Goethe

AUTOBIOGRAPHY TRUTH AND FICTION RELATING TO MY LIFE

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 vigor with which he began his

literary career, and the length of time which has since elapsed, that a

dozen smal volumes must appear incommensurate. Nor can one forget,

that, with respect to the detached pieces, they have mostly been cal ed

forth by special occasions, and reflect particular external objects, as

wel as distinct grades of inward culture; while it is equally clear,

that temporary moral and aesthetic maxims and convictions prevail in

them. As a whole, however, these productions remain without connection;

nay, it is often difficult to believe that they emanate from one and the

same writer.

"Your friends, in the mean time, 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 connection 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 internal relations, may

be presented by you in chronological order, and that the states of life

and feeling which afforded the examples that influenced you, and the

theoretical principles by which you were governed, may be imparted in

some kind of connection. Bestow this labor for the gratification of a

limited circle, and perhaps it may give rise to something that wil be

entertaining and useful to an extensive one. The author, to the most

advanced period of his life, should not relinquish the advantage of

communicating, even at a distance, with those whom affection binds to

him; and if it is not granted to every one to step forth anew, at a

certain age, with surprising and powerful productions, yet just at that

period of life, when knowledge 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 edification 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 labor of separating the poems, both great and

small, of my twelve volumes, and of arranging them according to years. I

strove to recal the times and circumstances under which each had been

produced. But the task soon grew more difficult, as ful explanatory

notes and illustrations were necessary to fil up the chasms between

those which had already been given to the world. For, in the first

place, al on which I had original y 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 labored 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.

Al this I wished to introduce by degrees for the satisfaction of my

wel -wishers, but my efforts and reflections always led me farther on;

since while I was anxious to comply with that very considerate request,

and labored to set forth in succession my internal emotions, external

influences, and the steps which, theoretically and practical y, I had

trod, I was carried out of my narrow private sphere into the wide world.

The images of a hundred important men, who either directly or indirectly

had influenced me, presented themselves to my view; and even the

prodigious movements of the great political world, which had operated

most extensively upon me, as well as upon the whole mass of my

contemporaries, had to be particularly considered. For this seems to be

the main object of biography,--to exhibit the man in relation to the

features of his time, and to show to what extent they have opposed or

favored his progress; what view of mankind and the world he has formed

from them, and how far he himself, if an artist, poet, or author, may

external y reflect them. But for this is required what is scarcely

attainable; namely, that the individual should know himself and his

age,--himself, so far as he has remained the same under all

circumstances; his age, as that which carries along with it, determines

and fashions, both the willing and the unwil ing: so that one may

venture to pronounce, that any person born ten years earlier or later would have been quite a different being, both as regards his own culture

and his influence on others.

In this manner, from such reflections and endeavors, from such

recollections and considerations, arose the present delineation; and

from this point of view, as to its origin, wil it be the best enjoyed

and used, and most impartial y estimated. For any thing further it may

be needful to say, particularly with respect to the half-poetical, half-

historic, mode of treatment, an opportunity wil , no doubt, frequently

occur in the course of the narrative.

PART THE FIRST

FIRST BOOK.

On the 28th of August, 1749, at mid-day, as the clock struck twelve, I

came into the world, at Frankfort-on-the-Main. 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 ful , 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 subsequently 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 fel ow-citizens, inasmuch as my grandfather, the

/Schultheiss/ [Footnote: A chief judge or magistrate of the town.],

John Wolfgang Textor, took occasion from it to have an /accoucheur/

appointed, 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 recal what happened to us in the earliest period of

youth, it often happens that we confound what we have heard from others

with that which we really possess from our own direct experience.

Without, therefore, instituting a very close investigation into the

point, which, after all, could 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 winding staircase 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

favorite 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 (/Geraems/). The women sat in it

to sew and knit; the cook picked her salad there; female neighbors

chatted with each other; and the streets consequently, in the fine

season, wore a southern aspect. One felt at ease while in communication

with the public. We children, too, by means of these frames, were

brought into contact with our neighbors, of whom three brothers Von

Ochsenstein, the surviving sons of the deceased /Schultheiss/,

living on the other side of the way, won my love, and occupied and

diverted themselves with me in many ways.

Our family liked to tell of al sorts of waggeries to which I was

enticed by these otherwise grave and solitary men. Let one of these

pranks suffice for al . 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 neighbors continued to express their approbation, and I was

highly delighted to give them pleasure. But my stock was exhausted; and

still they shouted, "More." I ran, therefore, straight to the kitchen, and brought the earthenware, which produced a stil livelier spectacle

in breaking; and thus I kept running backwards and forwards, fetching

one plate after another, as I could reach it from where they stood in

rows on the shelf. But, as that did not satisfy my audience, I devoted

all the ware that I could drag out to similar destruction. It was not

till afterwards that any one appeared to hinder and forbid. 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, for it was her house in which we 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 il , 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 term explained. They told us that our house stood on a spot

that was once outside the city, and that, where the street now was,

there had formerly been a ditch, in which a number of stags were kept.

These stags were preserved and fed here because the senate, every year,

according to an ancient custom, feasted publicly on a stag, which was

therefore always at hand in the ditch for such a festival, in case

princes or knights interfered with the city's right of chase outside, or

the walls were encompassed 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 immeasurable extent of neighboring

gardens, stretching to the very walls of the city. But, alas! in

transforming what were once public grounds into private gardens, our

house, and some others lying towards the corner of the street, had been

much stinted; since the houses towards the horse-market had appropriated

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 garden-room, because

they had there endeavored to supply the want of a garden by means of a

few plants placed before the window. As I grew older, it was there that

I made my favorite, not melancholy, but somewhat sentimental, retreat.

Over these gardens, beyond the city's wal s and ramparts, might be seen

a beautiful and fertile plain, the same which stretches towards Hoechst.

In the summer season I commonly learned my lessons there, and watched

the thunderstorms, but could never look my fil at the setting sun,

which went down directly opposite my windows. And when, at the same

time, I saw the neighbors wandering through their gardens, taking care

of their flowers, the children playing, parties of friends enjoying

themselves, and could hear the bowls rolling and the ninepins dropping,

it early excited within me a feeling of solitude, and a sense of vague

longing resulting from it, which, conspiring with the seriousness and

awe implanted in me by nature, exerted its influence at an early age,

and showed itself more distinctly in after-years.

The old, many-cornered, and gloomy arrangement of the house was,

moreover, adapted to awaken dread and terror in childish minds.

Unfortunately, too, the principle of discipline, that young persons

should be early deprived of al fear for the awful and invisible, and

accustomed to the terrible, still prevailed. We children, therefore,

were compel ed to sleep alone; and when we found this impossible, and

softly slipped from our beds, to seek the society of the servants and

maids, our father, with his dressing-gown turned inside out, which

disguised him sufficiently for the purpose, placed himself 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

wil ing to render others so, discovered a much better pedagogical

expedient. She managed to gain her end by rewards. It was the season for

peaches, the plentiful enjoyment of which she promised us every morning

if we overcame our fears during the night. In this way she succeeded,

and both parties were satisfied.

In the interior of the house my eyes were chiefly attracted by a series

of Roman views, with which my father had ornamented an ante-room. They

were engravings by some of the accomplished predecessors of Piranesi,

who wel understood perspective and architecture, and whose touches were

clear and excellent. There I saw every day the Piazza del Popolo, the

Colosseum, the Piazza of St. Peter's, and St. Peter's Church, within and

without, the castle of St. Angelo, and many other places. These images

impressed themselves deeply upon me, and my otherwise very laconic

father was often so kind as to furnish descriptions of the objects. His

partiality for the Italian language, and for every thing pertaining to

Italy, was very decided. A smal 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, cal ed 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 ombroso,"

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 grandmother, in whose

spacious apartment we found plenty of room for our sports. She contrived

to engage us with various trifles, and to regale us with al sorts of

nice morsels. But, one Christmas evening, she crowned al her kind deeds

by having a puppet-show exhibited before us, and thus unfolding a new

world in the old house. This unexpected drama attracted our young minds

with great force; upon the boy particularly it made a very strong

impression, which continued 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

hearts forever. Her departure was of stil more importance to our

family, as it drew after it a complete change in our condition.

As long as my grandmother lived, my father had refrained from changing

or renovating the house, even in the slightest particular; though it was

known that he had pretty large plans of building, which were now

immediately begun. In Frankfort, as in many other old towns, when

anybody put up a wooden structure, he ventured, for the sake of space,

to make, not only the first, but each successive, story project over the

lower one, by which means narrow streets especially were rendered

somewhat dark and confined. At last a law was passed, that every one

putting up a new house from the ground, should confine his projections

to the first upper story, and carry the others up perpendicularly. My

father, that he might not lose the projecting space in the second story,

caring little for outward architectural appearance, and anxious only for

the good and convenient arrangement of the interior, resorted to the expedient which others had employed before him, of propping the upper

part of the house, until one part after another had been removed from

the bottom upwards, and a new house, as it were, inserted in its place.

Thus, while comparatively none of the old structure remained, the new

one merely passed for a repair. Now, as the tearing down and building up

was done gradually, my father determined not to quit the house, that he

might better direct and give his orders; as he possessed a good

knowledge of the technicalities 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 wal s which had always been kept so

careful y clean, al fal ing 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,--al this produced a

commotion 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.

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 defense, he determined, though

reluctantly, that the children should be intrusted 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 children, who had

all along been kept at home in a secluded, pure, refined, yet strict

manner, were thrown among a rude mass of young creatures, they were

compel ed unexpectedly to suffer every thing 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 acquainted with my

native city, which I strol ed 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 birthplace, as in its different parts it was gradual y unfolded to

me. What I liked more than any thing was, to promenade on the great

bridge spanning the Main. Its length, its firmness, and its fine

appearance, rendered it a notable structure; and it was, besides, almost

the only memorial left from ancient times of the precautions due from

the civil government 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 particularly 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 Charlemagne and his successors was

reported to have been, was greeted every time with profound reverence.

One liked to lose one's self in the old trading-town, particularly on

market-days, among the crowd col ected about the church of St.

Bartholomew. 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-cal ed /Pfarreisen/ were very important places for

us children, and we carried many a /Batzen</> to them in order to

purchase sheets of colored paper stamped with gold animals; though one

could but seldom make his way through the narrow, crowded, and dirty

market-place. I cal 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 Hil (/Romerberg/) 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 roundabout way by the /Hasengasse/ or the Catherine

Gate. But what chiefly attracted the child's attention, were the many

little towns within the town, the fortresses within the fortress; viz.,

the walled monastic enclosures, 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 Stal burg, and several strongholds, in later days transformed into

dwel ings 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, farther on again, gates, towers,

wal s, 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 induced 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 chronicles and woodcuts,

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 mankind in their manifold variety and naturalness, without

regard to their importance or beauty. It was, therefore, one of our

favorite walks, which we endeavored to take now and then in the course

of a year, to fol ow the circuit of the path inside the city-wal s.

Gardens, courts, and back buildings 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 establishments, 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 enjoyment of which our childish curiosity was never

satisfied. In fact, the celebrated Devil-upon-two-sticks, when he lifted

the roofs of Madrid at night, scarcely did more for his friend than was

here done for us in the bright sunshine and open air. The keys that were

to be made use of in this journey, to gain us a passage through many a

tower, stair, and postern, were in the hands of the authorities, whose

subordinates we never failed to coax into good humor.

But a more important, and in one sense more fruitful, place for us, was

the city-hal , named from the Romans. In its lower vault-like rooms we

liked but too wel to lose ourselves. We obtained an entrance, too, into

the large and very simple session-room of the council. The wal s as wel

as the arched ceiling were white, though wainscoted 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

wainscoting, 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 distributed by benches. To the left of

the door, on the opposite corner, sat the /Schoeffen/; in the corner

itself the /Schultheiss/, who alone had a smal table before him;

those of the second bench sat in the space to his left as far as the

wal to where the windows were; while along the windows ran the third

bench, occupied by the craftsmen. In the midst of the hall stood a table

for the registrar (/Protoculfuehrer/).

Once within the /Roemer/, 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 favor of the keepers, so as to be allowed to mount the new gay

imperial staircase, which was painted in fresco, and on other occasions

closed with a grating. The election-chamber, with its purple hangings

and admirably fringed gold borders, fil ed 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 al the emperors painted around at a certain height, would

tel us something of their deeds.

We listened to many a legend of Charlemagne. But that which was

historical y 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 Bul , and

of the statutes for the administration of criminal justice. We knew,

too, that he had not made the Frankforters suffer for their adhesion to

his noble rival, Emperor Gunther of Schwarzburg. We heard Maximilian

praised, both as a friend to mankind, and to the townsmen, his subjects,

and were also told that it had been prophesied of him he would be the

last emperor of a German house, which unhappily came to pass, as after

his death the choice wavered only between the king of Spain

(/afterwards/), Charles V., and the king of France, Francis I. With

some anxiety it was added, that a similar prophecy, or rather

intimation, 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, fil ed the patriotic with concern.

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

cathedral, and there visit the grave of that brave Gunther, so much

prized both by friend and foe. The famous stone which formerly covered

it is set up in the choir. The door close by, leading into the conclave,

remained long shut against us, until we at last managed, through the

higher authorities, to gain access to this celebrated place. But we

should have done better had we continued as before to picture it merely in our imagination; for we found this room, which is so remarkable in

German history, where the most powerful princes were accustomed to meet

for an act so momentous, in 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 city-hal , at the exhibition of

the Golden Bul to some distinguished strangers.

The boy then heard, with much curiosity, what his own family, as wel as

other older relations and acquaintances, liked to tel and repeat; viz.,

the histories of the two last coronations, which had fol owed close upon

each other; for there was no Frankforter of a certain age who would not

have regarded these two events, and their attendant circumstances, as

the crowning glory of his whole life. Splendid as had been the

coronation of Charles Seventh, during which particularly the French

ambassador had given magnificent feasts at great cost and with

distinguished taste, the results were al the more afflicting to the

good emperor, who could not preserve his capital Munich, and was

compel ed in some degree to implore the hospitality of his imperial

towns.

Although 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, both sexes vied with each other in giving to

the attentive boy a highly favorable opinion of both these personages.

Al these descriptions and narratives were given in a serene and quiet

state of mind; for the peace of Aix-la-Chapel e had, for the moment, put

an end to al feuds: and they spoke at their ease of past contests, as

wel as of their former festivities,--the battle of Dettingen for

instance, and other remarkable events of by-gone years; and al 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 al children. The erection, in so short a time, of so many

booths, creating a new town within the old one; the rol and crush, the

unloading and unpacking of wares,--excited from the very first dawn of

consciousness an insatiable active curiosity, and a boundless desire for

childish property, which the boy with increasing years endeavored to

gratify, in one way or another, as far as his little purse permitted. At

the same time, he obtained a notion of what the world produces, what it

wants, and what the inhabitants of its different parts exchange with

each other.

These great epochs, which came round regularly in spring and autumn,

were announced by curious solemnities, which seemed the more dignified

because they vividly brought before us the old time, and what had come

down from it to ourselves. On Escort Day, the whole population were on

their legs, thronging to the /Fahrgasse/, to the bridge, and beyond

/Sachsenhausen/; al 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 occasion of their coming did not begin til

nightfal , 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, the 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 al . But as this took place, not only in 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 divisions, 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 wel received and entertained.

They staid till towards evening, and then rode back to the city,

scarcely visible to the expectant crowd, many a city knight not being in

a condition to manage his horse, or keep himself in the saddle. The most

important bands returned by the bridge-gate, where the pressure was

consequently the strongest. Last of all, just as night fel , 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 al 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 (/Pfeifergericht/). It

commemorated those early times when important larger trading-towns

endeavored, if not to abolish tol s altogether, at least to bring about

a reduction of them, as they increased in proportion with trade and

industry. They were al owed 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 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

ful court with the /Schoeffen/. But when the chief magistrate

afterwards came to be no longer appointed by the emperor, and was

elected by the city itself, he stil retained these privileges; and thus

both the immunities of the cities from tol , and the ceremonies by which

the representatives from Worms, Nuremberg, and old Bamberg, once

acknowledged the ancient favor, had come down to our times. The day

before Lady Day, an open court was proclaimed. In an enclosed space in the great Imperial Hal , the Schoeffen took their elevated seats; a step

higher, sat the /Schultheiss/ in the midst of them; while below, on

the right hand, were the procurators of both parties invested with

plenipotentiary powers. The /Actuarius/ begins to read aloud the

weighty judgments reserved for this day: the lawyers demand copies,

appeal, or do whatever else seems necessary. 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 /sackbut/, 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, fol owed by the deputies and their attendants, and stared at by

all, natives and strangers, they enter the hal . The law proceedings are

stayed, the pipers and their train halt before the railing, the deputy

steps in and stations himself 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 every thing else; and,

even on this occasion, the deputy brought a handsomely turned wooden

goblet fil ed with pepper. Upon it lay a pair of gloves, curiously

slashed, stitched, and tassel ed with silk,--a token of a favor granted

and received,--such as the emperor himself made use of in certain cases.

Along with this was a while staff, which in former times could not

easily be dispensed with in judicial proceedings. Some small pieces of

silver money were added: and the city of Worms brought an 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 continued favor, he

quitted the enclosed circle, the pipers blew, the train departed as it

had come, the court pursued its business, 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 Nuremburg, 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

honor; 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 /Raeder Albus/. [Footnote: An old silver coin.]

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 fol owed, in the fine season, by many

festivals, delightful for us children, which took place in the open air,

outside the city. On the right shore of the Main, going down, about half

an hour's walk from the gate, there rises a sulphur-spring, neatly

enclosed, and surrounded 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 neighborhood

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 a similar but larger common, likewise graced with a

spring and stil 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 wal s into the open air; for the

thought had not yet occurred that these destitute creatures, who must

some time or other help themselves 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 festivals belong to the earliest

impressions that I can recal .

Meanwhile, our house had been finished, and that too in tolerably short

time; because every thing had been judiciously planned and prepared, and

the needful money provided. We now found ourselves all together again,

and felt comfortable; for, when a wel -considered plan is once carried

out, we forget the various inconveniences of the means that were

necessary to its accomplishment. The building, for a private residence,

was roomy enough, light and cheerful throughout, with broad staircases,

agreeable parlors, and a prospect of the gardens that could be enjoyed

easily from several of the windows. The internal completion, and what

pertained to mere ornament 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 col ection of books,

the best of which, in calf and half-calf binding, were to ornament the

wal s of his office and study. He possessed the beautiful Dutch editions

of the Latin classics, which, for the sake of outward uniformity, he had

endeavored to procure al in quarto; and also many other works relating

to Roman antiquities and the more elegant jurisprudence. 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 al needful aids to

learning, such as dictionaries of various languages, and encyclopaedias

of science and art, which, with much else adapted to profit and

amusement, might be consulted at wil .

The other half of this col ection, in neat parchment bindings, with very

beautiful y written titles, was placed in a separate attic. The

acquisition of new books, as wel 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 col ection of juridical treatises was

annually increased by some volumes.

Next, the pictures, which in the old house had hung about promiscuously,

were now col ected, and symmetrically hung on the wal s of a cheerful

room near the study, al in black frames set off with gilt mouldings. It

was my father's principle, to which he gave frequent and even passionate

utterance, 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 excel ent 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 any thing 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-cal ed rural scenes, with cattle;

Trautmann, who had adopted Rembrandt as his model, and had attained

great perfection in enclosed lights and reflections, as well as in

effective conflagrations, so that he was once ordered to paint a

companion piece to a Rembrandt; Schutz, who diligently elaborated

landscapes of the Rhine country, in the manner of Sachtlebens; and

Junker, who executed with great purity flower and fruit pieces, stil

life, and figures quietly employed, after the models of the Dutch. But

now, by the new arrangement, by more convenient room, and still more by

the acquaintance 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 wil 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 al ,

the large panes of plate-glass contributed 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

humor 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 conceived, 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 foams; 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 desperadoes, before

concealed, or set at large by the event. The wretched survivors are

exposed to pillage, massacre, and every outrage; and thus on al sides

Nature asserts her boundless capriciousness.

Intimations of this event had spread over wide regions more quickly than

the authentic reports: slight shocks had been felt in many places; in

many springs, particularly those of a mineral nature, an unusual

receding of the waters had been remarked; and so much the greater was

the effect of the accounts themselves, which were rapidly circulated, at first in general terms, but final y with dreadful particulars. Hereupon

the religious were neither wanting in reflections, nor the philosophic

in grounds for consolation, nor the clergy in warnings. So complicated

an event arrested the attention of the world for a long time; and, as

additional and more detailed accounts of the extensive effects of this

explosion came from every quarter, the minds already aroused by the

misfortunes of strangers began to be more and more anxious about

themselves and their friends. Perhaps the demon of terror had never so

speedily and powerful y diffused his terrors over the earth.

The boy, who was compelled to put up with frequent repetitions of the

whole matter, was not a little staggered. God, the Creator and Preserver

of heaven and earth, whom the explanation of the first article of the

creed declared so wise and benignant, having given both the just and the

unjust a prey to the same destruction, had not manifested himself by any

means in a fatherly character. In vain the young mind strove to resist

these impressions. It was the more impossible, as the wise and

scripture-learned could not themselves agree as to the light in which

such a phenomenon should be regarded.

The next summer gave a closer opportunity of knowing directly that angry

God, of whom the Old Testament records so much. A sudden hail-storm,

accompanied by thunder and lightning, violently broke the new panes at

the back of our house, which looked towards the west, damaged the new

furniture, 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 the only one self-

possessed, forced open and unhinged the window-frames, by which we saved

much glass, but made a broader inlet for the rain that fol owed 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 himself had

undertaken to give us children. He had passed his youth in the Coburg

Gymnasium, which stood as one of the first among German educational

institutions. He had there laid a good foundation in languages, and

other matters reckoned part of a learned education, had subsequently

applied himself to jurisprudence at Leipzig, and had at last taken his

degree at Giessen. His dissertation, "Electa de aditione Hereditatis,"

which had been earnestly and careful y written, is stil cited by

jurists with approval.

It is a pious wish of all fathers to see what they have themselves

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 acquirements, with the certainty of

faithful perseverance, and distrusting the teachers of the day, my

father undertook to instruct his own children, allowing them to take

particular lessons 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 according to his

wishes: I was to fol ow the same course, only more easily, and much

farther. He prized my natural endowments the more, because he was

himself wanting in them; for he had acquired every thing 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 smal 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 any thing.

Grammar displeased me, because I regarded it as a mere arbitrary law:

the rules seemed ridiculous, inasmuch as they were invalidated by so

many exceptions, which had al 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 sang it to myself readily enough.

In the same way we had a geography in memory-verses, in which the most

wretched doggerel best served to fix the recollection of that which was

to be retained; e.g.,--

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

The forms and inflections of language I caught with ease; and I also

quickly unravelled what lay in the conception of a thing. In rhetoric,

composition, and such matters, no one excel ed me; although I was often

put back for faults of grammar. Yet these were the attempts that gave my

father particular pleasure, and for which he rewarded me with many

presents of money, considerable for such a lad.

My father taught my sister Italian in the same room in which I had to

commit Cellarius to memory. As I was soon ready with my task, and was

yet obliged to sit quiet, I listened with my book before me, and very

readily caught the Italian, which struck me as an agreeable softening of

Latin.

Other precocities, with respect to memory and the power to combine, I

possessed in common with those children who thus acquire an early

reputation. For that reason, my father could scarcely wait for me to go

to col ege. 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 as to which I might choose, except

that he had for some reason or other a disinclination to Goettingen, 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 Ratisbon, as wel as

to Vienna, and thence towards Italy; although he repeatedly mentioned

that Paris should first be seen, because 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 so as 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.

Private lessons, which now gradual y multiplied, were shared with the

children of the neighbors. This learning in common did not advance me:

the teachers fol owed 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 learning 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 religious instructions had been rendered even

common-place; Cel arius 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, whatever they might be, always seemed to me the

best. But I soon remarked that my competitors, who brought forth very

lame affairs, were in the same condition, and thought no less of

themselves. Nay, what appeared yet more suspicious, a good lad (though

in such matters altogether unskilful), whom I liked in other respects,

but who had his rhymes made by his tutor, not only regarded these as the

best, but was thoroughly persuaded they were his own, as he always

maintained 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 real y 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 skil ,--started on the spur of the moment by our

teachers and parents, who had noted our sport,--in which I came off

wel , and won general praise.

No libraries for children had at that time been established. The old had

themselves still childish notions, and found it convenient to impart

their own education to their successors. Except the "Orbis Pictus" of Amos Comenius, no book of the sort fell into our hands; but the large

folio Bible, with copperplates by Merian, was diligently gone over leaf

by leaf; Gottfried'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 "Metamorphoses," the first books of which in particular I studied careful y, 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

reproducing 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 translation, and which, imperfectly as

it was executed, had a sweet and beneficent influence on my mind. That

"Robinson Crusoe" was added in due time, fol ows in the nature of things; and it may be imagined that the "Island of Falsenberg" was not

wanting. Lord Anson's "Voyage round the Globe" combined the dignity of truth with the rich fancies of fable; and, while our thoughts

accompanied this excellent seaman, we were conducted over al the world,

and endeavored to fol ow 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 cal ed

excellent, 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 celebrated under the name

Volkschriften, Volksbucher (popular works or books), was carried on in

Frankfort. The enormous sales they met with led to their being almost

il egibly printed from stereotypes on horrible blotting-paper. We

children were so fortunate as to find these precious remains of the

Middle Ages every day on a little table at the door of a dealer in cheap

books, and to obtain them at the cost of a couple of Kreutzer. "The

Eulenspiegel," "The Four Sons of Haimon," "The Emperor Octavian," "The Fair Melusina," "The Beautiful Magelone," "Fortunatus," with the whole race down to "The Wandering Jew," were al at our service, as often as we preferred the relish of these works to the taste of sweet things. The

greatest benefit of this was, that, when we had read through or damaged

such a sheet, it could soon be reprocured, and swal owed a second time.

As a family picnic 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 fal unexpectedly 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 restlessness 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

forestal Nature. Speculative Englishmen, therefore, had come to the

Continent, and inoculated, for a considerable fee, the children of such

persons as were opulent, and free from prejudices. Stil , the majority

were exposed to the old disease: the infection raged through families,

kil ed and disfigured many children; and few parents dared to avail

themselves of a method, the probable efficacy of which had been

abundantly confirmed by the result. The evil now invaded our house, and

attacked me with unusual severity. My whole body was sown over with

spots, and my face covered; and for several days I lay blind and in

great pain. They tried the only possible alleviation, and promised me

heaps of gold if I would keep quiet, and not increase the mischief by

rubbing and scratching. I controlled myself, while, according to the

prevailing prejudice, they kept me as warm as possible, and thus only

rendered my suffering more acute. At last, after a woeful time, there

fel , 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 gradual y

putting off my spotted skin; but others were pitiless enough to remind

me often of my previous condition, especial y 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

grown!" Then she would tel me circumstantial y 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 escaped neither 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 forever. But

alas! another again threatened in the background, 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 mention 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 capricious; and we were never on the most friendly terms.

Besides, he scarcely survived the years of childhood. Among several

other children born afterwards, who, like him, did not live long, I only

remember a very pretty and agreeable girl, who also soon passed away; so

that, after the lapse of some years, my sister and I remained alone, and

were therefore the more deeply and affectionately attached to each

other.

These maladies, and other unpleasant interruptions, were in their

consequences doubly grievous; for my father, who seemed to have laid

down for himself a certain calendar of education and instruction, was

resolved immediately to repair every delay, and imposed double lessons

upon the young convalescent. 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 commonly fled to my

grandfather and grandmother. Their house stood in the Friedberg Street,

and appeared to have been formerly a fortress; for, on approaching it,

nothing was seen but a large gate with battlements, which were joined on

either side to the two neighboring houses. On entering through a narrow

passage, we reached at last a tolerably wide court, surrounded by

irregular buildings, which were now al united into one dwel ing. We

usual y 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-trel ises: 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 wel

as the beds. The long wall, erected towards the south, was used for some

wel -trained espalier peach-trees, the forbidden 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

gooseberry bushes furnished our voracity with a succession of harvests

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 gardener

managed the drudgery. He was never vexed by the various toils which were

necessary to preserve and increase a fine show of pinks. The branches of

the peach-trees were careful y tied to the espaliers with his own hands,

in a fan-shape, in order to bring about a ful 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 intrusted

to none; and I stil with pleasure recal 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 annual y at

the Piper's Court; so that there was no dearth of the article. He wore

also a loose dressing-gown, and a folded black velvet cap upon his head;

so that he might have passed for an intermediate person between Alcinous

and Laertes.

Al this work in the garden he pursued as regularly and with as much

precision as his official business; for, before he came down, he always

arranged the list of cases for the next day, and read the legal papers.

In the morning he proceeded to the city-hall, dined after his return,

then took a nap 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

wainscoted room. His library contained, besides law-works, only the

earliest books of travels, sea-voyages, and discoveries of countries.

Altogether I can cal to mind no situation more adapted than his to

awaken the feeling of uninterrupted peace and eternal duration.

But the reverence we entertained for this venerable old man was raised

to the highest degree by a conviction that he possessed the gift of

prophecy, especial y 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 al 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 stil a junior council or,

that, on the first vacancy, he would obtain the place left open on the

bench of the /Schoeffen/; and soon afterwards, when one of those

officers actual y died of apoplexy, my grandfather gave orders that his

house should be quietly got ready prepared on the day of electing and

bal oting, to receive his guests and congratulators. Sure enough, the

decisive gold bal was drawn in his favor. The simple dream by which he

had learned this, he confided to his wife as fol ows: He had seen

himself in the ordinary ful assembly of councilmen, where al went on

just as usual. Suddenly the late /Schoeff/ 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 similar occurred on the death of the /Schultheiss/. They

make no delay in supplying this place; as they always have to fear that

the emperor wil , 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 al on my account." This expression anticipated the result,--he was made /Schultheiss/. And what

rendered the circumstance particularly remarkable was, that, although

his representative was the third and last to draw at the ballot, the two

silver bal s first came out, leaving the golden bal at the bottom of

the bag for him.

Perfectly prosaic, simple, and without a trace of the fantastic 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 sentences as these: "To-night N. N. came to me, and said,"--the name and revelation being written in cipher; or, "This night I saw,"--al 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 transmitted 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 ourselves; and though at first, of all the goods

in the shop, nothing had much interest for us but the licorice, 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 al the family. Whilst 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 neighborhood to pick up neglected children,

take care of them, comb them, and carry them about in the way she had

done with 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 al her wel -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.

Every thing in her house was stirring, lively, and cheerful; and we

children owed her many a gay hour.

In a more quiet situation, which was, however, suited to her character,

was a second aunt, married to the Pastor Stark, incumbent of St.

Catharine's Church. He lived much alone, in accordance with his

temperament and vocation, and possessed 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 col ection of the most

remarkable travels, under the title, "Homer's Description of the

Conquest of the Kingdom of Troy," ornamented with copperplates in the

theatrical French taste. These pictures perverted my imagination to such

a degree, that, for a long time, I could conceive the Homeric heroes

only under such forms. The incidents themselves gave me unspeakable

delight; though I found great fault with the work for affording us no

account of the capture of Troy, and breaking off so abruptly with the

death of Hector. My uncle, to whom I mentioned this defect, referred me

to Virgil, who perfectly satisfied my demands.

It wil 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 Established Church.

Separatists, Pietists, Herrnhuter (Moravians), Quiet-in-the-Land, and

others differently named and characterized, sprang up, all of whom are

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 wel as the laity divided themselves 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 especial y noted, who, when one of

his craft attempted to shame him by asking, "Who is real y your

confessor?" answered with great cheerfulness, 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 natural y made an impression on the boy, and led him

into similar states of mind. In fact, he came to the thought that he

might immediately approach the great God of nature, the Creator and

Preserver of heaven and earth, whose earlier manifestations of wrath had

been long forgotten in the beauty of the world, and the manifold

blessings in which we participate while upon it. The way he took to

accomplish this was very curious.

The boy had chiefly kept to the first article of belief. The God who

stands in immediate connection 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 every thing 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 productions 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 increased as chance

directed, the best ores and other specimens. But the next difficulty

was, as to how they should be arranged and raised into a pile. His

father possessed a beautiful red-lacquered music-stand, ornamented with

gilt flowers, in the form of a four-sided pyramid, with different

elevations, which had been found convenient for quartets, but lately was

not much in use. The boy laid hands on this, and built up his

representatives of nature one above the other in steps; so that it al

looked quite pretty and at the same time sufficiently significant. 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 odor. 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 representation of what

passes in the heart, than an open flame. The sun had already risen for a

long time, but the neighboring 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. Every thing 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 wel -arranged collection of natural curiosities. The boy knew

better, but concealed 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 lacquer 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 perplexity.

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 considered a hint and warning of the danger

there always is in wishing to approach the Deity in such a way.

SECOND BOOK.

Al that has been hitherto recorded indicates that happy and easy

condition in which nations exist during a long peace. But nowhere

probably is such a beautiful time enjoyed in greater comfort than in

cities living under their own laws, and large enough to include a

considerable number of citizens, and so situated as to enrich them by

trade and commerce. Strangers find it to their advantage to come and go,

and are under a necessity of bringing profit in order to acquire profit.

Even if such cities rule but a small territory, they are the better

qualified to advance their internal prosperity; as their external

relations expose them to no costly undertakings or al iances.

Thus the Frankforters passed a series of prosperous years during my

childhood; but scarcely, on the 28th of August, 1756, had I completed my

seventh year, than that world-renowned war broke out which was also to

exert great influence upon the next seven years of my life. Frederick

the Second, King of Prussia, had fal en upon Saxony with sixty thousand

men; and, instead of announcing his invasion by a declaration of war, he

fol owed it up with a manifesto, composed by himself as it was said,

which explained the causes that had moved and justified him in so

monstrous a step. The world, which saw itself appealed to, not merely as

spectator, but as judge, immediately split into two parties; and our

family was an image of the great whole.

My grandfather, who, as /Schoeff/ 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

sympathizing sincerely in the fate of that unhappy monarch, leaned

towards Prussia, with the other and smal er half of the family. Our

meetings, which had been held on Sundays for many years uninterruptedly,

were very soon disturbed. The misunderstandings so common among persons

related by marriage, found only now a form in which they could be

expressed. Contention, discord, silence, and separation ensued. My

grandfather, general y a cheerful, quiet man, and fond of ease, became

impatient. The women vainly endeavored to smother the flames; and, after

some unpleasant scenes, my father was the first to quit the society. At home we now rejoiced undisturbed at the Prussian victories, which were

commonly announced with great glee by our vivacious aunt. Every other

interest had to give way to this, and we passed the rest of the year in

perpetual agitation. The occupation of Dresden, the moderation of the

king at the outset, his slow but secure advances, the victory at

Lowositz, the capture of the Saxons, were so many triumphs for our

party. Every thing 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 al 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.

Being their eldest grandson and godchild, I had dined every Sunday since

my infancy with my grandfather and grandmother; and the hours so spent

had been the most delightful of the whole week. But now I relished not a

morsel, because I was compel ed to hear the most horrible slanders of my

hero. Here blew another wind, here sounded another tone, than at home.

My liking and even my respect for my grandfather and grandmother fell

off. I could mention nothing of this to my parents, but avoided the

matter, both on account of my own feelings, and because I had been

warned by my mother. In this way I was thrown back upon myself; and as

in my sixth year, after the earthquake at Lisbon, the goodness of God

had become to me in some measure suspicious: so I began now, on account

of Frederick the Second, to doubt the justice of the public. My heart

was naturally inclined to reverence, and it required a great shock to

stagger my faith in any thing that was venerable. But alas! they had

commended good manners and a becoming deportment to us, not for their

own sake, but for the sake of the people. What will people say? was

always the cry; and I thought that the people must be right good people,

and would know how to judge of any thing and every thing. 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 misrepresented and diminished; and this base injustice was

done to the only man who was manifestly elevated above all his

contemporaries, 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 himself 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 jewellery and money. That Count

Daun was often called an old dozer, they thought justifiable.

But, now that I look more closely into the matter, I here trace 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 cultivation. 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 succession of

battles and events left the parties neither quiet nor rest. We ever

found a malicious delight in reviving and resharpening those imaginary evils and capricious disputes; and thus we continued to tease each

other, until the occupation 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 hot controversy, there were others who

perceived the seriousness of the times, and feared that the sympathy of

France might open a scene of war in our own vicinity. They kept us

children at home 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 wel

as the theatre itself as far as the proscenium, found a place in the

room adjoining. We were al owed, as a special favor, to invite first one

and then another of the neighbor's 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 compel ed 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

learned 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 final y 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 armory for the service of

our plays and tragedies, which we ourselves performed with delight when

we had outgrown the puppets. My playfellows, too, prepared for

themselves such armories, which they considered to be 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 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 general y took part with me, while

others sided against me; though many changes of party occurred. One

single boy, whom I wil 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 faithful y together.

To him, as wel as other wel -wishers, I could render myself very

agreeable by tel ing tales, which they most delighted to hear when I was

the hero of my own story. It greatly rejoiced them to know that such

wonderful things could befall one of their own playfel ows; nor was it any harm that they did not understand how I could find time and space

for such adventures, as they must have been pretty well aware of all my

comings and goings, and how I was occupied the entire day. Not the less

necessary was it for me to select the localities of these occurrences,

if not in another world, at least in another spot; and yet al was told

as having taken place only to-day or yesterday. They therefore had to

form for themselves greater il usions than I could have palmed off upon

them. 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 recognize 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,

wil perhaps become more apparent and interesting by means of an

example. I subjoin, therefore, one of these tales, which, as I often had

to repeat it to my comrades, stil hovers entire in my imagination and

memory.

THE NEW PARIS.

A BOY'S LEGEND.

On the night before Whitsunday, 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 powdered, 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 fal ing off as soon as I was about to put on the next.

In this dilemma, a young and handsome man came to me, and greeted me in

the friendliest manner. "Oh! 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 Mercury--I have often enough seen you represented in pictures."--"I am, indeed," replied he,

"and am sent to you by the gods on an important errand. Do you see these three apples?" He stretched forth his hand and showed me three apples, which it could hardly hold, and which were as wonderfully beautiful as

they were large, the one of a red, the other of a yellow, the third of a

green, color. 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 stil

larger. I held them up at once against the light, and found them quite

transparent; but soon they expanded upward, and became three beautiful

little ladies about as large as middle-sized dolls, whose clothes were

of the colors of the apples. They glided gently up my fingers: and when I was about to catch them, to make sure of one at least, they had

already soared high and far; and I had to put up with the

disappointment. I stood there al amazed and petrified, holding up my

hands, and staring at my fingers as if there were stil something on

them to see. Suddenly I saw a most lovely girl dance upon the very tips.

She was smal er, but pretty and lively; and as she did not fly away like

the others, but remained dancing, now on one finger-point, now on

another, I regarded her for a long while with admiration. And, as she

pleased me so much, I thought in the end I could catch her, and made, as

I fancied, a very adroit grasp. But at the moment I felt such a blow on

my head that I fel 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 cal ed those images to mind, and also when I

was eating dinner at my grandfather'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 fol ow them, and pass the evening pleasantly.

My way led towards the intrenchments; and I came to the spot which is

rightly called the Bad Wal , for it is never quite safe from ghosts

there. I walked slowly, and thought of my three goddesses, but

especially 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 remember to have ever noticed before. It

looked low, but its pointed arch would have al owed the tal est man to

enter. Arch and wall had been chisel ed in the handsomest way, both by

mason and sculptor; but it was the door itself which first properly

attracted my attention. The old brown wood, though slightly ornamented,

was crossed with broad bands of brass wrought both in relief and

intaglio. The foliage on these, with the most natural birds sitting in

it, I could not sufficiently admire. But, what seemed most remarkable,

no keyhole could be seen, no latch, no knocker; and from this I

conjectured that the door could be opened only from within. I was not in

error; for, when I went nearer in order to touch the ornaments, it

opened inwards; and there appeared a man whose dress was somewhat long,

wide, and singular. A venerable beard enveloped his chin, so that I was

inclined to think him a Jew. But he, as if he had divined my thoughts,

made the sign of the holy cross, by which he gave me to understand that

he was a good Catholic Christian. "Young gentleman, how came you here, and what are you doing?" he said to me, with a friendly voice and

manner." I am admiring," I replied," the workmanship of this door; for I have never seen any thing 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 stil 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

gradual y to al ure 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 therefore entered perfectly re-assured: 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 wal , that formed a circle,

where I found much to admire. Niches tasteful y 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 cal ed and sang to us as we advanced: the

starlings, particularly, chattered the sil iest 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 cal ed out thus; but I feigned not to notice

it, and had in truth no time to attend to him, for I could easily

perceive that we went round and round, and that this shaded space was in

fact a great circle, which enclosed another much more important. Indeed,

we had actual y reached the smal door again, and it seemed as though

the old man would let me out. But my eyes remained directed towards a

golden railing, which seemed to hedge round the middle of this wonderful

garden, and which I had found means enough of observing in our walk;

although the old man managed to keep me always close to the wall, and

therefore pretty far from the centre. And now, just as he was going to

the door, I said to him, with a bow, "You have been so extremely kind to me that I would fain venture to make one more request before I part from

you. Might I not look more closely at that golden railing, which appears

to enclose in a very wide circle the interior of the garden?"--"Very wil ingly," 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 wil ingly," I replied; and laid my hat and sword on the nearest stone bench. Immediately he grasped my left hand with his

right, held it fast, and led me with some force straight forwards. When

we reached the railing, my wonder changed into amazement. On a high

socle of marble stood innumerable spears and partisans, ranged beneath

each other, joined by their strangely ornamented points, and forming a

complete circle. I looked through the intervals, and saw just behind a

gently flowing piece of water, bounded on both sides by marble, and

displaying in its clear depths a multitude of gold and silver fish,

which moved about now slowly and now swiftly, now alone and now in

shoals. I would also fain have looked beyond the canal, to see what

there was in the heart of the garden. But I found, to my great sorrow,

that the other side of the water was bordered by a similar railing, and

with so much art, that to each interval on this side exactly fitted a

spear or partisan on the other. These, and the other ornaments, rendered

it impossible for one to see through, stand as he would. Besides, the

old man, who still held me fast, prevented me from moving freely. My

curiosity, meanwhile, after al 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 conditions." 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, al of which

seemed to approach the Oriental costume. I soon changed my dress. He

confined my powdered hair under a many-colored 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

therefore turned round rather hastily, and asked the old man about the

niche as wel 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 instrument 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 fol ow 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 any thing 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 the strange movement ended in al the points

sinking towards each other just as if two ancient hosts, armed with

pikes, were about to charge. The confusion to the eyes, the clatter to

the ears, was hardly to be borne; but infinitely surprising was the

sight, when, fal ing perfectly level, they covered the circle of the

canal, and formed the most glorious bridge that one can imagine. For now

a most variegated garden parterre met my sight. It was laid out in

curvilinear beds, which, looked at together, formed a labyrinth of

ornaments; al with green borders of a low, woolly plant, which I had

never seen before; all with flowers, each division of different colors,

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 riveted 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

exactly the shortest way, led me nevertheless immediately towards that

centre; and how was I astonished, when, on entering the circle of high

trees, I saw before me the peristyle of a magnificent garden-house,

which seemed to have similar prospects and entrances on the other sides!

The heavenly music which streamed from the building transported me stil

more than this model of architecture. I fancied that I heard now a lute,

now a harp, now a guitar, and now something tinkling which did not

belong to any of these instruments. The door for which we made opened

soon on being lightly touched 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 staid behind;

and I went with her through a short passage, arched and finely

ornamented, to the middle hal , the splendid, dome-like ceiling of which

attracted my gaze on my entrance, and filled me with astonishment. Yet

my eye could not dwell on this long, being allured down by a more charming spectacle. On a carpet, directly under the middle of the

cupola, sat three women in a triangle, clad in three different colors,--

one red, the other yel ow, the third green. The seats were gilt, and the

carpet was a perfect flower-bed. In their arms lay the three instruments

which I had been able to distinguish from without; for, being disturbed

by my arrival, they had stopped their playing. "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 only I remarked that there was a rather long bench placed obliquely

before them, on which lay a mandolin. 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 yel ow 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-wil ed, according as she

changed her mien and mode of playing. Sometimes she seemed to wish to

excite my emotions, sometimes to tease me; but, do what she would, she

got little out of me; for my little neighbor, by whom I sat elbow to

elbow, had gained me entirely to herself: and while I clearly saw in

those three ladies the sylphides of my dream, and recognized the colors

of the apples, I conceived that I had no cause to detain them. I should

have liked better to lay hold of the pretty little maiden if I had not

but too wel remembered the blow she had given me in my dream. Hitherto

she had remained quite quiet with her mandolin; but, when her mistresses

had ceased, they commanded her to perform some pleasant little piece.

Scarcely had she jingled off some dance-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 soon as we had done, they

commanded the little girl to refresh me with something nice til supper

should come in. I had indeed forgotten that there was any thing in the

world beyond this paradise. Alerte led me back immediately into the

passage by which I had entered. On one side of it she had two well-

arranged rooms. In that in which she lived she set before me oranges,

figs, peaches, and grapes; and I enjoyed with great gusto both the

fruits of foreign lands and those of our own not yet in season.

Confectionery there was in profusion: she fil ed, 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 wil play," said she, and led me into the other room. Here al looked like a Christmas fair, but such

costly and exquisite things were never seen in a Christmas booth. There

were all kinds of dol s, dolls' clothes, and dol s' furniture; kitchens,

parlors, and shops, and single toys innumerable. She led me round to al

the glass cases in which these ingenious works were preserved.

But she soon closed again the first cases, and said, "That is nothing

for you, I know wel 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 wil be amusing 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 any thing so

beautiful. She did not leave me time to examine them in detail, but took

one box under her arm, while I seized the other. "We wil go," she said,

"to the golden bridge. There one plays best with soldiers: the lances

give at once the direction in which the armies are to be opposed to each

other." We had now reached the golden, trembling floor; and below me I could hear the waters gurgle and the fishes splash, while I knelt down

to range my columns. All, as I now saw, were cavalry. She boasted that

she had the queen of the Amazons as leader of her female host. I, on the

contrary, found Achilles and a very stately Grecian cavalry. The armies

stood facing each other, and nothing could have been seen more

beautiful. They were not flat, leaden horsemen like ours; but man and

horse were round and solid, and most finely wrought: nor could one

conceive how they kept their balance; for they stood of themselves,

without a support for their feet.

Both of us had inspected our hosts with much self-complacency, when she

announced the onset. We had found ordnance in our chests; viz., little

boxes ful of well-polished agate bal s. With these we were to fight

against each other from a certain distance; while, however, it was an

express condition that we should not throw with more force than was

necessary to upset the figures, as none of them were to be injured. Now

the cannonade began on both sides, and at first it succeeded to the

satisfaction of us both. But when my adversary observed that I aimed

better than she, and might in the end win the victory, which depended on

the majority of pieces remaining upright, she came nearer, and her

girlish way of throwing had then the desired result. She prostrated a

multitude of my best troops, and the more I protested the more eagerly

did she throw. This at last vexed me, and I declared that I would do the

same. In fact, I not only went nearer, but in my rage threw with much

more violence; so that it was not long before a pair of her little

centauresses flew in pieces. In her eagerness she did not instantly

notice it, but I stood petrified when the broken figures joined together

again of themselves: Amazon and horse became again one, and also

perfectly close, set up a gal op from the golden bridge under the lime-

trees, and, running swiftly backwards and forwards, were lost in their

career, I know not how, in the direction of the wall. My fair opponent

had hardly perceived this, when she broke out into loud weeping and

lamentation, and exclaimed that I had caused her an irreparable loss,

which was far greater than could be expressed. But I, by this time

provoked, was glad to annoy her, and blindly flung a couple of the

remaining agate balls with force into the midst of her army. Unhappily I

hit the queen, who had hitherto, during our regular game, been excepted.

She flew in pieces, and her nearest officers were also shivered. But

they swiftly set themselves up again, and started off like the others,

gal oping very merrily about under the lime-trees, and disappearing

against the wal . My opponent scolded and abused me; but, being now in

ful play, I stooped to pick up some agate bal s which rol ed 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. Having always heard that a hearty kiss was

the proper response to a girl's box of the ear, I took her by the ears,

and kissed her repeatedly. But she uttered such a piercing scream 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 shake and rattle. I soon remarked that the railings again

set themselves in motion; but I had no time to consider, 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. Therefore I jumped 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 wal , from

ground and branches, and, wherever I turned, dashed against me

crossways.

In a short time my light garment was 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 reconciliation with my little adversary.

But, in a twinkling, the water stopped; and I stood drenched upon the

saturated ground. The presence of the old man, who appeared before me

unexpectedly, was by no means welcome. I could have wished, if not to

hide, at least to clothe, myself. The shame, the shivering, the effort

to cover myself in some degree, made me cut a most piteous figure. The

old man employed the moment in venting the severest reproaches against

me. "What hinders me," he exclaimed, "from taking one of the green cords, and fitting it, if not to your neck, to your back?" This threat I took in very il part. "Refrain," I cried, "from such words, even from such thoughts; for otherwise you and your mistresses will be lost."--"

Who, then, are you," he asked in defiance, "who dare speak thus?"--"A favorite of the gods," I said, "on whom it depends whether those ladies shal 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 al 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 rose without being wetted, took me kindly by the hand, led me

into the hal , clad me again quickly; and I was soon once more decked

out and frizzled in my Sunday fashion as before. The porter did not

speak another word; but, before he let me pass the entrance, he stopped

me, and showed me some objects on the wall over the way, while, at the

same time, he pointed backwards to the door. I understood him: he wished

to imprint the objects on my mind, that I might the more certainly find

the door, which had unexpectedly closed behind me. I now took good

notice of what was opposite 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 recognize, though I could not read the inscription. It

rested on the top-stone of a niche, in which a finely wrought fountain

poured water from cup to cup into a great basin, that formed, as it

were, a little pond, and disappeared in the earth. Fountain,

inscription, nut-trees, all stood perpendicularly, one above another: I

would paint it as I saw it.

Now, it may wel be conceived how I passed this evening, and many

fol owing days, and how often I repeated to myself this story, which

even I could hardly believe. As soon as it was in any degree possible, I

went again to the Bad Wal , at least to refresh my remembrance of these

signs, and to look at the precious door. But, to my great amazement, I

found all changed. Nut-trees, indeed, overtopped the wal ; but they did

not stand immediately in contact. A tablet also was inserted in the

wal , 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 al 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 I shal be expressly forbidden to do so, 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 contest 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-trees, tablet, and fountain rather drew near together;

while a fourth had something still more wonderful to announce, which

was, that the nut-trees were in the middle, but that the tablet and the

fountain were on sides opposite to those which I had stated. With

respect to the traces of the little door, they also varied. And thus

they furnished me an early instance of the contradictory views men can

hold and maintain in regard to matters quite simple and easily cleared

up. As I obstinately refused the continuation of my tale, a repetition

of the first part was often desired. I took good care not to change the

circumstances much; and, by the uniformity of the narrative, I converted

the fable into truth in the minds of my hearers.

Yet I was averse to falsehood and dissimulation, and altogether by no

means frivolous. Rather, on the contrary, the inward earnestness, with

which I had early begun to consider myself and the world, was seen, even

in my exterior; and I was frequently cal ed to account, often in a

friendly way, and often in rail ery, for a certain dignity which I had

assumed. For, although good and chosen friends were certainly not

wanting to me, we were always a minority against those who found

pleasure in assailing us with wanton rudeness, and who indeed often

awoke us in no gentle fashion from that legendary and self-complacent

dreaming in which we--I by inventing, and my companions by sympathizing-

-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 unskilful y, with blows and cuffs,

against which we hardened ourselves all the more as obstinacy was

forbidden under the severest penalties. A great many of the sports of

youth depend on a rivalry in such endurances: as, for instance, when

they strike each other alternately with two fingers or the whole fist,

till the limbs are numbed; or when they bear the penalty of blows

incurred in certain games, with more or less firmness; when, in

wrestling or scuffling, they do not let themselves be perplexed by the

pinches of a half-conquered opponent; or, final y, 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 toward 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 importunity of

the others was increased; and, since rude barbarity 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. As long as we children were al together, we entertained

ourselves quite agreeably; but when my adherents, after waiting long

enough, had left, and I remained alone with three of my enemies, these

took it into their heads to torment me, to shame me, and to drive me

away. Having left me an instant in the room, they came back with

switches, which they had made by quickly cutting up a broom. I noted

their design; and, as I supposed the end of the hour near, I at once

resolved not to resist them till the clock struck. They began,

therefore, without remorse, to lash my legs and calves in the cruel est

fashion. I did not stir, but soon felt that I had miscalculated, and

that such pain greatly lengthened the minutes. My wrath grew with my

endurance; and, at the first stroke of the hour, I grasped the one who

least expected it by the hair behind, hurled him to the earth in an

instant, pressing my knee upon his back; the second, a younger and

weaker one, who attacked me from behind, I drew by the head under my

arm, and almost throttled him with the pressure. The last, and not the

weakest, stil remained; and my left hand only was left for my defense.

But I seized him by the clothes; and, with a dexterous twist on my part

and an over-precipitate one on his, I brought him down and struck his

face on the ground. They were not wanting in bites, pinches, and kicks;

but I had nothing but revenge in my limbs as well as in my heart. With

the advantage which I had acquired, I repeatedly knocked their heads

together. At last they raised a dreadful shout of murder, and we were

soon surrounded by all the inmates of the house. The switches scattered

around, and my legs, which I had bared of the stockings, soon bore

witness for me. They put off the punishment, and let me leave the house;

but I declared, that in future, on the slightest offence, I would

scratch out the eyes, tear off the ears, of any one of them, if not

throttle him.

Though, as usual y happens in childish affairs, this event was soon

forgotten, and even laughed at, it was the cause that these joint

instructions 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.

Stil , I wil not leave this topic without telling some more stories of

the many vexations caused me by my playfel ows; 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 special y fortunate or unfortunate. If such

knowledge 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 themselves 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 civilized states, and, after

restraining themselves for a while, break out, according to their

characters, into cunning or violence.

Force may be warded off by force; but a wel -disposed child, inclined to

love and sympathy, has little to oppose to scorn and il -wil . Though I

managed pretty wel to keep off the 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 il -

wishers saw with envy, was the pleasure I took in the relations that

accrued to the family from my grandfather's position of

/Schultheiss/; since, as he was the first of his class, this had no

small effect on those belonging to him. Once when, after the holding of

the Piper's Court, I appeared to pride myself on having seen my

grandfather 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 paternal grandfather, who had

been keeper of the Willow Inn, and would never have aspired to thrones

and coronets. I replied, that I was in no wise ashamed of that, as it

was the glory and honor of our native city that al its citizens might

consider each other equal, and every one derive profit and honor 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 monument of

that past existence to which I was indebted for my own. Another ill-

wisher, who was the most malicious of al , took the first aside, and

whispered something in his ear; while they still looked at me

scornful y. My gall already began to rise, and I chal enged them to

speak out. "What is more, then, if you will have it," continued the first, "this one thinks you might go looking about a long time before

you could find your grandfather." I now threatened them more vehemently if they did not more clearly explain themselves. Thereupon they brought

forward an old story, which they pretended to have overheard from their

parents, that my father was the son of some eminent man, while that good

citizen had shown himself wil ing 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 grandmother; that the other collateral relations who lived in Friedburg and other places

were 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 al 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.

Stil , these spiteful words inoculated me with a sort of moral disease,

which crept on in secret. It would not have displeased me at al 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

investigate the allegation, and invented or found for it new grounds of

probability. I had heard little said of my grandfather, except that his

likeness, together with my grandmother's, had hung in a parlor 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 smal 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 sympathies of the whole cultivated world by a marvel ous

combination of the important events of human life.

But as I did not venture to trust such an affair to any one, or even to

ask the most remote questions concerning it, I was not wanting in a

secret diligence, in order to get, if possible, somewhat nearer to the

matter. I had heard it explicitly maintained, that sons often bore a

decided resemblance to their fathers or grandfathers. Many of our

friends, especial y Councillor Schneider, a friend of the family, were

connected by business with all the princes and noblemen of the

neighborhood, of whom, including both the ruling and the younger

branches, not a few had estates on the Rhine and Main, and in the

intermediate country, and who at times honored their faithful agents

with their portraits.

These, which I had often seen on the walls from my infancy, I now

regarded with redoubled 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 backward and forward:

and though in the end I was compel ed to regard the reproach as a

completely empty tale, the impression remained; and I could not from

time to time refrain from privately calling up and testing all the

noblemen whose images had remained very distinct in my imagination. 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 honor or

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 admiration; for they general y promise more than they perform:

and it seems that Nature, among the other roguish tricks that she plays

us, here also especial y 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, considered in and for himself, with his equals, and in

relations suited to his powers, seems so intel igent and rational, and

at the same time so easy, cheerful, and clever, that one can hardly wish

it further cultivation. If children grew up according to early

indications, we should have nothing but geniuses; but growth is not

merely development: the various organic systems which constitute one man

spring one from another, follow each other, change into each other,

supplant each other, and even consume each other; so that after a time

scarcely a trace is to be found of many aptitudes and manifestations of

ability. Even when the talents of the man have on the whole a decided

direction, it wil 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 gradual y 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 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

inconveniences remains that inward discomfort, which doubles and

sharpens the evil, and destroys the good which is stil possible. Then

he has really to suffer from friends and foes, often more from the

former than from the latter; and he knows not how to secure and preserve

either his interests or his inclinations.

The year 1757, which still passed in perfectly civic tranquillity, kept

us, nevertheless, in great uneasiness of mind. Perhaps no other was more

fruitful of events than this. Conquests, achievements, misfortunes,

restorations, fol owed one upon another, swallowed up and seemed to

destroy each other; yet the image of Frederick, his name and glory, soon

hovered again above all. The enthusiasm of his worshippers grew always

stronger and more animated; the hatred of his enemies more bitter; and

the diversity of opinion, which separated even families, contributed not

a little to isolate citizens, already sundered in many ways and on other

grounds. For in a city like Frankfort, where three religions divide the

inhabitants into three unequal masses; where only a few men, even of the

ruling faith, can attain to political power,--there must be many wealthy

and educated persons who are thrown back upon themselves, and, by means

of studies and tastes, form for themselves an individual and secluded

existence. It will be necessary for us to speak of such men, now and

hereafter, if we are to bring before us the peculiarities of a Frankfort

citizen of that time.

My father, immediately after his return from his travels, had in his own

way formed the design, that, to prepare himself for the service of the

city, he would undertake one of the subordinate offices, and discharge

its duties without emolument, if it wore conferred upon him without

bal oting. In the consciousness of his good intentions, and according to

his way of thinking and the conception 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 il humor and disgust, vowed that he would never accept of any

place, and, in order to render it impossible, procured the title of

Imperial Council or, which the /Schultheiss/ and elder

/Schoeffen/ bear as a special honor. He had thus made himself an

equal of the highest, and could not begin again at the bottom. The same

impulse induced him also to woo the eldest daughter of the

/Schultheiss/, so that he was excluded from the council on this

side also. He was now of that number of recluses who never form

themselves 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 fel ow-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 Schoeff

von Uffenbach, who was general y 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 favor, it was not thought altogether suitable to his

dignity; and his invited guests, as wel as the other people of the

country, allowed themselves many a jocose remark on the matter.

I remember, too, a Baron von Hakel, a rich nobleman, who, being married,

but childless, occupied a charming house in the 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

general y accumulates with col ectors 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 stil to be found in my

collections.

At an earlier date than this,--so early that I scarcely set eyes upon

him,--John Michael von Loen gained considerable repute in the literary

world as wel 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 reputation 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 wel received, because it insisted on morality, even in courts, where prudence only is generally at home; and thus his labor 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 advance tolerance, especial y 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, unprejudiced man, and not averse to the new views that more

extensively obtained in France. His former countrymen, whom he had 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 general y hazardous to get too near

him, extraordinary sovereign as he undoubtedly was; for it had been seen

how disgraceful y the famous Voltaire had been arrested in Frankfort, at

the requisition of the Prussian Resident Freitag, though he had formerly

stood so high in favor, and had been regarded as the king's teacher in

French poetry. There was, on such occasions, no want of reflections and

examples to warn one against courts and princes' service, of which a

native Frankforter could scarcely form a conception.

An excellent man, Dr. Orth, I will only mention by name; because here I

have not so much to erect a monument to the deserving citizens of

Frankfort, but rather refer to them only in as far 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-cal ed "Reformation of Frankfort," a work in which the statutes of the state are col ected. 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 neighbors, 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 workingmen

should carry him to the grave, early in the morning, in perfect silence,

and without an attendant or fol ower. This was done; and the affair

caused great excitement 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 al classes; and, though such ceremonies were derisively

called ox-burials,[Footnote: A pun upon the name of Ochsenstein.--

Trans.] 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 tendency to humility and equality, which, in

the second half of the last century, was manifested in so many ways,

from above downward, and broke out in such unlooked-for effects.

Nor was there any lack of antiquarian amateurs. There were cabinets of

pictures, col ections of engravings; while the curiosities of our own

country especial y were zealously sought and hoarded. The older decrees

and mandates of the imperial city, of which no col ection had been

prepared, were carefully searched for in print and manuscript, arranged in the order of time, and preserved with reverence, as a treasure of

native laws and customs. The portraits of Frankforters, which existed in

great number, were also brought together, and formed a special

department of the cabinets.

Such men my father appears generally to have taken as his models. He was

wanting in none of the qualities that pertain to an upright and

respectable citizen. Thus, after he had built his house, he put his

property of every sort into order. An excellent col ection 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 curiosities,

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 stil speak of one important family, of which I had heard strange

things since my earliest years, and of some of whose members I myself

lived to see a great deal that was wonderful,--I mean the Senkenbergs.

The father, of whom I have little to say, was an opulent man. He had

three sons, who, even in their youth, uniformly distinguished themselves

as oddities. Such things are not well received in a limited city, where

no one is suffered to render himself conspicuous, either for good or

evil. Nicknames and odd stories, long kept in memory, are generally the

fruit of such singularity. The father lived at the corner of Hare Street

(/Hasengasse/), which took its name from a sign on the house, that

represented one hare at least, if not three hares. They consequently

called these three brothers only the three Hares, which nickname 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 Council or) 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, certainty to that of his col eagues. 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 wel -

powdered, curled wig, and his hat under his arm. He walked on 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 crocodile. But al 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 al other appurtenances, to a medical

establishment, 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 neighborhood 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 essential y 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 conscientious mode of

proceeding. The great number of small German courts gave rise to a

multitude of princes and servants, the former of whom desired

unconditional obedience; while the latter, for the most part, would work

or serve only according to their own convictions. Thus arose an endless

conflict, and rapid changes and explosions; because the effects of an

unrestricted course of proceeding become much sooner noticeable and

injurious on a small scale than on a large one. Many families were in

debt, and Imperial Commissions of Debts were appointed; others found

themselves sooner or later on the same road: while the officers either

reaped an unconscionable profit, or conscientiously made themselves

disagreeable and odious. Moser wished to act as a statesman and man of

business; and here his hereditary talent, cultivated to a profession,

gave him a decided advantage: but he at the same time wished to act as a

man and a citizen, and surrender as little as possible of his moral

dignity. His "Prince and Servant," his "Daniel in the Lions' Den," his

"Relics," paint throughout his own condition, in which he felt himself, not indeed tortured, but always cramped. They al indicate impatience in

a condition, to the bearings of which one cannot reconcile one's self,

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 gradual y appeared and acquired fame. All these had written in

rhyme, and my father held rhyme as indispensable in poetical works.

Canitz, Hagedorn, Drol inger, Gel ert Creuz, Hal er, 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 perused the whole of these works, and committed

portions of them 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.[Footnote: The Messiah is written

in hexameter verse.--Trans.] He had taken good care not to buy this

book; but the friend of the family, Councillor Schneider, smuggled it

in, and slipped it into the hands of my mother and her children.

On this man of business, who read but little, "The Messiah," as soon as it appeared, made a powerful impression. Those pious feelings, so

naturally expressed, and yet so beautiful y elevated; that pleasant

diction, 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 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

external form. It may readily be supposed that their conversation 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 favorite 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 given over to our

edification 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 particularly might impress the most tender as wel 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 wel -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 for church at his

ease,--we sat on a footstool behind the stove, and muttered our

customary imprecations in a tolerably low voice, while the barber was

putting on the lather. But now Adramelech had to lay his iron hands on

Satan: my sister seized me with violence, and recited, softly enough,

but with increasing passion,--

"Give me thine aid, I entreat thee: I'll worship thee if thou demandest, Thee, thou reprobate monster, yes, thee, of al criminals blackest!

Aid me. I suffer the tortures of death, everlasting, avenging!

Once, in the times gone by, I with furious hatred could hate thee:

Now I can hate thee no more! E'en this is the sharpest of tortures."

Thus far al went on tolerably; but loudly, with a dreadful voice, she

cried the fol owing words:--

"Oh, how utterly crushed I am now!"

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 al suspicions of mischievousness, we pleaded guilty of

having acted these 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 transform the great

and sublime into a sport, and even a farce; and how indeed could they

otherwise abide and endure 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, clarinets, 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 officials;

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 smal 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 import 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 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 smal parties; but these gradual y swel ed,

and there was neither power nor inclination to stop them. In short, on

the 2d of January, after a column had come through Sachsenhausen over

the bridge, through the Fahrgasse, as far as the Police Guard-House, it

halted, overpowered the smal company which escorted it, took possession

of the before-mentioned Guard-House, marched down the Zeil, and, after a

slight resistance, the main guard were also obliged to yield. In a

moment the peaceful streets were turned into a scene of war. The troops

remained and bivouacked there until lodgings were provided for them by

regular bil eting.

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 general y closed, and to abandon to the

caprices of strangers all that he had been used to arrange and keep so

careful y. 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 wel , and could deport himself with dignity and grace in

the daily intercourse of life. For it was the king's lieutenant 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 tal , thin, stern figure, with a face

much disfigured by the smal -pox; black, fiery eyes; and a dignified,

reserved demeanor. His first entrance was at once favorable 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 the pictures by candlelight. He took extreme pleasure in these

things, behaved in the most obliging manner to my father, who

accompanied him; and when he heard that the greater part of the artists

were still living, and resided in Frankfurt and its neighborhood, 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 wal s, that he might not

injure the new hangings. His people were skilful, quiet, and orderly:

but in truth, as, during the whole day and a part of the night there was

no quiet with him, one complainant quickly following another, arrested

persons being brought in and led out, and all officers and adjutants

being admitted to his presence,--as, moreover, the count kept an open

table every day, it made, in the moderately sized house, arranged only

for a family, and with but one open staircase running from top to

bottom, a movement and a buzzing like that in a beehive; although every

thing 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 wel -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 wel , knew how to adapt himself to every thing, and only made a

jest of many little annoyances. Through him my mother had sent to the

count a representation of the situation in which she was placed, owing

to her husband's state of mind. He had explained the matter so

skilful y,--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 al 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 honorable conduct, resolved here also to behave in an

exemplary manner to those upon whom he was quartered, and, indeed, never

swerved from this resolution under varying circumstances, during the

several years he staid 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,[Footnote: 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 person for godfather (or godmother) is that person's

/gevatter/, or /gevatterin/ (feminine).] felt a redoubled

interest in our house, devoted every spare moment to his child's

godmother (for he lived directly opposite); and, above al , 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 age:

and as he had a cheerful, witty vein in his character, and he liked to

exhibit a certain dry gal antry, a most friendly relation arose between

them; and the al ied godmother and father could obtain from him whatever

they wanted.

If, as I said before, it had been possible to cheer up my father, this

altered state of things would have caused little inconvenience. The

count practised the severest disinterestedness; 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 contrary, were bountiful y supplied from the dessert. To give an

idea of the simplicity of those times, I must take this opportunity 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 il humor increased: he could not resign himself to the

unavoidable. How he 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 fol ow.

In this way his activity, which he had been used chiefly to devote to

us, was crippled. The lessons he gave us were no longer required with

the former exactness; and we tried to gratify our curiosity for military

and other public proceedings as much as possible, not only at home, but

also in the streets, which was the more easily done, as the front door,

open day and night, was guarded by sentries who paid no attention to the

running to and fro of restless children.

The many affairs which were settled before the tribunal of the royal

lieutenant had quite a peculiar charm, from his making it a point to

accompany his decisions with some witty, ingenious, or lively turn. What

he decreed was strictly just, his manner of expressing it whimsical and

piquant. He seemed to have taken the Duke of Ossuna as his model.

Scarcely a day passed in which the interpreter did not tell some

anecdote or other of this kind to amuse us and my mother. This lively

man had made a little collection of such Solomonian decisions; but I

only remember the general impression, and cannot recal 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 cal the evil demon, he

withdrew into his room at such hours, which were often lengthened into days, saw no one but his /valet/, and in urgent cases could not

even be prevailed upon to receive any one. But, as soon as the evil

spirit had left him, he appeared as before, active, mild, and cheerful.

It might be inferred from the talk of his /valet/, Saint Jean, a

small, thin man of lively good nature, that in his earlier years he had

caused a great misfortune when overcome by this temper; and that,

therefore, in so important a position as his, 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, al the

Frankfort artists, as Hirt, Schuetz, Trautmann, Nothnagel, and Junker,

were called to him. They showed their finished pictures, and the count

bought such as 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 wal s, and fixed accordingly upon the size

of 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

wel in his old people and children, which were copied directly from

nature. His young men did not answer so wel ,--they were almost al 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.

Schuetz, 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 vil ages and mil s. One

cabinet was entirely al otted to him, as I found from the designs of the

rooms. Hirt painted some good oak and beech forests. His cattle were

praiseworthy.

Junker, accustomed to the imitation of the most elaborate Dutch, was

least able to manage this tapestry-work; but he condescended to ornament

many compartments with flowers and fruits for a handsome price.

As I had known al 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 wel as at the deliveries, of the pictures, and ventured to speak my

opinion freely when sketches and designs were handed in. I had already

gained among amateurs, particularly at auctions, which I attended

diligently, the reputation of being able to tell at once what any

historical picture represented, whether taken from biblical or profane

history, or from mythology; and, even if I did not always hit upon the

meaning of allegorical pictures, there was seldom any one present who

understood it better than I. Often had I persuaded the artists to represent this or that subject, and I now joyfully made use of these

advantages. I still remember writing a circumstantial essay, in which I

described twelve pictures which were to exhibit the history of Joseph:

some of them were executed.

After these achievements, which were certainly laudable in a boy, I will

mention a little disgrace which happened to me within this circle of

artists. I was wel acquainted with al the pictures which had from time

to time been 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 usual y 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 al 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 shal not enter this room." I made a bow, and walked out. Even this order I obeyed most punctual y; so that the good

Seekatz, who was then at work in the room, was very much annoyed, for he

liked to have me about him: and, out of a little spite, I carried my

obedience so far, that I left Seekatz's coffee, which I generally

brought him, upon the threshold. He was then obliged to leave his work

and fetch it, which he took so il , that he well nigh began to dislike

me.

It now seems necessary to state more circumstantial y, and to make

intel igible, how, under the 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 suggested stil more; and by listening to servants and soldiers,

sentries and visitors, I soon picked up so much, that, if I could not

join in conversation, I could at any rate manage single questions 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 intel igible to me in every way. It was not long before I took

up Racine, which I found in my father's library, and declaimed the plays

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 yet understand a whole

connected 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 unintel igible to

a child, and accustomed myself to reciting them in the tone of the

Protestant preachers. The versified French comedy was then much in

vogue: the pieces of Destouches, Marivaux, and La Chaussee were often

produced; and I still remember distinctly many characteristic figures.

Of those of Moliere I recollect less. What made the greatest impression upon me was "The Hypermnestra" of Lemiere, which, as a new piece, was brought out with care and often repeated. "The Devin du Village," "Rose et Colas," "Annette et Lubin," made each a very pleasant impression upon me. I can even now recal the youths and maidens decorated with ribbons,

and their gestures. It was not long before the wish arose in me to see

the interior of the theatre, for which many opportunities were offered

me. For as I had not always patience to stay and listen to the entire

plays, and often carried on all sorts of games with other children of my

age in the corridors, and in the milder season even before the door, a

handsome, lively boy joined us, who belonged to the theatre, and whom I

had seen in many little parts, though only casually. He came to a better

understanding with me than with the rest, as I could turn my French to

account with him; and he the more attached himself to me because there

was no boy of his age or his nation at the theatre, or anywhere in the

neighborhood. 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 al 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 any thing of the kind before; and yet from habit, after

repeated visits, I soon found it quite natural.

It was not long before a very peculiar interest of my own arose. Young

Derones, for so I wil call the boy whose acquaintance I stil kept up,

was, with the exception of his boasting, a youth of good manners and

very courteous demeanor. He made me acquainted with his sister, a girl

who was a few years older than we were, and a very pleasant, wel -grown

girl, of regular form, brown complexion, black hair and eyes: her whole

deportment had about it something quiet, even sad. I tried to make

myself agreeable to her in every way, but I could not attract her

notice. Young girls think themselves much more advanced than 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.

Sometimes, 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 discovered 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 al the more.

My liking for this girl assisted me in bearing the braggadocio of her

brother, who did not always keep within bounds. I had often to endure

prolix accounts of his exploits,--how he had already often fought,

without wishing to injure the other, al for the mere sake of honor. He

had always contrived to disarm his adversary, and had then forgiven him;

nay, he was such a good fencer, that he was once very much perplexed by

striking the sword of his opponent up into a high tree, so that it was

not easy to be got again.

What much facilitated my visits to the theatre was, that my free ticket,

coming from the hands of the /Schultheiss/, gave me access to any

of the seats, and therefore also to those in the proscenium. This was

very deep, after the French style, and was bordered on both sides with

seats, which, surrounded by a low rail, ascended in several rows one

behind another, so that the first seats were but a little elevated above

the stage. The whole was considered a place of special honor, and was

general y used only by officers; although the nearness of the actors

destroyed, I will not say all illusion, but, in a measure, al

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 honor, which was general y

occupied already, some rows of benches and chairs were placed in the

proscenium on the stage itself, and nothing remained 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 fal between the acts: and I must yet mention a

strange custom, which I thought quite extraordinary; 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 ful 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 fal 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 wel fitted to destroy all that is cal ed il usion on the stage, it

is the more striking, because it was done at a time when, according to

Diderot's principles and examples, the most /natural naturalness/

was required upon the stage, and a perfect deception was proposed as the

proper aim of theatrical art. Tragedy, 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 Family," and "The Philosophers" of Palissot, and still perfectly remember the figure of

the philosopher in the latter piece going upon all fours, and biting

into a raw head of lettuce.

Al this theatrical variety could not, however, keep us children always

in the theatre. In fine weather we played in front of it, and in the

neighborhood, and committed al manner of absurdities, which, especial y

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 of 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 affirm that I had insulted him, and must give him satisfaction.

I could not, in truth, conceive what was the cause of this; but I

accepted his chal enge, 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 satisfaction, 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 wil 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 skil 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 moral reflection. I said to my

companion, "How handsomely this boy was dressed, and how well he looked!

who knows in how tattered a jacket he may sleep to-night!" Al 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 al 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, "Wel ! why do you make such a noise about it?--to-day red, to-morrow dead." [Footnote: A German proverb, "Heute roth, Morgen todt."]

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 al times.

From the first day of the occupation of our city, there was no lack of

constant diversion, especial y for children and young people. Plays and

bal s, parades, and marches through the town, attracted our attention in

all directions. The last particularly were always increasing, and the

soldiers' life seemed to us very merry and agreeable.

The residence of the king's lieutenant at our house procured us the

advantage of seeing by degrees al the distinguished persons in the

French army, and especial y of 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 gal eries, very conveniently

upon the generals who passed by. More than all the rest do I remember

the Prince Soubise as a handsome, courteous gentleman; but most

distinctly, the Marechal de Broglio, who was a younger man, not tal ,

but well built, lively, nimble, and abounding in keen glances, betraying

a clever mind.

He repeatedly came to see the king's lieutenant, and it was easily

noticed that they were conversing on weighty matters. We had scarcely

become accustomed to having strangers quartered upon us in the first

three months, when a rumor was obscurely circulated that the allies were

on the march, and that Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick was coming to drive

the French from the Main. Of these, who could not boast of any special

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 al those favorable to

Prussia awaited with eagerness their delivery from the yoke hitherto

borne. My father was in somewhat 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 neighborhood of the city. A defeat of the French, a

flight, a defense 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 imagination, and gave anxiety to both parties. My mother,

who could bear every thing 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 honorably mentioned

in history.

Thus, after an unquiet Passion Week, the Good Friday of 1759 arrived. A

profound stillness announced the approaching 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 convent of St. Mary, now transformed into a hospital. The compassion 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 Germans were seen in the

train, the pity knew no limits; and it seemed as if everybody would

strip himself of every movable that he possessed to assist his suffering

countrymen.

The prisoners, however, were an evidence of a battle unfavorable 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 every thing lonely and quiet; then

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 prudent to go back, and learned on inquiry what the report of the

firing might have before informed him, that all stood wel for the

French, and that there was no thought of retreating. Reaching home in an

il humor, 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 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 al 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 that 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. "Wel ," 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 every thing should be given us, and went to his room, already

surrounded by a crowd of the urging, demanding, supplicating.

We had now a fine col ation, pitied our poor father who would not

partake of it, and pressed our mother to cal him in; but she, more

prudent than we, wel knew how distasteful such gifts would be to him.

In the mean time she had prepared 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 endeavored to persuade him to come down into the

ordinary dining-room. At last he al owed 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 al the ante-rooms. My father, in coming down, had to go

directly past the count's apartment. This ante-room was so ful 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 wil 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 shal pay for this," cried he: "you shall 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 wil ingly 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, moreover, was so great, that a delay brought

with it its own concealment and excuse. He had called out my mother, and

put the adjutant, as it were, into her hands, that, by prayers and

representations, she might gain a brief postponement 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 stil , than wreak on an innocent person the il

humor 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!"

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

appeal."

"You think to flatter me! Do not fancy you wil succeed."

"You have the great gift, count, of listening to the opinions of others, even in moments of passion--in moments of rage."

"Well, wel ! 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 wil be imperial towns, will they? They saw their emperor elected and crowned: and when, being unjustly

attacked, he is in danger of losing his dominions and surrendering to an

usurper; when he fortunately finds faithful al ies 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."

"Neighbor, you think to mislead me into a false step: you shall not

succeed."

"I would neither lead you into a false step nor restrain you from one: your resolution is just,--it becomes the Frenchman and the king's

lieutenant; but consider that you are also Count Thorane."

"He has no right to interfere here."

"But the gal ant man has a right to be heard."

"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 wil praise and extol you on that account.'"

"You know I can often endure your jests, but do not abuse my good wil .

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 fol owed

it;--in these rooms, the cursed China-paper of which I have spared,

incommoding 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 honor and joy, and the

wearied soldiers with refreshments. Instead of this, the poison of party-spirit destroys the fairest and happiest moments of my life, won

by so many cares and efforts."

"It is party-spirit, but you wil only increase it by the punishment of this man. Those who think with him wil 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, wil see in him only their fellow-citizen, wil pity him,

and, while they confess your justice, will yet feel that you have

proceeded too severely."

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

"Hear only this. Remember, this is the most unheard-of thing that could befall this man, this family. You have had no reason to be edified by

the good wil of the master of the house; but the mistress has

anticipated al your wishes, and the children have regarded you as their

uncle. With this single blow, you will forever destroy the peace and

happiness of this dwel ing. Indeed, I may say, that a bomb fal ing 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 honor, 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 wil 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

wil depict to you this wife and these children, how they will thank

you. I wil depict them to you conversing all their lives of the battle

of Bergen, and of your magnanimity on this day, relating it to their

children, and children's children, and inspiring even strangers with

their own interest for you: an act of this kind can never perish."

"But you do not hit my weak side yet, interpreter. About posthumous fame I am not in the habit of thinking; that is for others, not for me: but

to do right at the moment, not to neglect my duty, not to prejudice my

honor,--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 favorable

issue, could not restrain his tears, and would have kissed the count's

hands. The count motioned him off, and said severely and seriously, "You know I cannot bear such things." And with these words he went into the ante-room to attend to his pressing affairs, and hear the claims of so

many expectant persons. So the matter was disposed of; and the next

morning we celebrated, with the remnants of the yesterday's sweetmeats,

the passing over of an evil through the threatenings of which we had

happily slept.

Whether the interpreter real y spoke so wisely, or merely so painted the

scene to himself, as one is apt to do after a good and fortunate action,

I will not decide; at least he never varied it in repeating it. Indeed,

this day seemed to him both the most anxious and the most glorious in

his life.

One little incident will show how the count in general 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, solitary

Frankforters, thought he must complain of the quartering of the soldiers

upon him. He came in person; and the interpreter 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 Excel ency!"

The count returned the bow, as wel as the "excel ency." Struck by this mark of honor, 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 farther, or else we may easily bring it to

Majesty." The other gentleman 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, "Wel , now, for instance, sir, what is

your name?"--"Spangenberg," replied the other. "And mine," said the count, "is Thorane. Spangenberg, what is your business with Thorane?

Now, then, let us sit down: the affair shal 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 al 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 my father's constant reproaches, that theatres were

useless, and would lead to nothing. In these cases I adduced al and

every argument which is at hand for the apologists of the stage when

they fal into a difficulty like mine. Vice in prosperity, and virtue in

misfortune, are in the end set right by poetical justice. Those

beautiful examples of misdeeds punished, "Miss Sarah Sampson," and "The Merchant of London," were very energetical y 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 successful 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 undertake 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 plays

were performed for the third and fourth times; al 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-al egorical pieces in the

taste of Piron: 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 thunderbolt of a disguised Jupiter,

an amorous Danae, or by whatever name a fair one visited by the gods might be called, if indeed it were not a shepherdess or huntress to whom

they descended. And as elements of this kind, from "Ovid's

Metamorphoses," or the "Pantheon Mythicum" of Pomey, were humming 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, especial y, made so vivid an impression on me, 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 manuscript, 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. To my modest question, whether the piece could by any chance be

performed, he assured me that it was not altogether impossible. In the

theatre, he said, a great deal went by favor; and he would support me

with al his heart: only the affair must be kept private; for he had

himself once on a time surprised the directors with a piece of his own,

and it would certainly have been acted if it had not been too soon

detected that he was the author. I promised him al 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 surely 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 al 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 dramaturgic litany which I have so often in my

life been compel ed 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 become suspicious to me chiefly through the

impoliteness of my arrogant master. This was not indeed difficult, but

laborious. I immediately read Corneille's "Treatise on the Three

Unities," and learned from that how people would have it, but why they desired it so was by no means clear to me; and, what was worst of al , I

fel at once into stil greater confusion when I made myself acquainted

with the disputes on the "Cid," and read the prefaces in which Corneil e 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 Schoeff Von

Olenschlager made us children act "Britannicus," in which the part of Nero fel 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

previous century, threw them to the dogs, and was the more resolute in

casting al 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, especial y 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

Frenchman; his caprices, which were not without their influence on his

business; his unbending wil under all circumstances; his susceptibility

as to whatever had reference to his person or reputation,--al this

together might perhaps sometimes bring him into conflict with his

superiors. Add to this, that he had been wounded in a duel, which had

arisen in the theatre, and it was deemed wrong that the king's

lieutenant, himself chief of police, should have committed a punishable

offence. As I have said, all this may have contributed to make him live

more retired, and here and there perhaps to act with less energy.

[Illustration: A woman spinning and another reading while a child plays

nearby.]

Meanwhile, a considerable part of the pictures he had ordered 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 considered the

most successful were repeatedly enjoyed, but there was no want of wishes

that this or that had been differently 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 paintings, 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 because 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 travel ers: these deprived each other of air, as we

may say; and we marvelled that they were not al 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-labors; 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 al 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 fal ing

out, and becoming irreconcilably hostile to each other. These

alterations, or rather additions, 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

individual or group, and to propose it for the foreground or the

distance, in which respect they many times, either from conviction or

kindness, complied with my wishes.

The partners in this affair were therefore greatly discouraged,

especially Seekatz, a very hypochondriacal, retired man, who, indeed, by

his incomparable humor, 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 Darmstadt to Frankfort,

either to change something in his own pictures, or to touch up those of

others, or even to allow, under his superintendence, a third person to

convert his pictures into a variegated mess. His peevishness augmented,

his resistance became more decided, and a great deal of effort was

necessary on our part to guide this "gossip;" for he was one also, according to the count's wishes. I stil remember, that when the boxes

were standing ready to pack up al the pictures, in the order in which

the upholsterer might hang them up at once, at their place of

destination, 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 forever; 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 smal . Another, he thought, could do

it just as wel ; 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

had, moreover, to get dry; every delay was untoward; and the count, in

despair, was about to have him fetched in military fashion. We al

wished to see the pictures final y gone, and found at last no expedient

than for the gossip interpreter to seat himself in a wagon, and fetch

over the refractory subject, with his wife and child. He was kindly

received by the count, wel 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 fol owed out by a

man richer than himself, much as it may have flattered him that his

collection had been the occasion of bringing so considerable 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 wel 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 perpetual y carping at it.

In short, in spite of al the count's own generous endeavors, there

could, once for al , be no mutual understanding. My father only visited

that room when the count was at table; and I can recal but one

instance, when, Seekatz having excel ed 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 resumed. The endeavor was made to gain

justice by representations, equity by entreaties, favor by influence;

and the quarter-masters were prevailed upon to decide thus: the count

was to change his lodgings; and our house, in consideration of the

burden borne day and night for several years uninterruptedly, was to be

exempt for the future from billetting. But, to furnish a plausible

pretext for this, we were to take in lodgers on the first floor, which

the count had occupied, and thus render a new quartering, as it were,

impossible. The count, who, after the separation from his dear pictures,

felt no further peculiar interest in the house, and hoped, moreover, to

be soon recalled and placed elsewhere, was pleased to move without

opposition to another good residence, and left us in peace and good

wil . Soon afterwards he quitted the city, and received different

appointments in gradation, but, it was rumored, not to his own

satisfaction. Meantime, he had the pleasure of seeing the pictures which

he had preserved with so much care felicitously arranged in his

brother's chateau: he wrote sometimes, sent dimensions, and had

different pieces executed by the artists so often named. At last we

heard nothing further about him, except after several years we were

assured that he had died as governor of one of the French colonies in

the West Indies.

FOURTH BOOK.

However much inconvenience the quartering of the French had caused us,

we had become so accustomed to it, that we could not fail to miss it;

nor could we children fail to feel as if the house were deserted.

Moreover, it was not decreed that we should again attain perfect family

unity. New lodgers were already bespoken; and after some sweeping and

scouring, planing, and rubbing with beeswax, painting and varnishing,

the house was completely restored again. The chancery-director Moritz,

with his family, very worthy friends of my parents, moved in. He was not

a native of Frankfort, but an able jurist and man of business, and

managed the legal affairs of many small princes, counts, and lords. I

never saw him otherwise than cheerful and pleasant, and diligent with

his law-papers. His wife and children, gentle, quiet, and benevolent,

did not indeed increase the sociableness of our house; for they kept to

themselves: but a stillness, a peace, returned, which we had not enjoyed

for a long time. I now again occupied my attic-room, in which the ghosts

of the many pictures sometimes hovered before me; while I strove to

frighten them away by labor and study.

The counsel or of legation, Moritz, a brother of the chancel or, 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 frequently 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 general y

obliged to perceive, much to their vexation, that a majority of the

agents on such occasions are usual y gained over to the side of the

debtors.

The counsel or of legation readily communicated his knowledge, was fond

of mathematics; and, as these did not occur in his present course of

life, he made himself a pleasure by helping me on in this branch of

study. I was thus enabled to finish my architectural sketches more

accurately than heretofore, and to profit more by the instruction of a

drawing-master, who now also occupied us an hour every day.

This good old man was indeed only half an artist. We were obliged to

draw and combine strokes, from which eyes and noses, lips and ears, nay,

at last, whole faces and heads, were to arise; but of natural or

artistic forms there was no thought. We were tormented a long while with

this /quid pro quo/ of the human figure; and when the so-cal ed

Passions of Le Brun were given us to copy, it was supposed at last that

we had made great progress. But even these caricatures did not improve

us. Then we went off to landscapes, foliage, and all the things which in

ordinary instruction are practised without consistency or method.

Finally we dropped into close imitation and neatness of strokes, without

troubling ourselves about the merit or taste of the original.

In these endeavors 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. He therefore copied

several heads of Piazetta, from his wel -known sheets in smal octavo,

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 copperplate 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 consideration, for

giving us lessons in music, was carried into effect; and the last

impulse to it certainly deserves mention. It was settled that we should

learn the harpsichord, but there was always a dispute about the choice

of a master. At last I went once accidental y into the room of one of my

companions, who was just taking his lesson on the harpsichord, and found

the teacher a most charming man: for each 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 symbolical y

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 humor, every thing else succeeded beautiful y.

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 harpsichord. 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 al

the drol 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

comparisons. 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," "pointerling," or "gold finger;" 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 actual y

believed that it was all an invention of mine. But I was myself

confounded 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 consoled my sister from one day to

another. They did not re-appear, however; and I should never have been

able to explain the riddle if another accident had not solved it for me.

One of my companions came in during a lesson, and at once all the pipes

of the humorous /jet d'eau/ were opened: the "thumblings" and

"pointerlings," the "pickers" and "stealers," as he used to cal the fingers; the "falings" and "galings," meaning "f" and "g;" the

"fielings" and "gielings," meaning "f" and "g" sharp, [Footnote: The names of the sharp notes in German terminate in "is," and hence "f" and

"g" sharp are cal ed "fis" and "gis."]--became once more extant, and made the most wonderful manikins. My young friend could not leave off

laughing, and was rejoiced that one could learn in such a merry manner.

He vowed that he would give his parents no peace until they had given

him such an excellent man for a teacher.

And thus the way to two arts was early enough opened to me, according to

the principles of a modern theory of education, 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 especial y venerated the Emperor Maximilian, by whom

this had been expressly commanded. He therefore held me to it more

steadily than to music; which, on the other hand, he especially

recommended to my sister, and even out of the hours for lessons kept her

fast, during a good part of the day, at her harpsichord.

But the more I was in this way made to press on, the more I wished to

press forward of myself; and my hours of leisure were employed in al

sorts of curious occupations. From my earliest years I felt a love for

the investigation of natural things. It is often regarded as an instinct

of cruelty that children like at last to break, tear, and devour objects

with which for a long time they have played, and which they have handled

in various manners. Yet even in this way is manifested the curiosity,

the desire of learning how such things hang together, how they look

within. I remember, that, when 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 kil ing 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 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 covering. 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, when a child, he had

desired to possess such a machine: he got together the principal

requisites, and, by the aid of an old spinning-wheel and some medicine

bottles, had produced tolerable results. As he readily and frequently

repeated the story, and imparted to us some general information on

electricity, we children found the thing very plausible, and long

tormented ourselves with an old spinning-wheel and some medicine

bottles, without producing even the smal est result. We nevertheless

adhered to our belief, and were much delighted, when at the time of the

fair, among other rarities, magical and legerdemain tricks, an

electrical machine performed its marvels, which, like those of

magnetism, were at that time already very numerous.

The want of confidence in the public method of instruction was daily

increasing. People looked about for private tutors; and, because single

families could not afford the expense, several of them united to attain

their object. Yet the children seldom agreed; the young man had not

sufficient authority; and, after frequently repeated vexations, there

were only angry partings. It is not surprising, therefore, that other

arrangements were thought of which should be more permanent as well as

more advantageous.

The thought of establishing boarding-schools (/Pensionen/) had

arisen from the necessity, which every one felt, of having the French

language taught and communicated orally. My father had brought up a

young person, who had been his footman, valet, secretary, and in short

successively all in al . This man, whose name was Pfeil, spoke French

wel . 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 smal academy, in which every

thing necessary, and at last even Greek and Latin, were taught. The

extensive connections of Frankfort caused young French and English men

to be brought to this establishment, that they might learn German and

acquire other accomplishments. Pfeil, who was a man in the prime of

life, and of the most wonderful energy and activity, superintended the

whole very laudably; and as he could never be employed enough, and was

obliged to keep music-teachers for his scholars, he set about music on

the occasion, and practised the harpsichord with such zeal, that,

without having previously touched a note, he very soon played with perfect readiness and spirit. He seemed to have adopted my father's

maxim, that nothing can more cheer and excite young people, than when at

mature years one declares one's self again a learner; and at an age when

new accomplishments are acquired with difficulty, one endeavors,

nevertheless, by zeal and perseverance, to excel the younger, who are

more favored by nature.

By this love of playing the harpsichord, Pfeil was led to the

instruments themselves, and, while he hoped to obtain the best, came

into connection with Frederici of Gera, whose instruments 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 my sister's troubles, as, to duly honor 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's caused much inconvenience to us

children. This was the cultivation of silk, of the advantages of which,

if it were more widely extended, he had a high opinion. Some

acquaintances at Hanau, where the breeding of the worms was carried on

with great care, gave him the immediate impulse. At the proper season,

the eggs were sent to him from that place: and, as soon as the mulberry-

trees showed sufficient leaves, they had to be stripped; and the

scarcely visible creatures were most diligently tended. Tables and

stands with boards were set up in a garret-chamber, 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 every

thing depends upon there being no deficiency of nourishment when the

great and wondrous change is about to take place in them. When the

weather was favorable, this business could indeed be regarded as a

pleasant amusement; but, if the cold set in so that the mulberry-trees

suffered, it was exceedingly troublesome. Stil 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 perhaps

some other reason also, various diseases came among the flock, by which

the poor things were swept off in thousands. The state of corruption

which ensued produced a smell real y pestilential; and, because the dead

and diseased had to be taken away and separated from the healthy, the

business was indeed extremely 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 wal s of the old house, had become very yel ow

through the light, dust, and smoke, and not a little unsightly through

the flies. If such uncleanliness was not to be tolerated in the new

house, yet, on the other hand, these pictures had gained in value to my

father, in consequence of his longer absence from the places represented. For at the outset such copies serve only to renew and

revive the impressions received shortly before. They seem trifling in

comparison, and at the best only a melancholy substitute. But, as the

remembrance of the original forms fades more and more, the copies

imperceptibly assume their place: they become as dear to us as those

once were, and what we at first contemned now gains esteem and

affection. Thus it is with all copies, and particularly with portraits.

No one is easily satisfied with the counterfeit of an object stil

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 wel

known that this could be done by bleaching: and the operation, always

critical with large plates, was undertaken under rather unfavorable

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 otherwise 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 had to announce himself just

at this time, who pledged himself to teach anybody not entirely raw in

languages, English in four weeks, and to advance him to such a degree,

that, with some diligence, he could help himself farther. His price was

moderate, and he was indifferent as to the number of scholars at one

lesson. My father instantly determined to make the attempt, and took

lessons, together with my sister and myself, of this expeditious master.

The hours were faithful y kept; there was no want of repeating our

lessons; other exercises were neglected rather than this during the four

weeks; and the teacher parted from us, and we from him, with

satisfaction. As he remained longer in the town, and found many

employers, he came from time to time to look after us and to help us,

grateful that we had been among the first who placed confidence in him,

and proud to be able to cite us as examples to the others.

My father, in consequence of this, entertained a new anxiety, that

English might neatly stand in the series of my other studies in

languages. Now, I wil confess that it became more and more burdensome

for me to take my occasions for study now from this grammar or

collection of examples, now from that; now from one author, now from

another,--and thus to divert my interest in a subject every hour. It

occurred to me, therefore, that I might despatch al at the same time;

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 afterwards written, answers now him, now the other

brothers, partly about domestic matters, and partly about affairs of the heart. One brother studies theology, and writes a very formal Latin, to

which he often adds a Greek postscript. To another brother, holding the

place of mercantile clerk at Hamburg, 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 ciphers, brought the rest of them into

despair, and my parents into a hearty laugh at the good notion.

To obtain matter for fil ing up this singular form, I studied the

geography of the countries in which my creations resided, and by

inventing for those dry localities al sorts of human incidents which

had some affinity with the characters and employments of my heroes. Thus

my exercise-books became much more voluminous, my father was better

satisfied, and I was much sooner made aware of my deficiency in both

what I had acquired and possessed of my own.

Now, as such things, once begun, have no end nor limits, so it happened

in the present case; for while I strove to attain the odd Jew-German,

and to write it as well as I could read it, I soon discovered that I

ought to know Hebrew, from which alone the modern corrupted dialect

could be derived, and handled with any certainty. I consequently

explained the necessity of my learning Hebrew to my father, and

earnestly besought his consent; for I had a stil higher object.

Everywhere I heard it said, that, to understand the Old as wel 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-cal ed Epistles and Gospels had, after church,

to be recited, translated, and in some measure explained. I now purposed

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 any thing by halves, determined to

request the rector of our gymnasium, one Dr. Albrecht, 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 Aesop 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 bril iant 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 making me

uncomfortable, he questioned me familiarly whenever we met, and praised

and encouraged me. One day, on the changing of the pupils' places after

a public examination, he saw me standing, as a mere spectator, not far

from his chair, while he distributed the silver /proemia virtulis et

diligentioe/. I was probably gazing very eagerly upon the little bag

out of which he drew 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 belonging 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 reputation as a schoolmaster, and understood his

business; although age no more al owed 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 satisfied 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 programmes 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,

unintel igible, and, above al , 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 passages. This singular man I

found to be mild and obliging when I began to take lessons of him. I now

went to his house 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 al my wil ingness, 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 concealed 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 the most part, not strange

to me. Al this I had soon comprehended and retained, and supposed we

should now take up reading. That this was done from right to left I was

wel aware. But now al 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. I was also taught that the Jewish nation, as

long as it flourished, actually were satisfied with the former signs,

and knew no other way of writing and reading. Most willingly, then,

would I have gone on along this ancient and, as it seemed to me, easier

path; but my worthy declared rather sternly that we must go by the

grammar as it had been approved and composed. Reading without these

points and strokes, he said, was a very hard undertaking, and could be

accomplished only by the learned and those who were wel 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 primitive 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 he had wel 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 unattainable, I in a certain degree deviated from the matter, and diverted myself, in a childish way, with

the singular names of these accumulated signs. There were "emperors,"

"kings," and "dukes," [Footnote: These are the technical names for classes of accents in the Hebrew grammar.--TRANS.] 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

committing to memory, the substance of the book came out more vividly;

and it was this, properly, about which I desired to be enlightened. Even

before this time, the contradiction between 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

improbabilities and incongruities. Every thing of this kind was now

awakened; while, in order to master the Hebrew, I occupied 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, I am

sorry to say, our lessons began to be defective in regard to practice in

the language. Reading, interpreting, grammar, transcribing, 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 stil

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!"

Stil , 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 passages was attempted in an intelligent and

judicious manner. By the great labors of German divines the translation

had obtained advantages over the original. The different opinions were

cited; and at last a kind of reconciliation was attempted, so that the

dignity of the book, the ground of religion, and the human

understanding, might in some degree co-exist. Now, as often as towards

the end of the lesson I came out with my usual questions and doubts, so

often did he point to the repository. I took the volume, he let me read,

turned over his Lucian; and, when I made any remarks on the book, his

ordinary 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.

Man may turn which way he please, and undertake any thing whatsoever, he

wil always return to the path which nature has once prescribed for him.

Thus it happened also with me in the present case. The trouble I took

with the language, with the contents of the Sacred Scriptures

themselves, ended at last in producing in my imagination a livelier

picture of that beautiful 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 smal 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 al 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 accustomed to the wickedness of the new race, became impatient,

and utterly destroyed it. Only a few were saved from the universal

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, stil 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 hence a

second time: it found occasion to sustain and employ itself in al sorts

of ways, but chiefly to gather around it large herds of tame animals,

and to wander with them in every direction.

This mode of life, as wel as the increase of the families, soon

compel ed the people to disperse. They could not at once resolve to let

their relatives and friends go forever: 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 endeavor, miscarried. They

could not be at the same time happy and wise, numerous and united. The

Elohim confounded their minds; the building remained unfinished; the men

were dispersed; the world was peopled, but sundered.

But our regards, our interests, continue fixed on 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 guidance, 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 well inhabited. Mountains, not extremely high, but rocky

and barren, were severed by many watered vales favorable to cultivation.

Towns, villages, and solitary settlements lay scattered over the plain,

and on the slopes of the great val ey, 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, necessitous,

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 direction. 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 unexpectedly 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 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 remains 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 al 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 compelled

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 appropriated 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 al ies. He

reigns a long while; for twelve years before Abraham's arrival in

Canaan, he had made al 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, probably, 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 has also overcome the Amorites, he reaches Canaan, fal s upon the

kings of the val ey 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 hurriedly gathers his servants, divides them into troops,

attacks and falls upon the luggage of booty, confuses the victors, who

could not suspect another enemy in the rear, and brings back his brother

and his goods, with a great deal more belonging to the conquered kings.

Abraham, by means of this brief contest, acquires, as it were, the whole

land. To the inhabitants he appears as a protector, savior, and, by his

disinterestedness, a king. Grateful y 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 no sooner is Hagar given up to the

master of the house, no sooner is there hope of a son, than dissensions

arise. The wife treats her own dependant il 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 becomes 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 propagation 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 considerations. It is as if the Divinity, who

loves to guide the destiny of mankind, wished to prefigure here

connubial events of every kind. Abraham, so long united by childless

marriage to a beautiful woman whom many coveted, finds himself, in his

hundredth year, the husband of two women, the father of two sons; and at

this moment his domestic peace is broken. Two women, and two sons by

different mothers, cannot possibly agree. The party less favored 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 wil , 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 al promises may be fulfil ed 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 any thing

equal y favorable and encouraging. Even to natural religion, if we

assume that it arose earlier in the human mind, there pertains much of

delicacy 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 providence, which the Divine Being

vouchsafes to certain favored men, families, races, and people. This

faith seems to develop 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 represents

the very first men who confide in this particular providence as heroes

of faith, following all the commands of that high Being on whom they

acknowledge themselves dependent, just as blindly as, undisturbed by

doubts, they are unwearied in awaiting the later fulfilments of his

promises.

As a particular revealed religion rests upon the idea that one man may

be more favored by Heaven than another, so it also arises pre-eminently from the separation of classes. The first men appeared closely allied,

but their employments soon divided them. The hunter was the freest of

all: from him was developed the warrior and the ruler. Those who til ed

the field bound themselves to the soil, erected dwel ings and barns to

preserve what they had gained, and could estimate themselves pretty

highly, because their condition promised durability and security. The

herdsman in his position seemed to have acquired the most unbounded

condition and unlimited property. The increase of herds proceeded

without end, and the space which was to support them widened itself on

all sides. These three classes seemed from the very first to have

regarded each other with dislike and contempt; and as the herdsman was

an abomination to the townsman, so did he in turn separate from the

other. The hunters vanish from our sight among the hil s, and reappear

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 al 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 compel ed 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 concluded 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

creatures could attract, propitiate, and gain over the gods, whom they

always looked upon as partisans, either opponents or al ies, 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, to our notions, altogether

repugnant, custom, probably derived from the usages of war; viz., that

the sacrificed animals of every kind, and whatever number was devoted,

had to be hewn in two halves, and laid out on two sides: so that in the

space between them were those who wished to make a covenant with the

Deity.

Another dreadful feature wonderful y and portentously pervades that fair

world; namely, that whatever had been consecrated or vowed must die.

This also was probably a usage of war transferred 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

wil ingly 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 Godhead, [Footnote: It should

be observed, that in this biblical narrative, when we have used the

expressions, "Deity," "Godhead," or "Divinity," Goethe general y has

"die Goetter," or "the Gods."--TRANS.] 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 fol ows the usage, not only kill and burn him,

but cut him in two, and await between the smoking entrails a new promise

from the benignant Deity. Abraham, blindly and without lingering,

prepares to execute the command: to Heaven the will is sufficient.

Abraham's trials are now at an end, for they could not be carried

farther. 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 twofold 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 title to the whole land, as wel as the everlasting desire

of his posterity to gather themselves there, was most properly grounded.

From this time forth the manifold incidents of the family life become

varied. Abraham stil keeps strictly apart from the inhabitants; and

though Ishmael, the son of an Egyptian woman, has married a daughter of

that land, Isaac is obliged to wed a kinswoman of equal birth with

himself.

Abraham despatches his servant to Mesopotamia, to the relatives whom he

had left behind there. The prudent Eleazer arrives unknown, and, in

order to take home the right bride, tries the readiness to serve of the

girls at the wel . He asks to be permitted to drink; 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 becomes the father's, the latter the mother's, favorite. 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 desirable 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 member 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 favored 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 wanting: that is, unshaken

faith that God has them and their families in his special keeping.

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 conviction 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 wooes on the

instant, as Eleazar had courted Rebecca 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 manifold 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, endeavors to appease him,

by giving him his beloved also after a short time, and this but on the

condition 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. Final y she also is favored; and Joseph comes

into the world, the late fruit of the most passionate attachment.

Jacob's fourteen years of service are over; but 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 his family and goods, and partly by fortune, partly by

cunning, escapes the pursuit of Laban. Rachel is now about to present

him another son, but dies in the travail; Benjamin, the child of sorrow,

survives her; but the aged father is to experience a stil greater

sorrow from the apparent loss of his son Joseph.

Perhaps some one may ask why I have so circumstantial y narrated

histories so universal y 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 life ful of diversion, and with my 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 al without was so wild and strange. When

an ever busy imagination, of which that tale may bear witness, led me hither and thither; when the medley of fable and history, mythology and

religion, threatened to bewilder me,--I liked to take refuge in those

Oriental regions, to plunge into the first books of Moses, and to find

myself there, amid the scattered shepherd-tribes, at the same time in

the greatest solitude and the greatest society.

These family scenes, before they were to lose themselves in a history of

the Jewish nation, show us now, in conclusion, a form by which the hopes

and fancies of the young in particular are agreeably excited,--Joseph,

the child of the most passionate wedded love. He seems to us tranquil

and clear, and predicts to himself the advantages which are to elevate

him above his family. Cast into misfortune by his brothers, he remains

steadfast and upright in slavery, resists the most dangerous

temptations, rescues himself by prophecy, and is elevated according to

his deserts to high honors. 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 himself from a father-in-law, but nations, with al their

possessions, which he knows how to purchase for a king. Extremely

graceful 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 personages of both

the Old and New Testaments had received through Klopstock a tender and

affectionate nature, highly pleasing to the boy, as well as to many of

his contemporaries. Of Bodmer's efforts in this line, little or nothing

came to him; but "Daniel in the Lion's Den," by Moser, made a great impression on the young heart. In that work, a right-minded man of

business, and courtier, arrives at high honors through manifold

tribulations; and the piety for which they threatened to destroy him

became, early and late, his sword and buckler. It had long seemed to me

desirable to work out the history of Joseph; but I could not get on with

the form, particularly as I was conversant with no kind of versification

which would have been adapted to such a work. But now I found a

treatment of it in prose very suitable, and I applied al my strength to

its execution. I now endeavored to discriminate and paint the

characters, and, by the interpolation of incidents and episodes, to make

the old simple history a new and independent work. I did not consider,

what, indeed, youth cannot consider, that subject-matter was necessary

to such a design, and that this could only arise by the perceptions of

experience. Suffice it to say, that I represented to myself all the

incidents down to the minutest details, and narrated them accurately to

myself in their succession.

What greatly lightened this labor was a circumstance which threatened to

render this work, and my authorship in general, exceedingly voluminous.

A wel -gifted young man, who, however, 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 way, was

contented and agreeable. He had, with great care, written out notes of

his academical course, and acquired a rapid, legible hand. He liked to

employ himself in writing better than in any thing else, and was pleased

when something was given him to copy; but stil 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 smal and tremulous, nothing could be more desirable; and he was consequently 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 al that

passed through my head fixed upon paper by the hand of another; and my

natural gift of feeling and imitation grew with the facility of catching

up and preserving.

As yet, I had not undertaken any work so large as that biblical prose-

epic. The times were tolerably quiet, and nothing recalled my

imagination from Palestine and Egypt. Thus my manuscripts swel ed 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 re-written.

When the work was done,--for, to my own astonishment, it real y 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 "Miscel aneous Poems" might be given. I was pleased with this, as it gave me an opportunity of quietly imitating

wel -known and celebrated authors. I had composed a good number of so-

called Anacreontic poems, which, on account of the convenience of the

metre, and the lightness 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 hel , received much applause from my parents and

friends, and had the good fortune to please myself for some years

afterwards. The so-cal ed texts of the Sunday church-music, which were

always to be had printed, I studied with diligence. They were, indeed,

very weak; and I could wel believe that my verses, of which I had

composed many in the prescribed manner, were equal y worthy of being set

to music, and performed 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 satisfaction to furnish a

similar quarto every year; which he did with the greater conviction, as

I had produced the whole in my spare moments alone.

Another circumstance increased my tendency to these theological, or,

rather, biblical, studies. The senior of the ministry, John Philip

Fresenius, a mild man, of handsome, agreeable 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

Herrnhueters, was not in the best odor 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 general who had been

mortal y 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 devoted in a certain methodical connection. I had already, as

I was compel ed 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

careful y; and I succeeded the better from having made smal er attempts

in a seat very convenient for hearing, but concealed from sight. I was

extremely attentive and on the alert: the moment he said Amen, I

hastened from church, and spent a couple of hours in rapidly dictating

what I had fixed in my memory and on paper, so that I could hand in the

written sermon before dinner. My father was very proud of this success;

and the good friend of the family, who had just come in to dinner, also

shared in the joy. Indeed, this friend was very well disposed towards

me, because I had made his "Messiah" so much my own, that in my repeated visits, paid to him with a view of getting impressions of seals for my

collection of coats-of-arms, I could recite long passages from it till

the tears stood in his eyes.

The next Sunday I prosecuted the work with equal zeal; and, as the

mechanical part of it mainly interested me, I did not reflect upon what

I wrote and preserved. During the first quarter these efforts may have

continued pretty much the same; but as I fancied at last, in my self-

conceit, that I found no particular enlightenment as to the Bible, nor

clearer insight into dogmas, the smal 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 lean:

and before long I should have relinquished this labor 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 conclusion, 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 completeness.

What was once undertaken had to be finished, even if the inconvenience,

tedium, vexation, nay, uselessness, of the thing begun were plainly

manifested in the mean time. It seemed as if he regarded completeness as

the only end, and perseverance as the only virtue. If in our family

circle, in the long winter evenings, we had begun to read a book aloud,

we were compel ed to finish, though we were al in despair about it, and

my father himself was the first to yawn. I stil remember 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. Stil ,

with al my inattention and repugnance, so much of that reading remained

in my mind that I was able, in after times, to take up many threads of

the narrative.

Amid al these heterogeneous occupations and labors, 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 endeavored to direct my memory and my talent for apprehending and

combining to objects of jurisprudence, and therefore gave me a smal

book by Hopp, in the shape of a catechism, and worked up according to

the form and substance of the institutions. 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

possible; 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 "Struve" was taken in hand; but here affairs did not proceed so rapidly. The form of the work was

not so favorable 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 years, but also

by civil life itself, and the perusal of history and romances, was it

made clear to me that there were many cases in which the laws are

silent, and give no help to the individual, who must then see how to get

out of the difficulty by himself. We had now reached the period when,

according to the old routine, we were to learn, besides other things,

fencing and riding, that we might guard our skins upon occasion, and

present 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 of hazel-sticks, with basket-hilts

neatly woven of wil ow, to protect the hands. Now we might get real

steel blades, and the clash we made with them was very merry.

There were two fencing-masters in the city: an old, earnest German, who

went to work in a severe and solid style; and a Frenchman, who sought to

gain his advantage by advancing and retreating, and by light, fugitive

thrusts, which he always accompanied by cries. Opinions varied as to

whose manner was the best. The little company with which I was to take

lessons sided with the Frenchman; and we speedily accustomed ourselves

to move backwards and forwards, make passes and recover, always breaking

out into the usual exclamations. But several of our acquaintance had

gone to the German teacher, and practised precisely the opposite. These

distinct modes of treating so important an exercise, the conviction of

each that his master was the best, really caused a dissension among the

young people, who were of about the same age: and the fencing-schools

occasioned serious battles, for there was almost as much fighting with

words as with swords; and, to decide the matter in the end, a trial of

skil between the two teachers was arranged, the consequences of which I

need not circumstantially describe. The German stood in his position

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 him 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.

With riding I fared stil worse. It happened that they sent me to the

course in the autumn, so that I commenced in the cool and damp season.

The pedantic treatment 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 al 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 laughed at into

the bargain. This put me in the worst of humors, particularly as I found

the place of exercise itself quite intolerable. The wide, nasty space, either wet or dusty, the cold, the mouldy smell, all together was in the

highest degree repugnant to me; and since the stable-master always gave

the others 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 employment 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 careful y shunned

covered riding-courses, and at least passed only a few moments in them.

The case often happens, that, when the elements of an exclusive art are

taught us, this is done in a painful and revolting manner. The

conviction that this is both wearisome and injurious has given rise, in

later times, to the educational maxim, that the young must be taught

every thing 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 endeavored to obtain a sight of the city, its

ecclesiastical, civil, public, and private structures, and especially

found great delight in the stil prevailing antiquities, I afterwards

endeavored, by means of "Lersner's Chronicle," and other Frankfortian books and pamphlets belonging to my father, to revive the persons of

past times. This seemed to me to be wel attained by great attention to

the peculiarities of times and manners and of distinguished individuals.

Among the ancient remains, that which, from my childhood, had been

remarkable to me, was the skul 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 skul was directly in view. As a

boy, I liked to hear related the history of these rebels,--Fettmilch and

his confederates,--how they had become dissatisfied with the government

of the city, had risen up against it, plotted a mutiny, plundered the

Jews' quarter, and excited a fearful riot, but were at last captured,

and condemned to death by a deputy of the emperor. Afterwards I felt

anxious to know the most minute circumstance, and to hear what sort of

people they were. When from an old contemporary book, ornamented with

wood-cuts, 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 unwarrantable was then

going on; when I heard the nearer particulars how all took place,--I

pitied the unfortunate persons who might be regarded as sacrifices made

for a future better constitution. For from that time was dated the

regulation which al ows the noble old house of Limpurg, the Frauenstein-

house, sprung from a club, besides lawyers, trades-people, and artisans,

to take part in a government, which, completed 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

(/Judenstadt/), 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 illustrated in "Gottfried's Chronicle," hovered gloomily before my young mind. And although they were thought better of

in modern times, the large caricature, still to be seen, to their

disgrace, on an arched wall under the bridge-tower, bore extraordinary

witness against them; for it had been made, not through private ill-

wil , but by public order.

However, they stil remained 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 displeased when a Christian lad, meeting them on the sabbath in the

Fischerfeld, showed himself kindly and attentive. I was consequently

extremely curious to become acquainted with their ceremonies. I did not

desist until I had frequently visited their school, had assisted at a

circumcision and a wedding, and formed a notion of the Feast of the

Tabernacles. Everywhere I was well received, pleasantly entertained, and

invited to come again; for it was through persons of influence that I

had been either introduced or recommended.

Thus, as a young resident in a large city, I was thrown about from one

object to another; and horrible scenes were not wanting in the midst of

the municipal quiet and security. Sometimes a more or less remote fire

aroused us from our domestic peace: sometimes the discovery of a great

crime, with its investigation and punishment, set the whole city in an

uproar for many weeks. We were forced to be witnesses of different

executions; and it is worth remembering, that I was also once present at

the burning of a book. The publication was a French comic romance, which

indeed spared the State, but not religion and manners. There was really

something dreadful in seeing punishment inflicted on a lifeless thing.

The packages 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 we rest until we had hunted up

a copy, while not a few managed likewise to procure the forbidden

pleasure. Nay, if it had been done to give the author publicity, he

could not himself have made a more effectual provision.

But there were also more peaceable inducements which took me about in

every part of the city. My father had early accustomed me to manage for

him his little affairs of business. He charged me particularly to stir

up the laborers whom he set to work, as they commonly kept him waiting

longer than was proper; because he wished every thing done accurately,

and was used in the end to lower the price for a prompt payment. In this

way, I gained access to all the workshops: and as it was natural to me

to enter into the condition of others, to feel every species of human

existence, and sympathize in it with pleasure, these commissions were to

me the occasion of many most delightful hours; and I 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 color 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 al men, yet of all human

conditions,--the mere fact of existence seeming to me the main point,

and al the rest indifferent and accidental.

As my father did not readily permit himself an expense which would be

consumed at once in some momentary enjoyment,--as I can scarcely cal to

mind that we ever took a walk together, and spent any thing 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 smal est 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 labored now for some

years on this present. The box, which was tolerably large, had been

executed 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 usual y opened. The jewel er, to whom the

execution and the requisite stones were intrusted, was named Lautensak,

and was a brisk, skilful man, who, like many artists, seldom did what

was necessary, but usual y works of caprice, which gave him pleasure.

The jewels were 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 final y

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. Owing to my unremitted teazing

and exhortation, the work went on, though slowly enough; for, as it was

of that kind which can be taken in hand or laid aside at will, there was

always something by which it was thrust out of the way, and put aside.

The chief cause of this conduct, however, was a task which the artist

had undertaken on his own account. Everybody knew that the Emperor

Francis cherished a strong liking for jewels, and especial y for colored

stones. Lautensak had expended 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 color, and the whole form a work of

art worthy to stand in the treasure-vaults of an emperor. He had, in his

desultory way, labored at it for many years, and now hastened--because

after the hoped-for peace the arrival of the emperor, for the coronation

of his son, was expected in Frankfort--to complete it and finally to put

it together. My desire to become acquainted with such things he used

very dexterously to divert my attention by sending me forth as his dun,

and to turn me away from my intention. He strove to impart a knowledge

of these stones to me, and made me attentive to their properties and

value; so that in the end I knew his whole bouquet by heart, and quite as wel as he could have demonstrated its virtues to a customer. It is

even now present to my mind; and I have since seen more costly, but not

more graceful, specimens of show and magnificence in this sort. He

possessed, moreover, a pretty col ection 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 final y fixed, he did for my sake more than was due; and the dove

and flowers actually reached my mother's hands on the festival in

celebration 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 wel 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 ornamental 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, real y

represented it, as accurately as possible, gnawing an ear of corn at the

foot of the flower-pot. Many such inoffensive natural objects, such as

butterflies and chafers, were brought in and represented; so that

final y, 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 wel in its

details, it was not wel composed as a whole, because it had been

produced in this gradual manner; and he had committed a blunder at the

outset, in not at least devising a general plan for light and shade, as

wel as for color, according to which the single flowers might have been

arranged. He scrutinized, in my presence, the minutest parts of the

picture, which had arisen before my eyes during six months, and had

pleased me in many respects, and, much to my regret, managed to

thoroughly convince me. Even the copy of the mouse he regarded as a

mistake; for many persons, he said, have a sort of horror of such

animals: and they should not be introduced where the object is to excite

pleasure. As it commonly happens with those who are cured of a

prejudice, and think 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 artistical y arranged nosegay, and also managed to

select and distribute the little living accessories in an ornamental 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 assiduous 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 wil and activity; but, after considering

both pictures some days, decided in favor of the first, without saying

much about the motives of his choice. The artist, in an il humor, 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

certainly had its effect on my father's decision.

Now that 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 so many men, from the commonest labor to that in which a

certain artistic worth could not be denied, was to me extremely

attractive. I made the acquaintance of this multitude of younger and

older men, working in several rooms one behind the other, and

occasional y lent a hand myself. The sale of these commodities 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 col ection of works

of art, consisting chiefly of engravings, in which, as well as in the

pictures he possessed, he traded occasional y. 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 dwel ing 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 careful y attended the

transplanting of trees, and whatever else pertained to their

preservation; though the ground itself was leased. Stil more occupation

was furnished by a very wel -preserved vineyard beyond the Friedberg

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

general y accompany him, we were provided with joy and delight from the

earliest productions of spring to the last of autumn. We now also

acquired a knowledge of gardening matters, which, as they were repeated

every year, became in the end perfectly known and familiar to us. But,

after the manifold fruits of summer and autumn, the vintage at last was

the most lively and the most desirable; nay, there is no question, that

as wine gives a freer character to the very places and districts where

it is grown and drunk, so also do these vintage-days, while they close

summer and at the same time open the winter, diffuse an incredible

cheerfulness. Joy and jubilation pervade a whole district. In the

daytime, huzzas and shoutings are heard from every end and corner; and

at night rockets and fire-bal s, now here, now there, announce that the

people, everywhere awake and lively, would willingly make this festival last as long as possible. The subsequent labor 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 farther, I think I am bound to mention some men who

exerted an important influence on my youth.

Von Olenschlager, a member of the Frauenstein family, a Schoeff, and son-

in-law of the above-mentioned Dr. Orth, a handsome, comfortable,

sanguine man. In his official holiday costume he could wel have

personated the most important French prelate. After his academical

course, he had employed 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 "Il ustration of the Golden Bul ," 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 historical y, as if it

were present, by pictures of characters and circumstances, and often by

mimicry. In this he took great delight, and by his applause excited me

to repetition.

I had from childhood the singular habit of always learning by heart the

beginnings of books, and the divisions of a work, first of the five

books of Moses, and then of the "Aeneid" and Ovid's "Metamorphoses." I now did the same thing with the "Golden Bul ," and often provoked my patron to a smile, when I quite seriously and unexpectedly exclaimed,

"/Omne regnum in se divisum desolabitur; nam principes ejus facti sunt socii furum./" [Footnote: Every kingdom divided against itself shal

be brought to desolation, for the princes thereof have become the

associates of robbers.--TRANS.] The knowing man shook his head, smiling,

and said doubtingly, "What times those must have been, when, at a grand diet, the emperor had such words published in the face of his princes!"

There was a great charm in Von Olenschlager's society. He received

little company, but was strongly inclined to intellectual 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 acted

"Canute" by 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;" [Footnote: Racine's tragedy.--TRANS.]

for, besides our dramatic talents, we were to bring the language into

practice. I took Nero, my sister Agrippina, and the younger son

Britannicus. We were more praised than we deserved, and fancied we had

done it even beyond the amount of praise. Thus I stood on the best terms

with this family, and have been indebted to them for many pleasures and

a speedier development.

Von Reineck, of an old patrician family, able, honest, but stubborn, a

meagre, swarthy man, whom I never saw smile. The misfortune befel 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 fel out with them; and there arose quarrel after quarrel, suit after suit. He retired

completely 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. He was very fond of me, and had especially commended to

me his younger son. He many times asked his oldest friends, who knew how

to humor 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 his guests the greatest pain. 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 al the winter. He

answered, like a second Timon or Heautontimoroumenos, "Would to God this was the greatest evil of those which torment me!" It was long before he allowed himself to be persuaded to see his daughter and grandson. The

son-in-law never again dared to come into his presence.

On this excellent but unfortunate man my visits had a very favorable

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 stil gathered round him,

often, therefore, made use of me when they wished to soften his peevish

humor, and persuade him to any diversion. He now real y rode out with us

many times, and again contemplated the country, on which he had not cast

an eye for so many years. He called to mind the old landowners, and told

stories of their characters and actions, in which he showed himself

always severe, but often cheerful and witty. We now tried also to bring

him again among other men, which, however, nearly turned out badly.

About the same age, if indeed not older, was one Herr 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; til 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

pantomimic; and they walked up and down by the long pink frames with

true diplomatic strides. The display was real y extraordinarily

beautiful: and the particular forms and colors 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 neighboring 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 could wel 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/.[Footnote: Eyes, not hands.--TRANS.] 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

perplexity. They set one hare to catch another (that was our proverbial

expression, when a conversation was to be interrupted, 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 al over with us. The two friends kept their

principals apart by occupying them, now here, now there, and at last we

found it most expedient to make preparation for departure. Thus, alas!

we were forced to turn our backs on the inviting side-board, yet

unenjoyed.

Hofrath Huesgen, not born in Frankfort, of the Reformed [Footnote: That

is to say, he was a Calvinist, as distinguished from a Lutheran.--

TRANS.] religion, and therefore incapable of public office, including

the profession of advocate, which, however, because much confidence was

placed in him as an excel ent 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 tal 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 bel -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

cheerful suite of rooms on the ground-floor by the /Allee/, and the

neatness of every thing about him corresponded with this cheerfulness.

The perfect arrangement of his papers, books, and maps produced a

favorable impression. His son, Heinrich 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, before I could wel perceive that he stood in

opposition to God and the world. One of his favorite books was "Agrippa de Vanitate Scientiarum," which he especial y 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 wel 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 wel 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 practical turn drove

him to mechanics, though he did not work himself. A clock, wonderful

indeed in those days, which indicated, not only the days and hours, but

the motions of the sun and moon, he caused to be made according to his

own plan. On Sunday, about ten o'clock in the morning, he always wound

it up himself; which he could do the more regularly, as he never went to

church. I never saw company nor guests at his house; and only twice in ten years do I remember to have seen him dressed, and walking out of

doors.

My various conversations with these men were not insignificant, and each

of them influenced me in his own way. From every one I had as much

attention as his own children, if not more; and each strove to increase

his delight in me as in a beloved son, while he aspired to mould me into

his moral counterpart. Olenschlager would have made me a courtier, Von

Reineck a diplomatic man of business: both, the latter particularly,

sought to disgust me with poetry and authorship. Huisgen wished me to be

a Timon after his fashion, but, at the same time, an able jurisconsult,

--a necessary profession, as he thought, with which one could, in a

regular manner, defend one's self and friends against the rabble of

mankind, succor the oppressed, and, above all, pay off a rogue; though

the last is neither especial y 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 al

others, the brothers Schlosser and Griesbach. But as, subsequently,

there arose between us greater intimacy, which lasted for many years

uninterruptedly, I wil 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 look rather to the reward which may be received than to the

merit which is to be acquired; so, I do not deny, that if I thought of a

desirable piece of good fortune, it appeared to me most fascinating in

the shape of that laurel garland which is woven to adorn the poet.

FIFTH BOOK.

Every bird has its decoy, and every man is led and misled in a way

peculiar to himself. Nature, education, circumstances, and habit kept me

apart from al that was rude; and though I often came into contact with

the lower classes of people, particularly mechanics, no close connection

grew out of it. I had indeed boldness enough to undertake something

uncommon and perhaps dangerous, and many times felt disposed to do so;

but I was without the handle by which to grasp and hold it.

Meanwhile I was quite unexpectedly involved in an affair which brought

me near to a great hazard, and at least for a long time into perplexity

and distress. The good terms on which I before stood with the boy whom I

have already named Pylades was maintained up to the time of my youth. We

indeed saw each other less often, because our parents did not stand on

the best footing with each other; but, when we did meet, the old

raptures 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 when 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 pleasant companions;

and not one of them will believe that you have made them."--"Let it

pass," I answered: "we wil make and enjoy them, and the others may think and say of them what they please."

"There comes the unbeliever now," added my friend. "We wil 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, insignificant conversation, my young comrade, 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 verses, for which you will not give him credit!"--

"He will certainly not take it amiss," answered the other; "for we do him an honor when we suppose that more learning is required to make such

verses than one of his years can possess." I replied with something

indifferent; but my friend continued, "It wil not cost much labor to

convince you. Give him any theme, and he wil make you a poem on the

spot." I assented; we were agreed; and the other asked me whether I

would venture to compose a pretty love-letter in rhyme, which a modest

young woman might be supposed to write to a young man, to declare her

inclination. "Nothing is easier than that," I answered, "if I only had writing materials." He pul ed 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 mean while, 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 sentiments 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 liked to see 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 excursion 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 eked out a living 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 themselves frugal y in the evenings, and particularly on Sundays

and festivals.

On the way there, while they highly extolled my love-letter, they

confessed to me that they had made a very merry use of it; viz., that it

had been copied in a feigned hand, and, with a few pertinent allusions,

had been sent to a conceited young man, who was now firmly persuaded

that a lady to whom he had paid distant court was excessively enamored

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 wholesome 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 farther: I gave my consent. 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 wil ing to bear the expense on this occasion, and desired

expressly to thank the friend who had shown himself so excellent a

poetical secretary.

We came together late enough, the meal was most frugal, the wine

drinkable; while, as for the conversation, it turned almost entirely on

jokes upon the young man, who was present, and certainly not very

bright, and who, after repeated readings of the letter, almost believed

that he had written it himself.

My natural good nature would not al ow me to take much pleasure in such

a malicious deception, and the repetition of the same subject soon

disgusted me. I should certainly have passed a tedious evening, if an

unexpected apparition had not revived me. On our arrival we found the

table already neatly and orderly set, and sufficient wine served on it:

we sat down and remained alone, without requiring further service. As

there was, however, a scarcity of wine at last, one of them cal ed for

the maid; but, instead of the maid, there came in a girl of uncommon,

and, when one saw her with all around her, of incredible, beauty. "What do you desire?" she asked, after having cordial y wished us a good-evening: "the maid is il 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," [Footnote: The diminutive of Margaret.--TRANS.] 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 shoulders. Every thing 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 return," 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 fol owed 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 fil 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 actual y despatched to the lady, and had strained to

the utmost his expectations that an answer must come soon. This, also, I

was to write; and the waggish company 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 beauty, I immediately set to work, and

thought of every thing that would be in the highest degree pleasing if

Gretchen were writing it to me. I thought I had composed every thing so

completely according to her form, her nature, her manner, and her mind,

that I could not refrain from wishing that it were so in reality, and

lost myself in rapture at the mere thought that something similar could

be sent from her to me. Thus I mystified myself, while I intended to

impose upon another; and much joy and much trouble was yet to arise out

of the affair. When I was once more summoned, I had finished, promised

to come, and did not fail at the appointed hour. There was only one of

the young people at home; Gretchen sat at the window spinning; the

mother was going to and fro. The young man desired that I should read it

over to him: I did so, and read, not without 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 lover, who had often interrupted me with

commendations, at last entreated me to make some alterations. 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 wal , 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 the window;

because upon this slate reckonings were often made, and various

memoranda noted down, and those coming in or going out even communicated

with each other.

I had for a while written different things and rubbed them out again,

when I exclaimed impatiently, "It wil 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 such matters." She arose from the distaff, and,

stepping towards the table, gave me a severe lecture, with a great deal

of good sense and kindliness. "The thing seems an innocent jest: it is a jest, but it is not innocent. I have already lived to see several cases,

in which our young people, for the sake of such mere mischief, have

brought themselves into great difficulty."--"But what 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 wil 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? "It made me very happy to hear her speak 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 purpose."--

"That were indeed very desirable," I cried; "and, oh! how happy must he be, who receives from a girl he infinitely loves, such an assurance of

her affection."--"There is much required for that," she answered, "and yet many things are possible."--"For example," I continued, "if any one who knew, prized, honored, 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 subscribed her name. I was beside myself with rapture,

jumped up, and was going to embrace her. "No kissing!" said she, "that is so vulgar; but let us love if we can." I had taken up the paper, and thrust it into my pocket. "No one shal 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 fal into trouble and embarrassment!" I could not tear myself away from her; but she asked me in so kindly a manner, while she took my right hand in both

of hers, and lovingly pressed it! The tears stood in my eyes: I thought

hers looked moist. I pressed my face upon her hands, and hastened away.

Never in my life had I found myself in such perplexity.

The first propensities to love in an uncorrupted youth take altogether a

spiritual direction. Nature seems to desire that one sex may by the

senses perceive goodness and beauty in the other. And thus to me, by the

sight of this girl,--by my strong inclination for her,--a new world of

the beautiful and the excel ent had arisen. I perused my poetical

epistle a hundred times, gazed at 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, therefore, I set out for Niederrad, where these associates

general y 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 kind, 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 atonement, you may

treat us to-day; and you shal learn at the same time the notion we

have, which will certainly give you pleasure." This harangue caused me no small embarrassment, for I had about me only money enough to regale

myself and a friend: but to treat a whole company, and especial y one

which did not always stop at the right time, I was by no means prepared;

nay, the proposal astonished me the more, as they had always insisted,

in the most honorable manner, that each one should pay only his own

share. They smiled at my distress; 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 wedding-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 wil treat us twice; and we shall long remain

your debtors." This proposal pleased me in every respect; for I had

already in my childhood looked with a certain envy on the occasional

poems, [Footnote: That is to say, a poem written for a certain occasion,

as a wedding, funeral, etc. The German word is

/Gelegenheitsgedicht/."--TRANS.]--of which then several circulated

every week, and at respectable marriages especially came to light by the

dozen,--because I thought I could make such things as wel , nay, better

than others. Now an opportunity was offered me to show myself, and

especially 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 people, with whom in this way I formed a closer and closer

connection, were not exactly of a low, but of an ordinary, type. Their

activity was commendable, and I listened to them with pleasure when they

spoke of the manifold ways and means by which one could gain a living:

above al , they loved to tel of people, now very rich, who had begun

with nothing. Others to whom they referred had, as poor clerks, rendered

themselves indispensable to their employers, and had final y 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 al sorts of

commissions and charges for helpless rich men was, they said, a most

profitable means of gaining a livelihood. We al liked to hear this; 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 extraordinary fortune. But no one seemed to carry on this

conversation 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 al ow him to go to

universities; but he had endeavored 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. His fel ows praised

him for this, although they did not approve of a premature engagement;

and they added, that while forced to acknowledge him to be a fine, good

fel ow, they did not consider him active or enterprising enough to do

any thing 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 tel 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,

lest we be at too great a disadvantage, that he does not bring into the

account the external advantages of his position. He should rather tel

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 already emptied some

bottles, and I began to relate the hypothetical history of my life in

the best humor. "First of all, then, I commend myself to you," said I,

"that you may continue the custom you have begun to bestow on me. If you gradual y procure me the profit of al the occasional poems, and we do

not consume them in mere feasting, I shal soon come to something. But

then, you must not take it il 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 al hitherto very attentively,

and that in a position which well suited her, whether she chose to hear

or to speak. With both hands she clasped her folded arms, and rested

them on the edge of the table. Thus she could sit a long while without

moving any thing but her head, which was never done without some

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 stil and quiet as usual. I kept her in my eye, and it may readily

be supposed that I had not devised and uttered my plan without reference

to her. My passion for her gave to what I said such an air of truth and

probability, that, for a moment, I deceived myself, imagined myself as

lonely and helpless as my story supposed, and felt extremely happy in

the prospect of possessing her. Pylades had closed his confession with

marriage; and the question arose among the rest of us, whether our plans

went as far as that. "I have not the least doubt on that score," said I;

"for properly a wife is necessary to every one of us, in order to

preserve at home, and enable us to enjoy as a whole, what we rake

together abroad in such an odd way." I then made a sketch of a wife,

such as I wished; and it must have turned out strangely if she had not

been a perfect counterpart of Gretchen.

The dirge was consumed; the epithalamium now stood beneficially 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 had, in the mean time, introduced his fair one into the house;

and this pair passed many an evening with us. They, as bride and

bridegroom, though stil very much in the bud, did not conceal their

tenderness: Gretchen's deportment towards me was only suited to keep me

at a distance. She gave her hand to no one, not even to me; she allowed

no touch: yet she many times seated herself near me, particularly when I

wrote, or read aloud, and then, laying her arm familiarly upon my

shoulder, she looked over the book or paper. If, however, I ventured to

take on a similar liberty with her, she withdrew, and did not return

very soon. This position she often repeated; and, indeed, all her

attitudes and motions were very uniform, but always equal y becoming,

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 companies of young people,

was this,--that we seated ourselves in the Hoechst 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 Hoechst we got

out at the time when the market-boat from Mentz arrived. At a hotel

there was a wel -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 distinguished. Coming from Mentz, he now went back

with us to Frankfort, and conversed with me of every thing that related

to the internal arrangements of the city, and the public offices and

places, on which he seemed to me to be very wel informed. When we

separated, he bade me farewel , and added, that he wished I might think

wel 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 wel of him, and asked me to

intercede with my grandfather, as a moderate appointment was just now

vacant, which this friend would like to obtain. I at first wished to be

excused, as I had never meddled in such affairs; but they went on urging

me until I resolved to do it. I had already many times remarked, that in

these grants of offices, which unfortunately were regarded as matters of

favor, 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 undertook to deliver a written application that was

handed in to me.

One Sunday, after dinner, while 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 wil favor 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 was no longer spinning, but

instead 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 bal , asked me to fetch her some so-

called Italian flowers, at a fashionable milliner's. They were made in

convents, and were smal and pretty: myrtles especial y, dwarf-roses,

and the like, came out quite beautiful y and naturally. I did her the

favor, and went to the shop where I had been with her often already.

Hardly had I entered, and greeted the proprietress, than I saw sitting

in the window a lady, who, in a lace cap, looked very young and pretty, and in a silk mantil a 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 mil iner showed me the long box with single

flowers of various sorts. I looked them over, and, as I made my choice,

glanced again towards the lady in the window; but how great was my

astonishment when I perceived an incredible similarity to Gretchen, nay,

was forced to be convinced at last that it was Gretchen herself. Nor

could I doubt any longer, when she winked with her eyes, and gave me a

sign that I must not betray our acquaintance. I now, with my choosing

and rejecting, drove the mil iner 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 disguise she

appeared to me more enchanting than ever. Finally the mil iner seemed to

lose al 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,

she sending the box in advance 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 al owed to

pass with mere gaping and staring. He wished, therefore, he said, to go

through with me the election and coronation diaries of the two last

coronations, as well as through the last capitulations of election, in

order to remark what new conditions might be added in the present

instance. The diaries were opened, and we occupied ourselves with them

the whole day til far into the night; while the pretty girl, sometimes

in her old house-dress, sometimes in her new costume, ever hovered

before me, backwards and forwards among the most august objects of the

Holy Roman Empire. This evening it was impossible to see her, and I lay

awake through a very restless night. The study of yesterday was the next

day zealously resumed; and it was not til towards evening that I found

it possible to visit my fair one, whom I met again in her usual house-

dress. She smiled when she saw me, but I did not venture to mention any

thing 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 conversation, in which the discussion was how any

one could get on in the world, something was also said of the way in

which a woman could enhance the value of her talent and labor, and

advantageously employ her time. The cousin had consequently proposed

that she should make an experiment at a mil iner'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; but she would there

be obliged, for propriety's sake, to conform to a certain dress, which,

however, she left behind her every time, as it did not at al 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 al ow me a

long time, as he once more came forward with a proposal for an

occasional poem, told me al the personalities, and at once desired me

to prepare myself for the invention and disposition of the work. He had

spoken with me several times already concerning the proper treatment of

such a theme; and, as I was voluble in these cases, he readily asked me

to explain to him, circumstantial y, what is rhetorical in these things, to give him a notion of the matter, and to make use of my own and

others' labors in this kind for examples. The young man had some brains,

but not a trace of a poetical vein; and now he went so much into

particulars, and wished to have such an account of every thing, that I

gave utterance to the remark, "It seems as if you wanted to encroach

upon my trade, and take away my customers!"--"I wil not deny it," said he, smiling, "as I shal do you no harm by it. This will only continue to the time when you go to the university, and till then you must al ow

me stil 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 compelled to re-write so much of it, that I could more easily

and better have written it al from the beginning myself. Yet this

teaching and learning, this mutual labor, 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. During the day

she worked at the milliner's: in the evenings we general y 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 something at any rate, resorted to

the expedient of inventing problems, in the solution of which we always

found amusement enough; but, as they brought in nothing, our little

banquets had to be much more frugal y 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 col ege, originally appointed to take place at Augsburg in the

October of 1763, was now transferred to Frankfort; and both at the end

of this year and in the beginning of the next, preparations went forward

which should usher in this important business. The beginning was made by

a parade never yet seen by us. One of our chancery officials on

horseback, escorted by four trumpeters likewise mounted, and surrounded

by a guard of infantry, read in a loud, clear voice at all the corners

of the city, a prolix edict, which announced the forthcoming

proceedings, and exhorted the citizens to a becoming deportment suitable

to the circumstances. The council was occupied with weighty

considerations; and it was not long before the Imperial quartermaster,

despatched by the hereditary grand marshal, made his appearance, in

order to arrange and designate the residences of the ambassadors 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 bil etting. The

middle story, which Count Thorane had formerly occupied, was given up to

a cavalier of the Palatinate; and as Baron von Koenigsthal, the Nuremburg

/charge-d'affaires/, occupied the upper floor, we were stil more

crowded than in the time of the French. This served me as a new pretext

for being out of doors, and to pass the greater part of the day in the

streets, that I might see al that was open to public view.

After the preliminary alteration and arrangement of the rooms in the

town-house had seemed to us worth seeing; after the arrival of the

ambassadors one after another, and their first solemn ascent in a body,

on the 6th of February, had taken place,--we admired the coming in of

the imperial commissioners, and their ascent also to the /Romer/,

which was made with great pomp. The dignified person of the Prince of

Lichtenstein made a good impression; yet connoisseurs maintained that the showy liveries had already been used on another occasion, and that

this election and coronation would hardly equal in brilliancy that of

Charles the Seventh. We younger folks were content with what was before

our eyes: al seemed to us very fine, and much of it perfectly

astonishing.

The electoral congress was fixed at last for the 3d 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, moreover, compel ed to watch closely; as we were not only to gape

about, but to note every thing 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 Koenigsthal had deliberated, partly for our exercise and partly

for their own information. And certainly this was of peculiar advantage

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 al made a durable impression upon me was the

chief ambassador from the electorate of Mentz, Baron von Erthal,

afterwards elector. Without having any thing striking in his figure, he

was always highly pleasing to me in his black gown trimmed with lace.

The second ambassador, Baron von Groschlag, was a wel -formed man of the

world, easy in his exterior, but conducting himself with great decorum.

He everywhere produced a very agreeable impression. Prince Esterhazy,

the Bohemian envoy, was not tal , though wel formed, lively, and at the

same time eminently decorous, without pride or coldness. I had a special

liking for him, because he reminded me of Marshal de Broglio. Yet the

form and dignity of these excel ent persons vanished, in a certain

degree, before the prejudice that was entertained in favor of Baron von

Plotho, the Brandenburg ambassador. This man, who was distinguished by a

certain parsimony, both in his own clothes and in his liveries and

equipages, had been greatly renowned, from the time of the Seven Years'

War, as a diplomatic hero. At Ratisbon, when the 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. Al 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 al who were

devoted to him, body and soul, stand in favor with the crowd, among

whom, besides the Frankforters, were Germans from all parts.

On the one hand these things gave me much pleasure; as al that took

place, no matter of what nature it might be, concealed 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 at home,

I had, on behalf of my father, to transcribe the internal 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, complimenting, and the delivery of

presents. No less had the magistrate, both in general and in particular,

to defend himself, to resist, and to protest, as every one on such

occasions desires to extort something from him, or burden him with

something; and few of those to whom he appeals support him, or lend him

their aid. In short, al that I had read in "Lersner's Chronicle" of similar incidents on similar occasions, with admiration of the patience

and perseverance of those good old councilmen, came once more vividly

before my eyes.

Many vexations arise also from this, that the city is gradual y overrun

with people, both useful and needless. In vain are the courts reminded,

on the part of the city, of prescriptions of the Golden Bul , now,

indeed, obsolete. Not only the deputies with their attendants, but many

persons of rank, and others who come from curiosity or for private

objects, stand under protection; and the question as to who is to be

bil etted 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 uncomfortable.

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 plumed 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, therefore, very happy to learn that great

preparations were made on account of the journey to Frankfort of the

emperor and future king; that the proceedings of the col ege 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 Nuremburg and Aix-la-Chation; while Gretchen, by her

unbroken attention, had highly encouraged me. At last she thanked me,

and envied, as she said, all who were informed of the affairs of this

world, and knew how this and that came about and what it signified. She

wished she were a boy, and managed to acknowledge, with much kindness,

that she was indebted to me for a great deal of instruction. "If I were a boy," said she, "we would learn something good together at the

university." The conversation continued in this strain: she definitively resolved to take instruction in French, of the absolute necessity of

which she had become wel aware in the mil iner's shop. I asked her why

she no longer went there; for during the latter 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 impending day of election was the topic of conversation. I

contrived to tell, at length, what was going to happen, and how, and to

support my demonstrations in detail by drawings on the tablet; for I had

the place of conclave, with its altars, thrones, seats, and chairs,

perfectly before my mind. We separated at the proper time, and in a

particularly comfortable frame of mind.

For, with a young couple who are in any degree harmoniously 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 wel -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 reciprocation is

so sweet, that we cannot wonder, if, from the days of the old and the

new [Footnote: The "/new/ Abelard" is St. Preux, in the Nouvel e

Heloise of Rousseau.--TRANS.] 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 (/Sicherheitseides/) by the council, the

military, and the body of citizens, not through representatives, but

personal y and in mass: first, in the great hall of the Roemer, by the

magistracy and staff-officers; then in the great square (/Platz/),

the Roemerberg, by all the citizens, according to their respective ranks,

gradations, or quarterings; and, lastly, by the rest of the military.

Here one could survey at a single glance the entire commonwealth,

assembled for the honorable purpose of swearing security to the head and

members of the empire, and unbroken peace during the great work now

impending. The Electors of Treves and of Cologne had now also arrived.

On the evening before the day of election, al strangers are sent out of

the city, the gates are closed, the Jews are confined to their quarter,

and the citizen of Frankfort prides himself not a little that he alone

may witness so great a solemnity.

Al 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 Roemer, 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 assembled above, were now

to mount their horses. The stately, wel -trained steeds were covered

with richly laced housings, and ornamented in every way. The Elector

Emeric Joseph, a handsome, portly man, looked wel on horseback. Of the

other two I remember less, excepting that the red princes' mantles,

trimmed with ermine, which we had been accustomed 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 brocade, embroidered over with gold, and trimmed with gold lace,

likewise did our eyes good; and the large feathers particularly, 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 distinguished 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 worthy

representative of Frederick the Second.

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 withdrawn 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

Schoenborn, and were there in the customary manner greeted and welcomed;

but the city celebrated this important epoch by spiritual festivals of

all the religions, by high masses and sermons; and, on the temporal

side, by incessant firing of cannon as an accompaniment to the "Te

Deums."

If all these public solemnities, from the beginning up to this point,

had been regarded as a deliberate work of art, not much to find fault

with would have been found. All was well prepared. The public scenes

opened gradually, and went on increasing in importance; the men grew in

number, the personages in dignity, their appurtenances, as well as

themselves, in splendor,--and thus it advanced with every day, till at

last even a well-prepared and firm eye became bewildered.

The entrance of the Elector of Mentz, which we have refused to describe

more completely, was magnificent and imposing 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 distance from

Sachsenhausen, a tent had been erected in which the entire magistracy

remained, to show the appropriate honor, and to proffer the keys of the

city to the chief of the empire. Farther 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 gradual y, as their turns came, they might again

move towards the city, and enter properly into the procession. By this

time the emperor reached the tent, entered it; and the princes and

ambassadors, after a most respectful reception, withdrew, to facilitate

the passage of the chief ruler.

We who remained in the city, to admire this pomp within the wal s and

streets stil 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, til 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 sovereigns and their

representatives, the imperial city of Frankfort 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, fol owed 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 wel 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

honor, and in our one hundred-thousandth part of a sovereignty which now

appeared in its full bril iancy. 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-carriages,--some, even, of a

greater number. The retinue of the spiritual electors was ever on the

increase,--their servants and domestic officers seemed innumerable: the

Elector of Cologne and the Elector of Treves had above twenty state-

carriages, and the Elector of Mentz quite as many alone. The servants,

both on horseback and on foot, were clothed most splendidly throughout:

the lords in the equipages, spiritual and temporal, had not omitted to

appear richly and venerably dressed, and adorned with all the badges of

their orders. The train of his imperial majesty now, as was fit,

surpassed al the rest. The riding-masters, the led horses, the

equipages, the shabracks and caparisons, attracted every 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 stil only to be the vanguard.

But now the line became concentrated 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 electoral ambassadors, as well as the electors

in person, in ascending order, each one in a magnificent state-carriage.

Immediately behind the Elector of Mentz, ten imperial footmen, one and

forty lackeys, and eight /heyducks/ [Footnote: A class of

attendants dress in Hungarian costume.--TRANS.] announced their

majesties. The most magnificent state-carriage, furnished even at the

back part with an entire window of plate-glass, ornamented with

paintings, lacquer, carved work, and gilding, covered with red

embroidered velvet on the top and inside, al owed us very conveniently

to behold the emperor and king, the long-desired heads, in al 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

Sachsenhausen, over the bridge, up the Fahrgasse, then down the Zeile,

and turned towards the inner city through the Katharinenpforte, formerly

a gate, and, since the enlargement of the city, an open thoroughfare.

Here it had been happily 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 backwards and forwards. They debated

the matter, and, to avoid an inconvenient circuit, resolved to take up

the pavements, and to contrive a gentle descent and ascent. With the

same view, they had also removed al the projecting eaves from the shops

and booths in the street, that neither crown nor eagle nor the geni

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, 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, final y,

the imperial horse-guard (/Hatschiergarde/) itself, in black velvet

frocks (/Fluegelroeck/), with al the seams edged with gold, under

which were red coats and leather-colored camisoles, likewise richly

decked with gold. One scarcely recovered one's self from sheer seeing,

pointing, and showing, so that the scarcely less splendidly 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 honorable enough, and we felt doubly and highly

edified as Germans and as Fraukforters by this great day,

We had taken our place in a house which the procession had to pass again

when it returned from the cathedral. Of religious services, of music, of

rites and solemnities, of addresses and answers, of propositions and

readings aloud, there was so much in church, choir, and conclave, before

it came to the swearing of the electoral capitulation, that we had time

enough to partake of an excel ent col ation, and to empty many bottles

to the health of our old and young ruler. The conversation, meanwhile,

as is usual on such occasions, reverted to the time past; and there were

not wanting aged persons who preferred that to the present,--at least,

with respect to a certain human interest and impassioned sympathy which

then prevailed. 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 were opposed to the election;

the troops of the future emperor were stationed at Heidelberg, where he

had his headquarters; 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 conducted in

the strictest manner. Maria Theresa, though then pregnant, comes in

person to see the coronation of her husband, which is at last earned

into effect. She arrived at Aschaffenburg, and went on board a yacht in

order to repair to Frankfort. Francis, coming from Heidelberg, thinks to

meet his wife, but arrives too late: she has already departed. Unknown,

he jumps into a little boat, hastens alter her, reaches her ship; and

the loving pair is delighted at this surprising meeting. The story

spreads immediately; and al the world sympathizes with this tender

pair, so richly blessed with children, who have been so inseparable

since their union, that once, on a journey from Vienna to Florence, they

are forced to keep quarantine together on the Venetian border. Maria

Theresa is welcomed in the city with rejoicings: she enters the Roman

Emperor Inn, while the great tent for the reception of her husband is

erected on the Bornheim heath. There, of the spiritual electors, only

Mentz is found; and, of the ambassadors of the temporal electors, only

Saxony, Bohemia, and Hanover. The entrance begins, and what it may lack

of completeness and splendor is richly compensated by the presence of a

beautiful 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 deems them big 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 fulfil ed in the first-born son, to whom everybody was well

inclined on account of his handsome, youthful form, and upon whom the

world set the greatest hopes, on account of the great qualities that he

showed.

We had become quite absorbed in the past and future, when some friends

who came in recalled us to the present. They were of that class of

people who know the value of novelty, and therefore hasten to announce

it first. They were even able to tel of a fine humane trait in those

exalted personages whom we had seen go by with the greatest pomp. It had

been concerted, that on the way, between Heusenstamm and the great tent,

the emperor 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 landgrave brought over to Heidelberg the

decree of the electors, choosing Francis as emperor, and replied to the

valuable presents he received with protestations of unalterable

devotion. These eminent persons stood in a grove of firs; and the

landgrave, 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 behooved, and of whom it was required, had paid

their respects to the highest dignities, and exhibited themselves one by

one, there was no end to the marching to and fro: and the court of each

one of the high persons present could be very conveniently repeated in

detail.

Now, too, the insignia of the empire arrived. But, that no ancient usage

might be omitted even in this respect, they had to remain half a day

till late at night in the open field, on account of a dispute about

territory and escort between the Elector of Mentz and the city. The

latter yielded: the people of Mentz escorted the insignia as far as the

barricade, and so the affair terminated for this time.

In these days I did not come to myself. At home I had to write and copy;

every thing 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 complete account of what had lately happened,

and of what was to be expected on the coronation-day. This great day

approached; I thought more of how I should tel it to her than of what

properly was to be told: all that came under my eyes and my pen I merely

worked up rapidly for this sole and immediate 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, al 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 having been so attentive as to procure her, through

Pylades, al sorts of admissions by means of billets, directions,

friends, and intercessions.

She liked to hear about the jewels of the empire. I promised 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 be, to see the solemnities of the

coronation-day, and directed her attention to every thing 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 wil be best for the company to remain together." The cousins and the strangers had already had this in mind, because it was not known where they would be lodged

for the night. The matter was soon decided: Gretchen went to make some

coffee, after bringing in and lighting a large brass lamp, furnished

with oil and wick, because the candles threatened to burn out.

The coffee served to enliven us for several hours, but the game

gradual y slackened; conversation failed; the mother slept in the great

chair; the strangers, weary from travelling, nodded here and there; and

Pylades and his fair one sat in a corner. She had laid her head on his

shoulder, and had gone to sleep; and he did not keep long awake. The

younger cousin, sitting opposite to us by the slate, had crossed his

arms before him, and slept with his face resting upon them. I sat in the

window-corner, behind the table, and Gretchen by me. We talked in a low

voice: but at last sleep overcame her also; she leaned her head on my

shoulder, and sank at once into a slumber. Thus I now sat, the only one

awake, in a most singular position, 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 departed,

cordial y pressed ray hands. I crept home by a roundabout way; for, on

the side towards the little /Stag-ditch/, my father had opened a

sort of little peep-hole in the wal , not without the opposition of his

neighbor. 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 endeavored to pal iate 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 surrounded 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 Koenigsthal, 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 take in every thing

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 al the particulars, and to be praised by my fair one for this attention and accuracy: the applause and

acknowledgments of the others I regarded as a mere appendix.

I was indeed presented to many exalted and distinguished persons; but

partly, no one had time to trouble himself about others, and partly,

older people do not know at once how they should converse with a young

man and try him. I, on my side, was likewise not particularly skilful in

adapting myself to people. I general y won their favor, but not their

approbation. Whatever occupied me was completely present to me, but I

did not ask whether it might be also suitable to others. I was mostly

too lively or too quiet, and appeared either importunate or sul en, just

as persons attracted or repelled me; and thus I was considered to be

indeed ful of promise, but at the same time was declared eccentric.

The coronation-day dawned at last on the 3d of April, 1764: the weather

was favorable, 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 Roemer 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 arrangements 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. Al the avenues leading out from the Roemer, and from

other streets back to the Roemer, were secured on both sides by barriers

and guards. The great square was gradual y filled; and the waving and

pressure grew every moment stronger and more in motion, as the multitude

always, if possible, endeavored to reach the spot where some new scene

arose, and something particular was announced.

Al this time there reigned a tolerable stillness; and, when the alarm-

bel s were sounded, all the people seemed struck with terror and

amazement. What first attracted the attention of al 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 pal adia,

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

wel as the spectators, in the church, as we other wel -informed persons

could well imagine.

In the mean time the ambassadors drove before our eyes up to the Roemer,

from which the canopy is carried by the under-officers into the imperial

quarters. The hereditary marshal, Count von Pappenheim, instantly mounts

his horse: he was a very handsome, slender gentleman, whom the Spanish

costume, the rich doublet, the gold mantle, the high, feathered hat, and

the loose, flying hair, became very wel . He puts himself in motion;

and, amid the sound of all the bel s, the ambassadors fol ow him on

horseback to the quarters of the emperor in stil greater magnificence

than on the day of election. One would have liked to be there too; as

indeed, on this day, it would hare 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 electoral envoys, the

hereditary officers, and at last, under the richly embroidered canopy,

borne by twelve /schoeffen/ 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 fix the scene,

but for a moment, by a magic charm; but the glory passed on without

stopping: and the space that was scarcely quitted was immediately fil ed

again by the crowd, which poured in like bil ows.

But now a new pressure ensued; for another approach from the market to

the Roemer gate had to be opened, and a road of planks to be bridged over

it, on which the train returning from the cathedral was to walk.

What passed within the cathedral, the endless ceremonies which precede

and accompany the anointing, the crowning, the dubbing of knighthood,--

all this we were glad to hear told afterwards by those who had

sacrificed much else to be present in the church.

The rest of us, in the interim, partook of a frugal repast; for in this

festal day we had to be contented with cold meat. But, on the other

hand, the best and oldest wine had been brought out of al 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 balcony window of the Frauenstein house, close to the

Roemer. As her consort returned from the cathedral in his strange

costume, and seemed to her, so to speak, like a ghost of Charlemagne, he

had, as if in jest, raised both his hands, and shown her the imperial

globe, the sceptre, and the curious gloves, at which she had broken out

into immoderate laughter, which served for the great delight and

edification of the crowd, which was thus honored with a sight of the

good and natural matrimonial understanding between the most exalted

couple of Christendom. But when the empress, to greet her consort, waved

her handkerchief, and even shouted a loud /vivat/ to him, the

enthusiasm and exultation of the people was raised to the highest, so

that there was no end to the cheers of joy.

Now the sound of bells, and the van of the long train which gently made

its way over the many-colored bridge, announced that all was done. The

attention was greater than ever, and the procession more distinct than

before, particularly for us, since it now came directly up to us. We saw both, and 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 fol owed; the /schoeffen/ and senators, dressed in

black; the gold-embroidered canopy (/Himmel/),--al seemed only one

mass, which, moved by a single wil , splendidly harmonious, and thus

stepping from the temple amid the sound of the bel s, 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 actual y blessed Germany.

Several days before, it had been made known by public proclamation, that

neither the bridge nor the eagle over the fountain was to be exposed to

the people, and they were therefore not, as at other times, to be

touched. This was done to prevent 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 unrol ed itself in the air, and, as it fel ,

covered a larger or smaller number of persons. Those now who took hold

of the ends and drew them towards them, pulled all those in the middle

to the ground, enveloped 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.

I did not long contemplate this rough sport, but hastened from my high

position through al sorts of little steps and passages, down to the

great Roemer-stairs, where the distinguished 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 city-hal

were wel garrisoned; and I fortunately reached at once the iron

balustrades above. Now the chief personages ascended past me, while

their fol owers remained behind in the lower arched passages; and I

could observe them on the thrice-broken stairs from all sides, and at

last quite close.

Finally both their majesties came up. Father and son were altogether

dressed like Menaechmi. The emperor's domestic robes, of purple-colored

silk, richly adorned with pearls and stones, as wel as his crown,

sceptre, and imperial orb, struck the eye with good effect. For al 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

dalmatica, the stole, wel as they had been fitted and taken in by

sewing, presented by no means an advantageous appearance. 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. Al the people had turned towards

the Roemer; 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 hal . But they were not

alone to serve as a spectacle, since another strange spectacle occurred

before their eyes. First of al , the handsome, slender hereditary

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 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 Roemer. 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, embroidered 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 metal ic rain. A thousand hands waved instantly in the air to catch

the gifts; but hardly had the coins fal en when 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 constantly 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 tranquil y and grateful y. 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 fil ed a sack with oats another cut a

hole in it, with sallies of the kind, were revived. About the roasted

ox, a more serious battle was, as usual, waged on this occasion. 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 fal to one of the two. The

butchers believed that they had the best right to an ox which they

provided entire for the kitchen: the wine-porters, on the other hand,

laid claim because the 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 kil a few of those pressing to the spot. In a

trice the hut was unroofed; and single individuals hung to the beams and

rafters, in order to pul 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 fal

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 hal of the Romer. 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, al 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, sufficiently perceptible. The hal -door was guarded, while

those who were authorized went frequently in and out. I saw one of the

Palatine domestic officials, whom I asked whether he could not take me

in with him. He did not deliberate long, but gave me one of the silver

vessels he just then bore, which he could do so much the more, as I was

neatly clad; and thus I reached the sanctuary. The Palatine buffet stood

to the left, directly by the door; and with some steps I placed myself

on the elevation of it, behind the barriers.

At the other end of the hal , 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

opposite 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 possible with the ruler. On the contrary, the

buffets and tables of al the temporal electors, which were, indeed,

magnificently ornamented, but without occupants, made one think of the

misunderstanding which had gradual y arisen for centuries 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 magnificently attended, a large unfurnished table in the middle was

still more sad to look upon; for there, also, many covers stood empty,

because al those who had certainly a right to sit there had, for

appearance' sake, kept away, that on the greatest day of honor they

might not renounce any of their honor, if, indeed, they were then to be

found in the city.

Neither my years nor the mass of present objects allowed me to make many

reflections. I strove to see all as much as possible; and when the

dessert was brought in, and the ambassadors re-entered to pay their

court, I sought the open air, and contrived to refresh myself with good

friends in the neighborhood, after a day's half-fasting, and to prepare

for the illumination in the evening.

This bril iant night I purposed celebrating in a right hearty way; for I

had agreed with Gretchen, and Pylades and his mistress, that we should

meet somewhere at nightfall. The city was already resplendent at every

end and corner when I met my beloved. I offered Gretchen my arm: we went

from one quarter to another, and found ourselves very happy in each

other's society. The cousins at first were also of our party, but were

afterwards lost in the multitude of people. Before the houses of some of

the ambassadors, where magnificent illuminations were exhibited,--those

of the Elector-Palatine were pre-eminently distinguished,--it was as

clear as day. Lest I should be recognized, I had disguised myself to a

certain extent; and Gretchen did not find it amiss. We admired the

various bril iant representations and the fairy-like structures of flame

by which each ambassador strove to outshine the others. But Prince

Esterhazy's arrangements surpassed al the rest. Our little company were

enraptured, 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 vll anously hoaxed.

The Saalhof is, towards the Main, a regular and handsome structure; but

the part in the direction of the city is exceedingly old, irregular, and

unsightly. Smal 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 owed; and every window,

every door, every opening, was surrounded by lamps,--as indeed can be

done with a wel -built house; but here the most wretched and il -formed

of al facades was thus quite incredibly placed in the clearest light.

Did one amuse one's self with this as with the jests of the

/pagliasso/, [Footnote: A sort of buffoon.] though not without

scruple, since everybody must recognize something intentional in it,--

just as people had before glossed on 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 al ceremonies,--one nevertheless gladly returned to the

fairy kingdom of Esterhazy.

This eminent envoy, to honor the day, had quite passed over his own

unfavorably situated quarters, and in their stead had caused the great

esplanade of linden-trees in the Horse-market to be decorated in the

front with a portal il uminated with colors, and at the back with a

still more magnificent 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 real y wandered in those happy

Elysian fields where they pluck from the trees crystal cups that

immediately fil themselves with the wine desired, and shake down fruits

that change into every dish at wil . 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 everybody was

going about the streets, we were al the better pleased, and passed the

greatest part of the night most happily and cheerful y, in the feeling

of friendship, love, and attachment. When I had accompanied Gretchen as

far as her door, she kissed me on the forehead. It was the first and

last time that she granted me this favor; 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 al distressed. "Get

up," she said, "and prepare yourself for something unpleasant. It has come out that you frequent very bad company, and have involved yourself

in very dangerous and bad affairs. Your father is beside himself; and we

have only been able to get thus much from him, that he wil investigate

the affair by means of a third party. Remain in your chamber, and await

what may happen. Councillor Schneider wil come to you: he has the

commission both from your father and from the authorities; for the

matter is already prosecuted, and may take a very bad turn."

I saw that they took the affair for much worse than it was; yet I felt

myself not a little disquieted, even if only the actual state of things

should be detected. My old "Messiah"-loving friend final y entered, with the tears standing in his eyes: he took me by the arm, and said, "I am heartily sorry to come to you on such an affair. I could not have

supposed that you could go astray so far. But what wil 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 defense," said he, interrupting 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 hesitated, for I would not wil ingly betray my friends. "Silence will not do now." he

continued, "for al 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 answer with a

denial; for of all that he wished to learn I knew nothing. At last he

seemed to become vexed, and said, "You repay my confidence and good will very badly: I come to save you. You cannot deny that you have composed

letters for these people themselves or for their accomplices, have

furnished them writings, and have thus been accessory to their evil

acts; for the question is of nothing less than of forged papers, false

wil s, counterfeit bonds, and things of the sort. I have come, not only

as a friend of the family, I come in the name and by order of the

magistrates, who, in consideration of your connections and youth, would

spare you and some other young persons, who, like you, have been lured

into the net." I had thought it strange, 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 stil 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, every thing seemed to be discovered

but the names. This gave me courage to persist steadfastly in my

silence. "Do not," said my excel ent friend, "let me go away from you; the affair admits of no delay; immediately after me another wil come,

who will not grant you so much scope. Do not make the matter, which is

bad enough, worse by your obstinacy."

I represented very vividly to myself the good cousins, and particularly

Gretchen: I saw them arrested, tried, punished, disgraced; and then it

went through my soul like a flash of lightning, that the cousins, though

they always observed integrity towards me, might have engaged in such

bad affairs, at least the oldest, who never quite pleased me, who came

home later and later, and had little to tell of a cheerful sort. Stil I

kept back my confession. "Personal y," said I, "I am conscious of nothing evil, and can rest satisfied on that side; but it is not

impossible that those with whom I have associated may have been guilty

of some daring or il egal 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 wil

be found out. These vil ains met in three houses. (He named the streets,

he pointed out the houses, and, unfortunately, among them was the one I

used to frequent.) The first nest is already broken up, and at this

moment so are the two others. In a few hours the whole wil 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 from the door: "I will tell al , 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 col ected; but the more I brought to mind and pictured to

myself the persons, objects, and events, so many innocent pleasures and

charming enjoyments, and was forced to depose as before a criminal

court, the more did the most painful feeling increase, so that at last I

burst forth in tears, and gave myself up to unrestrained passion. The

family friend, who hoped that now the real secret was coming to light (for he regarded my distress as a symptom that I was on the point of

confessing with repugnance something monstrous), sought to pacify me; as

with him the discovery was the al -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,

final y, that I had nothing more to say, and wel knew that I need fear

nothing, for I was innocent, of a good family, and wel reputed; but

that they might be just as guiltless without having it recognized, or

being otherwise favored. I declared at the same time, that if they were

not spared like myself, that if their follies were not regarded with

indulgence, and their faults pardoned, that if any thing in the least

harsh or unjust happened to them, I would do some violence to myself,

and no one should prevent me. In this, too, my friend tried to pacify

me; but I did not trust him, and was, when he quitted me at last, in a

most terrible state. I now reproached myself for having told the affair,

and brought all the positions to light. I foresaw that our childlike

actions, our youthful inclinations and confidences, would be quite

differently 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 may have lain, when my sister entered, was

frightened at my gestures, and did al that she could to comfort me. 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

departed, had talked to each other with apparent satisfaction, and had

even laughed. She believed that she had heard the words, "It is all

right: the affair is of no consequence."--"Indeed!" I broke out, "the affair is of no consequence for me,--for us: for I have committed no

crime; and, if I had, they would contrive to help me through: but the

others, the others," I cried, "who wil stand by them?"

My sister tried to comfort me by circumstantial y arguing that if those

of higher rank were to be saved, a veil must also be cast over the

faults of the more lowly. Al 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 misfortune. I repeated to myself tale after tale,

saw only unhappiness fol owing 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 came to see me from time

to time, and did not fail to assist me vigorously with all sorts of good

consolation; 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 consequences, 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 ceremonies. In vain! neither the great

galaday, nor what happened 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 wait 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 cal me forth from my

passionate solitude. I let the bel s 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 except in ruminating on my misery, and

in a thousand-fold imaginary multiplication of it. My whole inventive

faculty, my poetry and rhetoric, had pitched on this diseased spot, and

threatened, precisely by means of this vitality, to involve body and

soul into an incurable disorder. In this melancholy condition nothing

more seemed to me worth a desire, nothing worth a wish. An infinite

yearning, indeed, seized me at times to know how it had gone with my

poor friends and my beloved, what had been the result of a stricter

scrutiny, how far they were implicated in those crimes, or had been

found guiltless. This also I circumstantial y painted to myself in the

most various ways, and did not fail to hold them as innocent and truly

unfortunate. Sometimes I longed to see myself freed from this

uncertainty, and wrote vehemently threatening letters to the family

friend, insisting that he should not withhold from me the further

progress of the affair. Sometimes I tore them up again, from the fear of

learning my unhappiness quite distinctly, and of losing the principal

consolation with which hitherto I had alternately tormented and

supported myself.

Thus I passed both day and night in great disquiet, in raving and

lassitude; so that I felt happy at last when a bodily il ness seized me

with considerable violence, when they had to cal in the help of a

physician, and think of every way to quiet me. They supposed that they

could do it general y by the sacred assurance that al who were more or

less involved in the guilt had been treated with the greatest

forbearance; that my nearest friends, being as good as innocent, had

been dismissed with a slight reprimand; and that Gretchen had retired

from the city, and had returned to her own home. They lingered the most

over this last point, and I did not take it in the best part; for I

could discover in it, not a voluntary departure, but only a shameful

banishment. My bodily and mental condition was not improved by this: my

distress now only augmented; and I had time enough to torment myself by

picturing the strangest romance of sad events, and an inevitably

tragical catastrophe.

PART THE SECOND.

OF WHAT ONE WISHES IN YOUTH, WHEN OLD HE HAS IN ABUNDANCE.

SIXTH BOOK.

Thus I felt urged alternately to promote and to retard my recovery; and a certain secret chagrin was now added to my other sensations, for I

plainly perceived that I was watched, that they were loath 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 therefore

conjectured that Pylades, or one of the cousins, or even Gretchen

herself, might have attempted to write to me, either to give or to

obtain information. In addition to my sorrow, I was now more cross than

hitherto, and had again fresh opportunities to exercise my conjectures,

and to mislead myself into the strangest combinations.

It was not long before they gave me a special overseer. Fortunately it

was a man whom I loved and valued. He had held the place of tutor in the

family of one of our friends, and his former pupil had gone alone to the

university. He often visited me in my sad condition; and they at last

found nothing more natural than to give him a chamber next to mine, as

he was then to provide me with employment, pacify me, and, as I was well

aware, keep his eye on me. Stil , 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,

constrained footing with him. It was not long, then, before I spoke to

him about the matter, 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 story, and that, too, in its details

and particulars, so that 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 al owed 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 perpetrated many

criminal acts, and had stil more criminal matters in preparation. The

cousins, for whom I at last impatiently inquired, had been found to be

quite innocent, only very general y acquainted with those others, and

not at all implicated with them. My client, owing to my recommendation

of whom I had been tracked, was one of the worst, and had sued for that

office chiefly that he might undertake or conceal certain vil anies.

After all this, I could at last contain myself no longer, and asked what

had become of Gretchen, for whom I, once for al , confessed the

strongest attachment. My friend shook his head and smiled. "Make

yourself easy," replied he: "this girl has passed her examination very wel , and has borne off honorable testimony to that effect. They could

discover nothing in her but what was good and amiable: she even won the

favor of those who questioned her, and could not refuse her desire of

removing from the city. Even what she has confessed regarding you, my

friend, does her honor: I have read her deposition in the secret reports

myself, and seen her signature."--"The signature!" exclaimed I, "which makes me so happy and so miserable. What has she confessed, then? What

has she signed?" My friend delayed answering, but the cheerfulness of

his face showed me that he concealed nothing dangerous." If you must

know, then," replied he at last, "when she was asked about 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 hindered him from taking part in wanton

tricks, which might have brought him into trouble.'"

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 al passion for her. I even hastily

assured my friend that al 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 recal ing her form, her air, her demeanor; though now,

in fact, all appeared to me in quite another light. I felt it

intolerable that a girl, at the most only a couple of years older than

me, should regard me as a child; 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 al owed herself to take with me, but had not

permitted me to return, were altogether odious. Yet al would have been

wel enough, if by signing 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

mil iner's, too, no longer seemed to me so innocent; and I turned these

annoying reflections over and over within myself until I had entirely

stripped her of all her amiable qualities. My judgment was convinced,

and I thought I must cast her away; but her image!--her image gave me

the lie as often as it again hovered before me, which indeed happened

often enough.

Nevertheless, this arrow with its barbed hooks was torn out of my heart;

and the question then was, how the inward sanative power of youth could

be brought to one's aid? I real y put on the man; and the first thing

instantly laid aside was the weeping and raving, which I now regarded as

childish in the highest degree. A great stride for the better! For I had

often, half the night through, given myself up to this grief with the

greatest violence; so that at last, from my tears and sobbing, I came to

such a point that I could scarcely swallow any longer; eating and

drinking became painful to me; and my chest, which was so nearly

concerned, seemed to suffer. The vexation I had constantly felt since

the discovery made me banish every weakness. It seemed to me something

frightful that I had sacrificed sleep, repose, and health for the sake

of a girl who was pleased to consider me a babe, and to imagine herself,

with respect to me, something very much like a nurse.

These depressing reflections, as I was soon convinced, were only to be

banished by activity; but of what was I to take hold? I had, indeed,

much to make up for in many things, and to prepare myself, in more than

one sense, for the university, which I was now to attend; but I relished

and accomplished 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 suffered myself to be moved by

the taste of my good room-neighbor, 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. For my friend began to make me acquainted with

the secrets of philosophy. He had studied in Jena, under Daries, and,

possessing a well-regulated mind, had acutely seized the relations of

that doctrine, which he now sought to impart to me. But, unfortunately,

these things would not hang together in such a fashion in my brain. I

put questions, which he promised to answer afterwards: I made demands,

which he promised to satisfy in future. But our most important difference was this: that I maintained a separate philosophy was not

necessary, as the whole of it was already contained in religion and

poetry. This he would by no means al ow, but rather tried to prove to me

that these must first be founded on philosophy; which I stubbornly

denied, and, at every step in the progress of our discussions, found

arguments for my opinion. For as in poetry a certain faith in the

impossible, and as in religion a like faith in the inscrutable, must

have a place, the philosophers appeared to me to be in a very false

position who would demonstrate and explain both of them from their own

field of vision. Besides, it was very quickly proved, from the history

of philosophy, that one always sought a ground different from that of

the other, and that the sceptic, in the end, pronounced every thing

groundless and useless.

However, this very history of philosophy, which my friend was compelled

to go over with me, because I could learn nothing from dogmatical

discourse, amused me very much, but only on this account, that one

doctrine or opinion seemed to me as good as another, so far, at least,

as I was capable of penetrating into it. With the most ancient men and

schools I was best pleased, because poetry, religion, and philosophy

were completely combined into one; and I only maintained that first

opinion of mine with the more animation, when the Book of Job and the

Song and Proverbs of Solomon, as well as the lays of Orpheus and Hesiod,

seemed to bear valid witness in its favor. My friend had taken the

smaller work of Brucker as the foundation of his discourse; and, the

farther 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 wel be compared

with Christ. His disciples, on the other hand, seemed to me to bear a

strong resemblance to the apostles, who disagreed immediately after

their Master's death, when each manifestly recognized only a limited

view as the right one. Neither the keenness of Aristotle nor the fulness

of Plato produced the least fruit in me. For the Stoics, on the

contrary, I had already conceived some affection, and even procured

Epictetus, whom I studied with much interest. My friend unwillingly 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 every thing, and that joy and sorrow come of

themselves. However, youth should be allowed its own course: it does not

stick to false maxims very long; life soon tears or charms it away

again.

The season had become fine: we often went together into the open air,

and visited the places of amusement which surrounded 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 indifferent

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 demeanor, to fix it on their memories, to scan

and to find fault.

I therefore drew my friend into the woods; and, while I 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 fal for a copious brook.

Scarcely had I dragged hither my friend, who would rather have been in

the open country by the stream, among men, when he playfully assured me

that I showed myself a true German. He related to me circumstantial y,

out of Tacitus, how our ancestors found pleasure in the feelings which

Nature so provides for us, in such solitudes, with her inartificial

architecture. He had not been long discoursing of this, when I

exclaimed, "Oh! why did not this precious spot lie in a deeper

wilderness! why may we not train a hedge around it, to hal ow 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 stil present to my mind: what I said I know not how

to recal . Thus much, however, is certain, that the undetermined, 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 greatness to which we are not equal.

Al men, more or less, have such a disposition, and seek to satisfy this

noble want 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 every thing; 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, whereby both become equal y undying and indestructible.

The brief moments of such enjoyments were stil more shortened by my

meditative friend: but, when I turned back into 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 scarcely

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 improve you,

excites no feeling of comfort; while a woman who is forming you, while

she seems to spoil you, is adored as a heavenly, joy-bringing being. But

that form in which the idea of beauty manifested itself to me had

vanished into distance; 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 al

others, the organ by which I seized the world. I had, from childhood,

lived among painters, and had accustomed myself to look at objects, as

they did, with reference to art. Now I was left to myself and to

solitude, this gift, half natural, half acquired, made its appearance.

Wherever I looked, I saw a picture; and whatever struck me, whatever

gave me delight, I wished to fix, and began, in the most awkward manner,

to draw after nature. To this end I lacked nothing less than every

thing; 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 the faculty of paying 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. This, however, being the only way left me of uttering my

thoughts, I stuck to it with so much stubbornness, nay, even with

melancholy, that I always continued my labors the more zealously the

less I saw they produced.

But I wil not deny that there was a certain mixture of roguery; for I

had remarked, that if I chose for an irksome study a half-shaded old

trunk, to the hugely curved roots of which clung well-lit fern, combined

with twinkling maiden-hair, my friend, who knew from experience that I

should not be disengaged in less than an hour, commonly resolved to

seek, with his books, some other pleasant little spot. Now nothing

disturbed me in prosecuting my taste, which was so much the more active,

as my paper was endeared to me by the circumstance 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 cal s 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 like to remember,

although not without melancholy.

But, if such drawings may have had any thing 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 condition, and, in particular, had applied myself

passionately to drawing from nature, was very well satisfied,--partly

because he himself set a high value on drawing and painting, partly

because gossip Seekatz had once said to him, that it was a pity I was

not destined for a painter. But here again the peculiarities of 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; gray old leaves,

even if scribbled over on one side already, charmed me most, just as if

my awkwardness had feared the touchstone of a white ground. Nor were any

of my drawings quite finished; and how should I have executed a whole,

which indeed I saw with my eyes, but did not comprehend, and how an

individual object, which I had neither skill nor patience to fol ow out?

My father's mode of training me in this respect was real y 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 col ection, in which he wished, at some future

time, to rejoice at the progress of his son. It was, therefore, by no

means disagreeable to him when my wild, restless disposition sent me

roving about the country: he rather seemed pleased when I brought back a

parcel of drawings on which he could exercise his patience, and in some

measure strengthen his hopes.

They no longer said that I might relapse into my former attachments and

connections: 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 farther and farther

into the distance. Koenigstein, too, was not left unvisited; Wiesbaden, Schwalbach, with its environs, occupied us many days; we reached the

Rhine, which, from the heights, we had seen winding along far off. Mentz

astonished us, but could not chain a youthful mind which was running

into the open country; we were delighted with the situation of Biberich;

and, contented and happy, we resumed our journey home.

This whole tour, from which my father had promised himself 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 imperceptibly drawn into a narrow

compass, from which I derived some profit; for I met no ruined castle,

no piece of wal 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 brought 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;

surrounded the single leaves with lines; and thus actually compel ed 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 endeavors could not increase my talent, nevertheless

this mark of his love of order had upon me a secret influence, which

afterwards manifested itself vigorously in more ways than one.

From such rambling excursions, undertaken partly for pleasure, partly

for art, and which could be performed in a short time, and often

repeated, I was again drawn home, and that by a magnet which always

acted upon me strongly: this was my sister. She, only a year younger

than I, had lived the whole conscious period of my 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, because he

cherished within a very tender heart, external y, with incredible

consistency, maintained a brazen sternness, that he might attain the end

of giving his children the best education, 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 with the moments

of recreation and enjoyment, especially for my sister, who could never

leave the house for so long a time as I could, the necessity she felt

for entertaining herself with me was still sharpened by the sense of

longing with which she accompanied me to a distance.

And as, in our first years, playing and learning, growth and education,

had been quite common to both of us, so that we might well have been taken for twins, so did this community, this confidence, remain during

the development of our physical and moral powers. That interest of

youth; that amazement at the awakening of sensual impulses which clothe

themselves in mental forms; of mental necessities which clothe

themselves in sensual images; all the reflections upon these, which

obscure rather than enlighten us, as the fog covers over and does not

il umine 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 enlightened as to

their strange condition, as the nearer they wished to approach each

other, to clear up their minds, the more forcibly did the sacred awe of

their close relationship keep them apart

Reluctantly do I mention, in a general way, what I undertook 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 Richardsonian 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 feeling of that

depth,--only in such a manner would it have been in some degree possible

to give a representation of this remarkable personality; for the spring

can be apprehended only while it is flowing. But from this beautiful and

pious design, as from so many others, the tumult of the world drew me

away; and nothing now remains for me but to call up for a moment that

blessed spirit, as if by the aid of a magic mirror.

She was tall, wel and delicately formed, and had something natural y

dignified in her demeanor, which melted away into a pleasing mildness.

The lineaments of her face, neither striking nor beautiful, indicated a

character which was not nor ever could be in union with itself. Her eyes

were not the finest I have ever seen, but the deepest, behind which you

expected the most; and when they expressed any affection, any love,

their brilliancy was unequalled. And yet, properly speaking, this

expression was not tender, like that which comes from the heart, and at

the same time carries with it something of longing and desire: this

expression came from the soul; it was ful and rich; it seemed as if it

would only give, without needing 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 every thing apparently or real y to enlarge it. Now, as she

had the most feminine, most perfect arched forehead, and, moreover, a

pair of strong black eyebrows, and prominent eyes, these circumstances

occasioned a contrast, which, if it did not repel every stranger at the

first glance, at least did not attract him. She early felt it; and this

feeling became constantly the more painful to her, the farther she

advanced into the years when both sexes find an innocent pleasure in

being mutual y agreeable.

To nobody can his own form be repugnant; the ugliest, as wel as the

most beautiful, has a right to enjoy his own presence: and as favor

beautifies, and every one regards himself in the looking-glass with

favor, it may be asserted that every one must see himself with

complacency, even if he would struggle against the feeling. Yet my

sister had such a decided foundation of good sense, that she could not possibly be blind and sil y in this respect; on the contrary, she

perhaps knew more clearly than she ought, that she stood far behind her

female playfel ows in external beauty, without feeling consoled by the

fact that she infinitely surpassed them in internal advantages.

If a woman can find compensation for the want of beauty, she richly

found it in the unbounded confidence, the regard and love, which all her

female friends bore to her; whether they were older or younger, al

cherished the same sentiments. A very pleasant society had col ected

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. While, indeed, her exterior was in some measure

repulsive, the mind that gleamed through it was also more repelling than

attractive; for the presence of any excel ence throws others back upon

themselves. She felt this sensibly: she did not conceal it from me, and

her love was directed to me with so much the greater force. The case was

singular enough. As confidants to whom one reveals a love-affair

actually by genuine sympathy become lovers also, nay, grow into rivals,

and at last, perchance, transfer the passion to themselves; so it was

with us two: for, when my connection 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, understood, and

esteemed her. If now, from time to time, my grief for the loss of

Gretchen revived, and I suddenly began to weep, to lament, and to act in

a disorderly manner, my despair for my lost one awakened in her likewise

a similar despairing impatience as to the never-possessings, the

failures, and miscarriages of such youthful attachments, that we both

thought ourselves infinitely unhappy, and the more so, as, in this

singular 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

ourselves, 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 al 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 was also, both orally and in writing,

carried on in the English language. Both the young persons were very

wel suited to each other: he was tall and well built, as she was, only

still more slender; his face, small and compact, might real y have been

pretty, had it not been too much disfigured by the smal -pox; his manner

was calm, precise,--one might often have cal ed it dry and cold; but his

heart was full of kindness and love, his soul ful of generosity, and

his attachments as lasting as they were decided and control ed. 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 connections, which

commonly pass away as the mere fruitless prelude to subsequent and more

serious ties, and very seldom produce a lasting effect upon life.

The fine weather and the beautiful country did not remain unenjoyed by

so lively a company: water-excursions were frequently arranged, because

these are the most sociable of al parties of pleasure. Yet, whether we

were going by water or by 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 remained either no

conversation with the ladies at all, or only such as no one would have

chosen for a day of pleasure. A friend who found himself in this

situation, and who might have been in want of a partner chiefly for this

reason, that, with, the best humor, he lacked tenderness, and, with much

intel igence, that delicate attention, without which connections 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 himself 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 knol s,

or sitting on mossy rocks and roots of trees, we had cheerful y and

happily consumed a rural meal, and our friend saw us all cheerful and in

good spirits, he, with a waggish dignity, commanded us to sit close

round him in a semicircle, before which he stepped, and began to make an

emphatic peroration as fol ows:--

"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 friends is paired, and they may find themselves

quite happy; another unpaired, and these find themselves in the highest

degree miserable, as I can assure you from my own experience: and

although the loving couples are here in the majority, yet I would have

them consider whether it is not a social duty to take thought for the

whole. Why do we wish to assemble in such numbers, except to take a

mutual interest in each other? and how can that be done when so many

little secessions are to be seen in our circle? Far be it from me to

insinuate any thing against such sweet connections, or even to wish to

disturb them; but 'there is a time for all things,'--an excellent great

saying, of which, indeed, nobody thinks when his own amusement is

sufficiently provided for."

He then went on with constantly increasing liveliness and gayety to

compare the social virtues with the tender sentiments. "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 progress in them as much as we wil , we have never done learning

them." Now he went into particulars. Many felt hit off, and they could not help casting glances at each other: yet our friend had this

privilege, that nothing he did was taken il ; and so he could proceed

without interruption.

"It is not enough to discover deficiencies: indeed, it is unjust to do so, if at the same time one cannot contrive to give the means for

bettering the state of affairs. I wil not, therefore, my friends,

something like a preacher in Passion Week, exhort you in general terms

to repentance and amendment: I rather wish al amiable couples the longest and most enduring 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 continued,

"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 favor as your servant, for a

week, him whom fate shal send you. This is binding only within our

circle; as soon as that is broken up, these connections are also

abolished, and the heart may decide who shal attend you home."

A great 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 advantages, 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 meditation."--

Here he took off his hat--

"But I should expose it to view with joy and honor if my lucubrations, which dry up my skin, and rob me of my finest adornment, could only be

in some measure beneficial to myself and others. We are young, my

friends,--that is good; we shal grow older,--that is bad; we take

little offence at each other,--that is right, and in accordance with the

season. But soon, my friends, the days will come when we shall have much

to be displeased at in ourselves; then, let every one see that he makes

all right with himself; but, at the same time, others will take things

il of us, and on what account we shal not understand; for this we must

prepare ourselves; this shal 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 drol eries put the light-

hearted company in such good humor 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 wil do credit to the master. If in a week's time we do not like it, we wil

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 remained together, and so, too, my sister kept

her Englishman; which, on both sides, they took very kindly of the god

of Love and Luck. The new chance-couples were immediately united by the

/Antistes/, their healths were drank, and to al 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 fal en, 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 il uminated the yacht on our

return at night, although there was no necessity for it in the bright

moonlight; but they excused themselves by saying that it was quite

conformable to the new social regulation to outshine the tender glances

of the heavenly moon by earthly candles. The moment we touched the

shore, our Solon cried, "/Ite, missa est!/" 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 unexpected turn to the company; and

every one was stimulated to display whatever of wit and grace was in

him, and to pay court to his temporary fair one in the most obliging

manner, since he might depend on having a sufficient store of

complaisance for one week at least.

We had scarcely settled down, when, instead of thanking our orator, we

reproached him for having kept to himself the best part of his speech,--

the conclusion. He thereupon protested that the best part of a speech

was persuasion, and that he who did not aim at persuasion should make no

speech; for, as to conviction, that was a ticklish business. As,

however, they gave him no peace, he began a Capuchinade on the spot,

more comical than ever, perhaps, for the very reason that he took it

into his head to speak on the most serious subjects. For with texts out

of the Bible, which had nothing to do with the business; with similes

which did not fit; with al usions which illustrated nothing,--he carried

out the proposition, that whosoever does not know how to conceal his

passions, inclinations, wishes, purposes, and plans, wil come to no

good in the world, but will be disturbed and made a butt in every end

and corner; and that especial y if one would be happy in love, one must

take pains to keep it a most profound secret.

This thought ran through the whole, without, properly speaking, a single

word of it being said. If you would form a conception of this singular

man, let it be considered, that, being born with a good foundation, he

had cultivated his talents, and especially his acuteness, in Jesuit

schools, and had amassed an extensive knowledge of the world and of men,

but only on the bad side. He was some two and twenty 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 personae/ 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 chal enge, how to wound lightly, and recover

himself again, and, while he seems to expose himself, to give others a

thrust home, nothing more agreeable can be found. Such a man we

possessed in our friend Horn, whose name, to begin with, gave occasion

for all sorts of jokes, and who, on account of his small figure, was

called nothing but Hoernchen (little Horn). He was, in fact, the smal est

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 compact 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 dancer, he reckoned it among the

peculiarities of the fair sex, that they always liked to see bandy legs

on the floor. His cheerfulness was indestructible, and his presence at

every meeting indispensable. We two kept more together because he was to

fol ow me to the university; and he wel deserves that I should mention

him with al honor, 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 labors. Our

little social excursions, parties of pleasure, and the contingencies

that occurred in them, we decked out poetical y; and thus, by the

description of an event, a new event always arose. But as such social

jests commonly 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 skil 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 imitations: Zachariae cultivated this branch of poetry on German soil; and it pleased every one, because the

ordinary subject of it was some awkward fellow, of whom the genii made

game, while they favored the better one.

Although it is no wonder, yet it excites wonderment, when contemplating

a literature, especially the German, one observes how a whole nation

cannot get free from a subject which has been once given, and happily

treated in a certain form, but wil 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 remark. At a great

sledging-party, an awkward man has assigned to him a lady who does not

like him: comical y enough, there befal s 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 fal s 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 favored friend

receives her, and triumphs over his presumptuous rival. As to the rest,

it was very prettily contrived 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 wel be compared with the "Walpurgisnight" of Loewen, or the "Renommist" of Zachariae. [Footnote: This word, which signifies something like our "bul y," is special y used to designate a fighting student.--TRANS.]

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 which means I made myself complete master of the chief

contents of the institutes. But a restless eagerness for knowledge urged

me farther: I lighted upon the history of ancient literature, and from

that fell into an encyclopaedism, in which I hastily read 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 persevering and rapid industry, continued day and night, I became

more confused than instructed; but I lost myself in a still greater

labyrinth when I found Bayle in my father's library, and plunged deeply

into this work.

But a leading conviction, which was continual y revived within me, was

that of the importance of the ancient tongues; since from amidst this

literary hurly-burly, thus much continual y forced itself upon me, that

in them were preserved al the models of oratory, and at the same time

every thing else of worth that the world has ever possessed. Hebrew,

together with biblical studies, had retired into the background, and

Greek likewise, since my acquaintance with it did not extend beyond the

New Testament. I therefore the more zealously kept to Latin, the

masterpieces in which lie nearer to us, and which, besides its splendid

original productions, offers us the other wealth of al 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 comprehension. Whoever knows the

then condition of scholastic instruction will not think it strange that

I skipped grammar as well as rhetoric; al 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.

Michaelmas, the time fixed for my going to the university, was

approaching; and my mind was excited quite as much about my life as

about my learning. I grew more and more clearly conscious of an aversion

to my native city. By Gretchen's removal, the heart had been broken out

of the boyish and youthful plant: it needed time to bud forth again from

its sides, and surmount the first injury by a new growth. My ramblings

through the streets had ceased: I now, like others, only went such ways

as were necessary. I never went again into Gretchen's quarter of the

city, not even into its vicinity: and as my old walls and towers became

gradual y disagreeable to me, so also was I displeased at the

constitution of the city; all that hitherto seemed so worthy of honor

now appeared to me in distorted shapes. As grandson of the

/Schultheiss/ I had not remained unacquainted with the secret

defects of such a republic; the less so, as children feel quite a

peculiar surprise, and are excited to busy researches, as soon as

something 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 al moral rigorists. My father, who was concerned in

the affairs of the city only as a private citizen, expressed himself

with very lively indignation about much that had failed. And did I not

see him, after so many studies, endeavors, pains, travels, and so much

varied cultivation, between his four wal s, leading a solitary life,

such as I could never desire for myself? All this put together lay as a

horrible load on my mind, from which I could only free myself by trying

to contrive a plan of life altogether different from that which had been

marked out for me. In thought I threw aside my legal studies, and

devoted myself solely to the languages, to antiquities, to history, and

to al that flows from them.

Indeed, at all times, the poetic imitation of what I had perceived in

myself, in others, and in nature, afforded me the greatest pleasure. I

did it with ever-increasing facility, because it came by instinct, and

no criticism had led me astray; and, if I did not feel ful confidence

in my productions, I could certainly regard them as defective, but not

such as to be utterly rejected. Although here and there they were

censured, I still retained my silent conviction that I could not but

gradual y improve, and that some time I might be honorably named along

with Hagedorn, Gellert, and other such men. But such a distinction alone

seemed to me too empty and inadequate; I wished to devote myself

professional y and with zeal to those aforesaid fundamental studies,

and, whilst I meant to advance more rapidly in my own works by a more

thorough insight into antiquity, to qualify myself for a university

professorship, which seemed to me the most desirable thing for a young

man who strove for culture, and intended to contribute to that of

others.

With these intentions I always had my eye upon Goettingen. My whole

confidence rested upon men like Heyne, Michaelis, and so many others: my

most ardent wish was to sit at their feet, and attend to their

instructions. But my father remained inflexible. 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-defense. 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.

Al hopes of Goettingen being cut off, I now turned my eyes towards

Leipzig. There Ernesti appeared to me as a bril iant light: Morus, too,

already awakened much confidence. I planned for myself in secret an

opposition-course, or rather I built a castle in the air, on a tolerably

solid foundation; and it seemed to me quite romantical y honorable to

mark out my own path of life, which appeared the less visionary, 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 jail-

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 tel , did not frighten me.

The thought of making good my footing in a strange place, and in winter,

did not make me sad; suffice it to say, that I only 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 final y 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 booksel er Fleischer and his wife (whose

maiden name was Tril er, 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, servants from

masters, /proteges/ from their patrons; and, whether it succeed or

not, such an attempt to stand on one's own feet, to make one's self

independent, to live for one's self, is always in accordance with the

wil of nature.

We had driven out through the Al erheiligen (/Al 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, general y speaking, were not then in such good

order as we find them now; and our journey was thus neither pleasant nor

happy. Yet I was indebted to this damp weather for the sight of a

natural phenomenon which must be exceedingly rare, for I have seen

nothing like it since, nor have I heard of its having been observed by

others. It was this; namely, we were driving at night up a rising ground

between Hanau and Gelhausen, and, although it was dark, we preferred

walking to exposing ourselves to the danger and difficulty of that part

of the road. Al at once, in a ravine on the right-hand side of the way,

I saw a sort of amphitheatre, wonderfully illuminated. In a funnel-

shaped space there were innumerable little lights gleaming, ranged step-

fashion over one another; and they shone so brilliantly that the eye was

dazzled. But what stil more confused the sight was, that they did not

keep still, but jumped about here and there, as well downwards from

above as /vice versa/, and in every direction. The greater part of

them, however, remained stationary, and beamed on. It was only with the

greatest reluctance that I suffered myself to be cal ed away from this

spectacle, which I could have wished to examine more closely. The

postilion, when questioned, said that he knew nothing about such a

phenomenon, but that there was in the neighborhood an old stone-quarry,

the excavation of which was fil ed with water. Now, whether this was a

pandemonium of will-o'-the-wisps, or a company of luminous creatures, I

wil not decide.

The roads through Thuringia were yet worse; and unfortunately, at night-

fal , our coach stuck fast in the vicinity of Auerstaedt. We were far

removed from al mankind, and did every thing 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 alternate good

and bad luck, I was forced, after an unexpectedly fortunate incident, to experience a teazing vexation. We met, in Auerstaedt, 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 hasten the soup which had been ordered, not

having been accustomed to the loss of rest and the fatigues of

travel ing, such an unconquerable drowsiness overtook me, that actually

I fell asleep while walking, 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 devotions in a very drol

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 fel ow-

travel er had in his nature much of the peculiarity of the Quakers, who

believe that they cannot honor God and the king better than with covered

heads. The handsome lady, who could not restrain her laughter, looked

prettier than ever in consequence; and I would have given every thing in

the world not to have been the cause of a merriment which was so highly

becoming to her countenance. I had, however, scarcely laid aside my hat,

when these persons, in accordance with their polished manners,

immediately dropped the joke, and, with the best wine from their bottle-

case, completely extinguished sleep, chagrin, and the memory of al 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 continuation 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 uniform houses. It made

a very good impression upon me; and it cannot be denied, that in

general, but especial y in the silent moments of Sundays and holidays,

it has something imposing; and when in the moonlight the streets were

half in shadow, half-il uminated, they often invited me to nocturnal

promenades.

[Illustration: Woman with birds.]

In the mean time, as compared with that to which I had hitherto been

accustomed, this new state of affairs was by no means satisfactory.

Leipzig cal s up before the spectator no antique time: it is a new,

recently elapsed epoch, testifying commercial activity, comfort and

wealth, which announces itself to us in these monuments. Yet quite to my

taste were the houses, which to me seemed immense, and which, fronting

two streets, and embracing a citizen-world within their large court-

yards, built round with lofty wal s, are like large castles, nay, even

half-cities. In one of these strange places I quartered myself; namely,

in the Bombshel Tavern (/Feuerkugel/), between the Old and the New

Newmarket (/Neumarkt/). A couple of pleasant rooms looking out upon

a court-yard, which, on account of the thoroughfare, was not without

animation, were occupied by the bookseller Fleischer during the fair, and by me taken for the rest of the time at a moderate price. As a

fel ow-lodger I found a theological student, who was deeply learned in

his professional studies, a sound thinker, but poor, and suffering much

from his eyes, which caused him great anxiety for the future. He had

brought this affliction upon himself by his inordinate reading till the

latest dusk of the evening, and even by moonlight, to save a little oil.

Our old hostess showed herself benevolent to him, always friendly to me,

and careful for us both.

I now hastened with my letters of introduction to Hofrath Boehme, who,

once a pupil of Maskow, and now his successor, was professor of history

and public law. A little, thick-set, lively man received me kindly

enough, and introduced me to his wife. Both of them, as wel as the

other persons whom I waited on, gave me the pleasantest hopes as to my

future residence; but at first I let no one know of the design I

entertained, although I could scarcely wait for the favorable moment

when I should declare myself free from jurisprudence, and devoted to the

study of the classics. I cautiously waited til the Fleischers had

returned, that my purpose might not be too prematurely betrayed to my

family. But I then went, without delay, to Hofrath Boehme, to whom,

before al , I thought I must confide the matter, and with much self-

importance and boldness of speech disclosed my views to him. However, I

found by no means a good reception of my proposition. As professor of

history and public law, he had a declared hatred for every thing that

savored of the /bel es-lettres/. Unfortunately he did not stand on

the best footing with those who cultivated them; and Gel ert in

particular, in whom I had, awkwardly enough, expressed much confidence,

he could not even endure. To send a faithful student to those men,

therefore, while he deprived himself of one, and especial y under such

circumstances, seemed to him altogether out of the question. He

therefore gave me a severe lecture on the spot, in which he protested

that he could not permit such a step without the permission of my

parents, even if he approved of it himself, which was not the case in

this instance. He then passionately inveighed against philology and the

study of languages, but still more against poetical exercises, which I

had indeed allowed to peep out in the background. He final y concluded,

that, if I wished to enter more closely into the study of the ancients,

it could be done much better by the way of jurisprudence. He brought to

my recol ection 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

fol ow 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 commencement of the lectures.

It was, however, very polite of him not to press me on the spot. His

arguments, and the weight with which he advanced them, had already

convinced my pliant youth; and I now first saw the difficulties and

doubtfulness of a matter which I had privately pictured to myself as so

feasible. Frau Hofrath Boehme invited me 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 decided contrast to her

husband, whose good nature was even blustering. She spoke of the

conversation her husband had lately had with me, and once more placed

the subject before me, in al its bearings, in so cordial a manner, so

affectionately and sensibly, that I could not help yielding: the few reservations on which I insisted were also agreed upon by the other

side.

Thereupon her husband regulated my hours; for I was to hear lectures on

philosophy, the history of law, the Institutes, and some other matters.

I was content with this; but I carried my point so as to attend

Gel ert's history of literature (with Stockhausen for a text-book), and

his "Practicum" besides.

The reverence and love with which Gel ert was regarded by al young

people was extraordinary. I had already cal ed on 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,--al

made his presence pleasing and desirable. It cost some trouble to reach

him. His two /Famuli/ appeared like priests who guard a sanctuary,

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 al those who

wished to become intimate with him.

At first I attended my lectures assiduously and faithful y, but the

philosophy would not enlighten me at all. In the logic it seemed strange

to me that I had so to tear asunder, isolate, and, as it were, destroy,

those operations of the mind which I had performed with the greatest

ease from my youth upwards, and this in order to see into the right use

of them. Of the thing itself, of the world, and of God, I thought I knew

about as much as the professor himself; and, in more places than one,

the affair seemed to me to come into a tremendous strait. Yet al went

on in tolerable order till towards Shrovetide, when, in the neighborhood

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

conclusion of them, towards spring, melted away, together with the snow,

and was lost.

The law-lectures very soon fared not any better, for I already knew just

as much as the professor thought good to communicate to us. My stubborn

industry in writing down the lectures at first, was paralyzed by

degrees; for I found it excessively 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 forever 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 cal ed

"Realities," which dissipate more than they cultivate, if they are not methodical y and thoroughly taught.

I here mention, by the way, another evil by which students are much

embarrassed. Professors, as wel as other men in office, cannot all be

of the same age: but when the younger ones teach, in fact, only that

they may learn, and moreover, if they have talent, anticipate their age,

they acquire their own cultivation altogether at the cost of their

hearers; since these are not instructed in what they real y need, but in

that which the professor finds it necessary to elaborate for himself.

Among the oldest professors, on the contrary, many are for a long time

stationary: they deliver on the whole only fixed views, and, in the

details, much that time has already condemned as useless and false.

Between the two arises a sad conflict, in which young minds are dragged

hither and thither, and which can scarcely be set right by the middle-

aged professors, who, though possessed of sufficient learning and

culture, always feel within themselves an active desire for knowledge

and reflection.

Now, as in this way I learned to know much more than I could digest,

whereby a constantly increasing uncomfortableness 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 the ladies blamed me for was my

dress, for I had come from home to the university rather oddly equipped.

My father, who detested nothing so much as when something 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. [Footnote: Literally, "to strike two flies

with one flapper."--TRANS.] He had, therefore, never engaged a servant who could not be useful to the house in something else. Now, as he had

always written every thing with his own hand, and had, latterly, the

convenience of dictating to the young inmate of the house, he found it

most advantageous to have tailors for his domestics, who were obliged to

make good use of their time, as they not only had to make their own

liveries, but the clothes for my father and the children, besides doing

all the mending. My father himself took pains to have the best materials

and the best kind of cloth, by getting fine wares of the foreign

merchants at the fair, and laying them up in store. I stil remember

wel that he always visited the Herr von Loewenicht, 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 Goetting stuff,

besides the requisite lining; so that, as far as the materials were

concerned, we might well venture to be seen. But the form spoiled almost

every thing. For, if one of our home-tailors was any thing of a clever

hand at sewing and making up a coat which had been cut out for him in

masterly fashion, he was now obliged also to cut out the dress for

himself, which did not always succeed to perfection. In addition to

this, my father kept whatever belonged to his clothing in very good and

neat order, and preserved more than used it for many years. Thus he had

a predilection for certain old cuts and trimmings, by which our dress

sometimes acquired a strange appearance.

In this same way had the wardrobe which I took with me to the university

been furnished: it was very complete and handsome, and there was even a

laced suit amongst the rest. Already accustomed to this kind of attire,

I thought myself sufficiently well dressed; but it was not long before

my female friends, first by gentle rail ery, 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 see at first

how I was to mend matters. But when Herr von Masuren, the favorite

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.

When this trial was surmounted, a new one was to come up, 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 labored to preserve a certain purity of language, and,

from our youth upwards, had made us children attentive to what may be

really cal ed 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 conspicuous, and thus every time I used them incurred

a severe reproof from my new fellow-townsmen. The Upper-German, and

perhaps chiefly he who lives by the Rhine and Main (for great rivers,

like the seacoast, always have something animating about them),

expresses himself much in similes and allusions, and makes use of

proverbial sayings with a native common-sense aptness. In both cases he

is often blunt: but, when one sees the drift of the expression, it is

always appropriate; only something, to be sure, may often slip in, which

proves offensive to a more delicate ear.

Every province loves its own dialect; for it is, properly speaking, the

element in which the soul draws its breath. But every one knows with

what obstinacy the Misnian dialect has contrived to domineer over the

rest, and even, for a long time, to exclude them. We have suffered for

many years under this pedantic tyranny, and only by reiterated struggles

have all the provinces again established themselves in their ancient

rights. What a lively young man had to endure from this continual

tutoring, may be easily inferred by any one who reflects that modes of

thought, imagination, feeling, native character, must be sacrificed with

the pronunciation which one at last consents to alter. And this

intolerable demand was made by men and women of education, whose

convictions I could not adopt, whose injustice I thought I felt, though

I was unable to make it plain to myself. Al usions to the pithy biblical

texts were to be forbidden me, as wel 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,--al this, which I had appropriated to myself with youthful ardor,

I was now to do without: I felt paralyzed to the core, and scarcely knew

any more how I had to express myself on the commonest things. I was,

moreover, told that one should speak as one writes, and write as one

speaks; while to me, speaking and writing seemed once for all two

different things, each of which might well maintain its own rights. And

even in the Misnian dialect had I to hear many things which would have

made no great figure on paper.

Every one who perceives in this the influence which men and women of

education, the learned, and other persons who take pleasure in refined

society, so decidedly exercise over a young student, would be

immediately convinced that we were in Leipzig, even if it had not been

mentioned. Each one of the German universities has a particular

character; for, as no universal cultivation can pervade our fatherland,

every place adheres to its own fashion, and carries out, even to the

last, its own characteristic peculiarities: exactly the same thing holds

good of the universities. In Jena and Hal e roughness had been carried

to the highest pitch: bodily strength, skil in fighting, the wildest

self-help, was there the order of the day; and such a state of affairs

can only be maintained and propagated by the most universal riot. The

relations of the students to the inhabitants of those cities, various as they might be, nevertheless agreed in this, that the wild stranger had

no regard for the citizen, and looked upon himself as a peculiar being,

privileged to al sorts of freedom and insolence. In Leipzig, on the

contrary, a student could scarcely be any thing else than polite, as

soon as he wished to stand on any footing at al with the rich, wel -

bred, and punctilious inhabitants.

Al politeness, indeed, when it does not present itself as the flowering

of a great and comprehensive mode of life, must appear restrained,

stationary, and, from some points of view, perhaps, absurd; and so those

wild huntsmen from the Saale [Footnote: The river on which Hal e is

built.--TRANS.] thought they had a great superiority over the tame

shepherds on the Pleisse. [Footnote: The river near Leipzig.--TRANS.]

Zachariae's "Renommist" wil always be a valuable 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 conception of the then prevailing state of social life and

manners, which was indeed feeble, but amiable on account of its

innocence and child-like simplicity.

Al manners which result from the given relations of a common existence

are indestructible; and, in my time, many things still reminded us of

Zachariae's epic poem. Only one of our fellow-academicians thought

himself rich and independent 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

donkeys of the mil er in St. Thomas's square: well-dressed, and in their

shoes and stockings, they rode around the city with the greatest

solemnity, stared at by al the promenaders, with whom the glacis was

swarming. When some sensible persons remonstrated with him on the

subject, he assured them, quite unembarrassed, that he only wanted to

see how the Lord 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 [Footnote: 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/.] exhibited a

model of French manners. The professors, 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 neighborhood of Dresden, the

attention thence paid to us, and the true piety of the superintendent of

the course of study, could not be without a moral, nay, a religious,

influence.

At first this kind of life was not repugnant to me: my letters of

introduction had given me the /entree/ into good families, whose

circle of relatives also received me wel . But as I was soon forced to

feel that the company had much to find fault with in me, and that, after

dressing myself in their fashion, I must now talk according to their tongue also; and as, moreover, I could plainly see that I was, on the

other hand, but little benefited by the instruction and mental

improvement I had promised myself from my academical residence,--I began

to be lazy, and to neglect the social duties of visiting, and other

attentions; and indeed I should have sooner withdrawn from al such

connections, had not fear and esteem attached me firmly to Hofrath

Boehme, 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 guiding 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 kept her constantly at home. She often invited me to spend the

evening with her, and knew how to direct and improve me in many little

external particulars: for my manners were good, indeed; but I was not

yet master of what is properly termed /etiquette/. Only one friend

spent the evenings with her; but she was much 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 Boehme had the greatest

influence upon me,--in a negative way truly, yet one in which she agreed

perfectly with the critics. The Gottsched waters [Footnote: That is to

say, the influence of Gottsched on German literature, of which more is

said in the next book.--TRANS.] had inundated the German world with a

true deluge, which threatened to rise up, even over the highest

mountains. It takes a long time for such a flood to subside again, for

the mire to dry away; and as in any epoch there are numberless aping

poets, so the imitation of the flat and watery produced a chaos, of

which now scarcely a notion remains. To find out that trash was trash

was hence the greatest sport, yea, the triumph, of the critics of those

days. Whoever had only a little common sense, was superficial y

acquainted with the ancients, and was somewhat more familiar with the

moderns, thought himself provided with a standard scale which he could

everywhere apply. Madame Boehme 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 al ow that

of which she perhaps might have somewhat approved. She listened, indeed,

for some time with patience, when I ventured to recite to her the verse

or prose of famous poets who already stood in good repute,--for then, as

always, I knew by heart every thing that chanced in any degree to please

me; but her complaisance was not of long duration. The first whom she

outrageously abused were the poets of the Weisse school, who were just

then often quoted with great applause, and had delighted me very

particularly. If I looked more closely into the matter, I could not say

she was wrong. I had sometimes even ventured to recite to her, though

anonymously, some of my own poems; but these fared no better than the

rest of the set. And thus, in a short time, the beautiful variegated

meadows at the foot of the German Parnassus, where I was fond of

luxuriating, were mercilessly mowed down; and I was even compel ed to

toss about the drying hay myself, and to ridicule that as lifeless

which, a short time before, had given me such lively joy.

Without knowing it, Professor Morus came to strengthen her instructions.

He was an uncommonly gentle and friendly man, with whom I became

acquainted at the table of Hofrath Ludwig, and who received me 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 stil worse, with more profundity than

Madame Boehme; 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 al , even my prose found little

favor 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 favor

with our professor, although he careful y looked over my labors 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 any thing which

gives him pleasure, of whatever kind it may be, unless, at the same

time, they have something else to put in its place, or can contrive a

substitute. Everybody protested against my tastes and inclinations; and,

on the other hand, what they commended to me lay either so far from me

that I could not perceive its excellencies, or stood so near me that I

thought it not a whit better than what they inveighed against. I thus

became thoroughly perplexed on the subject, and promised myself the best

results from a lecture 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. What I demanded was 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 settled judgment, when they managed to reckon up

against a man like Wieland so many faults in his amiable writings, which

so completely captivated us younger folks?

Amid this manifold distraction, this dismemberment of my existence and

my studies, it happened that I took my dinners at Hofrath Ludwig's. He

was a medical man, a botanist; and his company, with the exception of

Morus, consisted of physicians just commencing or near the completion of

their studies. Now, during these hours, I heard no other conversation

than about medicine or natural history, and my imagination was drawn

over into quite a new field. I heard the names of Haller, Linnaeus,

Buffon, mentioned with great respect; and, even if disputes often arose

about mistakes into which it was said they had fal en, all agreed in the

end to honor 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

grasped more wil ingly as I was afraid to write down a rhyme, however

spontaneously it presented itself, or to read a poem, for I was fearful

that it might please me at the time, and that perhaps immediately

afterwards, like so much else, I should be forced to pronounce it bad.

This uncertainty of taste and judgment disquieted me more and more every

day, so that at last I fell into despair. I had brought with me those of

my youthful labors 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 in

which one is placed when a complete change of mind is required,--a

renunciation of al that one has hitherto loved and found good. However,

after some time and many struggles, I conceived so great a contempt for

my labors, 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 smal fright and anxiety by the

smoke which fil ed the whole house.

SEVENTH BOOK.

About the condition of German literature of those times so much has been

written, and so exhaustively, that every one who takes any interest in

it can be completely informed; in regard to it critics agree now pretty

wel ; and what at present I intend to say piecemeal and disconnectedly

concerning it, relates not so much to the way in which it was

constituted in itself, as to its relation to me. I wil therefore first

speak of those things by which the public is particularly excited; of

those two hereditary foes of all comfortable life, and of al cheerful,

self-sufficient, living poetry,--I mean, satire and criticism.

In quiet times every one wants to live after his own fashion: the

citizen will carry on his trade or his business, and enjoy the fruits of

it afterwards; thus wil the author, too, wil ingly compose something,

publish his labors, and, since he thinks he has done something good and

useful, hope for praise, if not reward. In this tranquil ity 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 inundated by foreigners,

interpenetrated by other nations, directed to foreign languages in

learned and diplomatic transactions, could not possibly cultivate her

own. Together with so many new ideas, innumerable foreign words were

obtruded necessarily and unnecessarily upon her; and, even for objects

already known, people were induced to make use of foreign expressions

and turns of speech. The German, having run wild for nearly two hundred

years in an unhappy tumultuary state, went to school with the French to

learn manners, and with the Romans in order to express his thoughts with

propriety. But this was to be done in the mother-tongue, when the

literal application of those idioms, and their half-Germanization, made

both the social and business style ridiculous. Besides this, they

adopted without moderation the similes of the southern languages, and

employed them most extravagantly. In the same way they transferred the

stately deportment of the prince-like citizens of Rome to the learned

German small-town officers, and were at home nowhere, least of all with

themselves.

But as in this epoch works of genius had already appeared, the German

sense of freedom and joy also began to stir itself. This, accompanied by

a genuine earnestness, insisted that men should write purely and

naturally, without the intermixture of foreign words, and as common

intel igible sense dictated. By these praiseworthy endeavors, however,

the doors and gates were thrown open to an extended national insipidity,

nay,--the dike was dug through by which the great deluge was shortly to

rush in. Meanwhile, a stiff pedantry long stood its ground in al the four faculties, until at last, much later, it fled for refuge from one

of them to another.

Men of parts, children of nature looking freely about them, had

therefore two objects on which they could exercise themselves, against

which they could labor, and, as the matter was of no great importance,

give a vent to their petulance: these were,--a language disfigured by

foreign words, forms, and turns of speech on the one hand, and the

worthlessness of such writings as had been careful to keep themselves

free from those faults on the other; though it occurred to nobody, that,

while they were battling against one evil, the other was cal ed on for

assistance.

Liskow, a daring young man, first ventured to attack by name a shal ow,

sil y writer, whose awkward demeanor soon gave him an opportunity to

proceed still more severely. He then went farther, 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 character shown in what

he did, although he had accomplished little, may have seemed valuable to

his countrymen; for the Germans have always shown a peculiar pious

kindliness to talents of good promise, when prematurely cut off. Suffice

it to say, that Liskow was very soon praised and recommended to us as an

excellent satirist, who could have attained a rank even above the

universal y beloved Rabener. Here, indeed, we saw ourselves no better

off than before; for we could discover nothing in his writings, except

that he had found the silly, silly, which seemed to us quite a matter of

course.

Rabener, wel educated, grown up under good scholastic instruction, of a

cheerful, and by no means passionate or malicious, disposition, took up

general satire. His censure of the so-called vices and fol ies 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 fel ow-townsmen and the confidence of his superiors;

along with which, he gives himself up to the enjoyment of a pleasant

contempt for al 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

misfortune, his life, and his death.

There is little of the aesthetic in the manner in which this writer

treats his subjects. In external forms he is indeed varied enough, but

throughout he makes too much use of direct irony; namely, in praising

the blameworthy and blaming the praiseworthy, whereas this figure of

speech should be used but extremely seldom; for, in the long run, it

becomes annoying to clear-sighted men, perplexes the weak, while indeed

it pleases the great middle class, who, without any special expense of

mind, can fancy themselves more knowing than others. But whatever 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 favor. The unbounded applause of his own times was a

consequence of such moral excellencies.

That people looked for originals to his general descriptions and found

them, was natural; that individuals complained of him, fol owed from the

above; his lengthy apologies that his satire is not personal, prove the

spite it provoked. Some of his letters crown him at once as a man and an

author. The confidential epistle in which he describes the siege of

Dresden, and how he loses his house, his effects, his writings, and his

wigs, without having his equanimity in the least shaken or his

cheerfulness clouded, is highly valuable; although his contemporaries

and fellow-citizens could not forgive 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 honored as a saint by all cheerful, intel igent

men, who cheerful y 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 wel 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 himself equal or even similar to him.

Now for criticism! and first of al 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 principle 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 al 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 every thing else of that kind. They directed us at last to

Horace's "Art of Poetry:" we gazed at single golden maxims of this invaluable work, but did not know in the least what to do with it as a

whole, or how we should use it.

The Swiss stepped forth as Gottsched's antagonists: they must take it

into their heads to do something different, to accomplish something

better; accordingly we heard that they were, in fact, superior.

Breitinger's "Critical Art of Poetry" was taken in hand. Here we reached a wider field, but, properly speaking, only a greater labyrinth, which

was so much the more tiresome, as an able man, in whom we had

confidence, was driving us about in it. Let a brief review justify these

words.

For poetry in itself they had been able to find no fundamental 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 favorable 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 presented

images to the eye, the latter to the imagination: poetical images,

therefore, were the first thing which was taken into consideration.

People began with comparisons, descriptions fol owed, and only that was

expressed which had always been apparent to the external senses.

Images, then! But where should these images be got except from nature?

The painter professedly imitated nature: why not the poet also? But

nature, as she lies before us, cannot be imitated: she contains so much

that is insignificant and worthless, that one must make a selection; but

what determines the choice? one must select that which is important: but

what is important?

To answer this question, the Swiss may have taken a long time to

consider; for they came to a notion, which is indeed singular, but

clever, and even comical, inasmuch as they say, the new is always the

most important: and after they have considered this for a while, they

discover that the marvel ous is always newer than every thing else.

They had now pretty wel col ected their poetical requisitions; but they

had still to consider that the marvel ous 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

fol ow; and thus a poem had reached its utmost aim when, with every

thing else accomplished, it was useful besides. They now wished to test

the different kinds of poetry according to al these requisites: those

which imitated nature, besides being marvel ous, 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 conviction, to Aesop's fables!

Strange as such a deduction may now appear, it had the most decided

influence on the best minds. That Gellert and subsequently Lichtwer

devoted themselves to this department, that even Lessing attempted to

labor in it, that so many others turned their talents towards it, speaks

for the confidence which this species of poetry had gained. Theory and

practice always act upon each other: one can see from their works what

is the men's opinion, and, from their opinions, predict what they will

do.

Yet we must not dismiss our Swiss theory without doing it justice.

Bodmer, with al the pains he took, remained theoretical y and

practically a child al his life. Breitinger was an able, learned,

sagacious man, whom, when he looked rightly about him, the essentials of

a poem did not al escape,--nay, it can be shown that he may have dimly

felt the deficiencies of his system. Remarkable, for instance, is his

query, "Whether a certain descriptive poem by Koenig, 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, stil struck upon the main principle, and at the end of his

book finds himself compel ed to recommend as additions, so to speak, the

representation of manners, character, passions,--in short, the whole

inner man; to which, indeed, poetry pre-eminently belongs.

It may well be imagined into what perplexity young minds felt themselves

thrown by such dislocated maxims, half-understood laws, and shivered-up

dogmas. We adhere 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 fal ing. For him who felt any thing

productive in himself it was a desperate condition.

When one considers closely what was wanting in the German poetry, it was

a material, and that, too, a national one: there was never a lack of talent. Here we make mention only of Guenther, who may be cal ed a poet

in the ful sense of the word. A decided talent, endowed with

sensuousness, imagination, memory, the gifts of conception and

representation, productive in the highest degree, ready at rhythm,

ingenious, witty, and of varied information besides,--he possessed, 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 poems, he elevates all

circumstances by the feelings, and embel ishes them with suitable

sentiments, images, and historical and fabulous traditions. Their

roughness and wildness belong to his time, his mode of life, and

especially to his character, or, if one would have it so, his want of

fixed character. He did not know how to curb himself; and so his life,

like his poetry, melted away from him.

By his vacil ating conduct, Guenther had trifled away the good fortune of

being appointed at the court of Augustus the Second, where, in addition

to every other species of ostentation, 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 fil ed this post with dignity and applause.

In al sovereign states the material for poetry comes downwards from

above; and "The Review-camp at Muehlberg" ("Das Lustlager bei Muehlberg") 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, wel -appointed troops, a mock-fight, /fetes/ of all kinds,--

this is business enough for the outward sense, and overflowing material

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 conspicuous lest he should offend the others. He had

to consult the "Court and State Calendar;" and the delineation of the persons therefore went off pretty dryly,--nay, even his contemporaries

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 Frankfort-on-the-Main, in the customary profession of an

advocate; but his mind, aspiring and seeking after the universal, could

not reconcile itself to this situation for many reasons. He accepted,

without hesitation, an office as private secretary to the Duke Ludwig of

Wurtemberg, who resided in Treptow; for the prince was named among those

great men who, in a noble and independent manner, purposed to enlighten

themselves, their families, and the world, and to unite for higher aims.

It was this Prince Ludwig who, to ask advice about the education of his

children, had written to Rousseau, whose wel -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 education of his children, Schlosser was now willingly to assist in word and deed, if not

to superintend them. This noble young man, who harbored the best

intentions and strove to attain 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 /Bruehl/ (Marsh), and the host of which was named

Schoenkopf. This man had a Frankfort 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 find 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 features losing their sharpness on that account. The form of

his rounded forehead, between black eyebrows and locks, indicated

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 friendship. I had the greatest respect for his

talents, the more so as I very wel saw, that, in the certainty with

which he acted and produced, he was completely my superior. The respect

and 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 diligently: 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 al languages, which, as they chal enged me to

imitation, once more gave me infinite disquietude. Yet I contrived to

get over it 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 wil ingly took him to those I knew: with those

whom I had not yet visited, I in this way became honorably acquainted;

since he was received with distinction as a wel -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 we paid to

Gottsched, as it exemplifies the character and manners of that man. He

lived very respectably in the first story of the Golden Bear, where the

elder Breitkopf, on account of the great advantage which Gottsched's

writings, translations, and other aids had brought to the trade, had

promised him a lodging for life.

We were announced. The servant led us into a large chamber, saying his

master would come immediately. Now, whether we misunderstood a gesture

which he made, I cannot say: it is enough, we thought he directed us

into an adjoining room. We entered, to witness a singular scene: for, on

the instant, Gottsched, that tall, broad, gigantic man, came in at the

opposite door in a morning-gown of green damask lined with red taffeta;

but his monstrous head was bald and uncovered. This, however, was to be

immediately provided for: the servant rushed 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, raised the wig from

the servant's arm with his left hand, and, while he very dexterously

swung it up on his head, gave the poor fellow such a box on the ear with

his right paw, that the latter, as often happens in a comedy, went

spinning out at the door; whereupon the respectable old grandfather

invited us quite gravely to be seated, and kept up a pretty long

discourse with good grace.

As long as Schlosser remained in Leipzig, I dined daily with him, and

became acquainted with a very pleasant set of boarders. Some Livonians,

and the son of Hermann (chief court-preacher in Dresden), afterwards

burgomaster in Leipzig, and their tutor, Hofrath Pfeil, author of the

"Count von P.," a continuation of Gel ert's "Swedish Countess;"

Zachariae, a brother of the poet; and Krebel, editor of geographical and

genealogical manuals,--all these were polite, cheerful, and friendly

men. Zachariae was the most quiet; Pfeil, an elegant man, who had

something almost diplomatic about him, yet without affectation, and with

great good humor; Krebel, a genuine Falstaff, tall, corpulent, fair,

with prominent, merry eyes, as bright as the sky, always happy and in

good spirits. These persons all treated me in the most handsome manner,

partly on Schlosser's account--partly, too, on account of my own frank

good humor and obliging disposition; and it needed no great persuasion

to make me partake of their table in future. In fact, I remained with

them after Schlosser's departure, deserted Ludwig's table, and found

myself so much the better off in this society, which was limited to a

certain number, as I was very well pleased with the daughter of the

family, a very neat, pretty girl, and had opportunities to exchange

friendly glances with her,--a comfort which I had neither sought nor

found by accident since the mischance with Gretchen. I spent the dinner-

hours with my friends cheerfully and profitably. Krebel, indeed, loved

me, and continued to tease me and stimulate me in moderation: Pfeil, on

the contrary, showed his earnest affection for me by trying to guide and

settle my judgment upon many points.

During this intercourse, I perceived through conversation, through

examples, and through my own reflections, that the first step in

delivering ourselves from the wishy-washy, long-winded, empty epoch,

could be taken only by definiteness, precision, and brevity. In the

style which had hitherto prevailed, one could not distinguish the

commonplace from what was better; since al 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. Hal er and Ramler were

inclined to compression by nature: Lessing and Wieland were led to it by

reflection. The former became by degrees quite epigrammatical in his

poems, terse in "Minna," laconic in "Emilia Galotti,"--it was not till afterwards that he returned to that serene /naivete/ which becomes

him so wel in "Nathan." "Wieland, who had been occasionally prolix in

"Agathon," "Don Sylvio," and the "Comic Tales," becomes condensed and precise to a wonderful degree, as wel as exceedingly graceful in

"Musarion" and "Idris." Klopstock, in the first cantos of "The Messiah,"

is not without diffuseness: in his "Odes" and other minor poems he appears compressed, as also in his tragedies. By his emulation of the

ancients, especially Tacitus, he sees himself constantly forced into

narrower limits, by which he at last becomes obscure and unpalatable.

Gerstenberg, a fine but eccentric talent, also distinguishes himself:

his merit is appreciated, but on the whole he gives little pleasure.

Gleim, diffuse and easy by nature, is scarcely once concise in his war-songs. Ramler is properly more a critic than a poet. He begins to

collect what the Germans have accomplished in lyric poetry. He now

finds, that scarcely one poem ful y satisfies him: he must leave out,

arrange, and alter, that the things may have some shape or other. By

this means he makes himself almost as many enemies as there are poets

and amateurs; since every one, properly speaking, recognizes himself

only in his defects: and the public interests itself sooner for a faulty

individuality than for that which is produced or amended according to a

universal law of taste. Rhythm lay yet in the cradle, and no one knew of

a method to shorten its childhood. Poetical prose came into the

ascendant. Gessner and Klopstock excited many imitators: others, again,

still demanded an intel igible metre, and translated this prose into

rhythm. But even these gave nobody satisfaction, for they were obliged

to omit and add; and the prose original always passed for the better of

the two. But the more, with all this, conciseness is aimed at, the more

does a judgment become possible; since that which is important, being

more closely compressed, 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 it

consciously, the modes of representation multiplied themselves, among

which, indeed, were some which were really caricatures, while many an

attempt proved unsuccessful.

Without question, Wieland possessed the finest natural gifts of al . He

had early cultivated himself thoroughly in those ideal regions where

youth so readily lingers; but when, by what is cal ed experience, by the

events of the world, and women, these were rendered distasteful to him,

he threw himself on the side of the actual, and pleased himself and

others with the contest of the two worlds, where, in light skirmishing

between jest and earnest, his talent displayed itself most beautiful y.

How many of his brilliant productions fal into the time of my academic

years! "Musarion" had the most effect upon me; and I can yet remember the place and the very spot where I got sight of the first proof-sheet,

which Oeser gave me. Here it was that I believed I saw antiquity again

living and fresh. Every thing that is plastic in Wieland's genius here

showed itself in its highest perfection; and when that Phanias-Timon,

condemned to an unhappy insipidity, final y reconciles himself to his

mistress and to the world, one can wel , with him, live through the

misanthropical epoch. For the rest, we readily conceded to these works a

cheerful aversion from those exalted sentiments, which, by reason of

their easy misapplication 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 labors may be seen from the

first volumes of "The Universal German Library." Of "The Comic Tales"

there is honorable 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 by examples. He never takes it into

consideration, that, in a judgment of such parodistical works, one must

first of al have before one's eyes the original noble, beautiful

object, in order to see whether the parodist has real y gotten from it a

weak and comical side, whether he has borrowed any thing from it, or,

under the appearance of such an imitation, has perhaps given us an

excellent invention of his own. Of al 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 cannot

quote it al in print. When they even meet the highly meritorious

translation of Shakespeare with the exclamation, "By rights, a man like Shakespeare should not have been translated at al !" it wil 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 child-like 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 foreign 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 swel ed high around the

German Parnassus, and which abated but slowly. The leading-strings of

Anacreon likewise allowed innumerable mediocre geniuses to reel about at

large. The precision of Horace compel ed 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.

I must here mention a delusion, which operated as seriously as it must

be ridiculous when one examines it more closely. The Germans had now

sufficient historical knowledge of all the kinds of poetry in which the

different nations had distinguished themselves. This pigeon-hole work,

which, properly speaking, totally destroys the inner conception of

poetry, had been already pretty completely hammered together by

Gottsched in his "Critical Art of Poetry;" and it had been shown at the same time that German poets, too, had already known how to fil up all

the rubrics with excel ent works. And thus it ever went on. Each year

the col ection was more considerable, but every year one work pushed

another out of the place in which it had hitherto shone. We now

possessed, if not Homers, yet Virgils and Miltons; if not a Pindar, yet

a Horace; 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 footing, there

could be no dispute but that, within the Protestant part of Germany and

of Switzerland, what is general y called common sense began to stir

briskly at that epoch. The scholastic philosophy--which always has the

merit of propounding according to received axioms, in a favorite order,

and under fixed rubrics, every thing about which man can at all inquire-

-had, by the frequent darkness and apparent uselessness 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, unpalatable, and at last superfluous. Many a

one became convinced that nature had endowed him with as great a portion

of good and straightforward sense as, perchance, he required to form

such a clear notion of objects that he could manage them and turn them

to his own profit, and that of others, without laboriously troubling

himself about the most universal problems, and inquiring how the most

remote things which do not particularly affect us may hang together. Men made the trial, opened their eyes, looked straight before them,

observant, industrious, active, and believed, that, when one 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 entitled, not only

to philosophize, but also by degrees to consider himself a philosopher.

Philosophy, therefore, was more or less sound, and practised common

sense, which ventured to enter upon the universal, and to decide upon

inner and outer experiences. A clear-sighted acuteness and an especial

moderation, while the middle path and fairness to all opinions was held

to be right, procured respect and confidence for writings and oral

statements of the sort; and thus at last philosophers were found in al

the faculties,--nay, in al classes and trades.

In this way the theologians could not help inclining to what is cal ed

natural religion; and, when the discussion was how far the light of

nature may suffice to advance us in the knowledge of God and the

improving and ennobling of ourselves, they commonly ventured to decide

in its favor without much scruple. According to the same principle of

moderation, they then granted equal rights to al positive religions, by

which they al became alike indifferent and uncertain. For the rest,

they let every thing stand; and since the Bible is so ful 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 al sermons and other religious

treatises.

But over this work, as wel as over the whole body of profane 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 composed in one spirit; that it was even

inspired, and, as it were, dictated by the Divine Spirit. Yet for a long

time already the discrepancies of the different parts of it had been now

cavil ed at, now apologized for, by believers and unbelievers. English,

French, and Germans had attacked the Bible with more or less violence,

acuteness, audacity, and wantonness; and just as often had it been taken

under the protection of earnest, sound-thinking men of each nation. As

for myself, I loved and valued it; for almost to it alone did I owe my

moral culture: and the events, the doctrines, the symbols, the similes,

had al impressed themselves deeply upon me, and had influenced me in

one way or another. These unjust, scoffing, and perverting attacks,

therefore, disgusted me; but people had already gone so far as very

wil ingly to admit, partly as a main ground for the defense of many

passages, that God had accommodated himself to the modes of thought and

power of comprehension 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 use the language of

Isaiah, who is said to have been a prince.

Out of such views and convictions, especially with a constantly

increasing knowledge of languages, was very natural y developed that

kind of study by which it was attempted to examine more accurately the

Oriental localities, nationalities, natural products, and phenomena, and

in this manner to make present to one's self that ancient time.

Michaelis employed the whole strength of his talents and his knowledge

on this side. Descriptions of travels became a powerful help in

explaining the Holy Scriptures; and later travellers, furnished with

numerous questions, were made, by the answers to them, to bear witness for the prophets and apostles.

But whilst they were on al sides busied to bring the Holy Scriptures to

a natural intuition, and to render peculiar modes of thought and

representation in them more universal y comprehensible, that by this

historico-critical aspect many an objection might be removed, many

offensive things effaced, and many a shal ow 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

confirm 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 labors on

the Revelation of St. John, from the fact that he was known as an

intel igent, upright, God-fearing, blameless man. Deep minds are

compel ed to live in the past as wel as in the future. The ordinary

movements of the world can be of no importance to them, if they do not,

in the course of ages up to the present, revere prophecies which have

been revealed, and in the immediate, as well as in the most remote

futurity, predictions stil veiled. Hence arises a connection 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 intel ect.

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 il uminate, but completely

to disperse, the obscurity in which these delighted. Hence arose

controversies, hatred, persecution, and much that was unpleasant. I

attached myself to the lucid party, and sought to appropriate to myself

their principles and advantages; although I ventured to forebode, that

by this extremely praiseworthy, intel igent method of interpretation,

the poetic contents of the writings must at last be lost along with the

prophetical.

But those who devoted themselves to German literature and the /belles-

lettres/ were more nearly concerned with the efforts of such men,

who, as Jerusalem, Zol ikofer, and Spalding, tried, by means of a good

and pure style in their sermons and treatises, to gain, even among

persons of a certain degree of sense and taste, applause and attachment

for religion, and for the moral philosophy which is so closely related

to it. A pleasing manner of writing began to be necessary everywhere;

and since such a manner must, above all, be comprehensible, so did

writers arise, on many sides, who undertook to write about their studies

and their professions clearly, perspicuously, and impressively, and as

wel for the adepts as for the multitude.

After the example of Tissot, a foreigner, the physicians also now began

to labor zealously for the general cultivation. Hal er, Unzer,

Zimmerman, had a very great influence; and whatever may be said against

them in detail, especial y the last, they produced a very great effect

in their time. And mention should be made of this in history, but

particularly in biography; for a man remains of consequence, not so far

as he leaves something behind him, but so far as he acts and enjoys, and

rouses others to action and enjoyment.

The jurists, accustomed from their youth upward to an abstruse style,

which, in al legal papers, from the petty court of the Immediate Knight

up to the Imperial Diet at Ratisbon, was stil 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. But the younger Von Moser had already shown himself an

independent 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 philosophers, in order to be

popular, now found themselves compel ed to write clearly and

intel igibly. Mendelssohn and Garve appeared, and excited universal

interest and admiration.

With the cultivation of the German language and style in every

department, the capacity for forming a judgment also increased, and we

admire the reviews then published of works upon religious and moral, as

wel as medical, subjects; while, on the contrary, we remark that the

judgments of poems, and of whatever else may relate to the /bel es-

lettres/, will be found, if not pitiful, at least very feeble. This

holds good of the "Literary Epistles" ("Literaturbriefen"), and of "The Universal German Library," as wel as of "The Library of the Bel es-Lettres," notable instances of which could easily be produced.

No matter in how motley a manner al this might be confused, still, for

every one who contemplated producing any thing from himself,--who would

not merely take the words and phrases out of the mouths of his

predecessors,--there was nothing further left but, early and late, to

look about him for some subject-matter which he might determine to use.

Here, too, we were much led astray. People were constantly repeating a

saying of Kleist, which we had to hear often enough. He had sportively,

ingeniously, and truly replied to those who took him to task on account

of his frequent, lonely walks, "that he was not idle at such times,--he was going to the image-hunt." This simile was very suitable for a

nobleman and soldier, who by it placed himself in contrast with the men

of his rank, who did not neglect going out, with their guns on their

shoulders, hare-hunting and partridge-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 whol y without fruit; although Apel's garden,

the kitchen-gardens, the Rosenthal, Golis, Raschwitz, and Konnewitz,

would be the oddest ground to beat up poetical game in. And yet I was

often induced by that motive to contrive that my walk should be

solitary; and because many objects neither beautiful nor sublime met the

eye of the beholder, and, in the truly splendid Rosenthal, the gnats, in

the best season of the year, al owed no tender thoughts to arise, so did

I, by unwearied, persevering endeavor, become extremely attentive to the

small life of nature (I would use this word after the analogy of "still life"); and, since the pretty events which one perceives within this

circle represent but little in themselves, so I accustomed myself to see

in them a significance, which inclined now towards the symbolical, now

towards the al egorical, side, accordingly as intuition, feeling, or

reflection had the preponderance. I wil 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, wrote it down everywhere. Once I

had carved it very handsomely and accurately on the smooth bark of a

linden-tree of moderate age. The fol owing autumn, when my affection for

Annette was in its ful est bloom, I took the trouble to cut hers above

it. Towards the end of the winter, in the mean time, like a capricious

lover, I had wantonly sought many opportunities to tease 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, [Footnote: Die Laune des Verliebten,

translated as The Lover's Caprice, see p. 241.] 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 recal into my bosom, provision from a greater and more important

side had long been made for German poets.

The first true and really vital material of the higher order came into

German poetry through Frederick the Great and the deeds of the Seven

Years' War. Al national poetry must be shal ow or become shal ow which

does not rest on that which is most universally human,--upon the events

of nations and their shepherds, when both stand for one man. Kings are

to be represented in war and danger, where, by that very means, they

appear as the first, because they determine and 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 any thing at al , 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

fel ow-combatant had produced 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.

Al his poems are full of matter, and occupy us with great, heart-

elevating objects, and thus already maintain an indestructible value.

For the internal matter of the subject treated is the beginning and end

of art. It wil not, indeed, be denied that genius, that thoroughly

cultivated artistical talent, can make every thing out of every thing by

its method of treatment, and can subdue the most refractory material.

But, when closely examined, the result is rather a trick of art than a

work of art, which should rest upon a worthy object, that the treatment

of it, by skil , 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, acquired 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 endeavors. Upon the great idea which the Prussian writers might well entertain of their

king, they first established themselves, and the more zealously as he,

in whose name they did it all, wished once for all to know nothing about

them. Already before this, through the French colony, afterwards through

the king's predilection for the literature of that nation and for their

financial institutions, had a mass of French civilization come into

Prussia, which was highly advantageous to the Germans, since by it they

were chal enged to contradiction and resistance; thus the very aversion

of Frederick from German was a fortunate thing for the formation of its

literary character. They did every thing to attract the king's

attention, not indeed to be honored, but only noticed, by him; yet they

did it in German fashion, from an internal conviction; they did what

they held to be right, and desired and wished that the king should

recognize and prize this German uprightness. That did not and could not

happen; for how can it be required of a king, who wishes to live and

enjoy himself intellectually, that he shall lose his years in order to

see what he thinks barbarous developed and rendered palatable too late?

In matters of trade and manufacture, he might indeed force upon himself,

but especial y upon his people, very moderate substitutes instead of

excellent foreign wares; but here every thing 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 al , make honorable 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 produced an incalculable effect,--"Minna von Barnhelm."

Lessing, who, in opposition to Klopstock and Gleim, was fond of casting

off his personal dignity, because he was confident that he could at any

moment grasp and take it up again, delighted in a dissipated life in

taverns and the world, as he always needed a strong counterpoise to his

powerful y laboring interior; and for this reason, also, he had joined

the suite of Gen. Tauentzien. One easily discovers how the above-

mentioned piece was generated betwixt war and peace, hatred and

affection. It was this production which happily opened the view into a

higher, more significant, world, from the literary and citizen world in

which poetic art had hitherto moved.

The intense hatred in which the Prussians and Saxons stood towards each

other during this war could not be removed 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 symbolical y by the above-mentioned drama. The grace and

amiability of the Saxon ladies conquer the worth, the dignity, and the

stubbornness of the Prussians; and, in the principal as wel as in the

subordinate characters, a happy union of bizarre and contradictory

elements is artistically represented.

If I have put my reader in some perplexity by these cursory and

desultory remarks on German literature, I have succeeded in giving them

a conception of that chaotic condition in which my poor brain found

itself, when, in the conflict of two epochs so important for the

literary fatherland, so much that was new crowded in upon me before I

could come to terms with the old, so much that was old yet made me feel

its right over me, when I believed I had already cause to venture on

renouncing it altogether. I wil at present try to impart, as wel 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 fal en, I had labored

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 despondency

than conviction, gone up in smoke! Now, through conversation, through

instruction in general, through so many conflicting opinions, but

especially through my fel ow-boarder Hofrath Pfeil, I learned to value

more and more the importance of the subject-matter and the conciseness

of the treatment; 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 compel ed to seek for

every thing within myself. Whenever I desired a true basis in feeling or

reflection for my poems, I was forced to grasp into my own bosom;

whenever I required for my poetic representation an immediate intuition

of an object or an event, I could not step outside the circle which was

fitted to teach me, and inspire me with an interest. In this view I

wrote at first certain little poems, in the form of songs or in a freer

measure: they are founded on reflection, treat of the past, and for the

most part take an epigrammatic turn.

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,

every thing that delighted or troubled me, or otherwise occupied me, and

to come to some certain understanding with myself upon it, that I might

both rectify my conceptions of external things, and set my mind at rest

about them. The faculty of doing this was necessary to no one more than

to me, for my natural disposition whirled me constantly from one extreme

to the other. All, therefore, that has been confessed by me, consists of

fragments of a great confession; and this little book is an attempt

which I have ventured on to render it complete.

My early affection for Gretchen I had now transferred to one Annette

(/Aennchen/), of whom I can say nothing more than that she was

young, handsome, sprightly, loving, and so agreeable that she well

deserved to be set up for a time in the shrine of the heart as a little

saint, that she might receive al that reverence which it often causes

more pleasure to bestow than to receive. I saw her daily without

hinderance; she helped to prepare the meals I enjoyed; she brought, in

the evening at least, the wine I drank; and indeed our select club of

noon-day boarders was a warranty that the little house, which was

visited by few guests except during the fair, well merited its good

reputation. Opportunity and inclination were found for various kinds of

amusement. But, as she neither could nor dared go much out of the house,

the pastime was somewhat limited. We sang the songs of Zachariae; played

the "Duke Michael" of Krueger, in which a knotted handkerchief had to take the place of the nightingale; and so, for a while, it went on quite

tolerably. But since such connections, the more innocent they are,

afford the less variety in the long run, I was seized with that wicked

distemper which seduces us to derive amusement from the torment of a

beloved one, and to domineer over a girl's devotedness with wanton and

tyrannical caprice. My il humor at the failure of my poetical attempts,

at the apparent impossibility of coming to a clear understanding about

them, and at every thing else that might pinch me here and there, I thought I might vent on her, because she truly loved me with all her

heart, and did whatever she could to please me. By unfounded and absurd

fits of jealousy, I destroyed our most delightful days, both for myself

and her. She endured it for a time with incredible patience, which I was

cruel enough to try to the uttermost. But, to my shame and despair, I

was at last forced to remark that her heart was alienated from me, and

that I might now have good ground for the madness in which I had

indulged without necessity and without cause. There were also terrible

scenes between us, in which I gained nothing; and I then first felt that

I had truly loved her, and could not bear to lose her. My passion grew,

and assumed al 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 every thing possible in order to be

agreeable to her, even to procure her pleasure by means of others; for I

could not renounce the hope of winning her again. But it was too late! I

had lost her real y; 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 particularly helpful

with its healing power.

Already, at many intervals before, I had clearly enough perceived my il

conduct. I real y pitied the poor child, when I saw her so thoroughly

wounded by me, without necessity. I pictured to myself so often and so

circumstantially her condition and my own, and, as a contrast, the

contented state of another couple in our company, that at last I could

not forbear treating this situation dramatical y, as a painful and

instructive penance. Hence arose the oldest of my extant dramatic

labors, the little piece entitled, "Die Laune des Verliebten" ("The Lover's Caprice"), in the simple nature of which one may at the same

time perceive the impetus of a boiling passion.

But, before this, a deep, significant, impulsive world had already

interested me. Through my adventure with Gretchen and its consequences,

I had early looked into the strange labyrinths by which civil society is

undermined. Religion, morals, law, rank, connections, custom, al rule

only the surface of city existence. The streets, bordered by splendid

houses, are kept neat; and every one behaves himself there properly

enough: but, indoors, it often seems only so much the more disordered;

and a smooth exterior, like a thin coat of mortar, plasters over many a

rotten wal that tumbles together overnight, and produces an effect the

more frightful, as it comes into the midst of a condition of repose. A

great many families, far and near, I had seen already, either

overwhelmed in ruin or kept miserably hanging on the brink of it, by

means of bankruptcies, divorces, seduced daughters, murders, house-

robberies, poisonings; and, young as I was, I had often, in such cases,

lent a hand for help and preservation. For as my frankness awakened

confidence; as my secrecy 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 wel 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 [Footnote: "/Exposition/," in a dramatic sense,

properly means a statement of the events which take place before the

action of the play commences.--TRANS.] of most of them. But since the intrigues were always obliged to be painful, and almost al these pieces

threatened a tragical conclusion, I let them drop one after another.

"Die Mitschuldigen" ("The Accomplices") is the only one that was finished, the cheerful and burlesque tone of which upon the gloomy

family-ground appears as if accompanied by something causing anxiety; 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 favor

on the German stage; although the imitations of it, which steered clear

of those rocks, were received with applause.

Both the above-mentioned pieces were, however, written from a more

elevated point of view, without my having been aware of it. They direct

us to a considerate forbearance in casting moral imputations, and in

somewhat harsh and coarse touches sportively express that most Christian

maxim, /Let him who is without sin among you cast the first stone/.

Through this earnestness, which cast a gloom over my first pieces, I

committed the mistake of neglecting very favorable 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 humor, which feels itself superior to the moment, and not

only fears no danger, but rather wantonly courts it. The reason 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 cal ed /Suites/; and, on account of the close

similarity of signification, to say "play /suites/," means just the same as to "play pranks." [Footnote: The real meaning of the passage is, that the idiom "Possen reissen" is used also with the university word

"Suite," so that one can say "Suiten reissen."--TRANS.]

Such humorous acts of daring, brought on the theatre with wit and sense,

are of the greatest effect. They are distinguished from intrigue,

inasmuch as they are momentary, and that their aim, whenever they are to

have one, must not be remote. Beaumarchais has seized their ful value,

and the effects of his "Figaro" spring pre-eminently from this. Whereas such good-humored roguish and half-knavish pranks are practised with

personal risk for noble ends, the situations which arise from them are

aesthetical y and moral y considered of the greatest value for the

theatre; as, for instance, the opera of "The Water-Carrier" treats perhaps the happiest subject which we have ever yet seen upon the stage.

To enliven the extreme tedium of daily life, I played off numberless

tricks of the sort, partly without any aim at al , partly in the service

of my friends, whom I liked to please. For myself, I could not say that

I had once acted in this designedly, nor did I ever happen to consider a

feat of the kind as a subject for art. Had I, however, seized upon and

elaborated such materials, which were so close at hand, my earliest

labors would have been more cheerful and available. Some incidents of

this kind occur indeed later, but isolated and without design. For since

the heart always lies nearer to us than the head, and gives us trouble,

whereas the latter knows how to set matters to rights, the affairs of

the heart had 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 al 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 mean time, my external position had very much changed after the

lapse of a short time. Madame Boehme, after a long and melancholy

il ness, had at last died: she had latterly ceased to admit me to her

presence. Her husband could not be very much satisfied with me: I seemed

to him not sufficiently industrious, and too frivolous. He especial y

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

attentive neighbors and set them laughing. After the loss of his wife he

lived stil more retired than before, and at last I shunned him in order

to avoid his reproaches. But it was peculiarly unfortunate that Gellert

would not use the power which he might have exercised over us. Indeed,

he had not time to play the father-confessor, and to inquire after the

character 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 he commonly, when he admitted us to his presence, 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 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 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 connection, quietly carry on their citizen-life side by

side. Thus for a considerable time complaints were made that 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 wil make the attempt.

In moral and religious, as wel as in physical and civil, matters, man

does not like to do any thing 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 any thing wil ingly, it must not have become strange to him. If

the Protestant worship lacks fulness in general, so let it be

investigated in detail, and it will be found that the Protestant has too

few sacraments,--nay, indeed, he has only one in which he is himself an

actor,--the Lord's Supper; for baptism he sees only when it is performed

on others, and is not greatly edified by it. The sacraments are the

highest part of religion, the symbols to our senses of an extraordinary

divine favor and grace. In the Lord's Supper earthly lips are to receive

a divine Being embodied, and partake of a heavenly under the form of an

earthly nourishment. This import is the same in al kinds of 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

intel igible, it always remains a great, holy thing, which in reality takes the place of the possible or the impossible, the place of that

which man can neither attain nor do without. But such a sacrament should

not stand alone: no Christian can partake of it with the true joy for

which it is given, if the symbolical or sacramental sense is not

fostered within him. He must be accustomed to regard the inner religion

of the heart and that of the external church as perfectly one, as the

great universal sacrament, which again divides itself into so many

others, and communicates to these parts its holiness,

indestructibleness, and eternity.

Here a youthful pair join hands, not for a passing salutation or for the

dance: the priest pronounces 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 apostasy. The child in the course of life

goes on progressing in earthly things of his own accord, in heavenly

things he must be instructed. Does it prove on examination that this has

been fully done, he is now received into the bosom of the church as an

actual citizen, as a true and voluntary professor, not without outward

tokens of the weightiness of this act. Now, only, he is decidedly a

Christian, now for the first time he knows his advantages and also his

duties. But, in the mean time, a great deal 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 wil

constantly be a question of doctrines and of transgressions; but

punishment shal 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 complete 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 set at rest by several

sacramental acts, which on closer examination branch forth again into

minuter sacramental traits, he kneels down to receive the host; and,

that the mystery of this high act may be still enhanced, he sees the

chalice only in the distance: it is no common eating and drinking that

satisfies, it is a heavenly feast, which makes him thirst after heavenly

drink.

Yet let not the youth believe that this is all he has to do; let not

even the man believe it. In earthly relations we are at last accustomed

to depend on ourselves; and, even there, knowledge, understanding, and

character will not always suffice: in heavenly things, on the contrary,

we have never finished learning. The higher feeling within us, which

often finds itself not even truly at home, is, besides, oppressed by so

much from without, that our own power hardly administers al 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 wel 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 custom, inculcated from youth upwards, the dying

man receives with fervor those symbolical, significant assurances; and

there, where every earthly warranty fails, he is assured, by a heavenly one, of a blessed existence for al eternity. He feels perfectly

convinced that neither a hostile element nor a malignant spirit can

hinder him from clothing himself with a glorified body, so that, in

immediate relation with the Godhead, he may partake of the boundless

happiness which flows forth from him.

Then, in conclusion, that the whole may be made holy, the feet also are

anointed and blessed. They are to feel, even in the event of possible

recovery, a repugnance to touching this earthly, hard, impenetrable

soil. A wonderful elasticity 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 bril iant cycle 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 joined 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 al times. Here we meet the highest of

these symbols, derived from pious tradition. We are told that one man

may be more favored, 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 communicated to others by one authorized

person to another; and the greatest good that a man can attain, without

his having to obtain it by his own wrestling or grasping, must be

preserved and perpetuated on earth by spiritual inheritance. In the very

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 confidence. And thus the priest joins the line of

his predecessors and successors, in the circle of those anointed with

him, representing the highest source of blessings, so much the more

gloriously, as it is not he, the priest, whom we reverence, but his

office: it is not his nod to which we bow the knee, but the blessing

which he imparts, and which seems the more holy, and to come the more

immediately from heaven, because the earthly instrument cannot at all

weaken or invalidate it by its own sinful, nay, wicked, nature.

How is this truly spiritual connection 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, wil they prepare us for the high dignity of the others?

In my time I had been confided to the religious instruction of a good

old infirm clergyman, who had been confessor of the family for many

years. The "Catechism," a "Paraphrase" of it, and the "Scheme of Salvation," I had at my finger's ends: I lacked not one of the strongly proving biblical texts, but from al this I reaped no fruit; for, as

they assured me that the honest old man arranged his chief examimation

according to an old set form, I lost all pleasure and inclination for

the business, spent the last week in al sorts of diversions, laid in my

hat the loose leaves borrowed from an older friend, who had gotten them

from the clergyman, and unfeelingly and senselessly read aloud al that

I should have known how to utter with feeling and conviction.

But I found my good intention and my aspirations in this important

matter stil more paralyzed by a dry, spiritless routine, when I was now

to approach the confessional. I was indeed conscious of having many

failings, but 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 the very reason, that we were not obliged to confess

any thing in particular in the confessional,--nay, that this would not

be at al proper, even if we wished to do it. I did not like this at

all; for I had the strangest religious doubts, which I would readily

have had cleared up on such an occasion. Now, as this was not to be

done, I composed a confession for myself, which, while it well expressed

my state of mind, was to confess to an intel igent man, in general

terms, that which I was forbidden to tel him in detail. But when I

entered the old choir of the Barefoot Friars, when I approached the

strange latticed closets in which the reverend gentlemen used to be

found for that purpose, when the sexton opened the door for me, when I

now saw myself shut up in the narrow place face to face with my

spiritual grandsire, and he bade me welcome with his weak, nasal voice,

all the light of my mind and heart was extinguished at once, the wel -

conned confession-speech would not cross my lips: in my embarrassment I

opened the book I had in my hand, and read from it the first short form

I saw, which was so general, that anybody might have spoken it with

quite a safe conscience. I received absolution, and withdrew neither

warm nor cold; went the next day with my parents to the Table of the

Lord, and, for a few days, behaved myself as was becoming after so holy

an act.

In the sequel, however, there came over me that evil, which, from the

fact of our religion being complicated by various dogmas, and founded on

texts of scripture which admit of several interpretations, attacks

scrupulous men in such a manner, that it brings on a hypochondriacal

condition, and raises this to its highest point, to fixed ideas. I have

known several men, who, though their manner of thinking and living was

perfectly rational, could not free themselves from thinking about the

sin against the Holy Ghost, and from the fear that they had committed

it. A similar trouble threatened me on the subject of the communion; for

the text, that one who unworthily partakes of the sacrament /eateth

and drinketh damnation to himself/, had, very early, already made a

monstrous impression upon me. Every fearful thing that I had read in the

histories of the Middle Ages, of the judgments of God, of those most

strange ordeals, by red-hot iron, flaming fire, swel ing 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 into the most frightful

combinations; since false vows, hypocrisy, perjury, blasphemy, al

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 every thing was to be at

last; done away, was found limited by so many conditions, that one could

not with certainty dare appropriate it to one's self.

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

connection with the church. How oppressive, then, must have been to me

the exhortations of Gellert, whom, considering the general y 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 way myself ashamed of them, and at last left

completely behind me this strange anguish of conscience, together with church and altar.

Gel ert, 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 honorable manner acquitted himself of his duty to the public.

Gel ert'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 philosophical auditorium [Footnote: The

lecture-room. The word is also used in university language to denote a

professor's audience.] 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 hol ow

and sorrowful tone, made indeed an impression 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 travel ing through the town,

who asked what were the maxims and opinions of the man who attracted

such an immense concourse. "When we had given him the necessary

information, he shook his head, and said, smiling, "/Laissez le faire, il nous forme des dupes./"

And thus also did good society, which cannot easily endure any thing

worthy near it, know how to spoil, on occasion, the moral influence

which Gel ert might have had upon us. Now it was taken ill of him that

he instructed the Danes of distinction and wealth, who were particularly

recommended to him, better than the other students, and had a marked

solicitude for them; now he was charged with selfishness 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 coarse, man, had, it was said, been a

fencing-master; and, notwithstanding 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 pul ed 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 gray horse.

This horse the elector had sent him, to oblige him to take an exercise

so necessary for his health,--a distinction for which he was not easily

to be forgiven.

And thus, by degrees, the epoch approached when al authority was to

vanish from before me, and I was to become suspicious--nay, to despair,

even--of the greatest and best individuals whom I had known or imagined.

Frederick the Second still stood at the head of al the distinguished

men of the century in my thoughts; and it must therefore have appeared

very surprising to me, that I could praise him as little before the

inhabitants of Leipzig as formerly in my grandfather's house. They had

felt the hand of war heavily, it is true; and therefore they were not to

blame for not thinking the best of him who had begun and continued it.

They, therefore, were wil ing 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. Frederick had

shown himself great in none of his plans, and in nothing that he had,

properly speaking, undertaken. So long as it depended on himself, he had only gone on making blunders, and what was extraordinary in him had only

come to light when he was compelled to make these blunders good again.

It was purely from this that he had obtained his great reputation; since

every man wishes for himself that same talent of making good, in a

clever way, the blunders which he frequently commits. If one goes

through the Seven Years' War, step by step, it wil 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, gradual y 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 fel ow-citizens. This friend was one of the strangest fellows in

the world. He was named Behrisch, and was tutor to the young Count

Lindenau. Even his exterior was singular enough. Lean and well-built,

far advanced in the thirties, a very large nose, and altogether marked

features: he wore from morning til night a scratch which might well

have been cal ed a peruke, but dressed himself 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. Every thing he did had to be done with slowness, and with a

certain deportment which might have been called affected if Behrisch had

not even by nature had something affected in his manner. He resembled an

old Frenchman, and also spoke and wrote French very well and easily. His

greatest delight was to busy himself seriously about drol eries, and to

fol ow up without end any silly notion. Thus he was constantly dressed

in gray; and as the different parts of his attire were of different

material, and also of different shades, he could reflect for whole days

as to how he should procure one gray more for his body, and was happy

when he had succeeded 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 wel , was particularly versed in the modern

languages and their literature, and wrote an excel ent hand. He was very

wel disposed towards me; and I, having been always accustomed and

inclined to the society of older persons, soon attached myself to him.

My intercourse served him, too, for a special amusement; since he took

pleasure in taming my restlessness and impatience, with which, on the

other hand, I gave him enough to do. In the art of poetry he had what is

called taste,--a certain general opinion about the good and bad, the

mediocre and tolerable: but his judgment was rather censorious; and he

destroyed even the little faith in contemporary writers which I

cherished within me, by unfeeling remarks, which he knew how to advance

with wit and humor, about the writings and poems of this man and that.

He received my productions with indulgence, and let me have my own way,

but only on the condition that I should have nothing printed. He

promised me, on the other hand, that he himself would copy those pieces

which he thought good, and would present me with them in a handsome

volume. This undertaking now afforded an opportunity for the greatest

possible waste of time. For before he could find the right paper, before

he could make up his mind as to the size, before he had settled the breadth of the margin and the form of handwriting, before the crow-quil s were provided and cut into pens, and Indian ink was rubbed, whole

weeks passed, without the least bit having been done. With just as much

ado he always set about his writing, and really, by degrees, put

together a most charming manuscript. The title of the poems was in

German text; the verses themselves in a perpendicular Saxon hand; and at

the end of every poem was an analogous vignette, which he had either

selected somewhere or other, or had invented himself, and in which he

contrived to imitate very neatly the hatching of the wood-cuts and tail-

pieces which are used for such purposes. To show me these things as he

went on, to celebrate beforehand in a comico-pathetical manner my good

fortune in seeing myself immortalized in such exquisite handwriting, and

that in a style which no printing-press could attain, gave another

occasion for passing the most agreeable hours. In the mean time, his

intercourse was always secretly instructive, by reason of his liberal

acquirements, and, as he knew how to subdue my restless, impetuous

disposition, was also quite wholesome for me in a moral sense. He had,

too, quite a peculiar abhorrence of roughness; and his jests were always

quaint without ever fal ing into the coarse or the trivial. He indulged

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 something to find fault with in the exterior of

every one. Thus, when we lay together at the window, he could occupy

himself for hours criticising the passers-by, and, when he had censured

them long enough, in showing exactly and circumstantially 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 al such matters. Behrisch

went quite unmercifully to work, without being in the slightest degree

malicious On the other hand, we knew how to tease 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 usual y the signal for dissertations 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 al sorts of awkward attempts, that we might

possibly have made for the alteration and modification of his wardrobe.

My poetical compositions, which I only carried on the more zealously as

the transcript went on becoming more beautiful and more careful, now

inclined altogether to the natural and the true: and if the subjects

could not always be important, I nevertheless always endeavored to

express them clearly and pointedly, the more so as my friend often gave

me to understand what a great thing it was to write down a verse on

Dutch paper, with the crow-quil and Indian ink; what time, talent, and

exertion it required, which ought not to be squandered on any thing

empty and superfluous. He would, at the same time, open a finished

parcel, and circumstantially to explain what ought not to stand in this

or that place, or congratulate us that it actual y did not stand there.

He then spoke with great contempt of the art of printing, mimicked the

compositor, ridiculed his gestures and his hurried picking out of

letters here and there, and derived from this manoeuvre all the

calamities of literature. On the other hand, he extolled the grace and

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 reverted to the contrast with the compositor, turned a begun letter

upside down, and showed how unseemly it would be to write any thing 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 squandered our precious time; while it

could have occurred to none of us, that any thing would chance to

proceed out of our circle which would awaken a general sensation and

bring us into not the best repute.

Gel ert may have taken little pleasure in his "Practicum;" and if, perhaps, he took pleasure in giving some directions 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

literature, 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 commenced by him; and, as far as

the principal matter was concerned, we remarked little difference. He,

too, only criticised details, corrected likewise with red ink; and one

found one's self 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

labors, 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 far removed from that light and frivolous period in

which a similar thing would have given me pleasure; and, since I could

get nothing out of the actual circumstance itself, I determined to trick

out my work in the best manner with extraneous ornament. I therefore

convened al Olympus to consult about the marriage of a Frankfort

lawyer, and seriously enough, to be sure, as wel became the festival of

such an honorable 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 favor of the marriage.

My work by no means displeased me. I received from home a handsome

letter in its praise, took the trouble to have another fair copy, and

hoped to extort some applause from my professor also. But here I had

missed my aim. He took the matter severely; and as he did not notice the

tone of parody, which nevertheless lay in the notion, he declared the

great expenditure of divine means for such an insignificant human end in

the highest degree reprehensible; inveighed against the use and abuse of

such mythological figures, as a false habit originating in pedantic

times; found the expression now too high, now too low; and, in divers

particulars, had indeed not spared the red ink, though he asserted that

he had yet done too little.

Such pieces were read out and criticised anonymously, it is true; but we

used to watch each other, and it remained no secret that this

unfortunate assembly of the gods was my work: yet since his critique,

when I took his point of view, seemed to be perfectly just, and those

divinities more nearly inspected were in fact only hollow shadow-forms,

I cursed all Olympus, flung the whole mythic Pantheon away; and from

that time Amor and Luna have been the only divinities which at all

appear in my little poems.

Among the persons whom Behrisch had chosen as the butts of his wit,

Clodius stood just at the head; nor was it hard to find a comical side

in him. Being of small stature, rather stout and thick-set, he was violent in his motions, somewhat impetuous in his utterances, and

restless in his demeanor. In all this he differed from his fel ow-

citizens, who, nevertheless, wil ingly put up with him on account of his

good qualities, and the fine promise which he gave.

He was usual y commissioned with the poems which had become necessary on

festive occasions. In the so-cal ed "Ode," he followed the manner employed 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 Ramler come forth with a majestic pomp, which, because it is

conformable 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 excel ent cakes in the

kitchen-gardens (/Kohlgaerten/), 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 wal of the house with a lead-pencil.

"O Hendel, dessen Ruhm vom /Sued/ zum /Norden/ reicht,

Vernimm den /Paean/ der zu deinen Ohren steigt.

Du baeckst was /Gallien/ und /Britten/ emsig suchen,

Mit /schoepfrischen Genie, originel e/ Kuchen.

Des Kaffee's /Ocean/, der sich vor dir ergiesst,

Ist suessev als der Saft der vom /Hymettus/ fliesst.

Dein Haus ein /Monument/, wie wir den Kuensten lohnen

Umhangen mit /Trophaen/, erzaehlt den /Nationen/:

Auch ohne /Diadem/ fand Hendel hier sein Glueck

Und raubte dem /Cothurn/ gar manch Achtgroschenstueck.

Glaenzt deine /Urn/ dereinst in majestaets'chen /Pompe/,

Dann weint der /Patriot/ an deinem /Katacombe/.

Doch leb! dein /Torus/ sey von edler Brut ein /Nest/,

Steh' hoch wie der /Olymp/, wie der /Parnassus/ fest!

Kein /Phalanx/ Griechenland mit roemischen /Ballisten/

Vermoeg /Germanien/ und Hendel zu verwuesten.

Dein /Wohl/ is unser /Stolz/, dein /Leiden/, unser

/Schmerz/,

/Und/ Hendel's /Tempel ist der Musensoehne Herz/."

[Footnote: The humor of the above consists, not in the thoughts, but in

the particular words employed. These have no remarkable effect in

English, 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 Goethe) in Italics, and subjoin

a literal translation. It wil 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 instances of

unquestionably German words, which are Italicized on account of their

high-sounding pomp.

"O Hendel, whose fame extends from /south/ to /north/, hear the /paean/i> 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/, tel s the nations: 'Even without a

/diadem/, Hendel formed his fortune here, and robbed the

/Cothurnus/ of many an eight-groschen-piece.' When thy /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 /bal istoe/ be able to destroy /Germania/

and Hendel. Thy /weal/ is our /pride/, thy /woe/ our

/pain/, and Hendel's /temple/ is the /heart/ of the

/sons of the Muses/."-TRANS.]

This poem had its place for a long time among many others which

disfigured the wal s of that room, without being noticed; and we, who

had sufficiently amused ourselves with it, forgot it altogether amongst

other things. A long time afterwards, Clodius came out with his "Medon,"

whose wisdom, magnanimity, 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, tel s the spectators in confidence, that in the two

sacks moral aesthetic dust is to be found, which the actors wil 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 meaning behind them. He reluctantly withdrew, and

sometimes came back, earnestly exhorted the spectators to attend to his

warning and shut their eyes, reminded them that he had always been their

friend, and meant wel with them, with many more things of the kind.

This prologue was acted in the room, on the spot, by friend Horn: but

the jest remained quite among ourselves, not even a copy had been taken;

and the paper was soon lost. However, Horn, who had performed 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 to us; but 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,

displeased with our indifference, or rather censure, may have shown it

to others, who found it new and amusing. Copies were now made of it, to

which the reputation of Clodius's "Medon" gave at once a rapid

publicity. Universal 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 Rost'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 daytime 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 evenings, general y transferred his

pupil into the hands of the /valet de chambre/, and went in quest

of us to the wine-house, whither, however, he never used to come but in

shoes and stockings, with his sword by his side, and commonly his hat

under his arm. The jokes and fooleries, which he general y started, went

on /ad infinitum/. Thus, for instance, one of our friends had a

habit of going away precisely at ten, because he had a connection with a

pretty girl, with whom he could converse only at that hour. We did not

like to lose him; and one evening, when we sat very happily together,

Behrisch secretly determined that he would not let him off this time. At

the stroke of ten, the other arose and took leave. Behrisch called after

him, and begged him to wait a moment, as he was just going with him. He

now began, in the most amusing manner, first to look after his sword,

which stood just before his eyes, and in buckling it on behaved

awkwardly, 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 farther, so that the sword came now on the right side,

now between his legs, an universal laughter arose, in which the man in a

hurry, who was like-wise a merry fel ow, chimed in, and let Behrisch

have his own way til the happy hour was past, when, for the first time,

there followed general pleasure and agreeable conversation til 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 improved. We had often been seen

in their garden; and we directed our walks thither, even when the young

count was with us. Al this may have been treasured up, and at last

communicated to his father: enough, he sought, in a gentlemanly 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

hereditary prince of Dessau, and at the court of a prince, excel ent in

every respect, found a solid happiness.

The loss of a friend like Behrisch was of the greatest consequence to

me. He had spoiled while he cultivated me; and his presence was

necessary, if the pains he had thought good to spend upon me were in any

degree to bring forth fruit for society. He knew how to engage me in all

kinds of pretty and agreeable things, in whatever was just appropriate,

and to bring out my social talents. But as I had gained no self-

dependence in such things, so when I was alone again I immediately

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 considered an advantage;

thus alienated many with whom I had hitherto been on a tolerable

footing; and on account of the many disagreeable consequences 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

wel -wishers, that I lacked experience. The same thing was told me by

every person of sound sense who saw my productions, especial y when

these referred to the external world. I observed this as well as I

could, but found in it little that was edifying, and was still forced to

add enough of my own to make it only tolerable. I had often pressed my friend Behrisch, too, that he would make plain to me what was meant by

experience? But, because he was full of nonsense, he put me off with

fair words from one day to another, and at last, after great

preparations, disclosed to me, that true experience was properly when

one experiences how an experienced nvan must experience in experiencing

his experience. Now, when we scolded him outrageously, and cal ed 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 experienced

...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 about

to 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 difficult for me to approach him, and we often

went walking with each other. The idea of experience had almost become

fixed in my brain, and the craving to make it clear to me passionate.

Being of a frank disposition, I disclosed to him the uneasiness in which

I found myself. He smiled, and was kind enough to tel me, as an answer

to my question, something of his own life, and generally of the world

immediately about us; from which, indeed, little better was to be

gathered than that experience convinces us that our best thoughts,

wishes, and designs are unattainable, and that he who fosters such

vagaries, and advances them with eagerness, is especial y held to be an

inexperienced man.

Yet, as he was a gallant, good fellow, he assured me that he had himself

not quite given up these vagaries, and felt himself tolerably well off

with the little faith, love, and hope which remained. He then felt

obliged to tel me a great deal about war, about the sort of life in the

field, about skirmishes and battles, especial y so far as he had taken

part in them; when these vast events, by being considered in relation to

a single individual, gained a very marvellous aspect. I then led him on

to an open narration of the late situation of the court, which seemed to

me quite like a tale. I heard of the bodily strength of Augustus the

Second, of his many children and his vast expenses, then of his

successor's love of art and of making col ections; of Count Bruehl and

his boundless love of magnificence, which in detail appeared almost

absurd, of his numerous banquets and gorgeous amusements, which were al

cut off by Frederick's invasion of Saxony. The royal castles now lay in

ruins, Bruehl's splendors 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 fol owed, and informed me that one expects

from an experienced man exactly this, that he shal be astonished at

neither the one nor the other, nor take too lively an interest in them,

I felt a great desire stil to remain a while 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 intrude themselves upon me. But once, when the

discussion was again about experience in general, and I related to him those ludicrous phrases of my friend Behrisch, he shook his head,

smiling, and said, "There, one sees how it is with words which are only once uttered! These sound so comical, nay, so sil y, 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 intel igent, cheerful manner,

"If you wil allow me, while commenting on and completing your friend's observations, to go on after his fashion, I think he meant to say, that

experience is nothing else than that one experiences what one does not

wish to experience; which is what it amounts to for the most part, at

least in this world."

EIGHTH BOOK.

Another man, although infinitely different from Behrisch in every

respect, might yet be compared with him in a certain sense: I mean

Oeser, who was also one of those men who dream away their lives in a

comfortable state of being busy. His friends themselves secretly

acknowledged, that, with very fine natural powers, he had not spent his

younger years in sufficient activity; for which reason he never went so

far as to practise his art with perfect technicality. Yet a certain

diligence appeared to be reserved for his old age; and, during the many

years which I knew him, he never lacked invention or laboriousness. From

the very first moment he had attracted me very much: 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, winding 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 narrow, dark passage, at

the end of which one first sought the entrance into his apartments,

having just passed between the whole suite of them and an extensive

granary. The first apartment was adorned with pictures from the later

Italian school, by masters whose grace he used highly to commend. As I,

with some noblemen, had taken private lessons of him, we were permitted

to draw here; and we often penetrated into his adjoining private

cabinet, which contained at the same time his few books, collections of

art and natural curiosities, and whatever else might have most

interested him. Every thing was arranged with taste, simply, and in such

a manner that the little space held a great deal. The furniture,

presses, and portfolios were elegant, without affection or superfluity.

Thus also the first thing which he recommended to us, and to which he

always recurred, was simplicity in every thing that art and manual labor

united are called upon to produce. Being a sworn foe to the scrol -and-

shel style, and of the whole taste for quaintness, he showed us in

copper-plates and drawings old patterns of the sort contrasted with

better decorations and simpler forms of furniture, as wel as with other

appurtenances of a room; and, because every thing 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 things on occasion, for a certain end and use, than of

undertaking and completing such as exist for themselves and require a

greater perfection; he was therefore always ready and at hand when the

publishers needed larger and smal er copper-plates for any work: thus the vignettes to Winckelmann's first writings were etched by him. But he

often made only very sketchy drawings, to which Geyser knew very well

how to adapt himself. His figures had throughout something general, not

to say ideal. His women were pleasing and agreeable, his children

/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 Lazzaroni. Since he designed his

composition less with regard to form than to light, shade, and masses,

the general effect was good; as indeed al that he did and produced was

attended by a peculiar grace. As he at the same time neither could nor

would control a deep-rooted propensity to the significant and the

allegorical--to that which excites a secondary thought, so his works

always furnished something to reflect upon, and were complete through a

conception, even where they could not be so from art and execution. This

bias, which is always dangerous, frequently led him to the very bounds

of good taste, if not beyond them. He often sought to attain his views

by the oddest notions and by whimsical jests; nay, his best works always

have a touch of humor. 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 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 stil quite new, had certainly

an uncommonly charming effect. Oeser had taken the Muses out of the

clouds, upon which they usually hover on such occasions, and set them

upon the earth. The statues of Sophocles and Aristophanes, around whom

all the modern dramatic writers were assembled, adorned a vestibule to

the Temple of Fame. Here, too, the goddesses of the arts were likewise

present; and al 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-mentioned

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 represent Shakespeare, who without predecessors or

fol owers, without 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 beautiful y 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 qualified him very peculiarly for a teacher in a

higher sense. The deficiencies under which each one labored he clearly

saw; but he disdained to reprove them directly, and rather hinted his

praise and censure indirectly and very laconical y. One was now

compel ed to think over the matter, and soon came to a far deeper insight. Tims, for instance, I had very careful y executed, after a

pattern, a nosegay on blue paper, with white and black crayon, and

partly with the stump, partly by hatching it up, had tried to give

effect to the little picture. After I had been long laboring in this

way, he once came behind me, and said, "More paper!" upon which he immediately withdrew. My neighbor 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 produced a disagreeable drawing. As to the rest, he did

not fail to instruct us in perspective, and in light and shade,

sufficiently indeed, but always so that we had to exert and torment

ourselves 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'Argenvil e, 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

engraving for a poem; so did I now make poems to the engravings and

drawings, by contriving to present to myself the personages introduced

in them, in their previous and subsequent condition, and sometimes to

compose a little song which might have suited them; and thus accustomed

myself to consider the arts in connection with each other. Even the

mistakes which I made, so that my poems were often descriptive, were

useful to me in the sequel, when I came to more reflection, by making me

attentive to the differences between the arts. Of such little things

many were in the col ection which Behrisch had 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 frequently, was the more and more

worthy and delightful, because he was fond of remembering departed or

absent persons, with whom he had been, or stil continued to be, on good

terms; for, if he had once given any one his esteem, he remained

unalterable in his conduct towards him, and always showed himself

equal y friendly.

After we had heard Caylus pre-eminently extol ed 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 fel ow-laborer, had done good service for art, and had

applied his learning to its true improvement. Heinecken, on the

contrary, could not be honorably 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 labors 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 foundation and the summit of all knowledge of art, yet, either as

originals or as casts, they are seldom to be seen; on the contrary, 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

intel igible, while, from the great number of them, comparison is much

more possible." While now we were busying ourselves with these as much as was allowed, Winckelmann's lofty life of art in Italy was pointed

out, and we took his first writings in hand with devotion; for Oeser had

a passionate reverence for him, which he was able easily to instil into

us. The problematical part of those little treatises, which are,

besides, confused even from their irony, and from their referring to

opinions and events altogether peculiar, we were, indeed, unable to

decipher; but as Oeser had great influence over us, and incessantly gave

them out to us as the gospel of the beautiful, and stil 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 smal happiness to draw from the same fountain from

which Winckelmann had al ayed his earliest thirst.

No greater good fortune can befal 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 peaceful y, as so many

differences of judgment had not yet manifested themselves. Huber, a

print col ector and wel -experienced connoisseur, had furthermore the

grateful y 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 al col ections as his own; Winkler, who much loved to share with

others the intelligent delight he cherished for his treasures; many more

who were added to the list,--all lived and labored with one feeling;

and, often as I was permitted to be present when they examined 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 predilection for spiritual or temporal

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, abilities, and

opportunities, these amateurs and col ectors inclined more to the Dutch

school, yet, while the eye was practised on the endless merits of the

north-western artist, a look of reverential longing was always turned

towards the south-east.

And so the university, where I neglected the ends of both my family and

myself, was to ground me in that in which I afterwards found the

greatest satisfaction of my life: the impression of those localities,

too, in which I received such important incitements, has always remained

to me most dear and precious. The old Pleissenburg; the rooms of the

Academy; but, above al , the abode of Oeser; and no less the collections

of Winkler and Richter,--I have always vividly present before me.

But a young man, who, while older persons are conversing with each other on subjects already familiar to them, is instructed only incidentally,

and for whom the most difficult part of the business--that of rightly

arranging al --yet remains, must find himself in a very painful

situation. I therefore, as wel as others, looked about with longing for

some new light, which was indeed to come to us from a man to whom we

owed so much already.

The mind can be highly delighted in two ways,--by perception and

conception. But the former demands a worthy object, which is not always

at hand, and a proportionate culture, which one does not immediately

attain. Conception, on the other hand, requires only susceptibility: it

brings its subject-matter with it, and is itself the instrument of

culture. Hence that beam of light was most welcome to us which that most

excellent thinker brought down to us through dark clouds. One must be a

young man to render present to one's self the effect which Lessing's

"Laocooen" produced upon us, by transporting us out of the region of scanty perceptions into the open fields of thought. The /ut pictura

poesis/, so long misunderstood, was at once laid aside: the

difference between plastic and speaking art [Footnote: Bildende und

Redende Kunst." The expression "speaking art" is used to produce a corresponding antithesis, though "/bel es-lettres/ would be the

ordinary rendering.--TRANS.] was made clear; the summits of the two now

appeared sundered, however near their bases might border on each other.

The plastic artist was to keep himself within the bounds of the

beautiful, if the artist of language, who cannot dispense with the

significant in any kind, is permitted to ramble abroad beyond them. The

former labors for the outer sense, which is satisfied only by the

beautiful; the latter for the imagination, which may even reconcile

itself to the ugly. Al the consequences of this splendid thought were

il umined 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 al evil, and fancied we might venture

to look down with some compassion upon the otherwise so splendid

sixteenth century, when, in German sculptures and poems, they knew how

to represent life only under the form of a fool hung with bells, death

under the misformed shape of a rattling skeleton, and the necessary and

accidental evils of the world under the image of the caricatured Devil.

What enchanted us most was the beauty of that thought, that the ancients

had recognized death as the brother of sleep, and had represented them

similar, even to confusion, as becomes Menaechmi. Here we could first do

high honor to the triumph of the beautiful, and banish the ugly of every

kind into the low sphere of the ridiculous within the realm of art,

since it could not be utterly driven out of the world.

The splendor of such leading and fundamental conceptions appears only to

the mind upon which they exercise their infinite activity,--appears only

to the age in which, after being longed for, they come forth at the

right moment. Then do those at whose disposal such nourishment is placed

fondly occupy whole periods of their lives with it, and rejoice in a

superabundant growth; while men are not wanting, meanwhile, who resist

such an effect on the spot, nor others who afterwards haggle and cavil

at its high meaning.

But, as conception and perception mutually require each other, I could

not long work up these new thoughts without an infinite desire arising

within me to see important works of art, once and away, in great number.

I therefore determined to visit Dresden without delay. I was not in want

of the necessary cash: but there were other difficulties to overcome, which I needlessly increased stil further, through my whimsical

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 al ow no one to perplex me. Besides this, so

simple a matter became more complicated by still another eccentricity.

We have weaknesses, both by birth and by education; and it may be

questioned which of the two gives us the most trouble. Wil ingly as I

made myself familiar with all sorts of conditions, and many as had been

my inducements to do so, an excessive aversion from al inns had

nevertheless been instilled into me by my father. This feeling had taken

firm root in him on his travels through Italy, France, and Germany.

Although he seldom spoke in images, and only cal ed them to his aid when

he was very cheerful, yet he used often to repeat that he always fancied

he saw a great cobweb spun across the gate of an inn, so ingeniously

that the insects could indeed fly in, but that even the privileged wasps

could not fly out again unplucked. It seemed to him something horrible

that one should be obliged to pay immoderately for renouncing one's

habits and al 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 any thing unusual in the

house, he yet practised hospitality, especially towards artists and

virtuosi. Thus gossip Seekatz always had his quarters with us; and Abel,

the last musician who handled the /viol di gamba/ with success and

applause, was well received and entertained. With such youthful

impressions, which nothing had as yet rubbed off, how could I have

resolved to set foot in an inn in a strange city? Nothing would have

been easier than to find quarters with good friends. Hofrath Krebel,

Assessor Hermann, and others, had often spoken to me about it already;

but even to these my trip was to remain a secret, and I hit upon a most

singular notion. My next-room neighbor, the industrious theologian,

whose eyes unfortunately constantly grew weaker and weaker, had a

relation in Dresden, a shoemaker, with whom from time to time he

corresponded. For a long while already this man had been highly

remarkable to me on account of his expressions, 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, transposed him into a like mood. Enthusiastic as I was, I had

often sent my compliments to this man, extol ed 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 candidate, after some opposition, gave me a letter,

written with difficulty, to carry with me; and, full of longing, I went

to Dresden in the yel ow coach, with my matriculation in my pocket.

I went in search of 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?"

I replied. "No offence meant by '/whimsical/,'" he continued: "one calls every one so who is not consistent with himself; and I cal 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

ointment, of which you will find the opposite in my house."

This pleasant beginning put me at once in good humor, and we ral ied

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 furnish herself

from it, if any thing should be necessary. When he would have declined

it, and somewhat waggishly gave me to understand that he was not so

burned 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 resource

would not be out of place, since there are no more miracles nowadays."

The hostess seemed to find my conduct less and less strange: we had soon

accommodated ourselves to each other, and spent a very merry evening. He

remained always the same, because al flowed from one source. His

peculiarity was an apt common sense, which rested upon a cheerful

disposition, and took delight in uniform habitual activity. That he

should labor incessantly was his first and most necessary care; that he

regarded every thing else as secondary,--this kept up his comfortable

state of mind; and I must reckon him before many others in the class of

those who are cal ed practical unconscious philosophers. [Footnote:

"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 have but one.--TRANS.]

The hour when the gallery was to be opened appeared, after having been

expected with impatience. I entered into this sanctuary, and my

astonishment surpassed every conception which I had formed. This room,

returning into itself, in which splendor and neatness reigned together

with the deepest stil ness; the dazzling frames, al 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 purposes of art. I readily put up

with the cursory description of my guide, only I requested that I might

be allowed to remain in the outer gallery. Here, to my comfort, I felt

really at home. I had already seen the works of several 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 principal y

attracted me, where the comparison with known nature must necessarily

enhance the value of art.

When I again entered my shoemaker's house for dinner, I scarcely

believed my eyes; for I fancied I saw before me a picture by Ostade, so

perfect that all it needed was to be hung up in the gal ery. The

position of the objects, the light, the shadow, the brownish tint of the

whole, the magical harmony,--every thing 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, 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 gal ery at all permitted hours, and continued to express

too loudly the ecstasy with which I beheld many precious works. I thus

frustrated my laudable purpose of remaining unknown and unnoticed; and

whereas only one of the unclerkeepers had hitherto had intercourse with

me, the gallery-inspector, Counsellor Riedel, now also took notice of

me, and cal ed my attention to many things which seemed chiefly to lie

within my sphere. I found this excel ent 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 col ections, 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 there got 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 compliments 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

any thing 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 composed 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 therefore kept very much on my

guard, so that they might not find delight in selecting me as his

fel ow. At table this intention became more apparent to everybody,

except to himself. They drank more and more deeply: and, when a vivat in

honor of sweethearts was started, every one solemnly swore that there

should never be another out of those glasses; they flung them behind

them, and this was the signal for far greater follies. At last I

withdrew very quietly; and the waiter, while demanding quite a moderate

amount, requested me to come again, as they did not go on so wildly

every evening. I was far from my lodgings, and it was near midnight when

I reached them. I found the doors unlocked; everybody was in bed; and

one lamp il uminated 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 al sleep.

The few days of my residence in Dresden were solely devoted to the

picture-gallery. The antiquities stil stood in the pavilion of the

great garden; but I declined seeing them, as wel as all the other precious things which Dresden contained, being but too full of the

conviction, that, even in and about the col ection of paintings, much

must yet remain hidden from me. Thus I took the excel ence of the

Italian masters 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 taste.

With my shoemaker I lived on very good terms. He was witty and varied

enough, and we often outvied each other in merry conceits: nevertheless,

a man who thinks himself happy, and desires others to do the same, makes

us discontented; indeed, the repetition of such sentiments produces

weariness. I found myself wel occupied, entertained, excited, but by no

means happy; and the shoes from his last would not fit me. We parted,

however, as the best friends; and even my hostess, on my departure, was

not dissatisfied with me.

Shortly before my departure, something else very pleasant was to happen.

By the mediation of that young man, who wished to somewhat regain his

credit with me, I was 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 particular satisfaction that I was so excessively

pleased with a picture by Schwanefeld, and that I was not tired of

praising and extol ing 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 favors

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 delightful 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 stil 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

laconical y, "/The enemy hath done this/!"

At last, though very loath, I returned 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 sagaciously tried

to get at the bottom of the riddle which I had been waggish enough to

conceal under my shoemaker-lodgings.

But, could they have looked into my heart, they would have discovered no

waggery there; for the truth of that old proverb, "He that increaseth

knowledge increaseth sorrow," had struck me with al 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 intercourse, 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 connection I formed with the

Breitkopf family. Bernhard 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 married, 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 building I became

acquainted with the family. The eldest son, who might have been some

years older than I, was a wel -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 disposed towards me, as wel 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 conception 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 granted me the use of a fine

library, which related principal y to the origin and progress of

printing; and thus I gained some knowledge in that department. I found

there, moreover, good copper-plates, which exhibited antiquity, and

advanced on this side also my studies, which were stil further promoted

by the circumstance that a considerable col ection of casts had fal en

into disorder in moving. I set them right again as wel 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 unwel ; and thus we led

together a quiet, pleasant life.

I was now to enter into another sort of connection 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 labors, 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 cal

him off from his work if he had not completed the daily task he had set

himself. Thus he sat working by a broad 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 excellent artist: they have continued my

friends all my life long. I now divided my time between the upper and

lower stories, and attached myself much to the man, who, together with his persevering industry, possessed an excellent humor, 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

unpractised 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, gave me variety of

occupation; and I soon got so far that I could assist my master in many

things. I did not lack the attention necessary for the biting, and I

seldom failed in any thing; but I had not care enough in guarding

against the deleterious vapors which are generated on such occasions,

and these may have contributed to the maladies which afterwards troubled

me for a long time. Amidst such labors, lest any thing should be left

untried, 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, cheerful, friendly, and obliging, was

loved and esteemed by us. We would not, indeed, al ow 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 favored by us. Eschenburg, a handsome young man, but little older than we were, distinguished

himself advantageously among the students. Zachariae 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 honor to gratify

our guest in return, by a, few extra dishes, a richer dessert, and

choicer wine; for, as a tall, wel -formed, comfortable man, he did not

conceal his love of good eating. Lessing came at a time when we had I

know not what in our heads: it was our good pleasure to go nowhere on

his account,--nay, even to avoid the places to which he came, probably

because we thought ourselves too good to stand at a distance, and could

make no pretension to obtain a closer intimacy with him. This momentary

absurdity, which, however, is nothing rare in presuming and freakish

youth, proved, indeed, its own punishment in the sequel; for I have

never set eyes on that eminent man, who was most highly esteemed by me.

Notwithstanding al our efforts relative to art and antiquity, we each

of us always had Winckelmann before our eyes, whose ability was

acknowledged in his country with enthusiasm. We read his writings

diligently, and tried to make ourselves acquainted with the

circumstances under which he had written the first of them. We found in

them many views which seemed to have originated with Oeser, even jests

and whims after his fashion: and we did not rest until we had formed

some general conception of the occasion on which these remarkable and

sometimes so enigmatical writings had arisen, though we were not very

accurate; for youth likes better to be excited than instructed, and it

was not the last time that I was to be indebted to Sibylline leaves for

an important step in cultivation.

It was then a fine period in literature, when eminent men were yet treated with respect; although the disputes of Klotz and Lessing's

controversies already indicated that this epoch would soon close.

Winckelmann enjoyed an universal, unassailed reverence; and it is known

how sensitive he was with regard to any thing 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, wel 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 he mentioned him, loaded him with the handsomest epithets.

The laying out of a park, then unique, the taste for architecture, which

Von Erdmannsdorf supported by his activity, every thing spoke in favor

of a prince, who, while he was a shining example for the rest, gave

promise of a golden age for his servants and subjects. We young people

now learned with rejoicings that Winckelmann would return back from

Italy, visit his princely friend, call on Oeser by the way, and so come

within our sphere of vision. We made no pretensions to speaking with

him, but we hoped to see him; and, as at that time of life one willingly

changes every occasion into a party of pleasure, we had already agreed

upon a journey to Dessau, where in a beautiful spot, made glorious by

art, in a land wel governed and at the same time externally adorned, we

thought to lie in wait, now here, now there, in order to see with our

own eyes these men so highly exalted above us walking about. Oeser

himself was quite elated if he only thought of it, and the news of

Winckelmann's death fel down into the midst of us like a thunderbolt

from a clear sky. I stil remember the place where I first heard it: it

was in the court of the Pleissenburg, not far from the little gate

through which one used to go up to Oeser's residence. One of my fel ow-

pupils met me, and told me that Oeser was not to be seen, with the

reason why. This monstrous event [Footnote: Winckelmann was

assassinated.--TRANS.] 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 Winckelmann, I did

not think that I should soon find myself in the case of being

apprehensive about my own life; since, during al these events, my

bodily condition had not taken the most favorable turn. I had already

brought with me from home a certain touch of hypochondria, which, in

this new sedentary and lounging life, was rather increased than

diminished. The pain in my chest, which I had felt from time to time

ever since the accident at Auerstaedt, 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; coffee, which gave me a peculiarly melancholy tone,

especially when taken with milk after dinner, paralyzed my bowels, and

seemed completely 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 disposition,

supported by the sufficient strength of youth, fluctuated between the

extremes of unrestrained gayety and melancholy discomfort. Moreover, the

epoch of cold-water bathing, 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

fol ies, in consequence of some misunderstood suggestions of Rousseau,

would, it was promised, bring us nearer to nature, and deliver us from

the corruption of morals. Now, all the above, without discrimination,

applied with injudicious alternation, were felt by many most

injuriously; and I irritated my happy organization to such a degree,

that the particular systems 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 hemorrhage, and had just strength and

presence of mind enough to waken my next-room neighbor. 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 tumor 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 painful y: 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 external y 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 contradictory humors, 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. Al this was forgotten:

they treated me in the most affectionate manner, 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 Docter Hermann, then senator,

afterwards burgomaster at Leipzig. He was among those boarders with whom

I had become acquainted through Schlosser, the one with whom an always

equable and enduring connection was maintained. One might wel reckon

him the most industrious of his academical fel ow-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 al this appearing arduous to him, or

his having in the least hurried or been too late with any thing. The

gentleness of his character attracted me, his instructive conversation

held me fast; indeed, I really believe that I took delight in his

methodical industry especial y 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 skil , drew from nature with feeling, and stimulated me to do the

same; when, in his manner, on gray paper and with black and white chalk,

I used to copy many a wil ow-plot on the Pleisse, and many a lovely nook

of those still waters, and at the same time longingly to indulge in my

fancies. He knew how to meet my sometimes comical disposition with merry

jests; and I remember many pleasant hours which we spent together when he invited me, with mock solemnity, to a /tete-a-tete/ supper,

where, with some dignity, by the light of waxen candles, we ate what

they cal 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 stil constantly laboring 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 ful extent; that he bestowed every leisure hour upon me, and, by

remembrances of former happy times, contrived to brighten the gloomy

moment,---I stil acknowledge with the sincerest thanks, and rejoice

that after so long a time I can give them publicly.

Besides this worthy friend, Groening of Bremen particularly 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 favor the more warmly, as no one is apt to seek a

closer connection with invalids. He spared nothing to give me pleasure,

to draw me away from musing on my situation, to hold up to my view and

promise me recovery and a wholesome activity in the nearest future. How

often have I been delighted, in the progress of life, to hear how this

excellent man has in the weightiest affairs shown himself useful, and

indeed a blessing to his native city.

Here, too, it was that friend Horn uninterruptedly brought into action

his love and attention. The whole Breitkopf household, 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 actual y

forgot it. This was Langer, afterwards librarian at Wolfenbuettel.

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 acquaintance, 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

felt al 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, cal ed 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

external y severe, earnest, scientific man had not kept free from the

toils of a very amiable lady.

German literature, and with it my own poetical undertakings, had already

for some time become strange to me; and, as is usual y the result in

such an auto-didactic circular course, I turned back towards the beloved

ancients who stil constantly, like distant blue mountains, distinct in

their outlines and masses, but indiscernible in their parts and internal

relations, bounded the horizon of my intel ectual wishes. I made an

exchange with Langer, in which I at last played the part of Glaucus and Diomedes: I gave up to him whole baskets of German poets and critics,

and received in return a number of Greek authors, the reading of whom

was to give me recreation, even during the most tedious convalescence.

The confidence which new friends repose in each other usual y develops

itself by degrees. Common occupation and tastes are the first things in

which a mutual harmony shows itself; then the mutual communication

general y extends over past and present passions, especial y over love-

affairs: but it is a lower depth which opens itself, if the connection

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 fluctuating between its own historical y

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, especial y

when a leading difference was brought into play by the question arising

as to how great a share reason, and how great a share the feelings,

could and should have in such convictions. The most lively and ingenious

men showed themselves, in this instance, like butterflies, who, quite

regardless of their caterpil ar 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 themselves to the most beautiful bloom, yet do not

tear themselves from the root, from the mother stalk, nay,--rather

through this family connection 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 peculiar

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 connection 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 annoying il ness, found it

highly desirable to turn the activity of his mind towards the heavenly.

Grounded as I was in the Bible, al that was wanted was merely the faith

to explain as divine that which I had hitherto esteemed in human

fashion,---a belief the easier for me, since I had made my first

acquaintance with that book as a divine one. To a sufferer, to one who

felt himself delicate, nay, weak, the gospel was therefore welcome; and

even though Langer, with all his faith, was at the same time a very

sensible man, and firmly maintained that one should not let the feelings

prevail, should not let one's self 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 wel -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 unfavorably by his

patron, like Behrisch. I returned 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 honor.

But as when the concert of our souls is most spiritual y attuned, the rude, shrieking tones of the world usual y 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 al

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

fol owing pretence. Some young people had quarrelled with the city

soldiers, and the affair had not gone off without violence. Many of the

students combined 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 honor and revenge 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 movement, were

waiting to see what would happen. About a dozen young fellows were

walking singly up and down the empty sidewalk, with the greatest

apparent composure; but, as soon as they came opposite the marked house,

they threw stones at the windows as they passed by, and this repeatedly

as they returned backwards and forwards, as long as the panes would

rattle. Just as quietly as this was done, all at last dispersed; and the

affair had no further consequences.

With such a ringing echo of university exploits, I left Leipzig in the

September of 1768, in a comfortable hired coach, and in the company of

some respectable persons of my acquaintance. In the neighborhood of

Auerstaedt 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 favor and affection would befal 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 with 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 wel :

however, the welcome was not without emotion. The great vivacity of my

nature, excited and heightened by sickness, caused an impassioned 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? Suffice it to say, they silently resolved to communicate many

things to me only by degrees, and before al 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, applied al his didactic taste to 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 finding some recreation abroad. She had by turns to pursue and work

at French, Italian, and English; besides which he compelled her to

practise a great part of the day on the harpsichord. Nor was her writing to be neglected; and I had 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 stil continued to be an undefinable being, the

most singular mixture of strength and weakness, of stubbornness and

pliability, which qualities operated now united, now isolated by wil

and inclination. Thus she had, in a manner which seemed to me fearful,

turned the hardness of her character against her father, whom she did

not forgive for having, in these three years, hindered, or embittered to

her, so many innocent joys; and of his good and excel ent qualities she

would not acknowledge even one. She did al he commanded and arranged,

but in the most unamiable manner in the world. She did it in the

established routine, but nothing more and nothing less. Not from love or

a desire to please did she accommodate herself to any thing, so that

this was one of the first things about which my mother complained to me

in private. But, since love was as essential to my sister as to any

human being, she turned her affection whol y on me. Her care in nursing

and entertaining me absorbed al her time: her female companions, who

were swayed by her without her intending it, had likewise to contrive

all sorts of things to be pleasing and consolatory to me. She was

inventive in cheering me up, and even developed some germs of comical

humor which I had never known in her, and which became her very well.

There soon arose between us a coterie-language, by which we could

converse before al people without their understanding us; and she often

used this gibberish with great pertness in the presence of our parents.

My father was personal y tolerably comfortable. He was in good health,

spent a great part of the day in the instruction of my sister, went on

with 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 vigorous, active son, who

ought now to take his degree and run through the prescribed course of

life, an invalid who seemed to suffer stil 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 become

passionate and bitter.

My mother, by nature very lively and cheerful, spent under these

circumstances very tedious days. Her little housekeeping was soon

provided for. The good woman's mind, inwardly 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 Fraeulein von Klettenberg. She is the same person from whose

conversations and letters arose the "Confessions of a Beautiful Soul,"

which are found inserted in "Wilhelm Meister." She was slenderly formed, of the middle size: a hearty natural demeanor had been made stil more

pleasing by the manners of the world and the court. Her very neat attire

reminded of the dress of the Hernhutt women. 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

favorite, 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 consideration as natural and

supernatural. It scarcely needs more to recal back to the friends of

such representations, that complete delineation composed from the very

depths of her soul. Owing to the very peculiar course 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 wel 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 most of them were indeed somewhat monotonous, since they

confined themselves to a certain terminology which might wel have been

compared to that of the later sentimentalists. Fraeulein von Klettenberg

guided her way between both extremes, and seemed, with some self-

complacency, to see her own reflections in the image of Count

Zindendorf, whose opinions and actions bore witness to a higher 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 extraordinary 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

wel 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 religious culture, she was

very much in advance of me. My disquiet, my impatience, my striving, my

seeking, investigating, musing, and wavering, she interpreted in her own

way, and did not conceal from me her conviction, but assured me in plain

terms that all this proceeded from my having no reconciled God. Now, I

had believed from my youth upwards that I stood on very good terms with

my God,--nay, I even fancied to myself, according to various

experiences, that he might even be in arrears to me; and I was daring

enough to think that I had something to forgive him. This presumption

was grounded on my infinite good wil , to which, as it seemed to me, he

should have given better assistance. It may be imagined how often I got

into disputes on this subject with my friend, 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 tumor 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 it best 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, wel -built man, of

easy and skilful hand, was unfortunately somewhat hectic, but endured

his condition with truly Christian patience, and did not suffer his

disease to perplex him in his profession. The physician was an

inexplicable, sly-looking, fair-spoken, and, besides, an abstruse, man,

who had quite won the confidence of the pious circle. Being active and

attentive, he was consoling to the sick; but, more than by al this, he

extended his practice by the gift of showing in the background some

mysterious medicines prepared by himself, of which no one could speak,

since with us the physicians were strictly prohibited from making up

their own prescriptions. 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 certain 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 one's self, which was the more necessary, as

the mode of its preparation, both for physical, and especial y for

moral, reasons, could not be wel communicated; nay, that in order to

comprehend, produce, and use this great work, one must know the secrets

of nature in connection, 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 appropriating

to one's self a remedy by which so many sufferings could be assuaged, so

many a danger averted? She had already secretly studied Wel ing'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 al writings of this

kind, could trace its pedigree in a direct line up to the Neo-Platonic

school. My chief labor in this book was most accurately to notice the

obscure hints by which the author refers from one passage to another,

and thus promises to reveal what he conceals, and to mark down on the

terminology which might wel have been compared to that of the later

sentimentalists. Fraeulein von Klettenberg guided her way between both

extremes, and seemed, with some self-complacency, to see her own

reflections in the image of Count Zindendorf, whose opinions and actions

bore witness to a higher 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

extraordinary 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 wel 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 religious culture, she was very much in advance of me. My

disquiet, my impatience, my striving, my seeking, investigating, musing,

and wavering, she interpreted in her own way, and did not conceal from

me her conviction, but assured me in plain terms that al 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 got into disputes on this

subject with my friend, 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 fel ow, for whom many allowances must be made."

I was much troubled with the tumor 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 it best 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, wel -built man, of

easy and skilful hand, was unfortunately somewhat hectic, but endured

his condition with truly Christian patience, and did not suffer his

disease to perplex him in his profession. The physician was an

inexplicable, sly-looking, fair-spoken, and, besides, an abstruse, man,

who had quite won the confidence of the pious circle. Being active and

attentive, he was consoling to the sick; but, more than by al this, he

extended his practice by the gift of showing in the background some

mysterious medicines prepared by himself, of which no one could speak,

since with us the physicians were strictly prohibited from making up

their own prescriptions. 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 certain 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 one's self, which was the more necessary, as

the mode of its preparation, both for physical, and especial y for

moral, reasons, could not be wel communicated; nay, that in order to

comprehend, produce, and use this great work, one must know the secrets

of nature in connection, 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 appropriating

to one's self a remedy by which so many sufferings could be assuaged, so

many a danger averted? She had already secretly studied Wel ing'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 al writings of this

kind, could trace its pedigree in a direct line up to the Neo-Platonic

school. My chief labor in this book was most accurately to notice the

obscure hints by which the author refers from one passage 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 stil remained dark and

unintel igible enough, except that one at last studied one's self into a

certain terminology, and, by using it according to one's own fancy,

believed that one was, at any rate, saying, if not understanding,

something. The work mentioned before makes very honorable mention of its

predecessors, and we were incited to investigate those original sources

themselves. We turned to the works of Theophrastus, Paracelsus, and

Basilius Valentinus, as wel as to those of Helmont, Starkey, and

others, whose doctrines and directions, resting more or less on nature

and imagination, we endeavored to see into and fol ow out. I was

particularly pleased with the "Aurea Catena Homeri," in which nature, though perhaps in fantastical fashion, is represented in a beautiful

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 compel ed 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 mean time, 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 tribulation, 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 embarrassed 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

crystal ized dry salt, which was dissolved in water, and swallowed 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 need not

say how much this strengthened and heightened our faith in our

physician, and our industry to share in such a treasure.

My friend, who, without parents or brothers and sisters, lived in a

large, wel -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, operated principal y on iron, in which the

most healing powers were said to be concealed, if one only knew how to

open it. And as the volatile salt which must be produced made a great

figure in all the writings with which we were acquainted; so, for these

operations, alkalies also were required, which, while they flowed away

into the air, were to unite with these superterrestrial things, and at

last produce, /per se/, a mysterious and excellent neutral salt.

No sooner was I in some measure restored, and, favored by the change in

the season, once more able to occupy my old gable-chamber, than I also

began to provide myself with a little apparatus. A smal air-furnace

with a sand-bath was prepared; and I very soon learned to change the

glass alembics, with a piece of burning match-cord, into vessels in

which the different mixtures were to be evaporated. Now were the strange

ingredients of the macrocosm and microcosm handled in an odd, mysterious

manner; and, before al , I attempted to produce neutral salts in an

unheard-of way. But what, for a long time, kept me busy most, 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, wil 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 become quite skilful in preparing this

/Liquor Silicum/; the fine white flints which are found in the Main

furnished a perfect material for it: and I was not wanting in the other

requisites, nor in diligence. But I wearied 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 philosophical y 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 jel y, always deposited a powder, which I was forced to pronounce

the finest flint dust, but which gave not the least sign of any thing

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 al the crystal izations

that might occur, and became acquainted 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 conception of them; although, as a half-adept, I had very little

respect for the apothecaries and al those who operated with common

fire. However, the chemical "Compendium" of Boerhaave attracted me powerful y, and led me on to read several of his writings, in which

(since, moreover, my tedious il ness 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. But, of course, I was as yet 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 especial y shows itself in despising what we

have been but a little time before; for while, indeed, we perceive, as

we advance from step to step, that those things which we regard as good

and excellent in ourselves and others do not stand their ground, we

think we can best extricate ourselves from this dilemma by ourselves

throwing away what we cannot preserve. So it was with me also. For as in

Leipzig I had gradually learned to set little value on my childish

labors, 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 careful y collected and sewed

together the letters I had written to him, as well as those to my

sister; nay, he had even corrected them with attention, and improved the

mistakes, both in writing and in grammar.

What first struck me in these letters was their exterior: I was shocked

at an incredible carelessness in the handwriting, which extended from

October, 1765, to the middle of the fol owing January. But, in the

middle of March, there appeared al at once a quite compressed, orderly

hand, such as I used formerly to employ in writing for a prize. My

astonishment resolved itself into gratitude towards good Gel ert, who,

as I now wel 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 he caught sight of any scrawled, careless

writing, on which occasion 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 nevertheless written with

facility and freedom. These languages I had likewise continued to

practise in my correspondence with George Schlosser, who was stil 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 going over these

letters, was that my good father, with the best intentions, had done me a special mischief, and had led me into that odd way of life into which

I had fallen at last. He had repeatedly warned me against card-playing;

but Frau Hofrath Boehme, as long as she lived, contrived to persuade me,

after her own fashion, by declaring that my father's warnings were only

against the abuse. Now, as I likewise saw the advantages of it in

society, I readily submitted to being led by her. I had indeed the sense

of play, but not the spirit of play: I learned al games easily and

rapidly, but I could never keep up the proper attention for a whole

evening. Therefore, however good a beginning I would make, I invariably

failed at the end, and made myself and others lose; through which I went

off, always out of humor, either to the supper-table or out of the

company. Scarcely had Madame Boehme died, who, moreover, had no longer

kept me in practice during her tedious il ness, when my father's

doctrine gained force: I at first begged to be excused from joining the

card-tables; and, as 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, especial y to

those who incline to be practical, and wish to look about in the world

for themselves, could never, indeed, become a passion with me; for I

never got any farther, no matter how long I might have been playing. Had

any one given me a general view of the subject, and made me observe how

here certain signs and more or less of chance form a kind of material,

at which judgment and activity can exercise themselves; had any one made

me see several games at once,--I might sooner have become reconciled.

With al this, at the time of which I am now speaking, I had, from the

above considerations, come to the conviction, that one should not avoid

social games, but should rather strive after a certain skil in them.

Time is infinitely long; and each day is a vessel into which a great

deal may be poured, if one would actual y fil 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 re-appear. I then again took

up drawing: and as I always wished to labor directly from nature, or

rather from reality, I made a picture of my chamber, with its furniture,

and the persons who were in it; and, when this no more amused me, I

represented all sorts of town-tales, which were told at the time, and in

which interest was taken. Al this was not without character and a

certain taste; but unfortunately the figures lacked proportion and the

proper vigor, besides which the execution was extremely misty. My

father, who continued to take pleasure in these things, wished to have

them more distinct, wanting every thing to 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 he would make me gain greater

accuracy; and, to please him, I drew various objects of still life, in

which, since the originals stood as patterns before me, I could work

with more distinctness and precision. At last I took it into my head to

etch once more. I had composed a tolerably interesting landscape, and

felt myself very happy when I could look out for the old receipts given

me by Stock, and could, at my work, call to mind those pleasant times. I

soon bit the plate and had a proof taken. Unluckily the composition was

without light and shade, and I now tormented myself to bring in both;

but, as it was not quite clear to me what was really the essential

point, I could not finish. Up to this time I had been quite wel , after my own fashion; but now a disease attacked me which had never troubled

me before. My throat, namely, had become completely sore, and

particularly what is cal ed the "uvula" very much inflamed: I could only swal ow with great pain, and the physicians did not know what to make of

it. They tormented me with gargles and hair-pencils, but could not free

me from my misery. At last it struck me that I had not been careful

enough in the biting of my plates, and that, by often and passionately

repeating it, I had contracted this disease, and always revived and

increased 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 wel , and I had more

reason to conceal than to exhibit my labors; 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

similar occupations at Leipzig might have greatly contributed to those

diseases from which I had suffered so much. It is, indeed, 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 idiosyncrasy 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 every thing 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 al resistance, as the many endemic diseases and

the effects of brandy convince us. Could we, without being morbidly

anxious, keep watch over ourselves as to what operates favorably or

unfavorably upon us in our complicated civil and social life, and would

we leave off what is actual y 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 recognized under the same form.

While I was reading over the letters which had been written to my sister

from Leipzig, this remark, among others, could not escape me,--that,

from the very beginning of my academical course, I had esteemed myself

very clever and wise, since, as soon as I had learned any thing, 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 Gel ert had imparted or advised in his lectures, without

seeing, that, both in life and in books, a thing may be proper for a

young man without being suitable for a young lady; and we both together

made merry over these mimicries. The poems also which I had composed in

Leipzig were already too poor for me; and they seemed to me cold, dry,

and, in respect of al that 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 university, again to

decree a great high /auto-da-fe/ against my labors. 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

any thing was spared except the manuscript by Behrisch, "Die Laune des Verliebten" and "Die Mitschuldigen," which latter play 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 intel igible. Lessing, in the first two acts of his "Minna," had set up an unattainable model of the way in which a drama should be developed;

and nothing was to me of greater importance than to thoroughly enter

into his meaning and views.

The recital of whatever moved, excited, and occupied me at this time, is

already circumstantial enough; but I must nevertheless recur to that

interest with which supersensuous things had inspired me, of which I,

once for al , so far as might be possible, undertook to form some

notion.

I experienced a great influence from an important work that fel into my

hands: it was Arnold's "History of the Church and of Heretics." This man is not merely a reflective historian, but at the same time pious and

feeling. His sentiments chimed in very wel with mine; and what

particularly delighted me in his work was, that I received a more

favorable notion of many heretics, who had been hitherto represented to

me as mad or impious. The spirit of contradiction and the love of

paradoxes are inherent in us al . I diligently studied the different

opinions: and as I had often enough heard it said that every man has his

own religion at last, so nothing seemed more natural to me than that I

should form mine too; and this I did with much satisfaction. The Neo-

Platonism lay at the foundation; the hermetical, the mystical, the

cabalistic, also contributed their share; and thus I built for myself a

world that looked strange enough.

I could well represent to myself a Godhead which has gone on producing

itself from al eternity; but, as production cannot be conceived without

multiplicity, so it must of necessity have immediately appeared to

itself as a Second, which we recognize 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 produce

another perfectly equal to them. But, since 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 proceed. He

immediately displayed his infinite activity by creating the whole body

of angels,--al , again, after his own likeness, unlimited, but contained

in him and bounded by him. Surrounded by such a glory, he forgot his

higher origin, and believed that he could find himself in himself; and

from this first ingratitude sprang al that does not seem to us in

accordance with the wil and purposes of the Godhead. Now, the more he

concentrated himself within himself, the more painful must it have

become to him, as wel 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 Fal of the Angels. One part of them

concentrated itself with Lucifer, 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 grandsire. Now, the

whole mischief, if we may call it so, having arisen merely through the

one-sided direction of Lucifer, the better half was indeed wanting to this creation; for it possessed al that is gained by concentration,

while it lacked al that can be effected by expansion alone: and so the

entire creation might have been destroyed by everlasting concentration,

become annihilated with its father Lucifer, and have lost al 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 expansion,

of moving 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. However much this

multiplied itself by progressive degrees, through the continual y

working vital power of the Elohim, still a being was wanting who might

be able to restore the original connection with the Godhead: and thus

man was produced, who in al things was to be similar, yea, equal to the

Godhead, but thereby, in effect, found himself once more in the

situation of Lucifer, that of being at once unlimited and limited; and

since this contradiction was to manifest itself in him through all the

categories of existence, and a perfect consciousness, as wel as a

decided wil , 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 acted the part of Lucifer. True

ingratitude is the separation from the benefactor; and thus that fal

was manifest for the second time, although the whole creation is nothing

and was nothing but a fal ing 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 generation [Footnote: "Das Werden," the state of becoming, as distinguished from that of being. The word, which

is most useful to the Germans, can never be rendered properly in

English.--TRANS.] and existence. In this view of the subject, nothing is

more natural than for the Divinity himself to take the form of man,

which had already prepared itself as a veil, and to share his fate for a

short time, in order, by this assimilation, to enhance his joys and

alleviate his sorrows. The history of al religions and philosophies

teaches us, that this great truth, indispensable to man, has been handed

down by different nations, in different times, in various ways, and even

in strange fables and images, in accordance with their limited

knowledge: enough, if it only be acknowledged that we find ourselves in

a condition which, even if it seems to drag us down and oppress us, yet

gives us opportunity, nay, even makes it our duty, to raise ourselves

up, and to fulfil the purposes of the Godhead in this manner, that,

while we are compelled on the one hand to concentrate ourselves (/uns

zu verselbsten/), we, on the other hand, do not omit to expand

ourselves (/uns zu entselbstigen/) in regular pulsation. [Footnote:

If we could make use of some such verbs as "inself" and "unself," we should more accurately render this passage.--TRANS.]

NINTH BOOK.

"The heart is often affected, moreover, to the advantage of different, but especial y of social and refined, virtues; and the more tender

sentiments are excited and unfolded in it. Many touches, in particular,

wil 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 al Latin and Greek, and of which Ovid was a

very excel ent 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 received from a 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 recognize and love the beautiful everywhere,

and in nature itself, under its determined, true, and also in its finer,

features. A multitude 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 bril iant period clearly showed that he had formed

himself according to such maxims. And what more could we desire?

Philosophy, with its abstruse questions, was set aside; the classic

languages, the acquisition of which is accompanied by so much drudgery,

one saw thrust into the background; the compendiums, about the

sufficiency of which Hamlet had already whispered a word of caution into

our ears, came more and more into suspicion. We were directed to the

contemplation of an active life, which we were so fond of leading; and

to the knowledge of the passions, which we partly felt, partly

anticipated, in our own bosoms, and which, if though they had been

rebuked formerly, now appeared to us as something important and

dignified, because they were to be the chief object of our studies; and

the knowledge of them was extol ed as the most excel ent means of

cultivating our mental powers. Besides, 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 stil more my youthful spirits,

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 impatience than

was reasonable at the relapse of my disease, and at my tedious recovery;

nay, for having, instead of comforting me by forbearance, frequently

expressed himself in a cruel manner, about that which lay in no man's

hand, as if it depended only on the will. And he, too, was in various

ways hurt and offended by me.

For young people bring back from the university general ideas, which, indeed, is quite right and good; but, because they fancy themselves very

wise in this, they apply them as a standard to the objects that occur,

which must then, for the most part, lose by the comparison. Thus I had

gained a general notion of architecture, and of the arrangement and

decoration of houses, and imprudently, in conversation, had applied this

to our own house. My father had designed the whole arrangement of it,

and carried out its construction with great perseverance; and,

considering that it was to be exclusively a residence for himself and

his family, nothing could be objected to it: in this taste, also, very

many of the houses in Frankfort were built. An open staircase ran up

through the house, and touched upon large ante-rooms, which might very

wel 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 wel 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; whereat

he got into an incredible passion, which was the more violent as, a

short time before, I had found fault with some scrolled looking-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 a newly contrived

comfortable diligence, without delay, and in a short time.

I had alighted at the Ghost (/Geist/) tavern, and hastened at once

to satisfy my most earnest desire and to approach the minster, which had

long since been pointed out to me by fel ow-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 analyze on the spot, carried with

me only indistinctly for this time, as I hastily ascended the building,

so as not to neglect the beautiful moment of a high and cheerful sun,

which was to disclose to me at once the broad, rich land.

And now, from the platform, I saw before me the beautiful country in

which I should for a long time live and reside: the handsome city; the

wide-spreading meadows around it, thickly set and interwoven with

magnificent trees; that striking richness of vegetation which follows in

the windings of the Rhine, marks its banks, islands, and aits. Nor is

the level ground, stretching down from the south, and watered by the

Il er, 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 hil y part

is intersected by innumerable little brooks, which promote a rapid

vegetation everywhere. If one imagines, between these luxuriantly

outstretched meads, between these joyously scattered groves, all land

adapted for tillage, excel ently prepared, verdant, and ripening, and

the best and richest spots marked by hamlets and farmhouses, and this

great and immeasurable plain, prepared for man, like a new paradise,

bounded far and near by mountains partly cultivated, partly overgrown

with woods, he wil then conceive the rapture with which I blessed my

fate, that it had destined me, for some time, so beautiful a dwel ing-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 foreboding, that the whole

lies before us like an unwritten tablet. As yet no sorrows and joys

which relate to ourselves are recorded 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 intrinsical y important, and neither

affection nor passion has especial y 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 al events, whether for good or il , wil

imperceptibly assume the character of the spot in which we find

ourselves.

Having descended the height, I still tarried a while 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 comprehensible by its regularity, and even pleasing in

its finish. Yet I by no means busied myself with meditating on this

contradiction, but suffered a monument so astonishing quietly to work

upon me by its presence.

I took smal , but wel -situated and pleasant, lodgings, on the north

side of the Fish-market, a fine, long street, where the everlasting

motion came to the assistance of every unoccupied 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 conduct. 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 regularity and good success: there might have been

about ten persons, older and younger. Of these latter, one named Meyer,

a native of Lindau, is most vividly present to my mind. 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 marred by

an incredible levity, and his excellent temper by an unbounded

dissoluteness. He had an open, jovial face, rather 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. His

mouth was particularly charming, owing to his 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 beloved by al .

His memory was incredible; attention at the lectures was no effort for

him; he retained al he heard, and was intellectual enough to take an

interest in every thing, and this the more easily, as he was studying

medicine. Al his impressions remained vivid; 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 motley lecture

frequently entertained us, but often, too, became troublesome.

The rest were more or less polite, steady, serious people. A pensioned knight of the order of St. Louis was one of these: but the majority were

students, all real y good and 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 himself 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 extraordinary

action. He commonly carried an umbrel a, wisely reflecting that the

finest summer-days often bring thunder-storms and passing showers over

the country.

With this man I talked over my design of continuing to study

jurisprudence at Strasburg, so as to be able to take my degree as soon

as possible. Since he was exactly informed of every thing, 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 universities, where they try to educate jurists in the large

and learned sense of the term. Here, in conformity with the relation

towards France, al was really directed to the practical, and managed in

accordance with the opinions of the French, who readily stop at what is

given. They tried to impart to every one certain general principles and

preliminary knowledge, they compressed as much as possible, and

communicated only what was most necessary. Hereupon he made me

acquainted with a man, in whom, as a /repetent/, [Footnote: 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

somewhat analogous to the English tutors, but not precisely: for the

latter render their aid /before/ the recitation; while the repetent

/repeats/ with the student, in private, the lectures he has

previously heard from the professor. Hence his name, which might be

rendered /repeater/, had we any corresponding class of men in

England or America, which would justify an English word.--/American

Note/.] great confidence 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 narrative, though all I had acquired could only

be reckoned as a general encyclopedical survey, and not as proper

definite knowledge. University life, even if in the course of it we may

not exactly have to boast of industry, nevertheless affords endless

advantages in every kind of cultivation, because 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 atmosphere.

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 al keep

my immediate object in view, which was, to be examined, to take my

degree, and then, perchance, to commence practice. "Regarding the

former," said he, "the subject is by no means investigated at large. It is inquired 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, whereas we inquire into 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 fol ows 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 any thing positive, but wished to have every thing

explained historical y, 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 accidental y presented to me

from without.

Most of my fel ow-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 endeavors are those most obvious to

the senses, and at the same time the highest, the most simple, and the

most complicated. Medicine employs the whole man, for it occupies itself

with man as a whole. 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 whatever is to be

known and to be done, partly because it is interesting 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

fel ow-boarders, like good fel ows, 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 knowledge of al these things that my

desire for science could soon be increased and inflamed. At the

commencement of the second half-year, therefore, I attended Spielmann's

course on chemistry, another on anatomy by Lobstein, and proposed to be

right industrious, because, by my singular preliminary or rather extra

knowledge, I had already gained some respect and confidence in our

society.

Yet this trifling and piecemeal way of study was even to be once more

seriously disturbed; for a remarkable political event set every thing in

motion, and procured us a tolerable succession of holidays. Marie

Antoinette, 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 greatness in the world were

busily and abundantly prepared; and especial y remarkable to me was the

building which stood on an island in the Rhine between the two bridges,

erected for her reception and for surrendering her into the hands of her

husband's ambassadors. It was but slightly raised above the ground; had

in the centre a grand saloon, on each side smal er ones; then fol owed

other chambers, which extended somewhat backward. In short, had it been

more durably built, it might have answered very wel as a pleasure-house for persons of rank. But that which particularly interested me, and for

which I did not grudge many a /buesel/ (a little silver coin then

current) in order to procure a repeated entrance from the porter, was

the embroidered tapestry with which they had lined the whole interior.

Here, for the first time, I saw a specimen of those tapestries worked

after Raffaelle's cartoons; and this sight was for me of very decided

influence, as I became 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 endeavor troubled

me, because I would wil ingly have comprehended 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 bril iant and richer, hangings, which

were surrounded with crowded ornaments, worked after pictures by the

modern French.

Now, I might perhaps have become reconciled to this style also, as my

feelings, like my judgment, did not readily reject any thing 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 struggling with the most horrible death, surrounded by persons

ful 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 bul flourished

out on the right hand from behind 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-

hal s of a nuptial building; and doubtless the size of the chambers had

guided the royal tapestry-keeper. This, however, I wil ingly 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-possession,

and with animation and vehemence I cal ed on my comrades to witness such

a crime against taste and feeling. "What!" cried I, without regarding the by-standers, "is it permitted so thoughtlessly to place before the eyes of a young queen, at her first setting foot in her dominions, the

representation of the most horrible marriage that perhaps ever was

consummated? Is there 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-loving lady at the very frontiers!" I know not what I said

besides: enough, my comrades tried to quiet me and to remove me out of

the house, that there might be no offence. They then assured me that it

was not everybody's concern to look for significance in pictures; that

to themselves, at least, nothing of the sort would have occurred; while

the whole population of Strasburg and the vicinity, which was to throng

thither, would no more take such crotchets into their heads than the

queen herself and her court.

I yet remember wel the beauteous and lofty mien, as cheerful 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 il uminated buildings, but especial y the glowing spire of the

minster, with which, both near and in the distance, we could not

sufficiently 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 reasonable

regulation had been made, that no deformed persons, no cripples nor

disgusting invalids, should show themselves on her route. People joked

about this; and I made a little French poem in which I compared the

advent of Christ, who seemed to wander upon earth 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, as it seemed, with too much foundation; and I do

not remember that I ever made a French poem afterwards.

No sooner had the news of the queen's happy arrival rung from the

capital, than it was followed by the horrible intel igence, 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 building 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 Leipzig, there had been maintained ever

afterwards a certain itch for imposing on and in some way mystifying one

another. With this wanton love of mischief I wrote to a friend in

Frankfort (he was the one who had amplified my poem on the cake-baker

Hendel, applied it to /Medon/, and caused its general circulation)

a letter dated from Versail es, 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 annoyance, our little Leipzig society had accustomed itself to

persecute him from time to time with mystifications, and this especial y

as he was the drol est 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 any parents and other persons to whom I was

accustomed to write, whether any letters had arrived; 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 remained firmly

convinced that I had been at Paris in the interim. The affectionate

intel igence of the solicitude they had felt on my account affected me

so much that I vowed to leave off such tricks forever; 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 Raffael e,

which I would wil ingly have gazed at, revered, nay, adored, every day

and every hour. Fortunately, my passionate endeavors succeeded in

interesting several persons 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 intel igence, complaisance, and dignity,

which he always contrived to maintain amid al 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 al 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 judgment. I also fol owed his directions in external

matters; so that he could, without hesitation, publicly acknowledge me

as his companion and comrade: for, although he only fil ed an office

which seems to be of little influence, he administered it in a manner

which redounded to his highest honor. He was actuary to the Court of

Wards (/Pupil en-Collegium/); and there, indeed, like the perpetual

secretary of a university, he had, properly speaking, the management of

affairs in his own hands. Now, as he had performed the duties of this

office with the greatest exactness 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 his steps as he will, he wil find pleasure-grounds,

partly natural, partly adorned by art in ancient and modern times, al

of them visited and enjoyed by a cheerful, merry little people. But what

made the sight of a great number of pedestrians still more agreeable

here than in other places, was the various costume of the fair sex. The

middle class of city girls yet retained the hair twisted up and secured

by a large pin, as well as a certain close style of dress, in which any

thing 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 stil 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

proselytes every year. Salzmann had many acquaintances and an entrance

everywhere: a very pleasant circumstance for his companion, especial y

in summer, for good company and refreshment 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 visiting for

only the second time. We were invited, and arrived at the appointed

hour. The company was not large: some played and some walked as usual.

Afterwards, when they were to go to supper, I saw our hostess and her

sister speaking to each other with animation, and as if in a peculiar

embarrassment. 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 counsel, 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 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 stipulate for indemnification." As they were persons of consequence and good breeding, they would by no means al ow this, but sent about in the

neighborhood 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 instructions of Madame Boehme; and I

was the more docile as I had really seen, that by this little sacrifice,

if it be one, one may procure one's self 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 al circumstances; 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 wel , and pardoned

many a little irregularity, to which, nevertheless, my friend, though

kindly enough, used to cal my attention.

But that I might experience symbolical y how much one, even in

externals, has to adapt one's self to society, and direct one's self

according to it, I was compel ed to something which seemed to me the

most disagreeable thing in the world. I had real y very fine hair; but

my Strasburg hair-dresser at once assured me that it was cut much too

short behind, and that it would be impossible to make a /frizure/

of it in which I could show myself, since nothing but a few short curls

in front were decreed lawful; and al the rest, from the crown, must be

tied up in a cue 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 deception (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 of hair. But as I was obliged to remain thus propped up and

powdered from early morning, and at the same time to take care not to

betray my false ornament by heating myself or by violent motions, this

restraint in fact contributed much to my behaving for a time more

quietly and politely, and accustomed me to going with my hat under my

arm, and consequently in shoes and stockings also; however I did not

venture to neglect wearing understockings of fine leather, as a defence

against the Rhine gnats, which, on the fine summer evenings, general y

spread themselves over the meadows and gardens. Under these

circumstances, violent bodily motion being denied me, our social

conversations grew more and more animated and impassioned; indeed, they were the most interesting in which I had hitherto ever borne part.

With my way of feeling and thinking, it cost me nothing to let every one

pass for what he was,--nay, for that which he wished to pass for; and

thus the frankness of a fresh, youthful heart, which manifested itself

almost for the first time in its full bloom, made me many friends and

adherents. Our company of boarders increased to about twenty persons;

and, as Salzmann kept up his accustomed order, every thing continued 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 particularly interested me: his name was Jung, the same

who afterwards became known under the name of Stilling. In spite of an

antiquated dress, his form had something delicate about it, with a

certain sturdiness. A bag-wig did not disfigure his significant and

pleasing countenance. His voice was mild, without being soft and weak:

it became even melodious and powerful as soon as his ardor was roused,

which was very easily done. On becoming better acquainted with him, 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 indestructible faith in God, and

in an assistance flowing immediately from him, which evidently

manifested itself in an uninterrupted providence, and in an 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 occupation 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 cal ed

away, again to take a place as private tutor. But for his most internal

and peculiar training he had to thank that wide-spread class of men who

sought out their salvation on their own responsibility, and who, while

they strove to edify themselves by reading the Scriptures and good

books, and by mutual exhortation 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 fel owship

rested on the simplest foundation of morality, wel -wishing and wel -

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 artificial, but a truly natural, culture, which yet had

this advantage over others, that it was suitable to al ages and ranks,

and was general y 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 al the tenderest

and best concerns of the heart. Now, 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 talkative but eloquent: in particular, he related the history

of his life in the most delightful manner, and knew how to make al the

circumstances plainly and vividly present to his listeners. I persuaded

him to write them down, and he promised to do so. But because, in his way of expressing himself, he was like a somnambulist, who must not be

called by name lest he should fal 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. "While in friendly communication he was inexhaustible, every thing came to a standstill

with him when he met with contradiction. I usually helped him through on

such occasions, for which he repaid me with honest affection. Since his

mode of thought was nothing strange to me, but on the contrary I had

already become accurately acquainted with it in my very best friends of

both sexes; and since, moreover, it generally interested me with its

naturalness and /na vete/,--he found himself on the very best terms

with me. The bent of his intellect was pleasing to me; nor did I meddle

with his faith in miracles, which was so useful to him. Salzmann

likewise behaved towards him with forbearance,--I say with forbearance,

for Salzmann, in conformity with his character, his natural disposition,

his age arid 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

independence, and who therefore did not like to meddle or have any thing

to do with feelings which might easily have led them into gloom, or with

mysticism, which might easily have led them into the dark. This class,

too, was respectable and numerous: all men of honor and capacity

understood each other, and were of the like persuasion, as well as of

the same mode of life. Lerse, likewise our fel ow-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 was, of us al , the most

neatly dressed, and yet always appeared in the same clothes; but he

managed his wardrobe with the greatest care, kept every thing about him

clean, and required al 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 the maid always had

a bad time of it when the chairs were not found perfectly clean. With

all this, he had nothing stiff in his exterior. He spoke cordially, with

precise and dry liveliness, in which a light ironical joke was very

becoming. 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

occasional y touch, but into which they could not intrude. Now, in his

judgment of internal piques, Lerse always showed the greatest

impartiality; and, when the affair could no longer be settled by words

and explanations, he knew how to conduct the desired satisfaction, in an

honorable 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 content, both in romances

and fighting, with the part of second. Since he remained the same throughout, and might be regarded 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 "Goetz von Berlichingen," I felt myself induced to set up a memorial of our friendship, and to give the gallant

fel ow, who knew how to subordinate himself in so dignified a manner,

the name of Franz Lerse.

While, by his constant humorous dryness, he continued ever to remind us

of what one owed to one's self 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

outwardly, with quite different circumstances and adversaries, being at

strife with myself, with the objects around me, and even with the

elements. I was then in a state of health which furthered me

sufficiently in al that I would and should undertake; only there was a

certain irritability left behind, which did not always let me be in

equilibrium. A loud sound was disagreeable to me, diseased objects

awakened in me loathing and horror. But I was especially troubled with a

giddiness which came over me every time I looked down from a height. Al

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 rol ing and

beating of which might have made one's heart burst in one's bosom. Al

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 el square, without any particular

holding, one sees the boundless prospect before; while the nearest

objects and ornaments conceal the church, and every thing upon and above

which one stands. It is exactly as if one saw one's self carried up into

the air in a bal oon. Such troublesome and painful sensations I repeated

until the impression 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 endure the most repulsive sights, while

I satisfied my thirst for knowledge. And thus I also attended the

clinical course of the elder Dr. Ehrmann, as wel as the lectures of his

son on obstetrics, with the double view of becoming acquainted with al

conditions, and of freeing myself from al 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 endeavored to harden

myself, not only against these impressions on the senses, but also

against the infections of the imagination. The awful and shuddering

impressions of the darkness in churchyards, solitary places, churches,

and chapels by night, and whatever may be connected with them, I

contrived to render likewise indifferent; and in this, also, I went so

far that day and night, and every 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 hardly compel

this, in any degree, by calling up the strangest and most fearful

images.

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 weakness, 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 feelings

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

misrepresentation; for which reason good society, whether it consists 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 recognize 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 circumstantial y 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-favorites. These were new subjects for my love of instructing

myself, and very welcome ones to my pertness and youthful conceit. I

observed every thing 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 rumors,

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 discovered and public, and the judgments of contemporaries, true

or false, with the convictions of posterity.

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. Intendant 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

completion; 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 neighbor, 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 without compulsion they

would never have got on: on which account no man, when his house was

once condemned, ventured to improve or replace any thing that related to

the street. All these strange accidental inconveniences gave to us

rambling idlers the most welcome opportunity of practising our ridicule;

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

fal en to the share of the French, had made their appearance and sought a /domicilium/. But they soon extended themselves and built a

magnificent col ege, 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

complete quadrangle, and have a garden in the middle: three sides of it

were finished. It is of stone, and solid, like al the buildings of

these fathers. That the Protestants were pushed 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 satisfaction 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 frequent mention was made

of the unfortunate Praetor Klingling, 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 favor of the court, and was dragged up to

answer for al 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 fel ow-boarder, knew

how to tel 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

general y took my ease for a long time without thinking much about them

or the effect which they were exercising upon me, so I only remarked

gradual y that his stories and opinions rather unsettled and confused

than instructed and enlightened me. I never knew what to make of him,

although the riddle might easily have been solved. He belonged 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 such a

fixed view he always came back again, and was thus in the long run

excessively tiresome. He would bitterly complain of the decline of his

memory, especial y 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 contrary, from forgetfulness. This doctrine he contrived to

carry out with much acuteness; as, indeed, any thing may be maintained

when one has no compunction 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 persuasiveness 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 became blunted 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 circumstances. Indeed, he

was often, by a smal circumstance, snatched out of the middle of a wild

historical narrative, and thrust into his detestable favorite 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 fel ow 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 shal

be paid for your proverb." He handed her a /buesel/, a coin not

usual y 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, 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 usual y said on such an occasion. "Mademoiselle," replied he, somewhat 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, mademoisel e, I

did not know!"--She now retorted with some humor, 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-travel er struck his forehead with both his fists: "Oh, what an ass I

am!" exclaimed 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 stil more confirmed him.

I can not and would not repeat what a philippic discourse he held

against himself. At last he turned to me, and said, "I cal you to

witness! You remember that smal -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 complaisant to me than was

reasonable; and yet I wil not recognize her, but insult her in return

for her favors! 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 but the tippling, swarming 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 with obstinate men developed itself. For as, on the whole, he could not get

rid of that fixed notion; so did he stick fast to a disagreeable

impression of the moment, and suffer his feelings to run on without

moderation. His last vexation about himself had not yet died away; and

now was added something new, although of quite a different kind. He had

not long cast his eyes here and there before he noticed on the table a

double portion of coffee, and two cups, and might besides, being a man

of gal antry, have traced some other indication that the young man had

not been so solitary al 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 any thing,--for I had hitherto been

conversing quite harmlessly with the young man,--the captain, in an

unpleasant tone, which I wel 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 fel ow continued to be unmerciful y 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

chal enge. 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 wil 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 ingratitude 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 al passion

supplies the place of genius, to a point really genius-like. He then

went over al the incidents of our afternoon ramble again, employed them

rhetorically for his own self-reproach, brought up the old witch at last

before him once more, and perplexed himself 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 drol est 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

consequence. Al 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 experience, 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 memory, that reverend

minster-building, to which in those days I devoted particular attention,

and which, in general, constantly 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, connection, it must associate to itself the pleasing. But

now, since it wil be impossible 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 interpenetrate and unite

themselves.

First of all, without thinking of the towers, we devote out

considerations to the /facade/ alone, which powerfully strikes the

eye as an upright, oblong parallelogram. If we approach it at twilight,

in the moonshine, on a starlight night, when the parts appear more or

less indistinct and at last disappear, we see only a colossal wal , the

height of which bears an advantageous proportion to the breadth. If we

view it by day, and by the power of the mind abstract from the details,

we recognize the front of a building which not only encloses 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 smal er ones, belonging to the cross-ways. Over the

chief door our glance fal s 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 indicate 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 horizontal y closed by the

balustrade of the gal ery, instead of a cornice. These nine spaces

described are supported, enclosed, and separated into three great

perpendicular divisions by four pillars rising up from the ground.

Now, as it cannot be denied that there is in the whole mass a fine

proportion of height to breadth, so also in the details it maintains a

somewhat uniform lightness by means of these pil ars and the narrow

compartments between them.

But if we adhere to our abstraction, and imagine to ourselves this

immense wal without ornaments, with firm buttresses, with the necessary

openings in it, but only so far as necessity requires them, we even then

must al ow that these chief divisions are in good proportion: thus the

whole wil 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

enjoyment which the pleasing produces can only find place in the

consonance of al developed details.

And it is precisely here that the building we are examining satisfies us

in the highest degree, for we see al the ornaments fully suited to

every part which they adorn: they are subordinate to it, they seem to

have grown out of it. Such a manifoldness always gives great pleasure,

since it flows of its 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 impenetrable wal ,

which had moreover to announce itself as the base of two heaven-high

towers, made to appear to the eye as if resting on itself, consisting in

itself, but at the same time light and adorned, and, though pierced

through in a thousand places, to give the idea of indestructible

firmness.

This riddle is solved in the happiest manner. The openings in the wall,

its solid parts, the pillars, every thing has its peculiar character,

which proceeds from its particular destination: this communicates itself

by degrees to the subdivisions; hence every thing is adorned in

proportionate taste, the great as wel as the smal is in the right

place, and can be easily comprehended, 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 framework, as well as to

the slender reed-like pillars of the perpendicular compartments. Let one

represent to himself the pillars retreating step by step, accompanied by

little, slender, light-pil ared, 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 Gothic architecture, I

cherished my aversion from the abundantly overloaded, complicated

ornaments which, by their capriciousness, 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 objectionable 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

recognized the connection 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 actual y

existed, partly in restoring, in my mind and on paper, what was wanting

and unfinished, especial y in the towers.

Finding 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 gravestone, was likewise of native sound and origin, I

ventured, being incited by the worth of this work of art, to change the hitherto decried appel ation 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 oral y, 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 afterwards inserted in his

pamphlet, "Von Deutscher Art und Kunst" ("Of German Manner and Art"), much more will be said on this weighty subject. But, before I turn from

it this time, I wil take the opportunity to vindicate the motto

prefixed to the present volume with those who may have entertained some

doubt about it. I know indeed very well, that in opposition to this

honest, hopeful old German saying, "Of whatever one wishes in youth, he 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 favor: and I wil explain how I understand it.

Our wishes are presentiments of the capabilities which lie within us,

and harbingers of that which we shall be in a condition 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

development wil a part of the first wish be fulfilled,--under favorable

circumstances in the direct way, under unfavorable 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, splendor, and external honor. Others strive yet more certainly

after intellectual 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 successful. When a man's youth

fal s into a pregnant time; when production overweighs destruction, and

a presentiment is early awakened within him as to what such an epoch

demands and promises,--he wil 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 wil be lively within him. But so many

accidental hinderances 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 conformity with

the necessities of the times, one might composedly let them lie and fall

right and left, and be assured that these must not only be found out and

picked up again, but that also many kindred things, which one has never

touched and never even thought of, will come to light. If, now, during

our own lifetime, we see that performed by others, for which we

ourselves 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 combined is the true man, and that the individual can only be

joyous and happy when he has the courage to feel himself in the whole.

This contemplation is here in the right place; for when I reflect on the

affection which drew me to these antique edifices, when I reckon up the

time which I devoted to the Strasburg minster alone, the attention with

which I afterwards examined: the cathedral at Cologne, and that at

Freyburg, and more and more felt the value of these buildings, I could even blame myself for having afterwards lost sight of them altogether,--

nay, for having left them completely in the background, being attracted

by a more developed art. But when now, in the latest times, I see

attention again turned to those objects; when I see affection, and even

passion, for them appearing and flourishing; 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 fore-fathers, 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 al undertakings; and that they strive with

considerate zeal to clear up and vivify what seems to be a confused

past. Here I especial y applaud the brave Sulpiz Boisseree, who is

indefatigably 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 admiration what was real y designed to be done.

Would that literary-artistical undertakings of this kind were duly

patronized by all who have power, wealth, and influence; that the great

and gigantic views of our fore-fathers may be presented to our

contemplation; and that we may be able to form a conception of what they

dared to desire. The insight resulting from this wil not remain

fruitless; and the judgment wil , for once at least, be in a condition

to exercise itself on these works with justice. Nay, this wil be done

most thoroughly if our active young friend, besides the monograph

devoted to the cathedral of Cologne, fol ows out in detail the history

of our mediaeval architecture. When whatever is to be known 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

Graeco-Roman and the Oriental Egyptian, little can remain to be done in

this department. And I, when the results of such patriotic labors lie

before the world, as they are now known in friendly private

communications, shal be able, with true content, to repeat that motto

in its best sense, "Of whatever one wishes in youth, he wil have enough in old age."

But if, in operations like these, which belong to centuries, one can

trust one's self to time, and wait for opportunity, there are, on the

contrary, other things which in youth must be enjoyed at once, fresh,

like ripe fruits. Let me be permitted, with this sudden turn, to mention

dancing, of which the ear is reminded, as the eye is of the minster,

every day and every hour in Strasburg and al 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 bal ets, yet /pas seuls/ and

/pas de deux/, and had noticed in them various strange motions of

the feet, and al sorts of springs. When we had had enough of the

minuet, I requested my father to play some other dance-music, of which our music-books, in their jigs and murkies, [Footnote: A "murki" is defined as an old species of short composition for the harpsichord, with

a lively murmuring accompaniment in the bass.--TRANS.] offered us a rich

supply; and I immediately found out, of myself, the steps and other

motions for them, the time being quite suitable to my limbs, and, as it

were, born with them. This pleased my father to a certain degree;

indeed, he often, by way of joke for himself and us, let the "monkies"

dance in this way. After my misfortune with Gretchen, and during the

whole of my residence in Leipzig, I did not make my appearance again on

the floor: on the contrary, I stil remember, that when, at a bal , they

forced me into a minuet, both measure and motion seemed to have

abandoned my limbs, and I could no longer 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

behavior was pure obstinacy, assumed with the view of depriving the

ladies of al desire to invite me and draw me into their circle against

my will.

During my residence in Frankfort I was quite cut off from such

pleasures; but in Strasburg, with other enjoyments of life, there soon

arose in my limbs the faculty of keeping time. On Sundays and week-days

one sauntered by no pleasure-ground without finding there a joyous crowd

assembled for the dance, and for the most part revolving in the circle.

Moreover, there were private balls in the country houses; and people

were already talking of the brilliant masquerades of the coming winter.

Here, indeed, I should have been out of my place, and useless to the

company, when a friend, who waltzed very wel , advised me to practise

myself first in parties of a lower rank, so that afterwards I might be

worth something in the highest. He took me to a dancing-master, who was

wel 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 farther. He was one of your dry, ready French

characters, and received me in a friendly manner. I paid him a month in

advance, and received twelve tickets, for which he agreed to give me

certain hours' instruction. The man was strict and precise, but not

pedantic; and, as I already had some previous practice, I soon gave him

satisfaction, and received his commendation.

One circumstance, however, greatly facilitated the instruction of this

teacher: he had two daughters, both pretty, and both not yet twenty.

Having been instructed in this art from their youth upwards, they showed

themselves very skilful, and might have been able, as partners, soon to

help even the most clumsy scholars into some cultivation. They were both

very polite, spoke nothing but French; and I, on my part, did my best,

that I might not appear awkward or ridiculous before them. I had the

good fortune that they likewise praised me, and were always wil ing to

dance a minuet to their father's little violin, and, what indeed was

more difficult for them, to initiate me by degrees into waltzing and

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

wil ingly did, as the younger one pleased me wel ; and generally they

both altogether behaved very becomingly. I often read aloud something

from a novel, and they did the same. The elder, who was as handsome as,

perhaps even handsomer than, the second, but who did not correspond with

my taste so wel as the latter, always conducted herself towards me more

obligingly, and more kindly in every respect. She was always at hand

during the lesson, 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, on the contrary, although never

showing me any ill will, was more reserved, and waited till she was

called by her father before she relieved the elder.

The cause of this became manifest to me one evening; for when, after the

dance was done, I was about to go into the sitting-room with the elder,

she held me back, and said, "Let us remain here a little longer; for I wil confess to you that my sister has with her a woman who tel s

fortunes from cards, and who is to reveal to her how matters stand with

an absent lover, on whom her whole heart hangs, and upon whom she has

placed all her hope. Mine is free," she continued, "and I must accustom myself to see it despised." I thereupon said sundry pretty things to

her, replying that she could at once convince herself on that point by

consulting the wise woman likewise; that I would do so myself, for I had

long wished to learn something of the kind, but lacked faith. She blamed

me for this, and assured me that nothing in the world was surer than the

responses of this oracle; only it must be consulted, not out of sport

and mischief, but solely in real affairs. However, I at last compel ed

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 humor:

and even towards me she was kinder than usual, sportive, and almost

witty; for, since she seemed to be secure of an absent friend, she may

have thought it no treachery to be a little gracious with a present

friend of her sister's, which she thought me to be. The old woman was

now flattered, and 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 careful y 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 any thing disagreeable to my sister; but that is a cursed

card!" The elder one turned pale, but composed herself, and said, "Only speak out: it wil not cost one's head!" The old woman, after a deep

sigh, showed her that she was in love; that she was not beloved; that

another person stood in the way; and other things of like import. We saw

the good girl's embarrassment. The old woman thought somewhat to improve

the affair by giving hopes of letters and money. "Letters," said the lovely child, "I do not expect; and money I do not desire. If it is

true, as you say, that I love, I deserve a heart that loves me in

return."--"Let us see if it wil 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 stil 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 a 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 to do. Inclination

kept me with the one present: compassion drove me to the other. My

situation was painful enough. "Comfort Lucinda," said the younger: "go after her." I hesitated. How could I comfort her without at least

assuring her of some sort of affection? and could I do that at such a

moment in a cool, moderate manner? "Let us go together," said I to Emilia. "I know not whether my presence will do her good," replied she.

Yet we went, but found the door bolted. Lucinda 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, indeed, when I

called to my mind her manner from our very first acquaintance, she always had something violent and unequal about her, and chiefly showed

her affection for me by not behaving to me with rudeness. What was I to

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 behavior, 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

declared that he had rarely seen a prettier and more nimble pair upon

his floor. After the lesson, I went as usual into the sitting-room; the

father left us alone; I missed Lucinda. "She is in bed," said Emilia,

"and I am glad of it: do not be concerned about it. Her mental il ness 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

swel ing waves subside. She is indeed too good and amiable in such an

imaginary sickness; and as she is in reality very wel , and is only

attacked by passion, she imagines various kinds of romantic deaths, with

which she frightens herself in a pleasant manner, like children when we

tel them ghost-stories. Thus, only last night, she announced to me with

great vehemence, that this time she should certainly die; and that only

when she was real y 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 somebody who can

best bear me witness in this respect." Emilia smiled, and rejoined, "I understand you; and, if we are not discreet and determined, we shall al

find ourselves in a bad plight together. What wil 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 every thing good and pleasing, by friends and great lords;

and there was no lack of money. The ladies kept themselves at some

distance. My poor sister in particular stood always the farthest off:

one other advanced constantly nearer to you, but never came up to your

side; for a third person, of the male sex, always came between. I will

confess to you that I thought that I myself was meant by the second

lady, and after this confession you wil best comprehend my wel -meant

counsel. To an absent friend I have promised my heart and my hand; and,

until now, I loved him above all: yet it might be possible for your

presence to become more important to me than hitherto; and what kind of

a situation would you have between two sisters, one of whom you had made

unhappy by your affection, and the other by your coldness, and al 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 real y be the last time that we shal

speak to each other, take what I would otherwise have denied you." She fel 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, rushed out and cried, "You shal not be the only one to take leave of him!" Emilia let me go; and Lucinda seized me,

clung close to my heart, pressed her black locks upon my cheeks, and

remained in this position for some time. And thus I found myself between

the two sisters, in the dilemma Emilia had prophesied to me a moment

before. Lucinda let me loose, and looked earnestly into my face. I was

about to grasp her hand and say 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 recol ection, and which, although really it had

nothing theatrical about it, but was quite suitable to a lively young

Frenchwoman, could only be properly repeated in the theatre by a good

and feeling actress.

Lucinda overwhelmed her sister with a thousand reproaches. "This is not the first heart," she cried, "that was inclining itself to me, and that you have turned away. Was it not just so with him who is absent, and who

at last betrothed himself to you under my very eyes? I was compel ed to

look on; I endured 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 every thing 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 certain 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 up

and advanced to me, but not with vehemence. She stood before me, and

seemed to be thinking of something. Then she said, "I know that I have lost you: I make no further pretensions to you. But neither shal you

have him, sister!" So saying, she took a thorough hold of my head,

thrusting both her hands into my locks and 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 any thing more to do with him! I know Heaven

hears me this time. And you, sir, hasten now, hasten away as fast as you

can!"

I flew down the stairs, with the firm determination never again to enter

the house.