i. 50; juvenile stoicism, 
 i. 49; his duel with Dei ones, i. 
 75 ; early writings, i. 70, 85, 217 
 (see also under Poems, early ; 
 Goethe, his Works, &c.) ; his busy 
 imagination, i. 114, 500 ; his 
 studies in workshops, i. 123 ; his 
 memory, i. 129 ; his ambition as 
 a poet, i. 134, 201 ; his first love, 
 i. 141 (.see also Gretchen); is 
 declared " eccentric " as a youth, 
 i. 165 ; his melancholy, i. 179, 185, 
 243, 249, 260, 277, 282, 289, 321, 
 502, et seq. ; at Leipzig Uni- 
 versity, i. 203, 269, 299 ; love for 
 Annette, i. 236 (see also under 
 Annette); his "confessions," i. 
 240, 511 ; his jealousy and 
 passion, i. 241 ; affairs of the 
 heart, &c., i. 243 ; his " reckless 
 humour," i 243, 244 ; his reli- 
 gion, &c., 249, ii. 62, 251 (see also 
 under God, Religion, &c.); his 
 love for Frederica, i. 374, 382 
 (see also under Frederica); his 
 illness, &c., i. 282, 289, 291, 293, 
 298, 321, 437 ; his love for A. S. 
 Munch, or A. Gerock, ii. 58 ; 
 his study of alchemy, i. 292, 
 357 ; his travels incognito, i. 372, 
 379; his conversational powers, 
 &c., i. 386, 500 ; and the young, 
 i. 437 ; his mode of working, i. 
 451, ii. G6, 84 ; as the " con- 
 fidant," i. 452 ; as the " wan- 
 derer," i. 452 ; his love for 
 Charlotte Buff, i. 471 (see also 
 Charlotte) ; contemplates suicide, 
 i 508, 510; plans for settling 
 in life, ii. 57; his love for Lili, 
 ii. 71 (see also Lili); his politics, 
 ii. 98 ; his Court life at Weimar, 
 ii. 99 
 
 Goethe, his Works, early work 
 destroyed, i. 239; collected 
 
 works, ii. 67. See also under the 
 names of the several works, and 
 under Poems, early ; MSS., &c. 
 -, Kathiirina Elisabeth (nee 
 
 Textor), Goethe's mother, i. 4, 
 
 28, 31, 62, 66, 174, 290, 386, 437, 
 
 ii. 46, 60, 109, 150 
 Goetz von Berlichinflcn, i. 320, B56, 
 
 441, 453, 455, 470, 496, 500, 513, 
 
 466, ii. 4, 100, 109, 151 
 Golden Bull, Pope Innocent's, i. 11, 
 
 129, 152 
 Golden heart, To a, &c. See Round 
 
 my neck, &c. 
 Goldsmith, Oliver,!. 506 ; his Edwin 
 
 and Angelina, ii. 150 ; \iisDeserted 
 
 Village, i. 474; his Vicar of 
 
 Wahefield, i. '.368, 375. See aLo 
 
 under Vicar of WaJcefield. 
 Good People's Court, the, Frankfort, 
 
 i. 15 
 Goitz-Schlitz, J. E., Count von, 
 
 ii. 41, 113 
 Gossip, the, and Count Thorane, 
 
 i. 80 ; the word, i. 67, 80 
 Gotha, i. 288 
 Gothic Architecture and German, 
 
 i. 331,441. See also under Archi- 
 tecture and German. 
 Gotter, F. W., i. 464, 469, 474 
 Gottfried's Chronicles, i. 23 
 Gotthard, Mont, ii. 127, 130, 159 
 Gottingen, i. 202 ; its university, i. 21 
 Gottingen Musen Almanack, i. 466, 
 
 ii. 108 
 Gottsched, Q. C., and his influence, 
 
 i. 214, 221, 226, 259, 278, 449 
 Gone, A. S. von, Hanoverian 
 
 attache, i. 462 
 
 Grammar, early view of, i. 200 
 Gratitude, i. 354 
 Grave's woodcuts, i. 8 
 Gray, i. 506 
 Greek, authors, i. 285 ; philosophers, 
 
 i. 185 
 Gretchen, i. 138, 139, 143, 145, 147, 
 
 154, 162, 172, 174, 176, 179, 182, 
 
 183, 192, 201, 241 
 Griesbach, J. J., i. 134, 202 
 , Fran, i. 290
 
 INDEX. 
 
 527 
 
 Grimm, painter, ii. 153 
 
 , Herr von, i. 415 
 
 Greening, of Bremen, i. 284 
 Groschlag, Baron von, i. 150 
 Griitli, ii. 127 
 
 Giinderode, President von, i. 362 
 Giinther, Emperor, i. 10 
 
 , the Poet, i. 223, 224, 342 
 
 Gustavus III., of Sweden, ii. 97 
 Gymnasium, the, Frankfort. See 
 Albrecht, Dr. 
 
 HABITS and Decoys in life, i. 135 
 Hackert, Philip, painter, ii. 153 
 Hagedorn, F., poet, i. 61, 202, 342 
 
 , von, of Dresden, i. 277, 
 
 342 
 
 Hair-dressing, i. 316, ii. 114 
 Hakel, Baron von, i. 56 
 Halle, University of, i. 212 
 Haller, A. von, poet, i. 61, 216, 228, 
 
 234, 342 
 Hamanu , J. G., i. 352, 390, 441, 
 
 445 
 
 Hamlet, i. 506 ; reading, i. 406 
 Hanau, Count Reinhard von, i. 361 
 Hands, expression in, ii. 137 
 Handwriting, i. 296 
 Hanseatic League, the, i. 519 
 Hanswuret (Jack -pudding), i. 494, 
 
 ii.106 
 
 IlantwurtCs Wedding, ii. 106 
 Happiness, i. 474 
 Hares, the three, i. 59 
 Harlequin and Hanswurst, i. 494 
 Harp playing boy, the, i. 437 
 Harpsichords and pianos, i. 97 
 Haugwitz, Count, ii. 19, 110 
 Health, care of the, i. 298 
 Heart, affairs of the, i. 244 
 Hebrew, lessons in, i. 101 
 Heidelberg, ii. 164 
 Heinecke, i. 268 
 Hendel, cake-baker, poem to him, 
 
 i. 257, 259 
 
 Herder, J. G. von, i. 331, 346, 355, 
 356, 368, 389, 439, 440, 441, 446, 
 448, 466, 497; his essay on 
 Skakcspcare, i. 428; his letters, 
 i. 357 ; liia relations with Goethe, 
 
 i. 346, 347 ; his sarcasms, i. 350 ; 
 
 and Jung, i. 357 
 Herman, Dr. C. G., i. 227, 283 
 Herrnhuters, tho, i. 117, 444. Set 
 
 also under St eta. 
 Hesitation, i. 498 
 Hess, A. P. von, i. 440 
 Hesse-Darmstadt, Caroline of, i. 
 
 449, ii. 68, 113 
 Hexameters, Klopstock's, frighten a 
 
 barber, i. 63 
 Heyducks, the, i. 159 
 Heyne, C. G., i. 202 
 High on the ancient turret stands, 
 
 ii. 21 
 
 Himberg, bookseller, ii. 67 
 Hirt, painter, i. 17, 69 
 History, i. K'8 
 Hoaxes, i. 182 
 Hochst, i. 145 
 
 Holstein-Eutin, Prince of, i. 346 
 Holty, i. 464 
 Holy Land, the, i. 105 
 Homburg, i. 189 
 Homer, i. 29, 467, 480 ; in prose, 
 
 i.427 
 
 Hopfner, L. J., i. 475, 478, 479 
 Hoppe, Prof. J., i. 119, 199 
 Horace, i. 221 
 
 Horn, J. A., i. 198, 258, 284, 438 
 Horoscope, Goethe's, i. 1 
 Hotze, Dr., ii. 123 
 House-building at Frankfort, i. 6 
 Huber, i. 269 
 Hubertsberg, the Peace of, i. 
 
 129 
 Huisgen, Hofrath H. S., i. 132, 
 
 133, 134 
 
 Human nature, i. 298 
 Humour on the stage, i. 243 
 Button, Ulrich von, a letter of, 
 
 ii. 101 
 
 ICES, i. 67 
 
 Idle people, i. 137 
 
 Illuminations at tho coronation, 
 
 1764, i. 173 
 
 Ilmenau, mines of, ii. 156 
 " Image hunt," the, i. 235 
 Imaginary conversations, i. 502
 
 523 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Imperial Chamber, the, history of, 
 
 i. 455 et teq. 
 
 Incognito, travelling, i. 371 
 Indian fables, i. 467 
 Inns, ami Inn life, i. 271, 275 
 Inoculation, i. 24 
 Inhigenia, ii. 40 
 Island of Fahenberg, the, i. 23 
 Israelitish tradition, i. 109 
 Italy, longings for, i. 21; view of, 
 
 ii. 131 ; proposed visit to, ii. 160, 
 
 163, 166, 167 
 
 JABACH'S Dwelling, ii. 24 
 Jacob and Esau, i. 112, 114, 115 
 Jacobi, the brothers, ii. 22 
 
 , F. H., ii. 25, 26, 28 
 
 Jason and Medea, i. 311 
 Jaxthausen, Castle of, ii. 100 
 Jealousy, i. 2-11 
 
 Jena, University of, i. 212, ii. 156 
 Jerusalem. K. W. von, i. 234, 478 ; 
 
 his buicide, i. 509, 510, 515 
 Jesuits, expulsion of the, i. 323 
 Jews, the, i. 114, 115 ; in Frankfort, 
 
 i. 122; savageness of their 
 
 religion, i. 111. See also 
 
 Israelites, &c. 
 Joseph, Archduke of Austria. See 
 
 Joseph II. 
 Joseph II., Emperor, &c., i. 125, 
 
 147, 151,157, 420, 465 ; coronation 
 
 of, 1764, i. 165, 169, 178 
 Jung, J. H., afterwards Stilling, 
 
 i. 317, ii. 28, 72 ; and Herder, i. 
 
 357 
 Juuker, painter, i. 17, 69, 126 
 
 KESTNER, J. C., i. 147 
 Kielmansegge, Count C. A. von, 
 
 i. 462 
 
 King of Tlmle, the, ii. 25 
 Kirms, ii. 156 
 Kissing and Forfeits, i. 393 
 Kleist, i. 235 
 Klett'-nberg, Fraulein von, i. 290, 
 
 293, 445, ii. 14, 32, 46, 48 
 Klinuer, F. M., ii. 5 
 Klingling, Praetor of Strasburg, 
 
 i. 324 
 
 Klopstock, F. C., i. 61, 115, 229, 
 238, 343, 345, 448, 450, 454, 
 464, 466, ii. 50, 104, 113; his 
 Messiah, i. 61, 1 1 8 ; his Hermann' s- 
 Schacht, i. 465 ; his Republic of 
 Letters, i. 450 
 
 Klotz, i. 281 
 
 Knebel, Capt. K. L., ii. 41 
 
 Knighthood, comic order of, at 
 Wetzlar, i. 463 
 
 Knowledge and Faith, ii. 15 
 
 Koch, Herr, i. 412 
 
 Koenig, von, poet, i. 224 
 
 " Konigsberg Zeitung," the, i. 446 
 
 Koningstein, i. 189 
 
 Kouingsthal, i. 150 
 
 Koppen, i. 61 
 
 Kotzebue, A. F. F. von., ii. 156 
 
 Kraus, G. M., painter, ii. 153, 155 
 
 Krebel, Hofrath, i. 227, 272 
 
 Kn-uchauf, Herr F. W., i. 269 
 
 Kriiger, his Duke Michael, i. 240 
 
 Kiissnacht, ii. 133 
 
 LA CHAUSSEE, Pierre de, i. 71 
 
 Langer, E. T., i. 285 
 
 Language, origin of, i. 350 
 
 Laocoon, the, i. 434, 435 
 
 Laroche family, the, i. 485 
 
 , Frau von, i. 484, 488, 509, 
 
 ii. 20 
 
 , Maximiliane (afterwards 
 
 Brentano), i. 509 
 
 Latin, learning, i. 20, 200 
 
 Laune des VerlieUen, Die, i. 241, 299 
 
 Lautensak, jeweller, i. 124 
 
 Lavater, J. C., i. 153, 465, ii. 8, 16, 
 20, 117, 119, 121, 135, 154; and 
 Basedow, ii. 29 ; his view of 
 Christ, i. 153, ii. 139; his "Physio- 
 gnomy," ii. 8, 117, 136, 139, et seq. ; 
 his description of the Stolbergs, 
 ii. 14H ; his works, ii. 134 et seq. 
 
 Law studies and practice, i. 119, 
 208, 407, 410, 437, 492, ii. 151 
 
 Learning more than can be digested, 
 i. 209 
 
 Le Brun'a " Passions," i. 93 
 
 Lectures and books, i. 479 
 
 Leibnitz, ii. 64
 
 INDEX. 
 
 529 
 
 Leipzig, i. 227, 277, 288 ; art in, i. 
 269 ;" the fair, i. 205 ; the French 
 in, i. 213; aud the Seven Years' 
 War, i. 251 ; student riot there, 
 i. 287 
 
 , University, i. 202, 212, 269, 
 
 299 
 
 , early letters from, i. 295, 
 
 299 
 
 Le Kain, actor, i. 423 
 
 Lemiere, A. M., i. 71 
 
 Lenz, J. M. B., i. 428, ii. 5, 47; on 
 Shakespeare, i. 428 
 
 Lerse, F. C., i. 319, 416 
 
 Lersner, Herr von, ii. 72 
 
 Lersner's Chronicle, i. 121, 151 
 
 Lessing, i. 222, 228, 238, 280, 281, 
 299, 355, 494, 495, ii. 39; his 
 " Laocoon," i. 270 ; his " Minna 
 von Barnhelm," i. 238 
 
 Letter of a Pastor, etc., ii. 8 
 
 Letters, old, i. 295 
 
 on literature, &c., circu- 
 lated through the post, L 485 
 
 Leuchsenring, F M., and his 
 boxes of letters, i. 485, 490 
 
 Library of the Belles Lettres, the, 
 i. 235 
 
 Lichtenstein, Prince of, i. 150 
 
 Lichtwer, i. 222 
 
 Life, and action, i. 185 ; and an- 
 cestry, i. 52 ; the campaign of, 
 ii. 164 ; the habits and decoys of, 
 i. 135 ; settling in, ii. 94 ; weari- 
 nes-sof, L 503 ; and the will, i. 413 
 
 Lili (Anna Elisabeth, Schone- 
 mann, afterwards TUrckheim), 
 ii. 71, 79. 83, 92, 110, 115, 116, 
 124, 131, 147, 151, 159, 160, 163, 
 165, 167 
 
 Lilt, To, ii. 123 
 
 Lilt's Menagerie, ii. 149 
 
 Limprecht, J. C., i. 206, 272 
 
 Limpurg, the house of, i. 122 
 
 Lindau, von, ii. 133 
 
 Lindenau, Count, i. 285 
 
 Lindheim. See Ti-xtor. 
 
 Liuuaeus, i. 216 
 
 Lippe, Count, i. 448 
 
 Lippeit, i. 268 
 
 Lips, J. H., painter, his portraits 
 done for Lavater, ii. 14, 119 
 
 Liquor Silicum, i. 294 
 
 Lisbon, the earthquake at, i. 19, 33 
 
 Liahow, C. L., i. 219 
 
 Literary Epistles, the, i. 235 
 
 Literature, i. 281, 477; by corre- 
 spondence, i. 4fe5; transition 
 period of, i. 227. See also under 
 German literature, &c. 
 
 Lobstein, J. F., i. 348 
 
 Loen, J. M. von, L 57 ; his collec- 
 tion of travels, i. 29 
 
 Lombardy, ii. 131 
 
 Lotte Buff, i. 471. See also under 
 Charlotte. 
 
 Louisa, Duchess of Weimar, ii. 113 
 
 Love, i. 155 ; disinterested, ii. 26 ; 
 first, and other, i. 503 ; juvenile, 
 i. 141; and hope, ii. 117; and 
 poetry, i. 243 ; youthful, i 431 
 
 Loven, i. 199 
 
 Lover, a jest on a conceited, i. 139 
 
 Lover's Caprice, The, i. 241, 299 
 
 Lucifer, i. 300 
 
 Lucinda, i. 335; her curse, i. 341, 
 393, 398, 
 
 Ludecus, J. A., ii. 156 
 
 Ludwig, Hofrath, L 215, 216 
 
 Luther, L 442 
 
 Lutherans, of Frankfort, ii. 103 ; 
 and Calvinists, i. 132 
 
 Luther's Bible, i. 427 
 
 MACKLOT, bookseller, ii. 68, 108 
 
 Magician's Apprentice, the, ii. 56 
 
 Mahomet, intended drama on, ii. 30 
 
 Maliomet's Song, ii. 31 
 
 Maiden, the, and the youth, ii. 159 
 
 Malapert, Herr von, i. 131 
 
 Man, the growth of, i. 54; his 
 
 natural course, i. 105 ; his 
 
 volatility, ii. 63 ; his part in the 
 
 world, i. 234, 400 
 Mankind together is the true man, 
 
 i. 332 
 Mannheim, ii. 112; antiquities at, 
 
 i. 435 
 Manusci ipts, Goethe's early, i. 1 16. 
 
 See also Goethe, his work*, &c.
 
 530 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Maria Theresa, Empress, i. 34, 161, 
 
 167 
 Marie Antoinette at Strasburg, on 
 
 her way to Paris (1770), i. 310 
 Marivaux, C. de, i. 71 
 Marriage, discord in, i. 109, 112, 113 
 Marriage-gam*, a, ii. 57, 60 
 Mayence, ii. ,46 
 Mechanics, i. 135 
 Medical Science and Zimmerman, 
 
 ii. 54 
 
 studies, i. 309, 389, 390 
 
 Meiningen, Duke of, ii. 160, 161 
 Melancholy, i. 502 ; English, 507 ; 
 
 in English poetry, i. 504 
 Melbert, or Melber, G. A., druggist, 
 
 i. 28 
 
 Memory, i. 325, ii. 23 
 Men, distinguished, ii. 121 
 Mendelssohn, Moses, i. 235 
 Mentz, i. 189 ; Elector of, i. 153, 154, 
 
 156, 157 
 Merck, J. H., i. 439, 448, 469, 476, 
 
 478, 481, 482, 489, 490, 497, 500, 
 
 512, ii. 14,59, 111, 147 
 Merian, Matthaus, his Bible and 
 
 history pictures,!. 23 
 Messiah, Klopstock's, i. 343 
 Metz, Dr. J. F., i. 292 
 Meyer, of Lindau, i. 307, 416 
 Michaelis, i. 202 
 " Michel, cousin," i. 418 
 Midwifery in Frankfort, i. 1 
 Milton, i. 506 
 Minnesingers, the, ii. 105 
 Moliere, i. 71, 87 
 Monks, i. 487 
 Morals, i. 299 
 Moravians, the, ii. 33 
 Morbid humour, the, i. 439, 507. 
 
 See also Melancholy, &c. 
 Morgenstern, painter, i. 297 
 Morhov, his " Polyhistor," i. 200 
 Moritz, H. F., i. 92 
 
 , J. F., i. 92 
 
 Morus, Prof. S. F. N., i. 202, 215 
 Moser, C. F. von, i. 60, 115, 234, 
 
 445 
 
 Moser, Justus, i. 518, ii. 42 
 Muller, i. 181, 184 
 
 Miincli, Anna Sibylla, ii. 58 
 Murki, tho, a dance, i. 334 
 Mus;ieus, ii. 156 
 Musarion, Wieland's, i. 266 
 Mnsi-nalmanache, the, i. 451, 466, 
 
 ii. 108 
 
 Music, lessons in, i. 94 
 Music-master, the eccentric, i. 95 
 Mystifications and the idle, i. 137 
 Mythology and poetry, i. 256 
 
 NAMES, cutting, upon trees, i. 236 
 
 Naples, ii. 147 
 
 Natural religion, i. 232 
 
 Nature, i. 186, 470; and Art, i. 
 
 422; contradiction in, ii. 156; 
 
 nnd God, i. 30, 425 ; the gospel 
 
 of, ii. 6 ; human, i. 298 ; the laws 
 
 of, ii. 65 
 
 Nature, Systeme de la, the, i. 424 
 Neo-Plctonism, i. 300 
 Netherlands, revolt of tho, ii. 151, 
 
 157. See also under Egmont. 
 Neukirch, B., his translation of 
 
 Te'lfmaque, i. 23 
 New draughts, &c., ii. 122 
 Neto Melusina, the, i. 387 
 New Paris, The; a Boy's Legend, 
 
 i. 386, 388 
 
 New Year's Day in Frankfort, i. 64 
 Newspapers, ii. 96 
 Nicolai, C. F., i. 513 
 at the Grave of Werther, 
 
 i. 514 
 Nothnagel, painter, i. 69, 491 ; hia 
 
 oil-cloth factory, i. 127 
 Novel-reading, i. 400 
 
 Hendel, &c., i. 257, 259 
 Oberlin, i. 412 
 
 Ochsensteins, the von, i. 2, 58 
 Oculist's failure, the, ii. 72 
 Oeser, A. F., painter, i. 264, 279 
 Offenbach on the Main, ii. 82 
 Oil-cloth factory, an, i. 127 
 Olenschliigert*, the von, i. 129, 134 
 Omens, oracles, &c., i. 76, 79, 485 
 Opera, at Frankfort, ii. 82 
 Oracles, i. 79, 485 
 Orations, humorous, i. 195, 197
 
 INDEX. 
 
 531 
 
 Orl)is Pictus, Comenius', i. 23 
 
 Orth, Dr., i. 57, 129 
 
 Orville, P. F. D', ii. 82, 88 
 
 Osnaburg, i. 519 
 
 Ossian, i. 507 
 
 Otho, Emperor, his suicide, i. 508 
 
 Ottilienlx-rg, the, i. 431 
 
 Ovid, i. 23, 356 
 
 Ox, the, and wooden kitchen, at 
 
 the coronation, i. 171 
 burials, i. 58 
 
 PAGLTASSO, buffoon, i. 173 
 
 Pain, endurance of, i. 49 
 
 Painter of men, qualifying for 
 
 being a, ii. 137 
 
 Painters, French and German, ii. 153 
 Painting and poetry, i. 222. See 
 
 also Art, &c. 
 
 Painting, studies in, ii. 154 
 Paintings upon wood, i. 126 
 Pamphlets, early, i. 444 
 Paoli and Corsica, ii. 97 
 Pappenheim, Count von, i. 166 
 Paradise, i. 105 
 Paris, accident at Lonis XVI.'s 
 
 wedding there, 1770, i. 313 
 Para, The New. See New Paris, 
 
 The. 
 
 Parties, injustice of, i. 34 
 Partings, i. 203 
 Party, among poets, i. 505 
 Pasor, George, i. 21, 22 
 Passavnnt, J. L., ii. 121, 164 
 Passports, ii. 134 
 Pater Brey, i. 490 
 Patriarchs, the, of Israel, traits of 
 
 savagcncss in, i. 110 
 Peglow, a Russian student, i. 348, 
 
 370 
 
 Pepper, &c., ceremonial presenta- 
 tion of, at Frankfort, i. 15 
 Perception and conception, i. 270 
 Petcraen, Prof. G. W., i. 440 
 Pfalzburp, i. 359 
 Pfeil, J. G. B., and his boarding 
 
 school, i. 97, 193, 227 
 Philosopher, a practical, i. 274 
 Philosophy, common-sense, i. 231 
 , the history of, i. 184 
 
 Pianos and harpsichords, i. 97 
 
 Picture collecting, i. 88 
 
 Pictures, old and new, i. 17. Sed 
 
 also under Art, &c. 
 Pictures, early essay on, i. 70 
 Pilgrims in Switzerland, ii. 123 
 Piper's Court, the, at Frankfort, i. 1 3 
 Piracy of books, the, i. 449, 49J, 
 
 ii. 67 
 Piratical Bookseller, poem on a, 
 
 ii. 67 
 
 Plato, i. 185, 300 
 Plays, projected, i. 85, 242 
 Plitt's sermons, i. 117 
 Plot ho, Baron von, i. 150, 156, 173 
 Poem, a, in French, i. 312 
 
 , a lost, i. 236 
 
 Poems, early, i. 116, 135, 226, 239, 
 
 255, 257, 299, 403, 438, 453, 464, 
 
 466,480, 514, 517, ii. 21, 40, 80, 
 
 86, 150, 151 
 
 , early, destroyed, i. 217 
 
 Poet, tlie, i. 36 
 
 , the, is the maker, i. 356 
 
 Poet., a comldnation of, i. 451, 479 ; 
 
 party among, i. 505 
 , English, i. 505. See also 
 
 Poetry, &c. 
 Poetry, i. 352; comic, i. 199; 
 
 English, i. 504 ; German, i. 215, 
 
 223, ii. 104 ; national, i. 236 ; and 
 
 religion, i. 184 
 " Poetry, the Art of," works on, 
 
 i. 221 
 
 Pope, i. 199, 226 
 Post, the Taxisch, i. 486 
 Princes and rulers of Germany, the, 
 
 ii. 98 
 
 Prometheus, ii. 38, 49 
 Prophecy, the gift of, i. 27 ; in 
 
 Scripture, i. 233 
 Propylxa, the, i. 435 
 Prose, poetical, i, 228; translations 
 
 in, i. 427 
 Protestants, of Germany, i. 29, 237 ; 
 
 their service, i. 245 
 Proverbs on Court life, ii. 43 
 Prussia and the Seven Years' War, 
 
 i.33 
 Prussians, the, i. 237; hatred
 
 532 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 between them and the Saxons, 
 i. 238 
 
 Public men, the fate of, ii. 29 
 
 opinion, i. 465 
 
 Puppet-shows, i. 5, 35 
 
 Putter, i. 234 
 
 Pygmalion, Rousseau's, i. 424 
 
 Py lad' a (fictitious name for a play- 
 fellow), i. 36, 135, 141, 143, 154, 
 163, 172, 175, 177, 182 
 
 QUIET-IN-THE-LANDS, the (religious 
 sect), i. 445 
 
 RABEXER, i. 219, 342, 495 
 
 Racine, i. 71, 87, 130 
 
 Ramler, i. 228, 237, ii. 104 
 
 Raphael, liis cartoons, i. 311, 314 
 
 Real life and fiction, i. 314 
 
 R.-demption, the, i. 302 
 
 Rcichel, Dr., i. 279, 283 
 
 R'ineck, F. L. von, i. 130, 131, 
 13i 
 
 Religion, ii. 23; natural and re- 
 vealed, i. 109, 113, 232; and 
 poetry, i. 184 ; views of, i. 300, 
 301, ii. 9, 34, 62, et seq. See also 
 under Bible, &c. 
 
 Religious apprehensions, i. 249 
 
 instruction, i. 29 
 
 Repetent, a (a tutor), i 308 
 
 Resenius, i. 466 
 
 Rhetoric, i. 200 
 
 Rhine, the, i. 485, 489, 490, ii. 21, 
 27, 117, 165 
 
 Rhine-gnats, i. 402 
 
 Rhyme, rejection of, in Germany, 
 ii. 104 
 
 Richardson's novels, i. 191, 494 
 
 RHiter, Receiver-General, i. 270 
 
 Riding, i. 453 ; lessons in, i. 121 
 
 Riedel, Counsellor 0. J. R., i. 275 
 
 Riese, J. J., i. 438 
 
 Rigi, the, ii. 126 
 
 Rivers, their courses, i. 360 
 
 " Robinson Crusoe," i. 23 
 
 Roman Catholics, i. 510, ii. 123 ; of 
 Frankfort, ii. 103; and Protes- 
 tants, i. 247 
 
 Empire, the Holy, i. 468; 
 
 election of king of, at Frankfort, 
 i. 147, 149 
 
 views, in Goethe's birth- 
 
 place, i. 4, 98 
 Romans, king of. See Joseph II,, 
 
 &c. 
 
 Round my neclc, &c., ii. 132 
 Rousseau, i. 155, 282, 421, 422, 
 
 424, 486, ii. 6 
 Royalty and cripples, &c., i. 312 
 
 SAARBRUCK, i. 361 
 
 Saint Jean, valet, i. 68 
 
 St. Louis, the knight of, i. 325 
 
 St. Mary's Hermitage, ii. 123, 124 
 
 Sachs, Hans, ii. 105 
 
 Sacraments, the, i. 245, 247 
 
 Sacrifice in the Bible, i. Ill 
 
 Salis, von, ii. 56 
 
 Salzmann, Dr. J. D., i. 308, 314, 
 
 413,416 
 
 Satire, i. 218, 506 ; German, i. 495 
 Satyros, or the Deified Wood-devil^ 
 
 i. 490 
 
 Savage worship of the Old Testa- 
 ment, i. Ill 
 
 Saxe- Weimar. See Weimar. 
 Saxons and Prussians, hatred 
 
 between, i. 238 
 Saxony, ii. 42 
 Schaffhausen, ii. 117 
 Schiebler, Daniel, of Hamburg, 
 
 i. 280 
 Schlegel, i. 130, 230 
 
 , Elias i. 116 
 
 Schlosser, the brothers, i. 134 
 , J. G., i. 224, 227, 296, 
 
 476, 478, 480, 493, ii. 115, 116 
 Schmidt, P. H., i. 476 
 Schneider, Councillor, L 53, 61, 
 
 174 - 
 
 Schb'n, Martin, engraver, ii. 125 
 Schonemann, Anna Elizabeth. See 
 
 Lili. 
 
 Schools and education, i. 96 
 Scl.opflin, J. D., i. 410, 413, 415 
 Schroder^ F. L., author and actor, 
 
 i. 494 
 
 Schutz, painter, i. 17, 69 
 Schwalbach,.i. 189
 
 INDEX. 
 
 533 
 
 Schwyz,ii. 125 
 
 Schwyzer-Haken mountains, the, 
 
 ii. i25 
 
 Seals, collecting, i. 347 
 Sects of Prottstants in Frankfort, 
 
 i. 30 
 
 Se. katz, painter, i. 18, 69, 89, 272 
 Self-complacency, i. 322 
 Self-conceit, i. 54 
 Self-knowledge, i. 504 
 Self-reliance, ii. 37 
 Self-toi ture, ii. 1 
 Senkenberg Hospital, i. 60 
 Senkenbergs, the, i. 59 
 Sermons, writing from memory, 
 
 i. 117 
 
 Serviere?, a lady, i. 510 
 Sesenheim, parsousige of, i. 367, 372 
 Seven Years' War, the, i. 32, 55, 
 
 236, 238, 252 
 Shakespeare, i. 266, 496, 506; his 
 
 clowns, i. 429 ; and the Germans, 
 
 i. 230, 426 ; Herder on, i. 428 , 
 
 Lenz on, i. 428 ; in prose, i. 427 
 She Comes Not ! ii. 87 
 Shoemaker, the cheerful, of Dresden, 
 
 i. 272 
 
 Sickness, moral effect of, i. 348 
 Silberschlag, i. 350 
 Silk-worms, keeping, i. 98 
 Skating, i. 453, ii. 51, 69 
 Sketching in word*, ii. 133 
 Sleep, overcome with, at dinner, L 
 
 204 
 
 Small-pox and inoculation, i. 24 
 Social games, &c., i. 297, 489 
 
 pleasures, i. 194-197 
 
 Societies, whimsical, at Frankfort, 
 
 195, 197, ii. 57 ; at Wetzlar, i. 462 
 Society, labyrinths of, i. 241 
 Socrates, i. 185 
 Solitude, and melancholy, i. 502 ; 
 
 the productions of, ii. 38 
 Soubi.-e, Prince, i. 77. 
 Spalding, theologian, i 234 
 Spangeuberg and Count Tliorane, 
 
 i. 84 
 
 Speech and writin?, i. 386 
 Spinoza, study of, ii. 26, 62 
 Stadiun, Count, i. 487 
 
 Stag-Ditch, the, Frankfort, i. 3 
 Stage, the, abuses of, i. 74 ; defence 
 
 of, i. 84 ; first acquaintance 
 
 with, i. 72; of France, i. 422; 
 
 state of, in Germany, i. 493; 
 
 scenery on, i. 422; soldiers on, 
 
 i. 74. See also Theatre, &c. 
 Stark, Pastor J. J., i. 29 
 State Church, a, i. 408 
 Stein, H. F. K., Uaron von, of 
 
 Nassau, and his daughter, ii. 154 
 
 , Frau von, ctf Nassau, ii. 20 
 
 Stilling. See Jung. 
 
 Stock, J. M., engraver, i. 279, 285, 
 
 298 
 
 Stockhausen, i. 207 
 Stoicism, juvenile, i. 49 
 Stoics, the, i. 185 
 Stolberg, the Counts, i. 464, ii. 108, 
 
 112, 134, 142, 147; described by 
 
 Lavater, ii. 143 
 
 , Leopold, Count, ii. 119 
 
 Storm of hail, a, i. 19 
 Story-telling, early, by Goethe, i. 36 
 Strasburg, i. 304, 323 ; manners in, 
 
 i. 315 ; Germans in, i. 416 ; stu- 
 dent life there, i. 308, 312, et *eq. 
 Cathedral, i. 321, 328, 
 
 333, 432 
 
 Struve, G. A., i. 119 
 Student life, at Leipzig, i. 213 ; at 
 
 Strasburg, i. 312, 308, et seq. 
 Students, Merck's hatred of, i. 481 
 Sublime, the. i. 186 
 Suicide, i. 507, 510 
 Sulzer, J. G., ii. 56 ; his Art theory, 
 
 i. 469 
 Superstition, L 393 ; Lucinda'a 
 
 curse, i. 398 
 
 Sioeetest roses, &c., ii. 150 
 Swift, i. 39u, 440, 448 
 Swiss views of poetry, i. 221 
 Switzerland, ii. 134; liberty in, 
 
 L 134, 135; visit to, ii. 110 
 
 et seq. 
 
 TAILORING, i. 209 
 
 Tanentzien, Gen., i. 238 
 
 Tapestries, i. 31 1 
 
 Taste, change of, i. 217; and
 
 534 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 French and German writers, i. 
 417 
 
 Taxisrh post, the, i. 486 
 
 Tra. hing, must be agreeable, i. 
 121 ; and amusement, i. 95; bad, 
 i. 208 
 
 " Telemaohus," Neukirch's, i. 23 
 
 Tell, William. See William TelL 
 
 Terror, the Lisbon earthquake, i. 
 19 
 
 Textor, Anna Margarete Mnria 
 (ne'e Lindheim), Goethe's grand- 
 mother, i. 3, 5, 15, 53, 57 
 
 , Johann Wolfgang, Goethe's 
 
 grandfather, chief magistrate of 
 Frankfort, i. 1, 15, 2G, 32, 33, 53, 
 65, 146, 151, 492 
 
 Johann Jost, Goethe's 
 
 uncle, i. 492 
 Theatre, the, at Weimar, ii. 41 
 Theatricals, amateur, i. 130 
 Theodore, Electoral Prince, ii. 166 
 Theology, state of, i. 233. See also 
 
 under Religion, &c. 
 Theophrastus, &c., study of, i. 293 
 Thirteen at table, i. 316 
 Thorane, Count, i. 65, 70, 79, 84, 
 
 87 ; his pictures, i. 88 
 Thiimmel, von, i. 495 
 Thum and Taxis, the Princes of, 
 
 i. 486 
 
 Time, employment of, i. 297 
 Tissot, i. 234 
 Tolls, in Frankfort, i. 13 
 Topp, exclamation, i. 379 
 Translations, prose, i. 427 
 Trautmann, painter, i. 17, 69 
 Trifler, a learned, i. 252 
 Truth, a criterion of, wanted, i. 22 
 Tiirckheim, Anna Elizabeth. See 
 
 Lili. 
 
 Turks, the, ii. 97 
 Tyrant, the universal, wine, ii. 110 
 
 UFTENBACH, von. i. 56 
 
 Unions, the closest, are of oppcsites, ! 
 
 ii. 26 
 
 Unities of the Drama, i. 87 
 Vniwrml German Library, the, i. 
 
 22U, 235, 303 
 
 Universities, German, i. 211 
 University life, i. 309. See also 
 
 (Student life, &c. 
 Unsociableness, i. 489 
 Unzer, physician, i. 234 
 Ursern, ii. 128 
 Uz, i. 342 
 
 VEHMGERICHT, the, i. 456 
 Verse competitions, early, i. 22 
 
 in education, i. 20 
 
 "Vicar of Wakefield," th<s, i. 368, 
 
 375, 395, 400 
 Vintage-days, i. 129 
 Viol di gamba, the, i. 272 
 Virgil, i. 29 
 
 Virgin Mary, the, ii. 15 
 Visitation, the, at Wetzlar, i. 462, 
 
 468 
 
 Voiglit, Frau von, i. 518 
 Volatility of man, ii. 63 
 Voltaire, i. 418, 443,465; and the 
 
 Deluge, i. 420 ; and Frederick 
 
 II. of Prussia, i. 57, ii. 45; on 
 
 the Stage, i. 74 
 Voss, J. H., i. 464 
 
 W , von [(?) Wrede, which sec.] 
 
 Wagner, H. L., ii. 5, 49 
 Wanderer's Storm-song, the, i. 453 
 Wandering Jew, the, i. 24, ii. 35, 
 
 64 
 
 War songs, i. 237 
 Washington, ii. 97 
 Water-carrier, the, i. 243 
 Wattean, ii. 153 
 Weakness, i. 271 
 Weenix, pictures by, ii. 27 
 Weimar, ii. 41, 155, 156 ; departure 
 
 for, ii. 160, 161, 167 
 , the Duchess Louise of, 
 
 ii. 160 
 
 -, Duke of, Karl August, 
 
 ii. 113, 156, ICO, 161 
 
 -, Prince of, F. F. Con- 
 
 stantin, ii. 41,46 
 Wcisse, C. F., i. 280, 342 
 Welling, G. vcn, his Opus mago- 
 
 calalisticum, i. 25*2, 293 
 Wcnk, Rector H. B., i. 440, 478
 
 INDEX. 
 
 535 
 
 Werther, tlie Sorrows of, i. 470, 503, 
 507, 509. 511, 515, ii. 2,99, 1*5, 
 135 ; effects of, i. 512 
 
 , The Joys of Young, by 
 
 Nicolai, i. 513 
 
 Count and Countess von, 
 
 ii. 154 
 Wetzlar, i. 455 ; the Imperial 
 
 Chamber there, ibid. 
 Weygand, C. F., publisher, i. 512 
 Weyland, F. L., i. 358. 371 
 Wieland, C. M., i. 216, 228, 229, 
 
 303, 499, ii. 41, 46, 48, 105, 155, 
 
 156, 160 ; liis Shakespeare, i. 426 
 Wiesbaden, i. 189 
 WilMm Meister, i. 290, 386, 388 
 Will, the, i. 414 
 Wille, engraver, ii. 153 
 William Tell, ii. 127, 133 
 Will-o'-the-wisps, i. 204 
 Winckelmann, J. J., i. 265, 268, 
 
 280 ; assassination of, i. 281 
 Wine, ii. 109 ; old and new, i. 17 
 Winkler,Prof,i. 208, 269 
 Wishes, i. 181 ; and capabilities, 
 
 i. 331 
 Wolf, musician, ii. 155, 156 
 
 Women and dress, i. 471 
 Word, an unseasonable, i. 76 
 Workshops, boyhood in. i. 123 
 W[rede], Fraulein and Herr von, 
 
 ii. 165, 166 
 Wiirfemberg, Duke Ludwig of, 
 
 i. 225 
 
 YOUNG'S " Night Thoughts," i. 505 
 Youth, i. 453; and age, i. 331; 
 should not be critical, i. 436 
 
 , wishes in, i. 181, 331 
 
 , the, and the maiden, ii. 159 
 
 Youthful pranks, i. 243 
 
 ZABERN, i. 358 
 
 Zacharin, J. F. W., i. 199. 212, 240, 
 280, 495 ; his brother, i. 227 
 
 Zhnmermann, J. G.,i. 234; and his 
 children, ii. 51 ; his hypochon- 
 dria, ii. 53; his work ''On Ex- 
 perience," ii. 54 
 
 Zinzendorf, Count von, i. 290 
 
 Zollinkofer, i. 234 
 
 Zug. ii. 133 
 
 Zurich, ii. 117 ; Lake of, ii. 121 
 
 Zweibriicken, i. 365 
 
 LOXUUN : ruiXTRu av WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 
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