Bot-S: The Complete Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF

Sobann Wolfgang von (Boetbe

IN TEN VOLUMES

VOLUME I

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

THE TRUTH AND FICTION
RELATING TO MY LIFE

PART I

TRANSLATED BY

JOHN OXENFORD

NEW TORK : P. F. COLLIER & SON : PUBLISHERS

INTRODUCTION.

By Thomas Carlyle.

It would appear that for inquirers into Foreign
Literature, for all men anxious to see and understand the
European world as it lies around them, a great problem is
presented in this Goethe; a singular, highly significant phe-
nomenon, and now also means more or less complete for as-
certaining its significance. A man of wonderful, nay, un-
exampled reputation and intellectual influence among forty
millions of reflective, serious and cultivated men, invites us
to study him; and to determine for ourselves, whether and
how far such influence has been salutary, such reputation
merited. That this call will one day be answered, that
Goethe will be seen and judged of in his real character
among us, appears certain enough. His name, long familiar
everywhere, has now awakened the attention of critics in
all European countries to his works: he is studied wher-
ever true study exists: eagerly studied even in France:
nay, some considerable knowledge of his nature and spir-
itual importance seems already to prevail there. 1

For ourselves, meanwhile, in giving all due weight to so
curious an exhibition of opinion, it is doubtless our part,
at the same time, to beware that we do not give it too
much. This universal sentiment of admiration is wonder-

1 Witness he Tasse, Drame par Duval, and the Criticisms
on it. See also the Essays in the Globe, Nos. 55, 64 (1826).
Goethe— 1 Vol 1

11 INTRODUCTION".

fill, is interesting enough; but it must not lead us astray.
We English stand as yet without the sphere of it; neither
will we plunge blindly in, but enter considerately, or, if we
see good, keep aloof from it altogether. Fame, we may
understand, is no sure test of merit, but only a probability
of such; it is an accident, not a property, of a man; like
light, it can give little or nothing, but at most may show
what is given; often it is but a false glare, dazzling the
eyes of the vulgar, lending by casual extrinsic splendour
the brightness and manifold glance of the diamond to peb-
bles of no value. A man is in all cases simply the man,
of the same intrinsic worth and weakness, whether his
worth and weakness lie hidden in the depths of his own
consciousness, or be betrumpeted and beshouted from end
to end of the habitable globe. These are plain truths,
which no one should lose sight of; though, whether in
love or in anger, for praise or for condemnation, most of
us are too apt to forget them. But least of all can it
become the critic to 'follow a multitude to do evil/ even
when that evil is excess of admiration; on the contrary, it
will behoove him to lift up his voice, how feeble soever,
how unheeded soever, against the common delusion; from
which, if he can save, or help to save any mortal, his
endeavours will have been repaid.

With these things in some measure before us, we must
remind our readers of another influence at work in this
affair, and one acting, as we think, in the contrary direc-
tion. That pitiful enough desire for 'originality/ which
lurks and acts in all minds, will rather, we imagine, lead
the critic of Foreign Literature to adopt the negative than
the affirmative with regard to Goethe. If a writer indeed
feel that he is writing for England alone, invisibly and
inaudibly to the rest of the Earth, the temptations may
be pretty equally balanced; if he write for some small
conclave, which he mistakenly thinks the representative
of England, they may sway this way or that, as it chances.
But writing in such isolated spirit is no longer possible.
Traffic, with its swift ships, is uniting all nations into
one; Europe at large is becoming more and more one

INTRODUCTION. Ill

public; and in this public, the voices for Goethe, compared
with those against him, are in the proportion, as we reckon
them, both as to the number and value, of perhaps a hun-
dred to one. We take in, not Germany alone, but France
and Italy; not the Schlegels and Schellings, but the
Manzonis and De Staels. The bias of originality, therefore,
may lie to the side of censure; and whoever among us
shall step forward, with such ^knowledge as our common
critics have of Goethe, to enlighten the European public,
by contradiction in this matter, displays a heroism, which,
in estimating his other merits, ought nowise to be forgot-
ten.

Our own view of the case coincides, we confess, in some
degree with that of the majority. We reckon that Goethe's
fame has, to a considerable extent, been deserved; that his
influence has been of high benefit to hie own country;
nay more, that it promises to be of benefit to us, and to
all other nations. The essential grounds of this opinion,
which to explain minutely were a long, indeed boundless
task, we may state without many words. We find, then,
in Goethe, an Artist, in the high and ancient meaning of
that term; in the meaning which it may have borne long
ago among the masters of Italian painting, and the fathers
of Poetry in England; we say that we trace in the crea-
tions of this man, belonging in every sense to our own
time, some touches of that old, divine spirit, which had
long passed away from among us, nay which, as has often
been laboriously demonstrated, was not to return to this
world any more.

Or perhaps we come nearer our meaning, if we say that
in Goethe we discover by far the most striking instance, in
our time, of a writer who is, in strict speech, what Philos-
ophy can call a Man. He is neither noble nor plebeian,
neither liberal nor servile, nor infidel nor devotee; but the
best excellence of all these, joined in pure union; 'a clear
and universal Man/ Goethe's poetry is no separate faculty,
no mental handicraft; but the voice of the whole har-
monious manhood: nay it is the very harmony, the living
and life-giving harmony of that rich manhood which forms

IV INTRODUCTION.

his poetry. All good men may be called poets in act, or
in word; all good poets are so in both. But Goethe besides
appears to us as a person of that deep endowment, and
gifted vision, of that experience also and sympathy in the
ways of all men, which qualify him to stand forth, not only
as the literary ornament, but in many respects too as the
Teacher and exemplar of his age. For, to say nothing of
his natural gifts, he has cultivated himself and his art, he
has studied how to live and to write, with a fidelity, an
unwearied earnestness^ of which there is no other living
instance; of which, among British poets especially, Words-
worth alone offers any resemblance. And this in our view
is the result. To our minds, in these soft, melodious imag-
inations of his, there is embodied the Wisdom which is
proper to this time; the beautiful, the religious Wisdom,
which may still, with something of its old impressiveness,
speak to the whole soul; still, in these hard, unbelieving
utilitarian days, reveal to us glimpses of the Unseen but
not unreal World, that so the Actual and the Ideal may
again meet together, and clear Knowledge be again wedded
to Keligion, in the life and business of men.

Such is our conviction or persuasion with regard to the
poetry of Goethe. Could we demonstrate this opinion to
be true, could we even exhibit it with that degree of clear-
ness and consistency which it has attained in our own
thoughts, Goethe were, on our part, sufficiently recom-
mended to the best attention of all thinking men. But,
unhappily, it is not a subject susceptible of demonstration:
the merits and characteristics of a Poet are not to be set
forth by logic; but to be gathered by personal, and as in
this case it must be, by deep and careful inspection of his
works. Nay Goethe's world is everyway so different from
ours; it costs us such effort, we have so much to remember,
and so much to forget, before we can transfer ourselves in
any measure into his peculiar point of vision, that a right
study of him, for an Englishman, even of ingenuous, open,
inquisitive mind, becomes unusually difficult; for a fixed,
decided, contemptuous Englishman, next to impossible.
To a reader of the first class, helps may be given, explana-

INTRODUCTION". V

tions will remove many a difficulty; beauties that lay hid-
den may be made apparent; and directions, adapted to his
actual position, will at length guide him into the proper
tract for such an inquiry. All this, however, must be a
work of progression and detail. To do our part in it, from
time to time, must rank among the best duties of an
English Foreign Eeview. Meanwhile, our present endea-
vour limits itself within far narrower bounds. We cannot
aim to make Goethe known, but only to prove that he is
worthy of being known; at most, to point out, as it were
afar off, the path by which some knowledge of him may be
obtained. A slight glance at his general literary character
and procedure, and one or two of his chief productions
which throw light on these, must for the present suffice.
A French diplomatic personage, contemplating Goethe's
physiognomy, is said to have observed: Voila un homme
qui a eu beaucoup de chagrins. A truer version of the
matter, Goethe himself seems to think, would have been:
Here is a man who has struggled toughly ; who has es sicli
recht sauer werden lassen. Goethe's life, whether as a
writer and thinker, or as a living active man, has indeed
been a life of effort, of earnest toilsome endeavour after
all excellence. Accordingly, his intellectual progress, his
spiritual and moral history, as it may be gathered from his
successive Works, furnishes, with us, no small portion of
the pleasure and profit we derive from perusing them.
Participating deeply in all the influences of his age, he has
from the first, at every new epoch, stood forth to elucidate
the new circumstances of the time; to offer the instruction,
the solace, which that time required. His literary life
divides itself into two portions widely different in charac-
ter: the products of the first, once so new and original,
have long either directly or through the thousand thou-
sand imitations of them, been familiar to us; with the
products of the second, equally original, and in our day
far more precious, we are yet little acquainted. These two
classes of works stand curiously related with each other;
at first view, in strong contradiction, yet, in truth, con-
nected together by the strictest sequence. For Goethe has

VI INTRODUCTION.

not only suffered and mourned in bitter agony under the
spiritual perplexities of his time; but he has also mastered
these, he is above them, and has shown others how to rise
above them. At one time, we found him in darkness, and
now he is in light; he was once an Unbeliever, and now
he is a Believer; and he believes, moreover, not by denying
his unbelief, but by following it out; not by stopping short,
still less turning back, in his inquiries, but by resolutely
prosecuting them. This, it appears to us, is a case of singu-
lar interest, and rarely exemplified, if at all elsewhere, in
these our days. How has this man, to whom the world
once offered nothing but blackness, denial and despair,
attained to that better vision which now shows it to him,
not tolerable only, but full of solemnity and loveliness?
How has the belief of a Saint been united in this high
and true mind with the clearness of a Sceptic; the devout
spirit of a Fenelon made to blend in soft harmony with
the gaiety, the sarcasm, the shrewdness of a Voltaire ?

Goethe's two earliest works are Gotz von Berlichingen
and the Sorrows of Werter. The boundless influence and
popularity they gained, both at home and abroad, is well
known. It was they that established almost at once his
literary fame in his own country; and even determined his
subsequent private history, for they brought him into con-
tact with the Duke of Weimar; in connection with whom,
the Poet, engaged in manifold duties, political as well as
literary, has lived for fifty-four years. Their effects over
Europe at large were not less striking than in Germany.

'It would be difficult/ observes a writer on this subject,
'to name two books which have exercised a deeper influence
on the subsequent literature of Europe, than these two
performances of a young author; his first-fruits, the pro-
duce of his twenty-fourth year. Werter appeared to seize
the hearts of men in all quarters of the world, and to utter
for them the word which they had long been waiting to
hear. As usually happens, too, this same word, once
uttered, was soon abundantly repeated; spoken in all dia-
lects, and chaunted through all notes of the gamut, till

INTRODUCTION". Vll

the sound of it had grown a weariness rather than a
pleasure. Sceptical sentimentality, view-hunting, love,
friendship, suicide, and desperation, became the staple of
literary ware; and though the epidemic, after a long course
of years, subsided in Germany, it reappeared with various
modifications in other countries, and everywhere abundant
traces of its good and bad effects are still to be discerned.
The fortune of Berlichingen with the Iron Hand, though
less sudden, was by no means less exalted. In his own
county, Gotz, though he now stands solitary and childless,
became the parent of an innumerable progeny of chivalry
plays, feudal delineations, and poetico-antiquarian per-
formances; which, though long ago deceased, made noise
enough in their day and generation: and with ourselves,
his influence has been perhaps still more remarkable. Sir
Walter Scott's first literary enterprise was a translation
of Gotz von Berlichingen; and, if genius could be com-
municated like instruction, we might call this work of
Goethe's the prime cause of Marmion and the Lady of the
Lake, with all that has followed from the same creative
hand. Truly, a grain of seed that has lighted on the right
soil ! For if not firmer and fairer, it has grown to be
taller and broader than any other tree; and all the nations
of the earth are still yearly gathering of its fruit.

'But overlooking these spiritual genealogies, which bring
little certainty and little profit, it may be sufficient to
observe of Berlichingen and Werter, that they stand promi-
nent among the causes, or, at the very least, among the sig-
nals of a great change in modern literature. The former
directed men's attention with a new force to the pictur-
esque effects of the Past; and the latter, for the first time,
attempted the more accurate delineation of a class of feel-
ings deeply important to modern minds, but for which
our elder poetry offered no exponent, and perhaps could
offer none, because they are feelings that arise from Pas-
sion incapable of being converted into Action, and belong
chiefly to an age as indolent, cultivated and unbelieving as
our own. This, notwithstanding the dash of falsehood
which may exist in Werter itself, and the boundless delir-

Vlll INTRODUCTION.

ium of extravagance which it called forth in others, is a
high praise which cannot justly be denied it/

To the same dark wayward mood, which, in Werter,
pours itself forth in bitter wailings over human life; and,
in Berlichingen, appears as a fond and sad looking back
into the Past, belong various other productions of Goethe's;
for example, the Mitschuldigen, and the first idea of Faust,
which, however, was not realized in actual composition
till a calmer period of his history. Of this early harsh and
crude, yet fervid and genial period, Werter may stand here
as the representative; and, viewed in its external and inter-
nal relation, will help to illustrate both the writer and the
public he was writing for.

At the present day, it would be difficult for us, satisfied,
nay sated to nausea, as we have been with the doctrines of
Sentimentality, to estimate the boundless interest which
Werter must have excited when first given to the world.
It was then new in all senses; it was wonderful, yet wished
for, both in its own country and in every other. ■ The
Literature of Germany had as yet but partially awakened
from its long torpor: deep learning, deep reflection, have
at no time been wanting there; but the creative spirit had
for above a century been almost extinct. Of late, however,
the Ramlers, Eabeners, Gellerts, had attained to no incon-
siderable polish of style; Klopstock's Messias had called
forth the admiration, and perhaps still more the pride, of
the country, as a piece of art; a high enthusiasm was
abroad; Lessing had roused the minds of men to a deeper
and truer interest in Literature, had even decidedly begun
to introduce a heartier, warmer and more expressive
style. The Germans were on the alert; in expectation, or
at least in full readiness for some far bolder impulse;
waiting for the Poet that might speak to them from the
heart to the heart. It was in Goethe that such a Poet was
to be given them.

Nay, the Literature of other countries, placid, self-satis-
fied as they might seem, was in an equally expectant condi-
tion. Everywhere, as in Germany, there was polish and
languor, external glitter and internal vacuity; it was not

INTRODUCTION". IX

fire, but a picture of fire, at which no soul could be warmed.
Literature had sunk from its former vocation: it no longer
held the mirror up to Nature; no longer reflected, in many-
coloured expressive symbols, the actual passions, the hopes,
sorrows, joys of living men; but dwelt in a remote conven-
tional world in Castles of Otranto,m Epigoniads and Leon-
idases, among clear, metallic heroes, and white, high, stain-
less beauties, in whom the drapery and elocution were
nowise the least important qualities. Men thought it right
that the heart should swell into magnanimity with Carac-
tacus and Cato, and melt into sorrow with many an Eliza
and Adelaide; but the heart was in no haste either to swell
or to melt. Some pulses of heroical sentiment, a few un-
natural tears might, with conscientious readers, be actu-
ally squeezed forth on such occasions: but they came only
from the surface of the mind; nay, had the conscientious
man considered the matter, he would have found that
they ought not to have come at all. Our only English poet
of the period was Goldsmith; a pure, clear, genuine spirit,
had he been of depth or strength sufficient; his Vicar of
Wakefield remains the best of all modern Idyls; but it is
and was nothing more. And consider our leading writers;
consider the poetry of Gray, and the prose of Johnson.
The first a laborious mosaic, through the hard stiff linea-
ments of which little life or true grace could be expected
to look: real feeling, and all freedom of expressing it, are
sacriiiced to pomp, to cold splendour; for vigour we have a
certain mouthing vehemence, too elegant indeed to be
tumid, yet essentially foreign to the heart, and seen to
extend no deeper than the mere voice and gestures. Were
it not for his Letters, which are full of warm exuberant
power, we might almost doubt whether Gray was a man of
genius ; nay, was a living man at all, and not rather some
thousand-times more cunningly devised poetical turning-
loom," than that of Swift's Philosophers in Laputa. John-
son's prose is true, indeed, and sound, and full of practical
sense : few men have seen more clearly into the motives, the
interests, the whole walk and conversation of the living
busy world as it lay before him; but farther than this busy,

X INTRODUCTION".

and to most of us, rather prosaic world, he seldom looked:
his instruction is for men of business, and in regard to
matters of business alone. Prudence is the highest Virtue
he can inculcate; and for that finer portion of our nature,
that portion of it which belongs essentially to Literature
strictly so called, where our highest feelings, our best joys
and keenest sorrows, our Doubt, our Love, our Eeligion
reside, he has no word to utter; no remedy, no counsel to
give us in our straits; or at most, if, like poor Boswell, the
patient is importunate, will answer: "My dear Sir, endea-
vour to clear your mind of Cant."

The turn which Philosophical speculation had taken in
the preceding age corresponded with this tendency, and
enhanced its narcotic influences; or was, indeed, properly
speaking, the loot they had sprung from. Locke, himself
a clear, humble-minded, patient, reverent, nay religious
man, had paved the way for banishing religion from the
world. Mind, by being modelled in men's imaginations
into a Shape, a Visibility; and reasoned of as if it had been
some composite, divisible and reunitable substance, some
finer chemical salt, or curious piece of logical joinery, —
began to lose its immaterial, mysterious, divine though
invisible character: it was tacitly figured as something that
might, were our organs fine enough, be seen. Yet who had
ever seen it? "Who could ever see it? Thus by degrees it
passed into a Doubt, a Eelation, some faint Possibility;
and at last into a highly-probable Nonentity. Following
Locke's footsteps, the French had discovered that 'as the
stomach secretes Chyle, so does the brain secrete Thought.'
And what then was Religion, what was Poetry, what was
all high and heroic feeling? Chiefly a delusion; often a
false and pernicious one. Poetry, indeed, was still to be
preserved; because Poetry was a useful thing: men needed
amusement, and loved to amuse themselves with Poetry:
the playhouse was a pretty lounge of an . evening; then
there were so many precepts, satirical, didactic, so much
more impressive for the rhyme; to say nothing of your
occasional verses, birthday odes, epithalamiums, epice-
diums, by which 'the dream of existence may be so highly

INTRODUCTION'. XI

sweetened and embellished.' Nay, does not Poetry, acting
on the imaginations of men, excite them to daring pur-
poses; sometimes, as in the case of Tyrtaeus, to fight better-
in which wise may it not rank as a useful stimulant to man,
along with Opium and Scotch Whisky, the manufacture of
which is allowed by law? In Heaven's name, then, let
Poetry be preserved.

With Religion, however, it fared somewhat worse. In
the eyes of Voltaire and his disciples, Eeligion was a super-
fluity, indeed a nuisance. Here, it is true, his followers
have since found that he went too far; that Eeligion,
being a great sanction to civil morality, is of use for keep-
ing society in order, at least the lower classes, who have
not the feeling of Honour in due force; and therefore, as
a considerable help to the Constable and Hangman, ought
decidedly to be kept up. But such toleration is the fruit
only of later days. In those times, there was no question
but how to get rid of it, root and branch, the sooner the
better. A gleam of zeal, nay we will call it, however basely
alloyed, a glow of real enthusiasm and love of truth, may
have animated the minds of these men, as they looked
abroad on the pestilent jungle of Superstition, and hoped
to clear the earth of it forever. This little glow, so alloyed,
so contaminated with pride and other poor or bad admix-
tures, was the last w r hich thinking men were to experience
in Europe for a time. So it is always in regard to Eeligious
Belief, how degraded and defaced soever: the delight of
the Destroyer and Denier is no pure delight, and must soon
pass away. With bold, with skilful hand, Voltaire set
his torch to the jungle: it blazed aloft to heaven; and the
flame exhilarated and comforted the incendiaries; but, un-
happily, such comfort could not continue. Ere long this
flame, with its cheerful light and heat, was gone: the
jungle, it is true, had been consumed; but, with its entan-
glements, its shelter and its spots of verdure also; and
the black, chill, ashy swamp, left in its stead, seemed for
a time a greater evil than the other.

In such a state of painful obstruction, extending itself
everywhere over Europe, and already master of Germany,

Xll INTRODUCTION.

lay the general mind, when Goethe first appeared in Litera-
ture. Whatever belonged to the finer nature of man had
withered under the Harmattan breath of Doubt, or passed
away in the conflagration of open Infidelity; and now,
where the Tree of Life once bloomed and brought fruit of
goodliest savour there was only barrenness and desolation.
To such as could find sufficient interest in the day-labour
and day- wages of earthly existence; in the resources of the
five bodily Senses, and of Vanity, the only mental sense
which yet flourished, which flourished indeed with gigantic
vigour, matters were still not so bad. Such men helped
themselves forward, as they will generally do; and found
the world, if not an altogether proper sphere (for every
man, disguise it as he may, has a soul in him), at least a
tolerable enough place; where, by one item or another,
some comfort, or show of comfort, might from time to time
be got up, and these few years, especially since they were
so few, be spent without much murdering. But to men
afflicted with the 'malady of Thought/ some devoutness
of temper was an inevitable heritage; to such the noisy
forum of the world could appear but an empty, altogether
insufficient concern; and the whole scene of life had become
hopeless enough. Unhappily, such feelings are yet by no
means so infrequent with ourselves, that we need stop
here to depict them. That state of Unbelief from which
the Germans do seem to be in some measure delivered, still
presses with incubus force on the greater part of Europe;
and nation after nation, each in its own way, feels that the
first of all moral problems is how to cast it off, or how to
rise above it. Governments naturally attempt the first
expedient; Philosophers, in general, the second.

The Poet, says Schiller, is a citizen not only of his coun-
try, but of his time. Whatever occupies and interests men
in general, will interest him still more. That nameless
Unrest, the blind struggle of a soul in bondage, that high,
sad, longing Discontent, which was agitating every bosom,
had driven Goethe almost to despair. All felt it; he alone
could give it voice. And here lies the secret of his popu-
larity; in his jdeep, susceptive heart, he felt a thousand

INTRODUCTION. Xlll

times more keenly what every one was feeling; with the
creative gift which belonged to him as a poet, he bodied it
forth into visible shape, gave it a local habitation and a
name; and so made himself the spokesman of his genera-
tion. Werter is but the cry of that dim, rooted pain, under
which all thoughtful men of a certain age were languish-
ing: it paints the misery, it passionately utters the com-
plaint; and heart and voice, all over Europe, loudly and
at once respond to it. True, it prescribes no remedy; for
that was a far different, far harder enterprise, to which
other years and a higher culture were required; but even
this utterance of the pain, even this little, for the present,
is ardently grasped at, and with eager sympathy appro-
priated in every bosom. If Byron's life-weariness, his
moody melancholy, and mad stormful indignation, borne
on the tones of a wild and quite artless melody, could
pierce so deep into many a British heart, now that the
whole matter is no longer new, — is indeed old and trite, —
we may judge with what vehement acceptance this Werter
must have been welcomed, coming as it did like a voice
from unknown regions; the first thrilling peal of that im-
passioned dirge, which, in country after country, men's
ears have listened to, till they were deaf to all else. For
Werter infusing itself into the core and whole spirit of Lit-
erature, gave birth to a race of Sentimentalists, who have
raged and wailed in every part of the world, till better light
dawned on them, or at worst, exhausted Nature laid herself
to sleep, and it was discovered that lamenting was an unpro-
ductive labour. These funereal choristers, in Germany a
loud, haggard, tumultuous, as well as tearful class, were
named the Kraftmanner or Power-men ; but have all long
since, like sick children, cried themselves to rest. Byron
was our English Sentimentalist and Power-man; the
strongest of his kind in Europe; the wildest, the gloomiest,
and it may be hoped the last. For what good is it to 'whine,
put finger i ? the eye, and sob/ in such a case? Still more,
to snarl and snap in malignant wise, 'like dog distract, or
monkey sick?' Why should we quarrel with our existence,
here as it lies before us, our field and inheritance, to make

XIV INTRODUCTION".

or mar, for better or for worse; in which, too, so many
noblest men have, even from the beginning, warring with
the very evils we war with, both made and been what will
be venerated to all time?

A wide and everyway most important interval divides
Werter, with its sceptical philosophy and 'hypochondriacal
crotchets/ from Goethe's next Novel, Wilaelm Meister's
Apprenticeship, published some twenty years afterwards.
This work belongs, in all senses, to the second and sounder
period of Goethe's life, and may indeed serve as the fullest,
if perhaps not the purest, impress of it; being written with
due forethought, at various times, during a period of no
less than ten years. Considered as a piece of Art, there
were much to be said on Meister; all which, however, lies
beyond our present purpose. 'We are here looking at the
' work chiefly as a document for the writer's history; and
in this point of view, it certainly seems, as contrasted with
its more popular precursor, to deserve our best attention:
for the problem which had been stated in Werter, with
despair of its solution, is here solved. The lofty enthu-
siasm, which, wandering wildly over the universe, found
no resting-place, has here reached its appointed home;
and live's in harmony with what long appeared to threaten
it with annihilation. Anarchy has now become Peace; the
once gloomy and perturbed spirit is now serene, cheer-
fully vigorous, and rich in good fruits. Neither, which is
most important of all, has this Peace been attained by
a surrender to Necessity, or any compact with Delusion;
a seeming blessing, such as years and dispiritment will of
themselves bring to most men, and which is indeed no
blessing, since even continued battle is better than de-
struction or captivity; and peace of this sort is like that
of Galgacus's Eomans, who 'called it peace when they had
made a desert/ Here the ardent high-aspiring youth has
grown into the calmest man, yet with increase and not loss
of ardour, and with aspirations higher as well as clearer.
For he has conquered his unbelief; the Ideal has been
built on the Actual; no longer floats vaguely in darkness
and regions of dreams, but rests in light, on the firm

INTRODUCTION". XV

ground of human interest and business, as in its true scene,
on its true basis.

It is wonderful to see with what softness the scepticism
of Jarno, the commercial spirit of Werner, the reposing
polished manhood of Lothario and the Uncle, the un-
earthly enthusiasm of the Harper,, the gay animal vivacity
of Philina, the mystic, ethereal, almost spiritual nature
of Mignon, are blended together in this work; how justice
is done to each, how each lives freely in his proper element,
in his proper form; and how, as Wilhelm himself, the mild-
hearted, all-hoping, all-believing "Wilhelm, struggles for-
ward towards his world of Art through these curiously
complected influences, all this unites itself into a multi-
farious, yet so harmonious Whole; as into a clear poetic
mirror, where man's life and business in this age, his pas-
sions and purposes, the highest equally with the lowest, are
imaged back to us in beautiful significance. Poetry and
Prose are no longer at variance; for the poet's eyes are
opened; he sees the changes of many-colored existence,
and sees the loveliness and deep purport which lies hidden
under the very meanest of them; hidden to the vulgar
sight, but clear to the poet's; because the 'open secret' is no
longer a secret to him, and he knows that the Universe is
full of goodness ; that whatever has being has beauty*

Apart from its literary merits or demerits, such is the
temper of mind we trace in Goethe's Meister, and, more
or less expressly exhibited, in all his later works. We
reckon it a rare phenomenon, this temper; and worthy, in
our times, if it do exist, of best study from all inquiring
men. How has such a temper been attained in this so
lofty and impetuous mind, once too, dark, desolate and
full of doubt, more than any other? How may we, each
of us in his several sphere, attain it, or strengthen it, for
ourselves? These are questions, this last is a question, in
which no one is unconcerned.

To answer these questions, to begin the answer of them,
would lead us very far beyond our present limits. It is
not, as we believe, without long, sedulous study, without
learning much and unlearning much, that, for any man,

XVI INTRODUCTION".

the answer of such questions is even to be hoped. Mean-
while, as regards Goethe, there is one feature of the busi-
ness, which, to us, throws considerable light on his moral
persuasions, and will not, in investigating the secret of
them, be overlooked. We allude to the spirit in which he
cultivates his Art; the noble, disinterested, almost religious
love with which he looks on Art in general, and strives to-
wards it as towards the sure, highest, nay only good.

For a man of Goethe's talent to write many such pieces
of rhetoric, setting forth the dignity of poets, and their
innate independence on external circumstances, could be
no very hard task; accordingly, we find such sentiments
again and again expressed, sometimes with still more grace-
fulness, still clearer emphasis, in his various writings. But
to adopt these sentiments into his sober practical per-
suasion; in any measure to feel and believe that such was
still, and must always be, the high vocation of the poet; on
this ground of universal humanity, of ancient and now
almost forgotten nobleness, to take his stand, even in these
trivial, jeering, withered, unbelieving days; and through
all their complex, dispiriting, mean, yet tumultuous in-
fluences, to 'make his light shine before them/ that it
might beautify even our 'rag-gathering age' with some
beams of that mild, divine splendour, which had long left
us, the very possibility of which was denied; heartily and
in earnest to meditate all this, was no common proceeding ;
to bring it into practice, especially in such a life as his
has been, was among the highest and hardest enterprises
which any man whatever could engage in. We reckon
this a greater novelty, than all the novelties which as a
mere writer he ever put forth, whether for praise or cen-
sure. We have taken it upon us to say that if such is, in
any sense, the state of the case with regard to Goethe, he
deserves not mere approval as a pleasing poet and sweet
singer; but deep, grateful study, observance, imitation, as
a Moralist and Philosopher. If there be any probability
that. such is the state of the case, we cannot but reckon it
a matter well worthy of being inquired into. And it is
for this only that we are here pleading and arguing.

INTRODUCTION". XV11

Meister is the mature product of the first genius of our
times; and must, one would think, be different, in various
respects, from the immature products of geniuses who are
far from the first, and whose works spring from the brain
in as many weeks as Goethe's cost him years.

It may deserve to be mentioned here that Meister, at
its first appearance in Germany, was received very much as
it has been in England. Goethe's known character, in-
deed, precluded indifference there; but otherwise it was
much the same. The whole guild of criticism was thrown
into perplexity, into sorrow; everywhere was dissatisfac-
tion open or concealed. Official duty impelling them to
speak, some said one thing, some another; all felt in secret
that they knew not what to say. Till the appearance of
Schlegel's Character, no word, that we have seen, of the
smallest chance to be decisive, or indeed to last beyond
the day, had been uttered regarding it. Some regretted
that the fire of Werter was so wonderfully abated ; whisper-
ings there might be about 'lowness,' 'heaviness;' some spake
forth boldly in behalf of suffering 'virtue.' Novalis was
not among the speakers, but he censured the work in se-
cret, and this for a reason which to us will seem the
strangest; for its being, as we should say, a Benthamite
work ! Many are the bitter aphorisms we find, among his
Fragments, directed against Meister for its prosaic, me-
chanical, economical, coldhearted, altogether Utilitarian
character. We English again call Goethe a mystic; so diffi-
cult is it to please all parties ! But the good, deep, noble
Novalis made the fairest amends; for notwithstanding all
this, Tieck tells us, if we remember rightly, he continually
returned to Meister, and could not but peruse and re-
peruse it.

Goethe's Wanderjahre was published in, his seventy-
second year; Werter in his twenty-fifth; thus in passing
between these two works, and over Meister's Lehrjahre
which stands nearly midway, we have glanced over a space
of almost fifty years, including within them, of course,
whatever was most important in his public or private his-
tory. By means of these quotations, so diverse in thteil

XV111 INTRODUCTION.

tone, we meant to make it visible that a great change had
taken place in the moral disposition of the man; a change
from inward imprisonment, doubt and discontent, into
freedom, belief and clear activity; such a change as, in our
opinion, must take place, more or less consciously, in every
character that, especially in these times, attains to spiritual
manhood, and in characters possessing any thoughtfulness
and sensibility, will seldom take place without a too painful
consciousness, without bitter conflicts, in which the char-
acter itself is too often maimed and impoverished, and
which end too often not in victory, but in defeat, or fatal
compromise with the enemy. Too often, we may well say;
for though many gird on the harness, few bear it warrior-
like; still fewer put it off with triumph. Among our own
poets, Byron was almost the only man we saw faithfully
and manfully struggling, to the end, in this cause; and
he died while the victory was still doubtful, or at best,
only beginning to be gained. We have already stated our
opinion, that Goethe's success in this matter has been more
complete than that of any other man in his age; nay, that,
in the strictest sense, he may almost be called the only
one that has so succeeded. On this ground, were it on no
other, we have ventured to say that his spiritual history and
procedure must deserve attention; that his opinions, his
creations, his mode of thought, his whole picture of the
world as it dwells within him, must to his contemporaries
be an inquiry of no common interest; of an interest alto-
gether peculiar, and not in this degree exampled in exist-
ing literature. These things can be but imperfectly stated
here, and must be left, not in a state of demonstration, but
at the utmost, of loose fluctuating probability; nevertheless,
if inquired into, they will be found to have a precise enough
meaning, and, as we believe, a highly important one.

For the rest, what sort of mind it is that has passed
through this change, that has gained this victory; how rich
and high a mind; how learned by study in all that is
wisest, by experience in all that is most complex, the
brightest as well as the blackest, in man's existence; gifted
with what insight, with what grace and power of utterance,

INTRODUCTION". XIX

we shall not for the present attempt discussing. All these
the reader will learn, who studies his writings with such
attention as they merit; and "by no other means. Of
Goethe's dramatic, lyrical, didactic poems, in their thou-
sandfold expressiveness, for they are full of expressiveness,
we can here say nothing. But in every department of
Literature, of Art ancient and modern, in many provinces
of Science, we shall often meet him; and hope to have
other occasions of estimating what, in these respects, we
and all men owe him.

Two circumstances, meanwhile, we have remarked,
which to us throw light on the nature of his original faculty
for Poetry, and go far to convince us of the Mastery he
has attained in that art: these we may here state briefly,
for the judgment of such as already know his writings, or
the help of such as are beginning to know them. The first
is his singularly emblematic intellect; his perpetual never-
failing tendency to transform into shape, into life, the
opinion, the feeling that may dwell in him; which, in
its widest sense, we reckon to be essentially the grand
problem of the Poet. We do not mean mere metaphor
and rhetorical trope: these are but the exterior concern,
often but the scaffolding of the edifice, which is to be built
up (within our thoughts) by means of them. In allusions,
in similitudes, though no one known to us is happier, many
are more copious than Goethe. But we find this faculty
of his in the very essence of his intellect; and trace it alike
in the quiet cunning epigram, the allegory, the quaint de-
vice, reminding us of some Quarles or Bunyan; and in the
Fausts, the Tassos, the Mignons, which in their pure and
genuine personality, may almost remind us of the Ariels
and Hamlets of Shakspeare. Everything has form, every-
thing has visual existence; the poet's imagination bodies
forth the forms of things unseen, his pen turns them to
shape. This, as a natural endowment, exists in Goethe,
we conceive, to a very high degree.

The other characteristic of his mind, which proves to
us his acquired mastery in art, as this shows us the extent
of his original capacity for it, is his wonderful variety, nay

XX INTRODUCTION.

universality; his entire freedom from the Mannerism.
We read Goethe for years, before we come to see wherein
the distinguishing peculiarity of his understanding, of his
disposition, even of his way of writing, consists. It seems
quite a simple style that of his; remarkable chiefly for
its calmness, its perspicuity, in short its commonness; and
yet it is the most uncommon of all styles: we feel as if
every one might imitate it, and yet it is inimitable. As
hard is it to discover in his writings, — though there also,
as in every man's writings, the character of the writer
must lie recorded, — what sort of spiritual construction he
has, what are his temper, his affections, his individual
specialties. For all lives freely within him: Philina and
Clanchen, Mephistopheles and Mignon, are alike indif-
ferent, or alike dear to him; he is of no sect or caste: he
seems not this man or that man, but a man. We reckon
this to be the characteristic of a Master in Art of any
sort; and true especially of all great Poets. How true is it
of Shakspeare and Homer ! Who knows, or can figure
what the Man Shakspeare was, by the first, by the twen-
tieth perusal of his works? He is a Voice coming to us
from the Land of Melody: his old brick dwelling-place, in
the mere earthly burgh of Stratford-on-Avon, offers us
the most inexplicable enigma. And what is Homer in the
Ilias ? He is the witness ; he has seen, and he reveals it ;
we hear and believe, but do not behold him. Now com-
pare, with these two Poets, any other two; not of equal
genius, for there are none such, but of equal sincerity, who
wrote as earnestly and from the heart, like them. Take,
for instance, Jean Paul and Lord Byron. The good
Kichter begins to show himself, in his broad, massive,
kindly, quaint significance, before we have read many
pages of even his slightest work; and to the last he paints
himself much better than his subject. Byron may also
be said to have painted nothing else than himself, be his
subject what it might. Yet as a test for the culture of
a Poet, in his poetical capacity, for his pretensions to mas-
tery and completeness in his art, we cannot but reckon this
among the surest. Tried by this, there is no writer
that approaches within many degrees of Goethe.

JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was born in Frankfort on
August 28, 1749. His parents were citizens of that impe-
rial town, and Wolfgang was their only son. His father
was born on July 31, 1710. He married, on August 20,
1748, at the age of thirty-eight, Catherine Elizabeth Tex-
tor. In December, 1750, was born a daughter, Cornelia,
who remained until her death, at the age of twenty-seven,
her brother's most intimate friend. She was married in
1773 to John George Schlosser. Goethe's education was
irregular. French culture gave at this time the prevail-
ing tone to Europe. Goethe could not have escaped its
influence, and he was destined to fall under it in a special
manner. In the Seven Years' War, which was now raging,
France took the side of the empire against Frederick the
Great. Frankfort was full of French soldiers, and a cer-
tain Comte Thorane, who was quartered in Goethe's house,
had an important influence on the boy.

Goethe, if we may believe his autobiography, experi-
enced hJ^-£i^tJjize_abp^t.th^ in the person
of Gietciien, whom some have supposed to be the daughter
of an innkeeper at Offenbach, He worshipped her as Dante
worshipped Beatrice.

In the autumn of 1765 Goethe t ravel ed to Leipsic. On
the 19th of October he was admitted as a student. He
was sent to L eipsic to s t udy la w, in order that he might
return to Frankfort fitted for the regular course of munic-
ipal distinction. He intended to de vote h imself not to law,
bjiiia belles lettres. He attended Gellert's lectures on lit-
erature, and even joine d his priva te class. His real uni-
versity education was derived from intercourse with his
friends. First among these was J. G. Schlosser, who after-
wards married his sister. He had a great influence upon

JOHANN WOLFGANG VON" GOETHE,.

him, chiefly in introducing him to a wider circle of Ger-
man, French, English and Italian poetry.

But the person who had the strongest effect on Goethe's
mental development was Adam Frederick Oeser, at this
time director of the academy of arts in Leipsic.

Goethe, from his earliest years, was never without a
passion, and at Leipsic his passion was Kitty Schonkopf,
the Aennchen of the autobiography, the daughter of the
host at whose house he dined. She often teased him
with her inconstant ways, and to this experience is due his
first drama, "Die Laune des Verliebten," "Lovers' Quar-
rels," as it may be styled. A deeper chord is struck in
"Die Mitschuldigen" (The Fellow Sinners), which forms
a dismal and forbidding picture both of the time and of
the experiences of the youth who wrote it. He had an
opportunity of establishing his principles of taste during
a short visit at Dresden, in which he devoted himself to
the pictures and the antiques. The end of Goethe's stay
at Leipsic was saddened by illness. One morning at the
beginning of the summer he was awakened by a violent
hemorrhage. For several days he hung between life and
death, and after that his recovery was slow. He. left Leip-
sic far from well on August 28, 1768.

Goethe made an enforced stay of a year and a half. It
was perhaps the least happy part of his life. His cure pro-
ceeded slowly, and he had several relapses. His family
relations were not pleasant. His father showed but little
sympathy with his aspirations for universal culture, and
could imagine no career for him but that of a successful
jurist. His sister had grown somewhat harsh and cold dur-
ing his absence. Goethe's mother was always the same
to him — a bright, genial, sympathetic friend. Goethe,
during his illness, received great attention from Fraulein
von Klettenberg, a friend of his mother's, a pietist of the
Moravian school. She initiated him into the mystical writ-
ings of those abstracted saints, and she engaged him in
the study of alchemy, which served at once to prepare him
for the conception of Faust and for the scientific researches
of his later days.

JOHANN WOLFGANG VON" GOETHE.

He arrived at Strasburg April 2, 1770. Go^the_stayjed in
Strasburg till August 28, 1771, his tweatyrsecpnd. birth-
day, and these sixteen months are perhaps the most impor-
tant of his life. During them he came into active contact
with most of those impulses of which his after life was
a development. If we would understand his mental growth,
we must ask who were his friends. He took his meals at
the house of the Fraulein Lauth in the Kramergasse. The
table was mainly filled with medical students. At the head
of it sat Salzmann, a grave man of fifty years of age. His
experience and his refined taste were very attractive to
Goethe, who made him his intimate friend. The table
of the Fraulein Lauth received some new guests. Among
these was J[un^Stilling, the self-educated charcoal-burner,
who in his memoir has left a graphic account of Goethe's
striking appearance, in his broad brow, his flashing eye,
his mastery of the company, and his generosity. Another
was Lerse, a frank, open character, who became Goethe's
favorite/' and whose name is immortalized in Gotz von
Berlichingen.

Goethe's stay at Strasburg is generally connected still
more closely with another circumstance— his passion for
Frederike Brion of Sesenheim. The village lies about \)
twenty miles from Strasburg, and her__iather was pastor
there. Goethe was introduced by his friend Weyland, as
a poor theological student. The father was a simple, worthy
man, the eldest of the three daughters was married, the
two younger remained — Maria Salome, and Frederike, to
whom the poet principally devoted himself. She was tall
and slight, with fair hair and blue eyes, and just sixteen
years of age. Goethe gave himself up to the passion of
the moment. During the winter of 1770, Goethe often
rode over to Sesenheim. Neither storm, nor cold, nor
darkness kept him back. As his time for leaving Strasburg
came nearer he felt that his love was merely a dream and
could have no serious termination. Frederike felt the
same on her side. On August 6th Goethe took his degree
as a doctor of law. Shortly afterwards he bade adieu to
Sesenheim. Frederike lived till 1813 and died single.

JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.

Goethe's return to Frankfort is marked by a number of
songs, of which the "Wanderer's Sturmlied" is the most
remarkable. He had outgrown many of the friends of his
youth. Those with whom he felt most sympathy were the
two Schlossers and his sister Cornelia. He found in her
one who sympathized with all his aspirations. The work
into which he threw all his genius was the dramatization
of the history of the imperial knight of the Middle Ages,
Gottfried or Gotz von Berlichingen. The immediate
cause of this enterprise was his enthusiasm for Shakes-
peare. After reading him he felt, he said, like a blind man
who suddenly receives his sight. The study of a dry and
dull biography of Gotz, published in 1731, supplied the sub-
ject for his awakened powers. From this miserable sketch
he conceived within his mind a complete picture of Ger-
many in the sixteenth century. The chief characters of
his play are creatures of his imagination, representing
the principal types which made up the history of the time.
Every personage is made to live ; they speak in short, sharp
sentences like the powerful lines of a great master's draw-
ing. The first sketch of Gotz was finished in six weeks,
in the autumn of 1771. It ran like wild-fire through the
whole of Germany.

Goethe left Frankfort in the spring of 1772 for Wetz-
lar, a quiet country town on the Lahn, one of the seats
of government of the Holy Koman Empire. The emperors
lived at Vienna; they were crowned at Frankfort; they
held their parliaments at Ratisbon, and at Wetzlar their
courts of justice. It was the custom for young lawyers
to attend the sittings of these courts for a certain time
before they could be admitted to practice on their own
account. The company of these students, of the embassies
from the component parts of the empire, and of various
imperial officials, made the society a pleasant and lively
one. Goethe soon found friends. His favorite house was
occupied by one of the officials of the order, by name Buff,
an honest man with a large family of children. The sec-
ond daughter, Lotte, blue-eyed, fair and just twenty years
of age, was flrst^rhet by Goethe, shortly after his arrival, at

JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.

a ball at Wolpertshausen. She strongly attracted him;
he became a constant visitor at the house. He found that
Lotte was a second mother to her brothers and sisters.
Lotte, was really, though not formally, engaged to Kest-
ner, a man of two-and-thirty, secretary to the Hanoverian
legation. The discovery of this relation made no difference
to Goethe; he remained the devoted friend to both. But
the position was too critical to last. On September 10 they
met in the German house for the last time. Goethe and
Schlosser went together to Wetzlar in November. Here
he heard of the death of Jerusalem, a young man attached
to the Brunswick legation. He had been with Goethe at
the University of Leipsic. Of a moody temperament, dis-
heartened by failure in his profession, and soured by a
hopeless passion for the wife of another, he had borrowed
a pair of pistols under pretense of a journey, and had shot
himself on the night of October 29.

Goethe immediately afterwards began his Werther.
Goethe tells us that it was written in four weeks. In Octo-
ber it spread over the whole of Germany. It was enthu-
siastically beloved or sternly condemned. It was printed,
imitated, translated into every language of Europe. Gotz.
and W erther formed the solid foundation of Goethe's fame.
It is difficult to imagine that the same man can have pro-
duced both works, so different are they in matter and style.
Gotz was the first manly appeal to the chivalry of Ger-
man spirit, which, caught up by other voices, sounded
throughout the Fatherland like the call of a warder's
trumpet, till it produced a national courage, founded on
the recollection of an illustrious past, which overthrew the
might of the conqueror at the moment when he seemed
about to dominate the world. Werther, as soft and melo-
dious as Plato, was the first revelation to the world of that
marvelous style which, in the hands of a master, compels
a language which is as rich as Greek to be also as musical.

The spring of 1773, which witnessed the publication of
Gotz, saw him actively employed as an advocate. In
November, Goethe's sister Cornelia was married to Schlos-
ser and left Strasburg. Goethe felt the loss deeply. She

JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.

lived but a short time. Her married life was tortured with
suffering, and she died in 1777.

The summer of 1774 was spent in a journey to the
Rhine. Goethe returned to Frankfort at the beginning of
August. On December 11, Goethe was surprised by the
visit of a stranger. It was Karl Ludwig von Knebel, who
was traveling with the two princes of Saxe-Weimar, the
reigning duke, Karl August, then just seventeen, and his
younger brother, Constantine. This meeting decided the
future course of Goethe's life.

He now came under the influence of Lili Schonemann,
the daughter of a rich banker. This passion seemed to be
of a more lasting nature than the others.

Neither family approved of the engagement between the
youthful couple. Goethe tore himself away, and went for
a tour in Switzerland.

He returned to Frankfort on July 20. August was spent
delightfully with Lili at Offenbach; his letters speak of
nothing but her. He wrote some scenes in Faust — the walk
in the garden, the first conversation with Mephistopheles,
the interview with the scholar, the scene in Auerbach's cel-
lar. Egmont was also begun under the stimulus of the
'American Rebellion. A way of escaping from his embar-
rassments was unexpectedly opened to him. The duke
of Weimar passed through Frankfort both before and after
his marriage, which took place on October 3. He invited
Goethe to stay at Weimar. It was not for his happiness or
for Lili's that they should have married. She afterwards
thanked him deeply for the firmness with which he over-
came a temptation to which she would have yielded.

At this time the smaller German courts were beginning
to take an interest in German literature. Before the Seven
Years' War the whole of German culture had been French.
Even now German writers found but scant acceptance at
Berlin or Vienna. The princes of the smaller states sur-
rounded themselves with literature and art. The duke of
Brunswick had made Lessing his librarian. The duke of
Wiirtemberg paid special attention to education; he pro-
moted the views of Schubart, and founded the school in

J0HANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.

which Schiller was educated. Hanover offered a home to
Zimmermann, and encouraged the development of
Schlegel. Darmstadt was especially fortunate. Caroline,
the wife of the landgrave, had surrounded herself with a
literary circle, of which Merck was the moving spirit. She
had collected and privately printed the odes of Klopstock,
and her death in 1774 seemed to leave Darmstadt a desert.
Her daughter, Louisa, seemed to have inherited something
of her mother's qualities. She married, on October 3, 1775,
the young duke of Weimar, who was just of age. She was
of the house of Brunswick, and after two years of marriage
had been left a widow at nineteen, with two sons. She
committed their education to Count Gorz, a prominent
character in the history of the time. She afterwards sum-
moned Wieland to instruct the elder, and Knebel to
instruct the younger.

"Upon this society Goethe rose like a star. From the ~j
moment of his arrival he became the inseparable compan- I
ion of the grand-duke. The first months at Weimar were s
spent in a wild round of pleasure. Goethe was treated as
a guest. In the autumn, journeys, rides, shooting parties;
in the winter, balls, masquerades, skating parties by torch-
light, dancing at peasants' feasts, filled up their time. Evil
reports flew about Germany. We may believe that no
decencies were disregarded except the artificial restrictions
of courtly etiquette. In the spring he had to decide whether
he would go or stay. In April the duke gave him the little
garden by the side of the Ilm. In June he invested him
with the title, so important to Germans, of Geheimlega-
tionsrathj with a seat and voice in the privy council and
an income.

Goethe's life was at no time complete without the influ-
ence of a noble-hearted woman. This he found in Char-
lotte von Stein, a lady of the court, wife of the master of
the horse.

The close of 1779 was occupied by a winter journey to
Switzerland. Two days were spent at Frankfort with
Goethe's parents. Sesenheim was visited, and left with
satisfaction and contentment. At Strasburg they found

* JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.

Lili happily married, with a new-born child. In Decem-
ber they went, by the Lake of Constance and the falls of
the Khine, to Stuttgart, where, on December 14, Goethe
saw Schiller for the first time. He was a student at the
Academy, and in Goethe's presence received the prize.

The return to Weimar, on January 13, was the beginning
of a new era. The period of genius and eccentricity was at
an end; that of order and reguJUirity succeeded. At this
time also he began to write Tass6. His deeper thoughts
were concentrated in Wilhelm Meister. Goethe was always
fond of children. The young Herders and Wielands spent-
much time in his garden, sometimes digging for Easter
eggs which had been carefully concealed. In the spring of
1783, Fritz, the son of Charlotte von Stein, then ten years
old, came to live with him in his garden house.

The year 1786 marks an epoch in Goethe's life. He had
written little of first-rate importance. He had brought
with him from Frankfort the sketches of Faust and
Egmont, but little had been done to them since. Iphigenie
was the one great work of poetry which belongs entirely to
this period, but that had not received its final form. Tasso
was conceived, but only two acts were written. Wilhelm
Meister is the most exact impression of this portion of
Goethe's life. For the completion of these Goethe required
leisure and repose. Another cause of discontent was his
relation to Frau von Stein. It could not have been more
intimate. She was all to Goethe and more than Gretchen,
Frederike, Lili, or his sister Cornelia had been. He com-
municated to her every thought and every action of his
life. The relation was blameless; to a character like
Goethe's it was natural; but it became every year more
difficult and more full of danger.

The resolution, slowly formed, was boldly executed. In
the summer of 1785 he had visited Carlsbad for the first
time, passed a pleasant month in the company of the
duchess Louise, Herder, and Frau von Stein. In July,
1786, he paid it a second visit. After five weeks of bril-
liant society, very favorable to his health, he stole secretly
away. The duke alone knew that he designed an absence

JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.

of some duration. In the strictest incognito, in the guise
of a German merchant, he drove alone to the land of the
citron and the orange.

Goethe's Italian journey lasted from September 3, 1786,
to June 18, 1788. At the end of April he took a sad fare-
well of Italy and arrived at Weimar in the middle of June.
He was determined henceforth to be himself, to break the
bonds which had confined him. He was relieved of the
presidency of the chamber and of the war commission, but
in a manner which did him the greatest honor. His rela-
tions with Frau von Stein, which had been one reason of
his leaving Weimar, began to cool.

Goethe's friendship with Frau von Stein was to receive
a final blow. In the autumn of 1788, walking aimlessly
through the park, he met Christiane Vulpius, a young girl,
who presented him with a petition in favor of her brother.
She had golden curling locks, round cheeks, laughing eyes,
a neatly rounded figure ; she looked, as has been said, "like
a young Dionysius." Goethe took her into his house, and
she became his wife in conscience, and the mother of his
children. He did not marry her until 1806, when the ter-
rors of the French occupation made him anxious for the
position of his eldest son. She had but little education,
and he could not take her into society; but she made him
a good and loving wife.

We must pass rapidly over the next six years, until
Goethe's genius received a new impulse and direction by
his friendship with • Schiller. In the spring of 1790 he
traveled to Venice to meet the Duchess Amalia. In the
autumn of the same year he accompanied the duke to
Silesia, the first of those military journeys which strike
so discordant a note in the harmonious tenor of his exist-
ence. In the autumn of 1791 Goethe was able to devote
himself regularly to a task which had informally occupied
his first years in Weimar. The new theater was completed,
and Goethe was made director of it. It was in this capacity
that he was best known to the citizens of Weimar. He had
the final decision on every detail of piece, scenery, and
acting. The German stage owes perhaps as much to Goethe

JOHANN WOLFGANG VON" GOETHE.

as to Leasing. The repertoire of the Weimar theater was
stocked with pieces of solid merit, which long held their
place. In August, 1792, he accompanied the dnke to the
campaign in the Ardennes. In 1793 he went with his
master to the siege of Mainz. Goethe took the old German
epic of Eeynard the Fox, with which he had long been
familiar, and which, under the guise of animals, represents
the conflicting passions of men, and rewrote it.

Thus far he had produced but little since his return
from Italy. His friendship with Schiller was now to
begin, an alliance which, in the closeness of its intimacy
and its deep effect on the character of both friends, has
scarcely a parallel in literary history. If Schiller was not
at this time at the height of his reputation, he had written
many of the works which have made his name famous. He
was ten years younger than Goethe. The Kauber plays the
same part in his literary history as Gotz plays in that of
Goethe. This had been followed by Fiesco and Kabale und
Liebe. In 1787 he settled at Weimar. The first effect of
Schiller's influence on Goethe was the completion of
Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship. It stands in the first
rank of Goethe's writings. A more solid result of the
friendship between the poets was the production of Her-
mann und Dorothea.

The latter half of 1798 was occupied with a tour in
Switzerland. Before its commencement he visited his
mother at Frankfort for the last time, and presented to her
his wife and his son. In the beginning of 1805 Goethe was
convinced that either he or Schiller would die in that year.
In January they were both seized with illness. Schiller
was the first to recover, and, visiting Goethe in his sick
room, fell on his neck and kissed him with intense emo-
tion. On April 29 they saw each other for the last time.
Schiller was on his way to the theater, whither Goethe was
too ill to accompany him. They parted at the door of
Schiller's house. Schiller died on the evening of the 9th
oi.-May. No one dared to tell Goethe the sad news, but he
saw on the faces of those who surrounded him that Schiller
must be very ill. On the morrow of Schiller's death, when

J0HANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.

his wife entered his room, he said, "Is it not true that
Schiller was very ill yesterday?" She began to sob. He
then cried, "He is dead !" "Thou hast spoken it thyself/'
she answered. Goethe turned aside and covered his weep-
ing eyes with his hands. Since that time Schiller and
Goethe have been inseparable in the minds of their country-
men.

On October 14, 1806, the battle of Jena was fought. The
court had fled from Weimar. On the 15th Napoleon and
Goethe met. It was at the congress of Erfurt, where the
sovereigns and princes of Europe were assembled. Goethe's
presence was commanded by the duke. He was invited to
an audience on October 2. The emperor sat at a large round
table eating his breakfast. He beckoned Goethe to approach
him. He asked how old he was, expressed his wonder at
the freshness of his appearance, said that he had read
Werther through seven times, and made some acute re-
marks on the management of the plot. Then, after an in-
terruption, he said that tragedy ought to be the school of
kings and peoples; that there was no subject worthier of
treatment than the death of Caesar, which Voltaire had
treated insufficiently. A great poet would have given,
prominence to Csesar's plans for the regeneration of the
world, and shown what a loss mankind had suffered by his
murder.

The idea of writing Faust seems to have come to Goethe
in his earliest manhood. He was brooding over it at the
same time with Gotz von Berlichingen. Eaust justly
stands at the head of all Goethe's works. Founded on a
well-known popular tale, indebted for its interest and
pathos to incidents of universal experience, it deals with
the deepest problems which can engage the mind of man.

In 1809 he finished The Elective Affinities.

It was natural at the beginning of a new course of life
that Goethe .should write an account of his past existence.
The study of his collected poems made it apparent to him
how necessary it was to furnish a key by which they might
be understood. These various causes led to the composi-
tion of DicMung und Wahrheit (Poetry and Truth), an

J JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.

autobiographical history of. the poet's life from his birth
till his settlement at Weimar. This work is ihe-cause of
much embarrassment to the poet's biographers. Where it
ought to be the most trustworthy source of information, it
is most misleading.

Once more in his old age Goethe came under the sov-
ereignty of a woman. She was Mari anne _von Willemer,
the newly married wife of a Frankfort banker. Goethe
made her acquaintance in a journey which he took in the
Rhine country. The correspondence between Goethe and
Marianne was published in 1877. It extends almost to the
day of his death, and includes letters from Eckermann giv-
ing an account of his last moments.

The last twelve years of Goethe's life, when he had passed
his seventieth birthday, were occupied by his criticisms
on the literature of foreign countries, by the Wander jahre,
and the second part of Faust. He was the literary dictator
of Germany and of Europe. The Wander jahre contains
some of Goethe's most beautiful conceptions, The Flight
Into Egypt, The Description of the Pedagogic Province,
The Parable of the Three Reverences.

The second part of Faust has been a battlefield of con-
troversy since its publication, and demands fuller attention.
Its fate may be compared with that of the latest works
of Beethoven. For a long time it was regarded as impos-
sible to understand, and as not worth understanding, the
production of a great artist whose faculties had been im-
paired by age. By degrees it has, by careful labor, become
intelligible to us, and the conviction is growing that it is
the deepest and most important work of the author's life.

He had much to darken his latter days. His wife had
died in 1816. He felt her loss bitterly. The Duchess
Amalia had died eight years before. He had now to undergo
bitterer experiences when he was less able to bear them.
Frau von Stein, with whom he had renewed his friendship,
if not his love, died in January, 1827 ; and in June, 1828,
he lost the companion of his youth, the Grand Duke Karl
'August, who died suddenly, away from Weimar.

We must pass to the closing scenes. On Thursday, March

'JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.

1JU1832, he spent his last cheerful and happy day. He
awoke the next morning with a chill. From this he grad-
ually recovered, and on Monday was so much better that
he designed to begin his regular work on the next day. But
in the middle of the night he woke with a deathly coldness,
which extended from his hands over his body, and which
took many hours to subdue. It then appeared that the
lungs were attacked, and that there was no hope of his re-
covery. Goeihe did not anticipate death. He sat fully
clothed in his arm chair, made attempts to reach his study,
spoke confidently of his recovery, and of the walks he
would take in the fine April days. His daughter-in-law
Ottilie_tended him faithfully. On the morning of the 22d
his strength gradually left him. He sat slumbering in his
arm chair, holding Ottilie's hand. Her name was con-
stantly on his lips. His mind occasionally wandered, at
one time to his beloved Schiller, at another to a fair female
head with black curls, some passion of his youth. His last
words were an order to his servant to open the second
shutter to let in more light. After this he traced with his
forefinger letters in the air. At half-past eleven in the day
he drew himself, without any sign of pain, into the left
corner of his arm chair, and went so peacefully to sleep
that it was long before the watchers knew that his spirit
was really gone. He is buried in the grand-ducal vault,
where the bones of Schiller are also laid.

Goethe — 2 Vol 1

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 small volumes must appear incom-
mensurate. Nor can one forget, that, with respect to the
detached pieces, they have mostly been called forth by special
occasions, and reflect particular external objects, as well as
distinct grades of inward culture ; while it is equally clear,
that 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 in-
ternal relations, may be presented by you in chronological
order, and that the states of life and feeling which afforded

4 AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

the examples that iniuenced you, and the theoretical prin-
ciples by whi.ch you *vere governed, may be imparted in
some kind of connection. Bestow this labor for the gratifi-
cation of a limited circle, and perhaps it may give rise to
something that will be entertaining and useful to an exten-
sive 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 mat-
ter, 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 recall the times and
circumstances under which each had been produced. But the
task soon grew more difficult, as full explanatory notes and
illustrations were necessary to fill up the chasms between those
which had already been given to the world. For, in the first
place, all on which I had originally exercised myself were
wanting, many that had been begun and not finished were
also wanting, and of many that were finished even the external
form had completely disappeared, having since been entirely
reworked and cast into a different shape. Besides, I had also
to call to mind how I had 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.

All this I wished to introduce by degrees for the satisfac-
tion of my well-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

AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 5

steps which, theoretically and practically, I had trod, I was
carried out of my narrow private sphere into the wide world.
The images of a hundred important men, who either directly
or indirectly had influenced me, presented themselves to my
view ; and even the prodigious movements of the great po-
litical 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 externally reflect them. But
for this is required what is scarcely attainable ; namely, that
the individual should know himself and his age, — himself, so
far as he has remained the same under all circumstances ;
his age, as that which carries along with it, determines and
fashions, both the willing and the unwilling : so that one may
venture to pronounce, that any person born ten years earlier
or later would have been quite a different being, both as
regards his own culture and his influence on others.

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

CONTENTS.

PART THE FIRST.

PAGE

First Book 9

Second Book 38

Third Book 68

Fourth Book 94

Fifth Book 135

PART THE SECOND.

Sixth Book 179

Seventh Book 214

Eighth Book 256

Ninth Book 293

TRUTH AND FICTION RELATING TO MY LIFE.

PART THE ITRST.

'O (irj dapelc avdpono? ov iratdeveTcu.

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 or; him with a friendly eye, and Mercury
not adversely ; while Saturn and Mars kept themselves in-
different ; the moon alone, just full, exerted the power of
her reflection all the more, as she had then reached her plan-
etary 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 sub-
sequently to reckon very auspicious for me, may have been
the causes of my preservation ; for, through the unskilful-
ness of the midwife, I came into the world as dead ; and
only after various efforts was I enabled to see the light.
This event, which had put our household into sore straits,
turned to the advantage of my fellow-citizens, inasmuch as
my grandfather, the Schultheiss, 1 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 recall what happened to us in the
earliest period of youth, it often happens that we confound

1 A chief judge or magistrate of the town.

10 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 heen 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 spa-
cious 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 (Gerams). 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 de-
ceased Schultlieiss, living on the other side of the way, won
my love, and occupied and diverted themselves with me in
many ways.

Our family liked to tell of all sorts of waggeries to which
I was enticed by these otherwise grave and solitary men.
Let one of these pranks suffice for all. A crockery-fair had
just been held, from which not only our kitchen had been
supplied for a while with articles for a long time to come,
but a great deal of small gear of the same ware had been
purchased as playthings for us children. One fine after-
noon, 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, pip-
kins, 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, there-
fore, straight to the kitchen, and brought the earthenware,
which produced a still livelier spectacle in breaking ; and

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 11

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 audi-
ence, 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 ill, up to her bedside. I
remember her, as it were, a spirit, — a handsome, thin
woman, always neatly dressed in white. Mild, gentle, and
kind, she has ever remained in my memory.

The street in which our house was situated passed by the
name of the Stag-Ditch ; but, as neither stags nor ditches
were to be seen, we wished to have the 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 inter-
fered 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 immeas-
urable 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

12 TRUTH AND FICTION

favorite, not melancholy, but somewhat sentimental, retreat.
Over these gardens, beyond the city's walls and ramparts,
might be seen a beautiful and fertile plain, the same which
stretches towards Hochst. In the summer season I com-
monly learned my lessons there, and watched the thunder-
storms, but could never look my fill at the setting sun,
which went down directly opposite my windows. And when,
at the same time, I saw the neighbors wanderiug through
their gardens, taking care of their flowers, the children play-
ing, 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 dis-
cipline, that young persons should be early deprived of all
fear for the awful and invisible, and accustomed to the terri-
ble, still prevailed. We children, therefore, were compelled
to sleep alone ; and when we found this impossible, and
softly slipped from our beds, to seek the society of the ser-
vants 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 willing 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 plenti-
ful enjoyment of which she promised us every morning if
we overcame our fears during the night. In this way she
succeeded, and both parties were satisfied.

In the interior of the house my eyes were chiefly attracted
by a series of Roman views, with which my father had orna-
mented an ante-room. They were engravings by some of
the accomplished predecessors of Piranesi, who well under-
stood 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 13

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 per-
taining to Italy, was very decided. A small collection of
marbles and natural curiosities, which he had brought with
him thence, he often showed to us ; and he devoted a great
part of his time to a description of his travels, written in
Italian, the copying and correction of which he slowly and
accurately completed, in several parcels, with his own hand.
A lively old teacher of Italian, called Giovinazzi, was of
service to him in this work. The old man, moreover, did
not sing badly, and my mother every day must needs accom-
pany 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 re-
tirement 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 knowl-
edge and a slight readiness in the Italian tongue.

Generally we passed all our leisure hours with my grand-
mother, in whose spacious apartment we found plenty of room
for our sports. She contrived to engage us with various trifles,
and to regale us with all sorts of nice morsels. But, one
Christmas evening, she crowned all her kind deeds by having
a puppet-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 with-
drew from our sight, and death next tore away from our hearts
forever. Her departure was of still more importance to
our family, as it drew after it a complete change in our con-
dition.

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

14 TRUTH AND FICTION

of building, which were now immediately begun. In Frank-
fort, 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 out-
ward 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 walls which had always been kept so care-
fully clean, all falling before the mason's hatchet and the
carpenter's axe, — and that from the bottom upwards ; to float
as it were in the air, propped up by beams, being, at the same
time, constantly confined to a certain lesson or definite task, —
all this produced a 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 be-
fore, and had man}' 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 defence, 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 chil-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 15

dren, who had all along been kept at home in a secluded,
pure, refined, yet strict manner, were thrown among a
rude mass of young creatures, they were compelled unex-
pectedly 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 strolled over with
more and more freedom, in every direction, sometimes
alone, and sometimes in the company of lively companions.
To convey to others in any degree the impression made upon
me by these grave and revered spots, I must here introduce a
description of my birthplace, as in its different parts it was
gradually 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 collected 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-
called 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 call to mind, also, that I always
flew past the adjoining meat-stalls, narrow and disgusting as

16 TRUTH AND FICTION

they were, in perfect horror. On the other hand, the Roman
Hill (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 en-
closures, and several other precincts, remaining from earlier
times, and more or less like castles, — as the Nuremberg Court,
the Compostella, the Braunfels, the ancestral house of the
family of Stallburg, and several strongholds, in later days
transformed into dwellings and warehouses. No architecture
of an elevating kind was then to be seen in Frankfort ; and
every thing pointed to a period long past and unquiet, both
for town and district. Gates and towers, which defined the
bounds of the old city, — then, farther on again, gates, towers,
walls, bridges, ramparts, moats, with which the new city was
encompassed, — all showed, but too plainly, that a necessity
for guarding the common weal in disastrous times had in-
duced these arrangements, that all the squares and streets,
even the newest, broadest, and best laid out, owed then-
origin to chance and caprice, and not to any regulating mind.
A certain liking for the antique was thus implanted in tha
boy, and was specially nourished and promoted by old chron-
icles and woodcuts, as, for instance, those of Grave relating
to the siege of Frankfort. At the same time a different tasto
was developed in him for observing the conditions of man-
kind 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 follow the circuit of tho
path inside the city-walls. Gardens, courts, and back build-
ings extend to the Zwinger ; and we saw many thousand peo-
ple 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 estab-
lishments, even to the burying-grounds, — for a little world lay
within the limits of the city, — we passed a varied, strange spec-
tacle, 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 17

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 pas-
sage 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-hall, named from the Romans. In its
lower vault-like rooms we liked but too well to lose ourselves.
We obtained an entrance, too, into the large and very simple
session-room of the council. The walls as well as the arched
ceiling were white, though 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 Schoffen; in the corner itself
the Schultheiss, who alone had a small table before him ;
those of the second bench sat in the space to his left as far
as the wall to where the windows were ; while along the win-
dows -ran the third bench, occupied by the craftsmen. In
the midst of the hall stood a table for the registrar (Protocul-
filhrer) ,

Once within the Homer, we even- miugled 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 keep-
ers, so as to be allowed to mount the new gay imperial stair-
case, which was painted in fresco, and on other occasions
closed with a grating. The election-chamber, with its purple
hangings and admirably fringed gold borders, filled us with
awe. The representations of animals, on which little children
or genii, clothed in the imperial ornaments and laden with
the insignia of the empire, made a curious figure, were ob-
served 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

18 TRUTH AND FICTION

great imperial hall, when we had been once fortunate enough
to steal in ; and we reckoned him our truest friend, who,
while we looked at the half-lengths of all the emperors
painted around at a certain height, would tell us something
of their deeds.

We listened to many a legend of Charlemagne. But that
which was historically interesting for us began with Rudolph
of Hapsburg, who by his courage put an end to such violent
commotions. Charles the Fourth also attracted our notice.
We had already heard of the Golden Bull, and of the statutes
for the administration of criminal justice. We knew, too,
that he had not made the Frankforters suffer for their adhe-
sion 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 1.
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, filled 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 bravo
Gunther, so much prized both by friend and foe. The
famous stone which formerly covered it is set up in the choir.
The door close by, leading into the conclave, remained long
shut against us, until we at last managed, through the higher
authorities, to gain access to this celebrated place. But we
should have done better had we continued as before to pic-
ture 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 dis-
figured with beams, poles, scaffolding, and similar lumber,
which people had wanted to put out of the way. The ima-
gination, for that very reason, was the more excited and the
heart elevated, when we soon after received permission to
be present in the city-hall, at the exhibition of the Golden
Bull to some distinguished strangers.

The boy then heard, with much curiosity, what his own
family, as well as other older relations and acquaintances,

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 19

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

Although the coronation of Francis First was not so strik-
ingly 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. All these
descriptions and narratives were given in a serene and quiet
state of mind ; for the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle had, for
the moment, put an end to all feuds : and they spoke at their
ease of past contests, as well as of their former festivities,
— the battle of Dettingen for instance, and other remarka-
ble events of by-gone years ; and all that was important or
dangerous seemed, as generally happens when a peace has
been concluded, to have occurred only to afford entertain-
ment to prosperous and unconcerned people.

Half a year had scarcely passed away in this narrow
patriotism before the fairs began, which always produced an
incredible ferment in the heads of all children. The erec-
tion, in so short a time, of so many booths, creating a new
town within the old one ; the roll and crush, the unloading
and unpacking of wares, — excited from the very first dawn
of consciousness an insatiable active curiosity, and a bound-
less desire for childish property, which the boy with increas-
ing years endeavored to gratify, in one way or another, as
far as his little purse permitted. At the same time, he ob-
tained 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

20 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 FaJirgasse, to the bridge, and
beyond Sachsenhausen ; all the windows were occupied,
though nothing unusual took place on that day ; the crowd
seeming to be there only for the sake of jostling each other,
and the spectators merely to look at one another ; for the
real occasion of their coming did not begin till nightfall, and
was then rather taken upon trust than seen with the eyes.

The affair was thus : in those old, unquiet times, when
every one did wrong according to his pleasure, or helped the
right as his liking led him, traders on their way to the fairs
were so wilfully beset and harassed by waylayers, both of
noble and ignoble birth, 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 dis-
trict : they went out to meet the advancing party ; and thus
contests often arose as to how far the escort should advance,
or whether it had a right to enter the city at all. But as
this took place, not only in regard to matters of trade and
fairs, but also when high personages came, in times of peace
or war, and especially on the da} T s 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 re-
sorted 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 divis-
ions, each having a commander in front, rode forth from
different gates, and found on a certain spot some troopers or
hussars of the persons entitled to an escort, who, with their
leaders, were well received and entertained. They 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 fell, the Nuremberg post-coach

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 21

arrived, escorted in the same way, and always containing, as
the people fancied, in pursuance of custom, an old woman.
Its arrival, therefore, was a signal for all the urchins to break
out into an ear-splitting shout, though it was utterly impos-
sible to distinguish any one of the passengers within. The
throng that pressed after the coach through the bridge-gate
was quite incredible, and perfectly bewildering to the senses.
The houses nearest the bridge were those, therefore, most
in demand among spectators.

Another more singular ceremony, by which the people were
excited in broad daylight, was the Piper's Court (Pfeifer-
gericht) . It commemorated those early times when impor-
tant larger trading-towns endeavored, if not to abolish tolls
altogether, at least to bring about a reduction of them, as
they increased in proportion with trade and industry. They
were allowed this privilege by the emperor, who needed their
aid, when it was in his power to grant it, but commonly only
for one year ; so that it had to be annually renewed. This
was effected by means of symbolical gifts, which were pre-
sented before the opening of St. Bartholomew's Fair to the
imperial magistrate (Schultheiss) , who might have sometimes
been the chief toll-gatherer ; and, for the sake of a more
imposing show, the gifts were offered when he was sitting in
full court with the Schoffen. But when the chief magistrate
afterwards came to be no longer appointed by the emperor,
and was elected by the city itself, he still retained these
privileges ; and thus both the immunities of the cities from
toll, and the ceremonies by which the representatives from
Worms, 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 en-
closed space in the great Imperial Hall, the Schoffen took
their elevated seats ; a step higher, sat the Schultheiss in the
midst of them ; while below, on the right hand, were the pro-
curators 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 pommei', 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,

22 TRUTH AND FICTION

followed by the deputies and their attendants, and stared at
by all, natives and strangers, they enter the hall. The law
proceedings are stayed, the pipers and their train halt before
the railing, the deputy steps in and stations himself in front
of the Schultlieiss. 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 filled with pepper. Upon it lay a pair
of gloves, curiously slashed, stitched, and tasselled 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 white 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 Schultlieiss assurance of con-
tinued favor, he quitted the enclosed circle, the pipers blew,
the train departed as it had come, the court pursued its busi-
ness, until the second and at last the third deputy had been
introduced. For each came some time after the other, partly
that the pleasure of the public might thus be prolonged, and
partly because they were always the same antiquated virtuosi
whom 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 pep-
per into her spice-box, lay hold of a cup or small rod, a pair
of gloves, or an old Racier Albus. 1 These symbolical cere-
monies, restoring antiquity as if by magic, could not be
explained to us without leading us back into past times, and
informing us of the manners, customs, and feelings of those
early ancestors who were so strangely made present to us
by pipers and deputies seemingly risen from the dead, and
by tangible gifts which might be possessed by ourselves.

These venerable solemnities were followed, in the fine sea-

1 An old silver coin

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 23

son, by many festivals, delightful for us children, which took
place in the open air, outside the city. On the right shore
of the Main, goiug 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 sweet-
hearts, 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 still finer lindens. Thither, at
Whitsuntide, the flocks of sheep were driven : and, at the
same time, the poor, pale orphan children were allowed to
come out of their walls into the open air ; for the thought
had not yet occurred that these destitute creatures, who must
some time or other help 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 accus-
tomed 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 recall.

Meanwhile, our house had been finished, and that too in
tolerably short time ; because ever} 7 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 well-considered plan is once carried out, we forget
the various inconveniences of the means that were necessary
to its accomplishment. The building, for a private resi-
dence, 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 collec-
tion of books, the best of which, in calf and half -calf bind-
ing, were to ornament the walls of his office and study. He
possessed the beautiful Dutch editions of the Latin classics,
which, for the sake of outward uniformity, he had endeav-

24 TRUTH AND FICTION

ored to procure all in quarto ; and also many other works
relating to Roman antiquities and the more elegant jurispru-
dence. The most eminent Italian poets were not wanting,
and for Tasso he showed a great predilection. There were
also the best and most recent Travels, and he took great
delight in correcting and completing Keyssler and Nemeiz
from them. Nor had he omitted to surround himself with
all needful 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 con-
sulted at will.

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

Next, the pictures, which in the old house had hung
about promiscuously, were now collected, and symmetrically
hung on the walls of a cheerful room near the study, all in
black frames set off with gilt mouldings. 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 excellent quality
as in years past. After the lapse of some time, the new
wine also becomes old, quite as valuable and perhaps more
delicious. This opinion he chiefly confirmed by the observa-
tion 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-called rural scenes, with cattle ; Trautmann, who had

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 25

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 ; Schiitz, who diligently
elaborated landscapes of the Rhine country, in the manner
of Sachtlebens ; and Junker, who executed with great purity
flower and fruit pieces, still life, and figures quietly employed,
after the models of the Dutch. But now, by the new ar-
rangement, 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 will be more minutely unfolded in the sequel.

In this way the remaining rooms were finished, according
to their several purposes. Cleanliness and order prevailed
throughout. Above all, the large panes of plate-glass con-
tributed 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 with-
out 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 all sides Nature
asserts her boundless capriciousness.

26 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 finally with dreadful particulars.
Hereupon the religious were neither wanting in reflections,
nor the philosophic in grounds for consolation, nor the clergy
in warnings. 80 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 powerfully diffused his ter-
rors 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 fright-
ful 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 followed the hail ; so that, after we were finally
quieted, we found ourselves in the rooms and on the stairs
completely surrounded by Hoods and streams of water.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 27

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 educatiopal institutions. He
had there laid a good foundation in languages, and other
matters reckoned part of a learned education, had subse-
quently applied himself to jurisprudence at Leipzig, and had
at last taken his degree at Giessen. His dissertation,
" Electa de aditione Hereditatis," which had been earnestly
and carefully written, is still 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 abso-
lutely 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 follow 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 differ-
ently, and would not have turned them to such small account.

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

28 TRUTH AND FICTION

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
excelled 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 college. He very soon
declared that I must study jurisprudence in Leipzig, for which
he retained a strong predilection ; and I was afterwards to
visit some other university and take my degree. As for this
second one he was indifferent as to which I might choose,
except that he had for some reason or other a disinclination
to Gottingen, to my disappointment, since it was precisely
there that I had placed such confidence and high hopes.

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

These tales of my future youthful travels, often as they
were repeated, I listened to eagerly, the more so as they
always led to accounts of Italy, and at last to a description of
Naples. His otherwise serious and dr} 7 manner seemed ori
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 gradually multiplied, were
shared with the children of the neighbors. This learning
in common did not advance me : the teachers followed their

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 29

routine ; and the rudeness, sometimes the ill nature, of my
companions, interrupted the brief hours of study with tumult,
vexation, and disturbance. Chrestomathies, by which learn-
ing is made pleasant and varied, had not }-et reached us.
Cornelius Nepos, so dry to young people ; the New Testament,
which was much too easy, and which by preaching and reli-
gious instructions had been rendered even common-place ;
Cellarius and Pasor, — could impart no kind of interest : on
the other hand, a certain rage for rhyme and versification, a
consequence of reading the prevalent German poets, took
complete possession of us. Me it had seized much earlier,
as I had found it agreeable to pass from the rhetorical to
the poetical treatment of subjects.

We boys held a Sunday assembly where each of us was to
produce original verses. And here I was struck by some-
thing 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 thor-
oughly persuaded they were his own, as he always main-
tained in our confidential intercourse. Now, as this illusion
and error was obvious to me, the question one day forced
itself upon me, whether I myself might not be in the same
state, whether those poems were not really better than mine,
and whether I might not justly appear to those boys as mad
as they to me? This disturbed me much and long, for it
was altogether impossible for me to find any external cri-
terion of the truth : I even ceased from producing, until at
length I was quieted by my own light temperament, and the
feeling of my own powers, and lastly by a trial of skill, —
started on the spur of the moment by our teachers and
parents, who had noted our sport, — in which I came off
well, and won general praise.

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

30 TRUTH AND FICTION

ter, 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 carefully, my young brain was rapidly
furnished with a mass of images and events, of significant
and wonderful shapes and occurrences ; and I never felt time
hang upon my hands, as I always occupied myself in work-
ing over, repeating, and reproducing these acquisitions.

A more salutary moral effect than that of these rude and
hazardous antiquities was produced by Fenelon's " Telema-
chus," 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 " Rob-
inson Crusoe " was added in due time, follows in the nature
of things; and it may be imagined that the "Island of
Falsenberg " was not wanting. Lord Anson's "Voyage
round the Globe ' ' combined the dignity of truth with the
rich fancies of fable ; and, while our thoughts accompanied
this excellent seaman, we were conducted over all the world,
and endeavored to follow him with our fingers on the globe.
But a still richer harvest was to spring up before me, when
I lighted on a mass of writings, which, in their present state,
it is true, cannot be called excellent, but the contents of
which, in a harmless way, bring near to us many a merito-
rious action of former times.

The publication, or rather the manufacture, of those books,
which have at a later day become so well known and cele-
brated under the name Volkschriften, Volksbucher (popular
works or books) , was carried on in Frankfort. The enor-
mous sales they met with led to their being almost illegibly
printed from stereotypes on horrible blotting-paper. We
children were so fortunate as to find these precious remains
of the Middle Ages every day on a little table at the door of
a dealer in cheap books, and to obtain them at the cost of a
couple of Kreutzer. " The Eulenspiegel," " The Four Sons
of Haimon," "The Emperor Octavian," "The Fair Melu-
sina," "The Beautiful Magelone," " Fortunatus," with the
whole race down to " The Wandering Jew," were all at our
service, as often as we preferred the relish of these works
to the taste of sweet things. The greatest benefit of this
was, that, when we had read through or damaged such a
sheet, it could soon be reprocured, and swallowed a second
time.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 31

As a family picnic in summer is vexation sly disturbed by
a sudden storm, which transforms a pleasant state of things
into the very reverse : so the diseases of childhood fall unex-
pectedly on the most beautiful season of early life. And thus
it happened with me. I had just purchased " Fortunatus
with his Purse and Wishing-hat," when I was attacked by
a 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 forestall
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 preju-
dices. Still, the majority were exposed to the old disease :
the infection raged through families, killed and disfigured
many children ; and few parents dared to avail themselves
of a method, the probable efficacy of which had been abun-
dantly 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 rub-
bing and scratching. I controlled myself, while, according
to the prevailing prejudice, they kept me as warm as possible,
and thus only rendered my suffering more acute. At last,
after a woful time, there fell, as it were, a mask from my
face. The blotches had left no visible mark upon the skin,
but the features were plainly altered. I myself was satisfied
merely with seeing the light of day again, and gradually
putting off my spotted skin ; but others were pitiless enough
to remind me often of my previous condition, especially a
very lively aunt, who had formerly regarded me with idolatry,
but in after-years could seldom look at me without exclaim-
ing " The deuce, cousin, what a fright he's grown ! " Then
she would tell me circumstantially how I had once been her
delight, and what attention she had excited when she carried
me about ; and thus I early learned that people very often
subject us to a severe atonement for the pleasure which we
have afforded them.

I 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

Goethe— 3 Vol 1

32 TRUTH AND FICTION

malady was now past forever. But alas ! another again
threatened in the background, and advanced. All these
things increased rny 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 worth} 7 of imitation, and
the more so, as something similar was commended by the
Christian doctrine of patience.

While on the subject of these family diseases, I will men-
tion a brother about three years younger than myself, who
was likewise attacked by that infection, and suffered not a
little from it. He was of a tender nature, quiet and capri-
cious ; and we were never on the most friendly terms. Be-
sides, 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 there-
fore the more deeply and affectionately attached to each
other.

These maladies, and other unpleasant interruptions, were
in their oonsequences doubly grievous ; for my father, who
seemed to have laid down for himself a certain calendar of
education and instruction, was resolved immediatel} 7 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 com-
monly fled to my grandfather and graudmothcr. 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 all united
into one dwelling. We usually hastened at once into the
garden, which extended to a considerable length and breadth
behind the buildings, and was very well kept. The walks
were mostly skirted by vine-trellises : one part of the space
was used for vegetables, and another devoted to flowers,
which from spring till autumn adorned in rich succession the
borders as well as the beds. The long wall, erected towards

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 33

the south, was used for some well-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 carefully tied to the espaliers with
his own hands, in a fan-shape, in order to bring about a full
and easy growth of the fruit. The sorting of the bulbs of
tulips, hyacinths, and plants of a similar nature, as well as
the care of their preservation, he intrusted to none ; and I
still with pleasure recall to my mind how diligently he occu-
pied himself in inoculating the different varieties of roses.
That he might protect himself from the thorns, he put on a
pair of those ancient leather gloves, of which three pair were
given him annually at the Piper's Court; so that there was
no dearth of the article. He wore also a loose dressing-
gown, and a folded black velvet cap upon his head ; so that
he might have passed for an intermediate person between
Alcinous and Laertes.

All this work in the garden he pursued as regularly and
with as much precision as his official business ; for, before
he came down, he always arranged the list of 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 vehe-
mence ; 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 call to mind no situation more
adapted than his to awaken the feeling of uninterrupted
peace and eternal duration.

TRUTH AND FICTION

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, especially in matters that
pertained to himself and his destiny. It is true he revealed
himself to no one distinctly and minutely, except to my
grandmother ; yet we were all aware that he was informed
of what was going to happen by significant dreams. He
assured his wife, for instance, at a time when he was still a
junior councillor, that, on the first vacancy, he would obtain
the place left open on the bench of the Schoffen; and soon
afterwards, when one of those officers actually died of apo-
plexy, my grandfather gave orders that his house should be
quietly got ready prepared on the day of electing and bal-
loting, to receive his guests and congratulators. Sure
enough, the decisive gold ball was drawn in his favor. The
simple dream by which he had learned this, he confided to
his wife as follows : He had seen himself in the ordinary
full assembly of councilmen, where all went on just as usual.
Suddenly the late Sclwff 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 will, at some time, resume his
ancient right of nominating the officer. On this occasion,
the messenger of the court came at midnight to summon an
extraordinary session for the next morning ; and, as the
light in his lantern was about to expire, he asked for a
candle's end to help him on his way. " Give him a whole
one," said my grandfather to the ladies: "he takes the
trouble all 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 bal-
lot, the two silver balls first came out, leaving the golden
ball at the bottom of the bag for him.

Perfectly prosaic, simple, and without a trace of the fan-
tastic or miraculous, were the other dreams, of which we
were informed. Moreover, I remember that once, as a boy,
I was turning over his books and memoranda, and found,
among some other remarks which related to gardening, such
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," — all the rest being again in cipher,

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 35

except the conjunctions and similar words, from which noth-
ing 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 our-
selves ; 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
all 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 all her well-earned
booty vanished at a blow. There was another incident of
which she was very proud. Once, while standing on a post
as the Emperor Charles VII. was passing, at a moment when
all the people were silent, she shouted a vigorous " Vivat ! "
into the coach, which made him take off his hat to her, and
thank her quite graciously for her bold salutation.

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

36 TRUTH AND FICTION

her character, was a second aunt, married to the Pastor Stark,
incumbent of St. Catharine's Church. He lived much alone,
in accordance with his temperament and vocation, and pos-
sessed a fine library. Here I first became acquainted with
Homer, in a prose translation, which may be found in the
seventh part of Herr Von Loen's new collection of the most
remarkable travels, under the title, " 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 afford-
ing us no account of the capture of Troy, and breaking off
so abruptly with the death of Hector. My uncle, to whom I
mentioned this defect, referred me to Virgil, who perfectly
satisfied my demands.

It will be taken for granted, that we children had among
our other lessons a continued and progressive instruction in
religion. But the Church-Protestantism imparted to us was,
properly speaking, nothing but a kind of dry morality : ingen-
ious exposition was not thought of, and the doctrine appealed
neither to the understanding nor to the heart. For that rea-
son, there were various secessions from the Established
Church. Separatists, Pietists, Herrnhuter (Moravians),
Quiet-in-the-Land, and others differently named and charac-
terized, 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 well as the laity divided them-
selves into pro and con. The minority were composed of
those who dissented more or less broadly ; but their modes
of thinking attracted by originality, heartiness, perseverance,
and independence. All sorts of stories were told of their
virtues, and of the way in which they were manifested. The
reply of a pious master-tinman was especially noted, who,
when one of his craft attempted to shame him by asking,
" Who is really your confessor? " answered with great cheer-
fulness, and confidence in the goodness of his cause, " I
have a famous one, — no less than the confessor of King
David."

Things of this sort naturally made an impression on the

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 37

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 produc-
tions were set forth as images of the world, over which a
flame was to burn, signifying the aspirations of man's heart
towards his Maker. He brought out of the collection of
natural objects which he possessed, and which had been in-
creased as chance directed, the best ores and other specimens.
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 all looked quite pretty and at the same time sufficiently sig-
nificant. On an early sunrise his first worship of God was
to be celebrated, but the young priest had not yet settled
how to produce a flame which should at the same time emit
an agreeable 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 repre-
sentation of what passes in the heart, than an open flame.
The sun had already risen for a long time, but the neighbor-
ing houses concealed the east. At last it glittered above the
roofs : a burning-glass was at once taken up and applied to
the pastils, which were fixed on the summit in a fine porcelain
saucer. Every thing succeeded according to the wish, and
the devotion was perfect. The altar remained as a peculiar

38 TRUTH AND FICTION

ornament of the room which had been assigned him in the new
house. Every one regarded it only as a well-arranged collec-
tion of natural curiosities. The boy knew better, but con-
cealed his knowledge. He longed for a repetition of the
solemnity. But unfortunately, just as the most opportune sun
arose, the porcelain cup was not at hand : he placed the pas-
tils 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 then- 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.

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

Thus the Frankforters passed a series of prosperous years
during my childhood ; but scarcely, on the 28th of August,
175G, had I completed my seventh year, than that world-
renowned war broke out which was also to exert great
influence upon the next seven years of my life. Frederick
the Second, King of Prussia, had fallen upon Saxony with
sixty thousand men ; and, instead of announcing his invasion

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 39

by a declaration of war, he followed it up with a manifesto,
composed by himself as it was said, which explained the
causes that had moved and justified him in so monstrous a
step. The world, which saw itself appealed to, not merely as
spectator, but as judge, immediately split into two parties ;
and our family was an image of the great whole.

My grandfather, who, as Schoff of Frankfort, had carried
the coronation canopy over Francis the First, and had received
from the empress a heavy gold chain with her likeness, took
the Austrian side along with some of his sons-in-law and
daughters. My father having been nominated to the imperial
council by Charles the Seventh, and sympathizing sincerely
in the fate of that unhappy monarch, leaned towards Prussia,
with the other and smaller half of the family. Our meetings,
which had been held on Sundays for many years uninterrupt-
edly, 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, dis-
cord, silence; and separation ensued. My grandfather, gener-
ally a cheerful, quiet man, and fond of ease, became impa-
tient. 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 modera-
tion of the king at the outset, his slow but secure advances,
the victory at Lowositz, the capture of the Saxons, were so
many triumphs for our party. 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 all hearts. I rejoiced with my father in our conquests,
readily copied the songs of triumph, and almost more will-
ingly 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

40 TRUTH AND FICTION

delightful of the whole week. But now I relished not a
morsel, because I was compelled to hear the most horrible
slanders of my hero. Here blew another wind, here sounded
another tone, than at home. My liking and even my respect
for nry 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 tome 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 de-
famed and attacked ; the noblest deeds, if not denied, were
at least misrepresented and diminished ; and this base injus-
tice 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 dis-
tinguished 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, there-
fore, 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 Dauu 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 pub-
lic, which clung to me for a whole period of my life, and only
in later days was brought within bounds by insight and culti-
vation. Suffice it to say, that the perception of the injustice
of parties had even then a very unpleasant, nay, an injurious,
effect upon the boy ; as it accustomed him to separate himself
from beloved and highly valued persons. The quick suc-
cession of battles and events left the parties neither quiet nor
rest. We ever found a malicious delight in reviving and

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 41

resharpening those imaginary evils and capricious disputes ;
and thus we continued to tease each other, until the occupa-
tion of Frankfort by the French some years afterwards
brought real inconvenience into our homes.

Although to most of us the important events occurring
in distant parts served only for topics of 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 well as the theatre
itself as far as the proscenium, found a place in the room
adjoining. We were allowed, 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 compelled to seek a younger public, which
could at any rate be kept in order by the nurses and maids.
The original drama, to which the puppets had been specially
adapted, we had learned by heart ; and in the beginning this
was exclusively performed. Soon growing weary of it, how-
ever, we changed the dresses and decorations, and attempted
various other pieces, which were indeed on too grand a scale
for so narrow a stage. Although this presumption spoiled and
finally quite destroyed what we performed, such childish pleas-
ures 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

42 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 requi-
site, 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 generally took part with me, while others
sided against me ; though many changes of party occurred.
One single boy, whom I will call Pylades, urged by the others,
once only left my party, but could scarcely for a moment
maintain his hostile position. We were reconciled amid many
tears, and for a long time afterwards kept faithfully together.

To him, as well as other well-wishers, I could render myself
very agreeable by telling tales, which they most delighted to
hear when I was the hero of my own story. It greatly re-
joiced them to know that such wonderful things could befall
one of their own playfellows ; nor was it any harm that they
did not understand how I could find time and space for such
adventures, as they must have been pretty well aware of all my
comings and goings, and how I was occupied the entire day.
Not the less necessary was it for me to select the localities
of these occurrences, if not in another world, at least in
another spot ; and yet all was told as having taken place only
to-day or yesterday. They therefore had to form for them-
selves greater illusions 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 recog-
nize as real whatever may in any way seem to him, the
inventor, as true.

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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 43

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 falling off as
soon as I was about to put on the next. In this dilemma, a
young and handsome man came to me, and greeted me in the
friendliest manner. "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 accord-
ing to his lot, will find wives to the utmost of their wishes.
Take them, and success to you ! " said he, as he departed,
leaving the apples in my open hands. They appeared to me
to have become still larger. I held them up at once against
the light, and found them quite transparent ; but soon they
expanded 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 all amazed and

44 TRUTH AND FICTION

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

During the service I often called those images to mind,
and also when I was eating dinner at nry grandfather's table.
In the afternoon I wished to visit some friends, partly to
show nryself in my ikmv dress, with my hat under my arm
and my sword by my side, and parti} 7 to return their visits.
I found no one at home ; and, as I heard that they were
gone to the gardens, I resolved to follow them, and pass the
evening pleasantly. My way led towards the intrenchments ;
and I came to the spot which is rightly called the Bad Wall,
for it is never quite safe from ghosts there. I walked slowly,
and thought of my three goddesses, but 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 allowed the tallest man to enter. Arch and wall
had been chiselled 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.
Hut, 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 orna-
ments, 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 under-
stand that he was a good Catholic Christian. "Young

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 45

gentleman, how came you here, and what are you doing?"
he said to me, with a friendly voice and manner. "lam
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 still
longer ; and at the same time I cast stolen glances into the
garden, for a garden it was which had opened before me.
Just inside the door I saw a space. Old linden-trees, stand-
ing 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 gradually to
allure me on. Properly speaking, I did not resist ; for I
had always heard that a prince or sultan in such a case
must never ask whether there be danger at hand. I had my
sword by my side too ; and could I not soon have finished
with the old man, in case of hostile demonstrations? I there-
fore entered perfectly 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 wall, that formed a circle, where I found much
to admire. Niches tastefully adorned with shells, corals, and
pieces of ore, poured a profusion of water from the mouths of
tritons into marble basins. Between them were aviaries and
other lattice- work, in which squirrels frisked about, guinea-
pigs ran hither and thither, with as many other pretty little
creatures as one could wish to see. The birds called aud sang
to us as we advanced : the starlings, particularly, chattered
the silliest stuff. One always cried, "Paris, Paris!'* and
the other, " Narcissus, Narcissus ! " as plainly as a schoolboy
can say them. The old man seemed to continue looking at
me earnestly while the birds called out thus ; but I feigned
not to notice it, and had in truth no time to attend to him,
for I could easily perceive that we went round and round,

46 TRUTH AND FICTION

and that this shaded space was in fact a great circle, whiclt
enclosed another much more important. Indeed, we had ac-
tually reached the small door again, and it seemed as though
the old man would let me out. But my eyes remained directed
towards a golden railing, which seemed to hedge round the
middle of this wonderful garden, and which I had found
means enough of observing in our walk ; although the old
man managed to keep me always close to the wall, and there-
fore 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 willingly," replied he, "but in that case you must
submit to some conditions." — "In what do they consist? "
I asked hastily. " You must leave here your hat and sword,
and must not let go my hand while I accompany you." —
" Most willingly," I replied ; and laid my hat and sword on
the nearest stone bench. Immediately he grasped my left
hand with his right, held it fast, and led me with some force
straight forwards. When we reached the railing, my wonder
changed into amazement. On a high socle of marble stood
innumerable spears and partisans, ranged beneath each other,
joined by their strangely ornamented points, and forming a
complete circle. I looked through the intervals, and saw
just behind a gently flowing piece of water, bounded on both
sides by marble, and displaying in its clear depths a multi-
tude 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 rail-
ing, 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 curios-
ity, meanwhile, after all I had seen, increased more and more ;
and I took heart to ask the old man whether one could not
pass over. " Why not? " returned he, " but on new condi-
tions." When I asked him what these were, he gave me to
understand that I must put on other clothes. I was satisfied
to do so : he led me back towards the wall into a small, neat

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 47

room, on the sides of which hung many kinds of garments, all
of which seemed to approach the Oriental costume. I soon
changed my dress. He confined my powdered hair under a
many-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 there-
fore turned round rather hastily, and asked the old man about
the niche as well as the cords. He very courteously took a
cord down, and showed it to me. It was a band of green
silk of moderate thickness, the ends of which, joined by green
leather with two holes in it, gave it the appearance of an
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 follow him ; for this time he did not hold me, and so
I walked freely beside him.

My chief curiosity now was, to discover where the gate and
bridge, for passing through the railing and over the canal,
might be ; since as yet I had not been able to find 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 all 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, falling 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 ; all 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
grouud, allowed the plan to be easily traced. This delicious
sight, which I enjoyed in the full sunshine, quite riveted my

48 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 still
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 mid-
dle hall, 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 yellow,
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 yellow dress, and had the guitar in her hand ; and if the
harp-player was dignified in form, grand in features, and

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 49

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 makeup my mind about
her ; for she appeared to me now r tender, now whimsical, now
frank, now self-willed, 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 well remembered the blow she had given me in my
dream. Hitherto she had remained quite quiet with her man-
dolin ; but, when her mistresses had ceased, they comiuaiKUd
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 pla} 7 ed 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 till 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 pas-
sage 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. Confectioneiy there was in
profusion : she filled, too, a goblet of polished crystal with
foaming wine ; but I had no need to drink, as I had refreshed
myself with the fruits. " Now we will pla}'," said she, and
led me into the other room. Here all looked like a Christmas
fair, but such costly and exquisite things were never seen in
a Christmas booth. There were all kinds of dolls, dolls'
clothes, and dolls' furniture ; kitchens, parlors, and shops,
and single toys innumerable. She led me round to all the
glass cases in which these ingenious works were preserved.

50 TRUTH AND FICTION

But she soon closed again the first cases, and said, " That
is nothing for you, I know well enough. Here," she said,
" we could find building-materials, walls and towers, houses,
palaces, churches, to put together a great city. But this
does not entertain me. We will take something else, which
will be 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 will 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 ths 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-compla-
cency, when she announced the onset. We had found ord-
nance in our chests ; viz., little boxes full of well-polished
agate balls. With these we were to fight against each other
from a certain distance ; while, however, it was an express
condition that we should not throw with more force than
was necessary to upset the figures, as none of them were to
be injured. Now the cannonade began on both sides, and
at first it succeeded to the satisfaction of us both. But
when my adversary observed that I aimed better than she,
and might in the end win the victory, which depended on
the majority of pieces remaining upright, she came nearer,
and her girlish way of throwing had then the desired result.
She prostrated a multitude of my best troops, and the more
I protested the more eagerly did she throw. This at last
vexed me, and I declared that I would do the same. In
fact, I not only went nearer, but in my rage threw with
much more violence ; so that it was not long before a pair of
her little centauresses flew in pieces. In her eagerness she

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 51

did not instantly notice it, but I stood petrified when the
broken figures joined together again of themselves : Ama-
zon and horse became again one, and also perfectly close,
set up a gallop 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, gallop-
ing very merrily about under the lime-trees, and disappear-
ing against the wall. My opponent scolded and abused me ;
but, being now in full play, I stooped to pick up some agate
balls which rolled about upon the golden lances. It was my
fierce desire to destroy her whole army. She, on the other
hand, not idle, sprang at me, and gave me a box on the ear,
which made my head ring. 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

52 TRUTH AND FICTION

and flight now pleased me doubly, a malicious pleasure com-
bining with the prettiest sight in the world; and I was on
the point of sending all the other (ireek.s after him, when
suddenly hissing waters spurted at me on all sides, from
stones and wall, 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
snch 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 1 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 ap->
peared 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 ill 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 shall find worthy
husbands and pass a happy life, or be left to pine and wither
in their magic cell." The old man stepped some paces
back. " Who has revealed that to you? " he inquired, with
astonishment and concern. " Three apples," I said, " three
jewels." — "And what reward do you require?" he ex-
claimed. " Before all things, the little creature," I replied,
" who has brought me into this accursed state." The old
man cast himself down before me, without shrinking from
the wet and miry soil : then he rose without being wetted,
took me kindly by the hand, led me into the hall, clad me
again quickly ; and I was soon once more decked out and
frizzled in my Sunday fashion as before. The porter did
not speak another word ; but, before he let me pass the en-
trance, he stopped me, and showed me some objects on the

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 53

wall over the way, while, at the same time, he pointed back-
wards 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 1
could perfectly recognize, though I could not read the in-
scription. 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 dis-
appeared in the earth. Fountain, inscription, nut-trees, all
stood perpendicularly, one above another : I would paint it
as I saw it.

Now, it may well be conceived how I passed this evening,
and many following days, and how often I repeated to my-
self this story, which even I could hardly believe. As soon
as it was in any degree possible, I went again to the Bad
Wall, at least to refresh my remembrance of these signs,
and to look at the precious door. But, to my great amaze-
ment, I found all changed. Nut-trees, indeed, overtopped
the wall ; but they did not stand immediately in contact. A
tablet also was inserted in the wall, but far to the right of
the trees, without ornament, and with a legible inscription.
A niche with a fountain was found far to the left, but with
no resemblance whatever to that which I had seen ; so that
I almost believed that the second adventure was, like the
first, a dream, for of the door there is not the slightest
trace. The only thing that consoles me is the observation,
that these three objects seem always to change their places.
For, in repeated visits to the spot, I think I have noticed
that the nut-trees have moved somewhat nearer together,
and that the tablet and the fountain seem likewise to ap-
proach each other. Probably, when all is brought together
again, the door, too, will once more be visible ; and I will
do my best to take up the thread of the adventure. Whether
I shall be able to tell you what further happens, or whether I
shall be expressly forbidden to do so, I cannot say.

This tale, of the truth of which my playfellows vehe-
mently strove to convince themselves, received great ap-
plause. Each of them visited alone the place described,
without confiding it to me or the others, and discovered the

54 TRUTH AND FICTION

nut-trees, the tablet, and the spring, though always at a dis-
tance from each other ; as they at last confessed to me after-
wards, 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 main-
tained 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 contra-
dictory views men can hold and maintain in regard to mat-
ters 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 exte-
rior ; and I was frequently called to account, often in a
friendly way, and often in raillery, for a certain dignity
which I had assumed. For, although good and chosen
friends were 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 harden-
ing ourselves, in order either to bear or to counteract inev-
itable evils.

Among the stoical exercises which I cultivated, as ear-
nestly as it was possible for a lad, was even the endurance
of bodily pain. Our teachers often treated us very unkindly
and unskilfully, 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 55

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, finally, when they suppress
the pain inflicted for the sake of teasing, and even treat with
indifference the nips and ticklings with which young persons
are so active 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 in-
struction. As long as we children were all together, we
entertained ourselves quite agreeably ; but when my adher-
ents, 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 cruellest 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 j^ounger and weaker one, who
attacked me from behind, I drew by the head under my
arm, and almost throttled him with the pressure. The last,
and not the weakest, still remained ; and my left hand only
was left for my defence. But I seized him by the clothes ;
and, with a dexterous twist on my part and an over-precipi-
tate 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 sur-

56 TRUTH AND FICTION

rounded 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 1 declared, that
in future, on the slightest offence, I would scratch out the
e} 7 es, tear off the ears, of any one of them, if not throttle
him.

Though, as usually 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.

Still, I will not leave this topic without telling some more
stories of the many vexations caused me by my playfellows ;
for this is the instructive part of such moral communica-
tions, that a man may learn how it has gone with others,
and what he also has to expect from life ; and that, what-
ever comes to pass, he may consider that it happens to him
as a man, and not as one specially 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 de-
port 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 restrain-
ing themselves for a while, break out, according to their
characters, into cunning or violence.

Force may be warded off by force ; but a well-disposed
child, inclined to love and sympathy, has little to oppose to
scorn and ill-will. Though I managed pretty well to keep
off the 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 57

of this sort consequently, when they went so far as to excite
anger, were repelled with physical force, or at least excited
strange reflections in me which could not be without results.
Among other advantages which my ill-wishers 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. 1 replied, that I was in no
wise ashamed of that, as it was the glory and honor of our
native city that all its citizens might consider each other
equal, and every one derive profit and honor from his exer-
tions 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 exist-
ence to which I was indebted for my own. Another ill-
wisher, who was the most malicious of all, took the first
aside, and whispered something in his ear ; while they still
looked at me scornfully. My gall already began to rise,
and I challenged them to speak out. u 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 vehe-
mently 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 willing to take outwardly the
paternal office. They had the impudence to produce all
sorts of arguments : as, for example, that our property
came exclusively from our 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.
1 listened to them more composedly than they expected, for

58 TRUTH AND FICTION

they stood ready to fly the very moment that I should make
a gesture as if I would seize their hair. But I replied quite
calmly, and in substance, "that even this was no great
injury to me. Life was such a boon, that one might be
quite indifferent as to whom one had to thank for it ; since
at least it must be derived from God, before whom we all
were equals." As they could make nothing of it, they let
the matter drop for this time : we went on playing together
as before, which among children is an approved mode of
reconciliation.

Still, these spiteful words inoculated me with a sort of
moral disease, which crept on in secret. It would not have
displeased me at all to have been the grandson of any per-
son of consideration, even if it had not been in the most
lawful way. My acuteness followed up the scent, my ima-
gination 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 con-
fusion of house-building, had disappeared, with many other
small pieces of furniture. These and many other things I
put together in my childish head, and exercised that mod-
ern poetical talent which contrives to obtain the sympathies
of the whole cultivated world by a marvellous 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 pos-
sible, somewhat nearer to the matter. I had heard it ex-
plicitly maintained, that sons often bore a decided resemblance
to their fathers or grandfathers. Many of our friends, es-
pecially 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
limes honored their faithful agents with their portraits.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 59

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 compelled to regard the reproach as
a completely empty tale, the impression remained ; and I
could not from time to time refrain from privately calling up
and testing all the 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 se-
cret 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 admi-
ration ; for they generally promise more than they perform :
and it seems that Nature, among the other roguish tricks
that she plays us, here also especially designs to make sport
of us. The first organs she bestows upon children coming
into the world, are adapted to the nearest immediate condi-
tion 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 intelligent and
rational, and at the same time so easy, cheerful, and clever,
that one can hardly wish it further cultivation. If children
grew up according to early indications, we should have
nothing but geniuses ; but growth is not merely development *.
the various organic systems which constitute one man spring
one from another, follow each other, change into each other,
supplant each other, and even consume each other ; so that
after a time scarcely a trace is to be found of many aptitudes
and manifestations of ability. Even when the talents of the
man have on the whole a decided direction, it will be hard
for the greatest and most experienced connoisseur to declare
them beforehand with confidence ; although afterwards it is
easy to remark what has pointed to a future.

By no means, therefore, is it my design wholly to com-

60 TRUTH AND FICTION

prise 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, how-
ever, I must remark what an increasing influence the inci-
dents of the war gradually exercised upon our sentiments and
mode of life.

The peaceful citizen stands in a wonderful relation to the
great events of the world. They already excite and disquiet
him from a distance ; and, even if they do not touch him,
he can scarcely refrain from an opinion and a sympathy.
Soon he takes a side, as his character or external circum-
stances may determine. But when such grand fatalities, such
important changes, draw nearer to him, then with many out-
ward inconveniences remains that inward diseomfort, which
doubles and sharpens the evil, and destroys the good which
is still possible. Then he has really to suffer from friends
and foes, often more from the former than from the latter ;
and he knows not how to secure and preserve either his inter-
ests or his inclinations.

The year 1757, which still passed in perfectly civic tran-
quillity, kept us, nevertheless, in great uneasiness of mind.
Perhaps no other was more fruitful of events than this.
Conquests, achievements, misfortunes, restorations, followed
one upon another, swallowed up and seemed to destroy each
other ; yet the image of Frederick, his name and glory,
soon hovered again above all. The enthusiasm of his wor-
shippers 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 indi-
vidual 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 him-
self for the service of the cHy, In: would undertake one of
the subordinate oilices, and discharge its duties without

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 61

emolument, if it were conferred upon him without ballot-
ing. 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 dis-
tinction, which, indeed, was not conformable to law or
precedent. Consequently, when his suit was rejected, he
fell into ill humor and disgust, vowed that he would never
accept of any place, and, in order to render it impossible,
procured the title of Imperial Councillor, which the Schul-
theiss and elder Schoffen 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 them-
selves into a society. They are as much isolated in respect
to each other as they are in regard to the whole, and the
more so as in this seclusion the character becomes more
and mo're uncouth. My father, in his travels and in the
world which he had seen, might have formed some concep-
tion of a more elegant and liberal mode of life than was,
perhaps, common among his fellow-citizens. In this re-
spect, however, he was not entirely without predecessors and
associates.

The name of Uffenbach is well known. At that time,
there was a Schoff von Uffenbach, who was generally re-
spected. He had been in Italy ; had applied himself par-
ticularly to music ; sang an agreeable tenor ; and, having
brought home a fine collection of pieces, concerts and ora-
torios 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 in-
vited guests, as well as the other people of the country,
allowed themselves many a jocose remark on the matter.

I remember, too, a Baron von Hakel, a rich nobleman, who,
being married, but childless, occupied a charming house in
the Antonius Street, fitted up with all the appurtenances of
a dignified position in life. He also possessed good pic-
tures, engravings, antiques, and much else which generally
accumulates with collectors and lovers of art. From time
to time he asked the more noted personages to dinner, and
was beneficent in a careful way of his own ; since he clothed
the poor in his own house, but kept back their old rags, and
gave them a weekly charity, on condition that they should

62 TRUTH AND FICTION

present themselves every time clean and neat in the clothes
bestowed on them. I can recall him but indistinctly, as a
genial, well-made man ; but more clearly his auction, which
I attended from beginning to end, and, partly by command
of my father, partly from my own impulse, purchased many
things that are still to bo found in my collections.

At an earlier date than this, — so early that I scarcely
set eyes upon him, — John Michael von Loen gained con-
siderable repute in the literary world as well as at Frank-
fort. 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 well 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,
especially between Lutherans and Calvinists. But here he
got in a controversy with the theologians : one Dr. Benner
of Giessen, in particular, wrote against him. Von Loen
rejoined ; the contest grew violent and personal, and the
unpleasantness which arose from it caused him to accept
the office of president at Lingen, which Frederick II. offered
him ; supposing that he was an enlightened, unprejudiced
man, and not averse to the new views that more exten-
sively obtained in France. His former countrymen, whom
he had left in some displeasure, averred that he was not con-
tented 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 as-
serted that the good uncle would have done better not to
connect himself with the king, as it was generally hazardous
to get too near him, extraordinary sovereign as he un-
doubtedly was ; for it had been seen how disgracefully 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 63

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-called ' ' Reformation of Frankfort, ' ' a work in
which the statutes of the state are collected. The histori-
cal 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 follower. 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 pa-
trician found imitators in all classes ; and, though such cere-
monies were derisively called ox-burials, 1 they came into
fashion, to the advantage of many of the more poorly pro-
vided families ; while funeral parades were less and less in
vogue. I bring forward this circumstance, because it pre-
sents 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 down-
ward, and broke out in such unlooked-for effects.

Nor was there any lack of antiquarian amateurs. There
were cabinets of pictures, collections of engravings ; while
the curiosities of our own country especially were zealously
sought and hoarded. The older decrees and mandates of
the imperial city, of which no collection had been prepared,
were carefully searched for in print and manuscript, ar-
ranged in the order of time, and preserved with reverence,

1 A pun upon the Jiumo of Ochsenstein. — Trans.
Goethe— 4 Vol 1

64 TRUTH AND FICTION

as a treasure of native laws and eustoms. 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 collection of maps by Schenck and
other geographers at that time eminent, the aforesaid de-
crees 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 com-
mission for the increase of his possessions.

I must still speak of one important family, of which I had
heard strange things since my earliest years, and of some
of whose members I myself lived to see a great deal that
was wonderful, — I mean the Senkenbergs. The father,
of whom I have little to say, was an opulent man. He had
three sons, who, even in their youth, uniformly distinguished
themselves as oddities. Such things are not well received
in a limited city, where no one is suffered to render himself
conspicuous, either for good or evil. Nicknames and odd'
stories, long kept in memory, are generally the fruit of such
singularity. The father lived at the corner of Hare Street
(Hasengasse) , which took its name from a sign on the
house, that represented one hare at least, if not three hares.
They consequently called these three brothers only the three
Hares, which 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 Councillor) von Senkenberg, after-
wards so celebrated. The second was admitted into the
magistracy, and displayed eminent abilities, which, however,
he subsequently abused in a pettifogging and even infamous
way, if not to the injury of his native city, certainly to that
of his colleagues. The third brother, a physician and man of
great integrity, but who practised little, and that only in
high families, preserved even in his old age a somewhat
whimsical exterior. He was always very neatly dressed,
and was never seen in the street otherwise than in shoes

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 65

and stockings, with a well-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 some-
times on the other side of the way, and formed a complete
zigzag as he went. The wags said that he made this irregu-
lar 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 all these jests and
many merry sayings were transformed at last into respect
for him, when he devoted his handsome dwelling-house in
Eschenheimer Street, with court, garden, and all other ap-
purtenances, to a medical establishment, where, in addition
to a hospital designed exclusively for the citizens of Frank-
fort, 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 neighbor-
hood and whose writings, rather than his presence, had a
very important influence upon me, was Charles Frederick
von Moser, who was perpetually referred to in our dis-
trict for his activity in business. He also had a character
essentially moral, which, as the vices of human nature fre-
quently 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 uncondi-
tional 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 ex-
plosions ; 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 ap-
pointed ; others found themselves sooner or later on the
same road : while the officers either reaped an unconscion-
able 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 sur-
render as little as possible of his moral dignity. His

66 TRUTH AND FICTION

"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 all indicate impatience in a condition, to the beariugs
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 want-
ing. I remember him as a pleasing, active, and, at the same
time, gentle man.

The name of Klopstock had already produced a great
effect upon us, even at a distance. In the outset, people
wondered how so excellent a man could be so strangely
named ; but they soon got accustomed to this, and thought
no more of the meaning of the syllables. In my father's
library I had hitherto found only the earlier poets, especially
those who in his day had gradually appeared and acquired
fame. All these had written in rhyme, and my father held
rhyme as indispensable in poetical works. Canitz, Hage-
dorn, Drollinger, Gellert Creuz, Haller, stood in a row, in
handsome calf bindings : to these were added Neukirch's
" Telemachus," Koppen's "Jerusalem Delivered," and
other translations. I had from my childhood diligently pe-
rused 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. 1 He had taken good care not to bu} T
this book ; but the friend of the family, Councillor Schnei-
der, 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 Mes-
siah," as soon as it appeared, made a powerful impression.
Those pious feelings, so naturally expressed, and yet so
beautifully 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

1 The Messiah is written in hexameter verse. — Trans.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 67

old friend ; but he was much shocked when forced to per-
ceive 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 prose-
lytes ; 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 edifi-
cation 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 well as the most violent parts on
our memory as quickly as possible.

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

One Saturday evening in winter, — my father always had
himself shaved over night, that on Sunday morning he might
dress 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 de-

mandest,
Thee, thou reprobate monster, yes, thee, of all 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."

68 TRUTH AND FICTION '

Thus far all went on tolerably ; but loudly, with a dread-
ful voice, she cried the following 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 our-
selves of all 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 particu-
larly desired by us children. At early dawn the grand-
children 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 congratu-
lators ; 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 gen-
tlemen 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 69

some institutions some article of silver, which was then be-
stowed upon the grandchildren and godchildren in regular
gradation. In line, this small festival was not wanting in
any of those things which usually glorify the greatest.

The New-Year's Day of 1759 approached, as desirable
and pleasant to us children as any preceding one, but full of
import and foreboding to older persons. To the passage
of the French troops people certainly had become accus-
tomed ; 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 sec them pass by. We had
generally been used to see them go through in small parties ;
but these gradually swelled, and there was neither power
nor inclination to stop them. In short, on the 2d of Jan-
uary, after a column had come through Sachsenhausen over
the bridge, through the Fahrgasse, as far as the Police
Guard-House, it halted, overpowered the small 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 billeting.

This unexpected, and, for many years, unheard-of, burden
weighed heavily upon the comfortable citizens ; and to none
could it be more cumbersome than to my father, who was
obliged to take foreign military inhabitants into his scarcely
finished house, to open for them his well-furnished reception-
rooms, which were generally closed, and to abandon to the
caprices of strangers all that he had been used to arrange
and keep so carefully. Siding as he did with the Prussians,
he was now to find himself besieged in his own chambers by
the French : it was, according to his way of thinking, the
greatest misfortune that could happen to him. Had it,
however, been possible for him to have taken the matter
more easily, lie might have saved himself and us many sad
hours ; since he spoke French well, and could deport himself
with dignity and grace in the daily intercourse of life. For
it was the king's lieutenant who was quartered on us ; and

70 TRUTH AND FICTION

he, although a military person, had only to settle civil occur-
rences, disputes between soldiers and citizens, and questions
of debt and quarrels. This was the Count Thorane, a native of
Grasse in Provence, not far from Antibes : a tall, thin, stern
figure, with a face much disfigured by the small-pox ; black,
fiery eyes ; and a 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 Frankfort 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 inac-
tivity ; and the uncommon state of things around him was
intolerable to him, even in the veriest trifle.

Count Thorane behaved himself, meanwhile, in an exem-
plary manner. He would not even have his maps nailed on
the walls, that he might not injure the new hangings. His
people were skilful, quiet, and orderly : but in truth, as,
during the whole day and a part of the night there was no
quiet with him, one complainant quickly following another,
arrested persons being brought in and led out, and all officers
and adjutants being admitted to his presence, — as, more-
over, the count kept an open table every day, it made, in
the moderately sized house, arranged only for a f amity, 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 well-intentioned, but stern and precise, military guest,
there was a pleasant interpreter, a handsome, corpulent,
lively man, who was a citizen of Frankfort, spoke French
well, knew how to adapt himself to every thing, and only
made a jest of many little annoyances. Through him my

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 71

mother had sent to the oount a, representation of the situa-
tion in which she was placed, owing to her husband's state
of mind. He had explained the matter so skilfully, — had
laid before him the new and scarcely furnished house, the
natural reserve of the owner, his occupation in the education
of his family, and all that could be said to the same effect, —
that the count, who in his capacity took the greatest pride
in the utmost justice, integrity, and honorable conduct, re-
solved 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 lan-
guage 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 god-
mother during these stormy times, and who now, therefore,
as a gossip, 1 felt a redoubled interest in our house, devoted
every spare moment to his child's godmother (for he lived
directly opposite) ; and, above all, he taught her those phrases
which she would be obliged to use in her personal intercourse
with the count. This succeeded admirably. The count was
flattered by the pains taken by the mistress of the house at
her age : and as he had a cheerful, witty vein in his charac-
ter, and he liked to exhibit a certain dry gallantry, a most
friendly relation arose between them ; and the allied god-
mother 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 disinterest-
edness ; he even declined receiving gifts which pertained to
his situation ; the most trifling thing which could have borne
the appearance of bribery, he rejected angrily, and even
punished. His people were most strictly forbidden to put
the proprietor of the house to the least expense. We chil-
dren, on the contrary, were bountifully 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

1 The obsolete word, " gossip," has been revived as an equivalent for the Ger-
man, "gevalter." 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).

72 TRUTH AND FICTION

not believe it possible for the stomach to bear real ice, how-
ever it might be sweetened.

Besides these dainties, which we gradually learned to
enjoy and to digest with perfect ease, it was very agreeable
for us children to be in some measure released from fixed
hours of study and strict discipline. My father's ill 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 circum-
stances, the presence of such a man in the house was an
actual benefit, and that the removal of the count would be
followed by a constant succession of officers or of privates.
None of these arguments had any effect. To him the present
seemed so intolerable, that his indignation prevented his
conceiving any thing worse that could follow.

In this way his activity, which he had been used chiefly to
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 proceed-
ings 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 recall to my mind any particular
case.

By degrees we became better acquainted with the strange
character of the count. This man clearly understood his
own peculiarities ; and as there were times in which he was
seized with a sort of dejection, hypochondria, or by whatever
name we may call the evil demon, he withdrew into his room
at such hours, which were often lengthened into days, saw
no one but his valet, and in urgent cases could not even be
prevailed upon to receive any one. But, as soon as the evil

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 73

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 impor-
tant 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,
all the Frankfort artists, as Hirt, Schiitz, Trautmann, Noth-
nagel, 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 walls, 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 well in his old people and
children, which were copied directly from nature. His young
men did not answer so well, — they were almost all too thin ;
and his women failed from the opposite cause. For as he had
a little, fat, good, but unpleasant-looking, wife, who would
let him have no model but herself, he could produce nothing
agreeable. He was also obliged to exceed the usual size of
his figures. His trees had truth, but the foliage was over
minute. He was a pupil of Brinkmann, whose pencil in easel
pictures is not contemptible.

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

Trautmann Rembrandt ized some resurrection miracles out
of the New Testament, and alongside of them set fire to
villages and mills. One cabinet was entirely allotted to him.
as I found from the designs of the rooms. Hirt painted some
good oak and beech forests. His cattle were praiseworthy.

74 TRUTH AND FICTION

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

After these achievements, which were certainly laudable in
a boy, I will mention a little disgrace which happened to me
within this circle of artists. I was well acquainted with all
the pictures which had 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 usually exposed to view ;
and, although I tried to bolt it again immediately, I was not
quick enough. The count entered, and caught me. " Who
allowed you to open that box? " he asked, with all his air of
a royal lieutenant. I had not much to say for myself, and he
immediately pronounced my sentence in a very stern manner :
" For eight days," said he, " you shall not enter this room."
I made a bow, and walked out. Even this order I obeyed
most punctually ; so that the good Seekatz, who was then at
work in the room, was very much annoyed, for he liked to
have me about him : and, out of a little spite, I carried my
obedience so far, that I left Seekatz's coffee, which I generally
brought him, upon the threshold. He was then obliged to
leave his work and fetch it, which he took so ill, that he well
nigh began to dislike me.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 75

It now seems necessary to state more circumstantially, and
to make intelligible, 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 still more ; and by listening to ser-
vants 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, how-
ever, 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 for-
eign stage, and watched the more narrowly the movement
and the expression, both of gesture and speech ; as I under-
stood 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 Alexan-
drines, the generality of the expression, made it more intel-
ligible to me in every way. It was not long before I took
up Racine, which I found in my father's library, and de-
claimed the 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 con-
nected speech. I even learned entire passages by rote like a
trained talking-bird, which was easier to me, from having
previously committed to memory passages from the Bible
which are generally unintelligible to a child, and accustomed
myself to reciting them in the tone of the Protestant preachers.
The versified French comedy was then much in vogue : the
pieces of Destouches, Marivaux, and La Chauss6e 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,"
u Annette et Lubin," made each a very pleasant impression
upon me. I can even now recall the youths and maidens

76 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 be-
longed to the theatre, and whom I had seen in many little
parts, though only casually. He came to a better under-
standing with me than with the rest, as I could turn my
French to account with him ; and he the more attached him-
self 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 my-
self in it, than can be imagined : so that no one knew how I
had attained the foreign tongue all at once, as if by inspira-
tion.

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 chil-
dren, 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 re-
peated visits, I soon found it quite natural.

It was not long before a very peculiar interest of my own
arose. Young Derones, for so I will call the boy whose
acquaintance I still kept up, was, with the exception of his
boasting, a youth of good manners and very courteous de-
meanor. He made me acquainted with his sister, a girl who
was a few years older than we were, and a very pleasant, well-
grown girl, of regular form r brown complexion, black hair

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 77

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 acquaint-
ance.

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 all the more.

My liking for this girl assisted me in bearing the bragga-
docio 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, all for the mere sake of honor. He had always con-
trived 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 generally used only by officers ; although the nearness
of the actors destroyed, I will not say all illusion, but, in a

78 TRUTH AND FICTION

measure, all enjoyment. I have thus experienced and seen
with my own eyes the usage or abuse of which Voltaire so
much complains. If, when the house was very full at such
time as troops were passing through the town, officers of
distinction strove for this place of honor, which was generally
occupied already, some rows of benches and chairs were
placed in the proscenium on the stage itself, and nothing re-
mained for the heroes and heroines but to reveal their secrets
in the very limited space between the uniforms and orders.
I have even seen the ' ' Hypermnestra ' ' performed under
such circumstances.

The curtain did not fall between the acts : and I must yet
mention a strange custom, which I thought quite extraordi-
nary ; as its inconsistency with art was to me, as a good
German boy, quite unendurable. The theatre was considered
the greatest sanctuary, and any disturbance occurring there
would have been instantly resented as the highest crime
against the majesty of the public. Therefore, in all comedies,
two grenadiers stood with their arms grounded, in full view,
at the two sides of the back scene, and were witnesses of all
that occurred in the bosom of the family. Since, as I said
before, the curtain did not fall between the acts, two others,
while music struck up, relieved guard, by coming from the
wings, directly in front of the first, who retired in the same
measured manner. Now, if such a practice was well fitted to
destroy all that is called illusion 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 natural-
ness 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 regu-
lations ; 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 per-
fectly remember the figure of the philosopher in the latter
piece going upon all fours, and biting into a raw head of
lettuce.

All this theatrical variety could not, however, keep us chil-
dren always in the theatre. In fine weather we played in
front of it, and in the neighborhood, and committed all man-
ner of absurdities, which, especially on Sundays and festi-
vals, by no means corresponded to our personal appearance ;

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 79

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 challenge, 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 mat-
ter 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 will relate another adventure which also
happened to me at the theatre, although at a later time. I
was sitting very quietly in the pit with one of my playmates ;
and we looked with pleasure at a pas senl, which was executed
with much skill and grace by a pretty boy about our own age,
— the son of a French dancing-master, who was passing
through the city. After the fashion of dancers, he was
dressed in a close vest of red silk, which, ending in a short
hoop-petticoat, like a runner's apron, floated above the knee.
We had given our meed of applause to this young artist with
the whole public, when, I know not how, it occurred to me
to make a moral reflection. I said to my companion, " How
handsomely this boy was dressed, and how well he looked !
who knows in how tattered a jacket he may sleep to-night ! "
All had already risen, but the crowd prevented our moving.
A woman who had sat by me, and who was now standing
close beside me, chanced to be the mother of the young-
artist, and felt much offended by my reflection. Unfortu-
nately, she knew German enough to understand me, and spoke
it just as much as was necessary to scold. She abused me
violently. Who was I, she would like to know, that had a
right to doubt the family and respectability of this young
man? At all events, she would be bound he was as good as

80 TRUTH AND FICTION

T ; and his talents might probably procure him a fortune, of
which I could not even venture to dream. This moral
lecture she read me in the crowd, and made those about me
wonder what rudeness I had committed. As I could neither
excuse myself, nor escape from her, I was really embarrassed,
and, when she paused for a moment, said without thinking,
" Well ! why do you make such a noise about it? — to-day
red, to-morrow dead." 1 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 super-
stition have always remained the same among all people and
in all times.

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

The residence of the king's lieutenant at our house pro-
cured us the advantage of seeing by degrees all the dis-
tinguished persons in the French army, and especially 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 galleries, very conven-
iently upon the generals who passed by. More than all the
rest do I remember the Prince Soubise as a handsome, cour-
teous gentleman ; but most distinctly, the Mar6chal de
Broglio, who was a younger man, not tall, 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

1 A German proverb, " Heute rotb. Morgen todt."

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 81

to drive th^HFrench 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 all 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 defence of the city, if it were only to cover their
roar 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 approach-
ing storm. We children were forbidden to quit the house :
my father had no quiet, and went out. The battle began : I
ascended to the garret, where indeed I was prevented seeing
the country round, but could very well hear the thunder of
cannon and the general discharge of musketry. After some
hours we saw the first symptoms of the battle in a line of
wagons, in which the wounded, with various sad mutilations
and gestures, were slowly drawn by us, to be taken to the
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

82 TRUTH AND FICTION

of every movable that he possessed to assist his suffering
countrymen.

The prisoners, however, were an evidence of a battle un-
favorable 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 de-
scried various stragglers of the army, who were scattered,
and amused themselves by shooting at the boundary-stones,
so that the rebounding lead whizzed round the head of the
inquisitive wanderer. He therefore considered it more pru-
dent to go back, and learned on inquiry what the report of
the firing might have before informed him, that all stood well
for the French, and that there was no thought of retreating.
Reaching home in an ill 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 all day ; but he repulsed our
caresses and every enjoyment, and betook himself to his
chamber. Our joy, however, was not interrupted ; the affair
was decided : the king's lieutenant, who, against his habit,
had been on horseback 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. " Well," said he more kindly
than usual, "I am glad also for your sakcs, my dear chil-
dren." 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.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 83

We had now a fine collation, pitied our poor father who
would not partake of it, and pressed our mother to call him
in ; but she, more prudent than we, well knew how distasteful
such gifts would be to him. In the mean time she had pre-
pared some supper, and would readily have sent a portion up
to his room ; but he never tolerated such an irregularity, even
in the most extreme cases : and, after the sweet things were
removed, we endeavored to persuade him to come down into
the ordinary dining-room. At last he allowed himself to be
persuaded unwillingly, and we had no notion of the mischief
which we were preparing for him and ourselves. The stair-
case ran through the whole house, along all the ante-rooms.
My father, in coming down, had to go directly past the count's
apartment. This ante-room was so full of people, that the
count, to get through much at once, resolved to come out ;
and this happened unfortunately at the moment when my
father descended. The count met him cheerfully, greeted
him, and remarked, " You will congratulate yourselves and
us that this dangerous affair is so happily terminated." —
"By no means ! ' ' replied my father in a rage : 4 ' would that
it had driven you to the Devil, even if I had gone with you ! "
The count restrained himself for a moment, and then broke
out with wrath, " You shall pay for this," cried he : " you
shall find that you have not thus insulted the good cause and
myself for nothing! "

My father, meanwhile, came down very calmly, seated
himself near us, seemed more cheerful than before, and
began to eat. We were glad of this, unconscious of the
dangerous method in which he had rolled the stone from his
heart. Soon afterwards my mother was called out, and we
had great pleasure in chattering to our father about the sweet
things the count had given us. Our mother did not return.
At last the interpreter came in. At a hint from him we were
sent to bed : it was already late, and we willingly obeyed.
After a night quietly slept through, we heard of the violent
commotion which had shaken the house the previous evening.
The king's lieutenant had instantly ordered my father to be
led to the guard-house. The subalterns well knew that he
was never to be contradicted, yet they had often earned
thanks by delaying the execution of his orders. The inter-
preter, 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

84 TRUTH AND FICTION

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
still, than wreak on an innocent person the ill 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 recollec-
tion.

The interpreter had ve'ntured 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 will suc-
ceed."

" You have the great gift, count, of listening to the opin-
ions of others, even in moments of passion — in moments of
rage."

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

"Not all!"

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

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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 85

" 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."

44 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."

44 I would neither lead you into a false step nor restrain you
from one: your resolution is just, — it becomes the French-
man and the king's lieutenant ; but consider that you are
also Count Thorane."

44 He has no right to interfere here."

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

" What would he say, then? "

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

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

44 How many would have done that ! "

44 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."

44 It is party-spirit, but you will only increase it by the

86 TRUTH AND FICTION

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

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

" Hear only this. Remember, this is the most unheard-of
thing that could befall this man, this family. You have had
no reason to be edified by the good will of the master of the
house ; but the mistress has anticipated all your wishes, and
the children have regarded you as their uncle. With this
single blow, you will forever destroy the peace and happi-
ness of this dwelling. Indeed, I may say, that a bomb falling
into the house would not have occasioned greater desolation.
I have so often admired your self-command, count : give me
this time opportunity to adore you. A warrior is worthy of
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 will acquire an everlasting fame."

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

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

" But you do not hit my weak side yet, interpreter. About
posthumous fame I am not in the habit of thinking ; that is
for others, not for me : but to do right at the moment, not to
neglect my duty, not to prejudice my 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 87

many expectant persons. So the matter was disposed of ;
and the next morning we celebrated, with the remnants of the
yesterday's sweetmeats, the passing over of an evil through
the threatenings of which we had happily slept.

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

One little incident will show how the count in general
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 quar-
tering 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 Excellency ! " The
count returned the bow, as well as the " excellency." 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 gentle-
man was extremely confused, and had not a word to utter.
The interpreter, standing at some distance, and apprised of
the whole affair, was wicked enough not to move ; but the
count, with much cheerfulness, continued, "Well, now, for
instance, sir, what is your name?" — "Spangenberg," re-
plied the other. " And mine," said the count, " is Thorane.
Spangenberg, what is your business with Thorane? Now,
then, let us sit down : the affair shall at once be settled."

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

After these confusions, disquietudes, and grievances, the
former security and thoughtlessness soon returned, in which
the young particularly live from day to day, if it be in any
degree possible. My passion for the French theatre grew
with every performance. I did not miss an evening ; though
on every occasion, when, after the play, I sat down witli the

88 TRUTH AND FICTION

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
all and every argument which is at hand for the apologists
of the stage when they fall into a difficulty like mine. Vice
in prosperity, and virtue in misfortune, are in the end set
right by poetical justice. Those beautiful examples of mis-
deeds punished, u Miss Sarah Sampson," and "The Merchant
of London," were very energetically cited on my part : but, on
the other hand, I often came off worst when the " Fouberies
de Scapin," and others of the sort, were in the bill ; and I was
forced to bear reproaches for the delight felt by the public
in the deceits of intriguing servants, and the 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 under-
take himself what he sees done by others, whether he has
aptitude for it or not. I had soon exhausted the whole range
of the French stage ; several plays were performed for the
third and fourth times ; all had passed before my eyes and
mind, from the stateliest tragedy to the most frivolous after-
piece ; and, as when a child I had presumed to imitate Ter-
ence, I did not fail now as a boy, on a much more inciting
occasion, to copy the French forms to the best of my ability
and want of ability. There were then performed some half-
mythological, half-allegorical pieces in the taste of 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 thunder-
bolt of a disguised Jupiter, an amorous Danac, or by what-
ever 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. Mer-
cury, especially, 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,

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 89

made by myself ; which he accepted witli 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 exam-
ine 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 all
his heart : only the affair must be kept private ; for -he had
himself once on a time surprised the directors with a piece
of his own, and it would certainly have been acted if it had
not been too soon detected that he was the author. I prom-
ised him all possible silence, and already saw in my mind's
eye the name of my piece posted up in large letters on the
corners of the streets and squares.

Light-minded as my friend generally was, the opportunity
of playing the master was but too desirable. He read the
piece through with attention, and, while he sat down with me
to make some trivial alterations, turned the whole thing, in
the course of the conversation, completely topsy-turvy, so
that not one stone remained on another. He struck out,
added, took away one character, substituted another, — in
short, went on with the maddest wantonness in the world,
so that my hair stood on end. My previous persuasion that
he must 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 all
that belongs to these, that I was forced to regard him, not
merely as informed, but thoroughly grounded. He abused
the English and scorned the Germans ; in short, he laid
before me the whole dramaturgic litany which I have so
often in my life been compelled to hear.

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

This unsuccessful attempt had made me reflective ; and I
resolved now to learn, at the very sources, these theories,
these laws, to which every one appealed, but which had

00 TRUTH AND FICTION

become suspicious to me chiefly through the impoliteness ci r
my arrogant master. This was not indeed difficult, but labo-
rious. I immediately read Corneille's " Treatise on the
Three Unities," and learned from that how people would
have it, but why they desired it so was by no means clear
to me ; and, what was worst of all, I fell at once into still
greater confusion when I made myself acquainted with the
disputes on the " Cid," and read the prefaces in which Cor-
neille and Racine are obliged to defend themselves against
the critics and public. Here at least I plainly saw that no
man knew what he wanted; that a piece like the "Cid,"
which had produced the noblest effect, was to be condemned
at the command of an all-powerful cardinal ; that Racine,
the idol of the French living in my day, who had now also
become my idol (for I had got intimately acquainted with
him when Schoff Von Olenschlager made us children act
" Britannicus," in which the part of Nero fell to me) , — that
Racine, I say, even in his own day, was not able to get on
with the amateurs nor critics. Through all this I became
more perplexed than ever ; and after having pestered myself
a long time with this talking backwards and forwards, and
theoretical quackery of the previous century, threw them to
the dogs, and was the more resolute in casting all the rub-
bish 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 pres-
ent, attended the theatre far more zealously, read more scru-
pulously and connectedly, so that I had perseverance enough
this time to work through the whole of Racine and Moliere
and a great part of Corneille.

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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 91

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.

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

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

92 TRUTH AND FICTION

vidual or group, and to propose it for the foreground or the
distance, in which respect they many times, either from con-
viction or kindness, complied with my wishes.

The partners in this affair were therefore greatly dis-
couraged, especially Seekatz, a very hypochondriacal, retired
man, who, indeed, by his incomparable 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 aug-
mented, his resistance became more decided, and a great
deal of effort was necessary on our part to guide this " gos-
sip ; " for he was one also, according to the count's wishes.
I still remember, that when the boxes were standing ready to
pack up all the pictures, in the order in which the upholsterer
might hang them up at once, at their place of destination, a
small but indispensable bit of af terwork 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 small. Another, he
thought, could do it just as well ; he had already set about
some new work ; in Short, he would not come. The time
for sending off the pictures was at hand ; they had, more-
over, to get dry ; every delay was untoward ; and the count,
in despair, was about to have him fetched in military
fashion. We all wished to see the pictures finally gone,
and found at last no expedient than for the gossip inter-
preter to seat himself in a wagon, and fetch over the refrac-
tory subject, with his wife and child. He was kindly received
by the count, well treated, and at last dismissed with liberal
payment.

After the pictures had been sent away, there was great
peace in the house. The gable-room in the attic was cleaned,

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 93

and given up to me ; and my father, when he saw the boxes
go, could not refrain from wishing to send off the count
after them. For much as the tastes of the count coincided
with his own, much as he must have rejoiced to see his
principle of patronizing living artists so generously followed
out by a man richer than himself, much as it may have flat-
tered him that his collection had been the occasion of bring-
ing 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 well of any of his doings. One ought to employ
painters, but not degrade them to paper-stainers ; one ought
to be satisfied with what they have done, according to their
conviction and ability, even if it does not thoroughly please
one, and not be perpetually carping at it. In short, in spite
of all the count's own generous endeavors, there could, once
for all, be no mutual understanding. My father only visited
that room when the count was at table ; and I can recall but
one instance, when, Seekatz having excelled himself, and
the wish to see these pictures having brought the whole
house together, my father and the count met, and manifested
a common pleasure in these works of art, which they could
not take in each other.

Scarcely, therefore, had the house been cleared of the
chests and boxes, than the plan for removing the count,
which had formerly been begun, but was afterwards inter-
rupted, 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 an-
other good residence, and left us in peace and good will.
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 felici-

94 TRUTH AND FICTION

tously arranged in his brother's chateau : he wrote sometimes,
sent dimensions, and had different pieces executed by the
artists so often named. At last we heard nothing further
about him, except after several years we were assured that
he had died as governor of one of the French colonies in the
West Indies.

FOURTH BOOK.

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 sweep-
ing and scouring, planing, and rubbing with beeswax, paint-
ing 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 in-
crease the sociableness of our house ; for they kept to them-
selves : 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 counsellor of legation, Moritz, a brother of the chan-
cellor, came from this time often to our house. He was even
more a man of the world, had a handsome figure, while his
manners were easy and agreeable. He also managed the
affairs of different persons of rank, and on occasions of
meetings of creditors and imperial commissions frequently
came into contact with my father. They had a high opinion
of each other, and commonly stood on the side of the credit-
ors ; though they were generally obliged to perceive, much
to their vexation, that a majority of the agents on such occa-
sions are usually gained over to the side of the debtors.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 95

The counsellor of legation readily communicated his knowl-
edge, 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 draw-
ing-master, who now also occupied us an hour every day.

This good old man was indeed only half an artist. We
were obliged to draw and combine strokes, from which eyes
and noses, lips and ears, nay, at last, whole faces and heads,
were to arise ; but of natural or artistic forms there was no
thought. We were tormented a long while with this quid
pro quo of the human figure ; and when the so-called Passions
of Le Brun were given us to copy, it was supposed at last
that we had made great progress. But even these carica-
tures 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, with-
out troubling ourselves about the merit or taste of the origi-
nal.

In these endeavors our father led the way in an exemplary
manner. He had never drawn ; but he was unwilling to re-
main 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 well-known sheets in small octavo, with
in English lead-pencil upon the finest Dutch paper. In
lese he not only observed the greatest clearness of outline,
Diit most accurately imitated the hatching of the copperplate
vith a light hand — only too slightly, as in his desire to avoid
lardness he brought no keeping into his sketches. Yet they
vere always soft and accurate. His unrelaxing and untir-
ng assiduity went so far, that he drew the whole considera-
te collection number by number ; while we children jumped
rom one head to another, and chose only those that pleased us.
About this time the long-debated project, long under con-
ideration, for giving us lessons in music, was carried into
ffect ; and the last impulse to it certainly deserves mention,
was settled that we should learn the harpsichord, but
here was always a dispute about the choice of a master. At
ast I went once accidentally into the room of one of my
ompanions, who was just taking his lesson on the harpsi-
hord, and found the teacher a most charming man : for each
Groethe— 5 „ Vol 1

96 TRUTH AND FICTION

finger of the right and left hand he had a nickname, by
which he indicated in the merriest way when it was to lie
used. The black and white keys were likewise symbolically
designated, and even the tones appeared under lignrative
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 beautifully.

Scarcely had I reached home, than I importuned my par-
ents to set about the matter iu good earnest at last, and give
us this incomparable man for our master on the harpsichord.
fliey hesitated, and made inquiries : they indeed heard noth-
ing bad of the teacher, but, at the same time, nothing par-
ticularly good. Meanwhile, I had informed my sister of all
the jdioll names : we could hardly wait for the lesson, and
succeeded in haying the man em>;ao;ed.

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 lingers were
needed, the jocular method would commence. Put neither
keys nor fingering seemed to afford opportunity for any com-
parisons. Dry as the notes were, with their strokes on and
between the five lines, the black and white keys were no less
so: and not a syllable was heard, either of " thumbling,"
" pointerling," or " goldfinger ; " while the countenance of
tjie man remained as imperturbable during his dry teaching
as it had been before during his c]ry jests. My sister re=-
proached me most bitterly for having deceived her, and
actually believed that it was all an invention of mine. But
I was nryself 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 appear*
ance, 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 (Veau were opened :
the "thumblings" and " pointerlings," the "pickers" and
''stealers," as he \ised to call the fingers; the " f alings "
and " galings," meaning " f " and u g ; " the " fielings " and
" gielings," meaning " f " and " g " sharp, 1 — became once

1 The mimes of the sharp notes in German terminate in "is," and hence "f"aDd
•' g " rtliarp are called " Jiy " and " gis."

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 97

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 especially venerated the Emperor Maxi-
milian, by whom this had been expressly commanded. He
therefore held me to it more steadily than to music ; which,
on the other hand, he especially recommended to my sister,
and even out of the hours for lessons kept her fast, during
a good part of the day, at her harpsichord.

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

An armed loadstone, very neatly sewed up in scarlet cloth,
tvas one day destined to experience the effects of this spirit
>f inquiry. For the secret force of attraction which it
exercised, not only on the little iron bar attached to it, but
jvhich was of such a kind that it could gain strength and
;ould daily bear a heavier weight, — this mysterious virtue
md so excited my admiration, that for a long time I was
>leased with merely staring at its operation. But at last I
.bought I might arrive at some nearer revelation by tearing
ivvay the external covering. This was done ; but I became
10 wiser in consequeuce, as the naked iron taught me noth-

98 TRUTH AND FICTION

ing 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, — ex-
periments 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 elec-
tricity, we children found the thing very plausible, and long
tormented ourselves with an old spinning-wheel and some
medicine bottles, without producing even the smallest result.
We nevertheless adhered to our belief, and were much de-
lighted, when at the time of the fair, among other rarities,
magical and legerdemain tricks, an electrical machine per-
formed its marvels, which, like those of magnetism, were at
that time already very numerous.

The want of confidence in the public method of instruc-
tion was daily increasing. People looked about for private
tutors ; and, because single families could not afford the ex-
pense, 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 hav-
ing 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 iu
all. This man, whose name was Pfeil, £poke French well.
After he had married, and his patrons had to think of a
situation for him, they hit upon the plan of making him
establish a boarding-school, which extended gradually into a
small academy, in which every thing necessary, and at last
even Greek and Latin, were taught. The extensive connec-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 99

tions 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 en-
deavors, 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 num-
ber 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 in-
creased my sister's troubles, as, to duly honor the new in-
strument, 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 posi-
tions at her side.

A singular taste of my father's caused much inconven-
ience 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

100 TRUTH AND FICTION

and sustenance ; for they grew rapidly, and, after their last
change of skin, were so voracious that it was scarcely possi-
ble 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.
Still more unpleasant was it when rain fell during the last
epoch ; for these creatures cannot at all endure moisture,
and the wet leaves had to be carefully wiped and dried,
which could not always be done quite perfectly : and for
this, or 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 really 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 3 r ear passed the finest weeks of the
spring and summer in tending the silk-worms, we were
obliged to assist our father in another business, which,
though simpler, was no less troublesome. The Roman
views, which, bound by black rods at the top and bottom,
had hung for many years on the walls of the old house, had
become very yellow through the light, dust, and smoke, and
not a little unsightly through the flies. If such uncleanli-
ness 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 repre-
sented. For at the outset such copies serve only to renew
and revive the impressions received shortly before. The} 7
seem trifling in comparison, and at the best only a melan-
choly 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 affec-
tion. Thus it is with all copies, and particularly with por-
traits. No one is easily satisfied with the counterfeit of an
object still present, but how we value every silhouette of one
who is absent or departed.

In short, with this feeling of his former extravagance, nry
father wished that these engravings might be restored as

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 101

much as possible. It was well known that this could be
done by bleaching : and the operation, always critical with
large plates, was undertaken under rather unfavorable cir-
cumstances ; 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 4 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 faithfully kept ; there was no want of repeating our
lessons ; other exercises were neglected rather than this
during the four weeks ; and the teacher parted from us, and
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 helft us, grateful that we had
been among the first who placed confidence in him, and
proud to be able to cite us as examples to the others.

My father, in consequence of this, entertained a new
anxiety, that English might neatly stand in the series of my
other studies in languages. Now, I will confess that it be-
came more and more burdensome for me to take my occa-
sions 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

102 TRUTH AND FICTION

all 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 theolog3 r , 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 Eng-
lish 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 filling up this singular form, I studied
the geography of the countries in which my creations re-
sided, and by inventing for those dry localities all sorts of
human incidents which had some affinity with the characters
and employments of my heroes. Thus my exercise-books
became much more voluminous, my father was better satis-
fied, 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 conse-
quently explained the necessity of my learning Hebrew to
my father, and earnestly besought his consent ; for I had a
still higher object. Everywhere I heard it said, that, to
understand the Old as well as the New Testament, the origi-
nal languages were requisite. The latter I could read quite
easily ; because, that there might be no want of exercise,
even on Sundays, the so-called Epistles and Gospels had,
after church, to be recited, translated, and in some measure
explained. I now purposed doing the same thing with the

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 103

Old Testament, the peculiarities of which had always espe-
cially 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 lan-
guage ; 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 iEsop in gown and wig. His
more than seventy-years-old face was completely twisted
into a sarcastic smile ; while his eyes always remained large,
and, though red, were always brilliant and intelligent. He
lived in the old cloister of the barefoot friars, the seat of
the gymnasium. Even as a child, I had often visited him in
company with my parents, and had, with a kind of trembling
delight, glided through the long, dark passages, the chapels
transformed into reception-rooms, the place broken up and
full of stairs and corners. Without making me uncomfort-
able, 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 prcemia virtutis et diligentice. 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 under-
stood his business ; although age no more allowed him to
practise it thoroughly. But almost more than by his own
infirmities was he hindered by greater circumstances ; and, as
I already knew, he was 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 pro-
grammes 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.

104 TRUTH AND FICTION

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

In spite of all my willingness, I did not get at the matter
without difficulty ; for my teacher could not suppress cer-
tain sarcastic remarks as to the real truth about Hebrew. I
concealed from him nry 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. 1 found an
alphabet something like the Greek, of which the forms were
eas} r , and the names, for the most part, not strange to me.
All this I had soon comprehended and retained, and sup-
posed we should now take up reading. That this was done
from right to left I was well aware. But now all at once
appeared a new army of little characters and signs, of points
and strokes of all sorts, which were in fact to represent
vowels. At this 1 wondered the more, as there were mani-
festly 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 accom-
plished only by the learned and those who were well prac-
tised. I must, therefore, make up my mind to learn these
little characters ; but the matter became to me more and

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 105

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 guttu-
ral more or less rough, and now served as mere equivalents.
But finally, when one fancied that he had well noted every
thing, some of these personages, both great and small, were
rendered inoperative ; so that the eyes always had very much,
and the lips very little, to do.

As that of which I already knew the contents had now to
be stuttered in a strange gibberish, in which a certain snuffle
and gargle were not a little commended as something unat-
tainable, I in a certain degree deviated from the matter, and
diverted myself, in a childish way, with the singular names
of these accumulated signs. There were " emperors,"
' k kings," and " dukes," 1 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, repeat-
ing, 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 con-
tradiction 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. Heading, interpreting, gram-
mar, 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 still engaged
in the first book of Moses, to utter several things suggested
to me by the later books. At first the good old man tried to
restrain me from such digressions, but at last they seemed
to entertain him also. It was impossible for him to suppress
his characteristic cough and chuckle : and, although he care-

1 These are the technical names for classes of accents In the Hebrew grammar. —
TtUHH.

106 TRUTH AND FICTION

fully 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, seem-
ing justified by his deportment. Yet I could get nothing
out of him, except that ever and anon he would exclaim
with his peculiar, shaking laugh, " Ah ! mad fellow! ah!
mad boy ! "

Still, my childish vivacit} r , 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 judi-
cious manner. Ity 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 recon-
ciliation 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 will alwa} T s 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 them-
selves, 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 small space was to see the origin and growth of the
human race ; thence we were to derive our first and only
accounts of primitive history ; and such a locality was to lie
before our imagination, no less simple and comprehensible
than varied, and adapted to the most wonderful migrations
and settlements. Here, between four designated rivers, a

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 107

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 befall
him, which was appointed for all his posterity ; namely, that
of losing peace by striving after knowledge. Paradise was
trifled away ; men increased and grew worse ; and the Elo-
him, 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, still
flowed in their beds. The name of the first remained : the
other seemed to be pointed out by its course. Minuter traces
of paradise were not to be looked for after so great a revo-
lution. The renewed race of man went forth hence a second
time : it found occasion to sustain and employ itself in all
sorts of ways, but chiefly to gather around it large herds of
tame animals, and to wander with them in every direction.

This mode of life, as well as the increase of the families,
soon compelled the people to disperse. They could not at
once resolve to let their relatives and friends go 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 build-
ing 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 char-
acter upon his descendants, and by that means to unite them
for all time to come into a great nation, inseparable through
all changes of place or destiny.

From the Euphrates, Abraham, not without divine guid-
ance, wanders towards the west. The desert opposes no
invincible barrier to his march. He attains the Jordan,
passes over its waters, and spreads himself over the fair
southern regions of Palestine. This land was already occu-
pied, 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

108 TRUTH AND FICTION

of the great valley, the waters of which are collected in
Jordan. Thus inhabited, thus tilled, was the land : but the
world was still large enough ; and the men were not so cir-
cumspect, 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 Chal-
dean 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 appeal
like a second Paradise, — a conjecture all the more probable,
because the residents about there, notorious for effeminacy
and wickedness, lead us to infer that they led an easy and
luxurious life. Lot lives among them, but apart.

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

Families hold together : they unite, and the mode of life
of the tribes is determined by the locality which they have

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 109

appropriated 1 or appropriate. On the mountains which send
down their waters to the Tigris, we iind warlike populations,
who even thus early foreshadow those world-conquerors and
world-rulers, and in a campaign, prodigious for those times,
o-ive us a prelude of future achievements. Chedor Laomer,
king of Elam, has already a mighty influence over his allies.
He reigns a long while ; for twelve years before Abraham's
arrival in Canaan, he had made all the people tributary to
him as far as the Jordan. They revolted at last, and the
allies equipped for war. We find them unawares upon a
route by which, 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, falls upon the kings of the
valley of Siddim, smites and scatters them, and marches
with great spoil up the Jordan, in order to extend his con-
quests 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 hur-
riedly 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 be-
longing 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. Gratefully the kings of the
valley receive him ; Melchisedek, the king and priest, with
blessings.

Now the prophecies of an endless posterity are renewed ;
nay, they take a wider and wider scope. From the waters
of the Euphrates to the river of Egypt all the lands are
promised him, but yet there seems a difficulty with respect
to his next heirs. He is eighty years of age, and has no
son. Sarai, less trusting in the heavenly powers than he,
becomes impatient : she desires, after the Oriental fashion,
to have a descendant, by means of her maid. But 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 ill enough, and Hagar flies to seek a

110 TRUTH AND FICTION

happier position among other tribes. She returns, not with-
out 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 propa-
gation of the human race. The most important events of
the world require to be traced to the secrets of families, and
thus the marriages of the patriarchs give occasion for peculiar
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 will, to go upon a
road which she once took in voluntary flight, at first, it
seems, to the destruction of herself and child ; but the angel
of the Lord, who had before sent her back, now rescues her
again, that Ishmael also may become a great people, and
that the most improbable of all promises may be fulfilled
beyond its limits.

Two parents in advanced years, and one son of their old
age — here, at last, one might expect domestic quiet and
earthly happiness. By no means. Heaven is } 7 et 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 equally 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. Ill

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 rep-
resents 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 employ-
ments soon divided them. The hunter was the freest of all :
from him was developed the warrior and the ruler. Those
who tilled the field bound themselves to the soil, erected
dwellings and barns to preserve what they had gained, and
could estimate themselves pretty highly, because their con-
dition promised durability and security. The herdsman in
his position seemed to have acquired the most unbounded
condition and unlimited property. The increase of herds
proceeded without end, and the space which was to support
them widened itself on all sides. These three classes seemed
from the very first to have regarded each other with dislike
and contempt ; and as the herdsman was an abomination to
the townsman, so did he in turn separate from the other.
The hunters vanish from our sight among the hills, and re-
appear only as conquerors.

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

We are compelled to make another reflection in passing to
the rest of the history. Humane, beautiful, and cheering as
the religion of the patriarchs appears, yet traits of savage-
ness 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

112 TRUTH and fiction

the death, of the conquered enemy, is natural ; that men
concluded a peace upon the battle-Held among the ranks of
the slain may easily be conceived ; that they should in like
manner think to give validity to a contract by slain animals,
follows from the preceding. The notion also that slain crea-
tures could attract, propitiate, and gain over the gods,
whom the3^ always looked upon as partisans, either oppo-
nents or allies, is likewise not at all surprising. But if we
confine our attention to the sacrifices, and consider the way
in which they were offered in that primitive time, we find
a singular, and, to our notions, altogether repugnant, cus-
tom, 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 wonderfully 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 supersti-
tiously and with more or less distinctness promised to the
gods ; and those whom the votary would Willingly spare, even
his nearest of kin, his own children, may thus bleed, the
expiatory victims of such a delusion.

In the mild and truly patriarchal character of Abraham,
such a savage kind of worship could not arise ; but the God-
head, 1 which often, to tempt us, seems to put forth those
qualities which man is inclined to assign to it, imposes a
monstrous task upon him. He must offer up his son as
a pledge of the new covenant, and, if he follows the usage,
not only kill and burn him, but cut him in two, and await
between the smoking entrails a new promise from the benig-
nant Deity. Abraham, blindly and without lingering, pre-
pares to execute the 'command : to Heaven the will is suffi-
cient. Abraham's trials are now at an end, for they could
not be carried farther. But Sarai dies, and this gives Abra-
ham an opportunity for taking typical possession of the land

1 It should be observed, tbat in (bis biblical narrative, -when we have used the ex-
pressions, " Deity," " Godhead," or " Divinity," Goethe irenerally has " die Gotter,"
or " the Gods." — Trans.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 113

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 prox-
imate title to the whole land, as well as the everlasting
desire of his posterity to gather themselves there, was most
properly grounded.

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

Abraham despatches his servant to Mesopotamia, to the
relatives whom he had left behind there. The prudent Ele-
azer arrives unknown, and, in order to take home the right
bride, tries the readiness to serve of the girls at the well.
He asks to 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 } T ears 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 de-
sirable 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

114 TRUTH AND FICTION

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. The}', 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 con-
viction forces itself upon every one. Nay, if we for a mo-
ment let drop this thread, which conducts us through life, it
may be immediately and everywhere resumed. But it is dif-
ferent with a special religion, which announces to us that
this Great Being distinctly and pre-eminently interests him-
self 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 affec-
tions, 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 him-
self, 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 ap-
pease him, by giving him his beloved also after a short time,
and this but on the condition of seven years of further ser-
vice. 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 115

handmaiden : the former grudges her even this advantage.
She also presents her husband with a maid, but the good
patriarch is now the most troubled man in the world. He
has four women, children by three, and none from her he
loves. Finally she also is 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 ser-
vant. 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 bless-
ing, 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 peo-
ple of Israel, and a model for his descendants. Laban and
his household remark the result, if not the stratagem. Vexa-
tion 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, sur-
vives her ; but the aged father is to experience a still
greater sorrow from the apparent loss of his son Joseph.

Perhaps some one may ask why I have so circumstantially
narrated histories so universally known, and so often re-
peated and explained. Let the inquirer be satisfied with
the answer, that I could in no other way exhibit how, with
my life full 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 all 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, threat-
ened 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 conclu-
sion, a form by which the hopes and fancies of the young in

116 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 arc to
elevate him above his family. Cast into misfortune by his
brothers, he remains steadfast and upright in slavery, re-
sists 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 all 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 re-
ceived through Klopstock a tender and affectionate nature,
highly pleasing to the boy, as well as to many of his con-
temporaries. Of Bodmer's efforts in this line, little or noth-
ing 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 con-
versant with no kind of versification which would have been
adapted to such a work. But now I found a treatment of
it in prose very suitable, and I applied all my strength to
its execution. I now endeavored to discriminate and paint
the characters, and, by the interpolation of incidents and
episodes, to make the old simple history a new and inde-
pendent 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 my-
self all the incidents down to the minutest details, and nar-
rated them accurately to myself in their succession.

What greatly lightened this labor was a circumstance

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 117

which threatened to render this work, and my authorship in
general, exceedingly voluminous. A well-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, writ-
ten 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 still more when he was dictated to,
because he then felt carried back to his happy academical
years. To my father, who was not expeditious in writing,
and whose German letters were small and tremulous, nothing
could be more desirable ; and he was consequently accus-
tomed, in the conduct of his own and other business, to dic-
tate for some hours a day to this young man. I found it
no less convenient, during the intervals, to see all that
passed through my head fixed upon paper by the hand of
another ; and my natural gift of feeling and imitation grew
with the facility of catching up and preserving.

As yet, I had not undertaken any work so large as that
biblical prose-epic. The times were tolerably quiet, and
nothing recalled my imagination from Palestine and Egypt.
Thus my manuscripts swelled more and more every day, as
the poem, which I recited to myself, as it were, in the air,
stretched along the paper ; and only a few pages from time
to time needed to be re- written.

When the work was done, — for, to my own astonishment,
it really came to an end, — I reflected, that from former years
many poems were extant, which did not even now appear to
me utterly despicable, and which, if written together in the
same size with " Joseph," would make a very neat quarto, to
which the title "Miscellaneous Poems" might be given.
1 was pleased with this, as it gave me an opportunity of
quietly imitating well-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

118 TRUTH AND FICTION

Christ into hell, received much applause from my parents
and friends, and had the good fortune to please myself for
some years afterwards. The so-called texts of the Sunday
church-music, which were always to be had printed, I studied
with diligence. They were, indeed, very weak ; and I oould
well believe that my verses, of which I had composed many
in the prescribed manner, were equally worthy of being set
to music, and performed for the edification of the congre-
gation. 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 en-
couraged 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 theo-
logical, or, rather, biblical, studies. The senior of the min-
istry, John Philip Fresenius, a mild man, of handsome,
agreeable appearance, who was respected by his congrega-
tion and the whole city as an exemplary pastor and good
preacher, but who, because he stood forth against the Herrn-
hiiters, 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 mortally wounded, —
this man died ; and his successor, Plitt, a tall, handsome,
dignified man, who brought from his chair (he had been a
professor in Marburg) the gift of teaching rather than of
edifying, immediately announced a sort of religious course,
to which his sermons were to be devoted in a certain methodi-
cal connection. I had already, as I was compelled to go to
church, remarked the distribution of the subject, and could
now and then show myself off by a pretty complete recitation
of a sermon. But now, as much was said in the congrega-
tion, both for and against the new senior, and many placed
no great confidence in his announced didactic sermons, I
undertook to write them out more carefully ; and I succeeded
the better from having made smaller attempts in a seat very
convenient for hearing, but concealed from sight. I was
extremely attentive and on the alert : the moment he said

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 119

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 small vanity which was thus grati-
fied 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 fin-
ished, 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 compelled to finish, though
we were all in despair about it, and my father himself was
ihe first to yawn. I still 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. Still, with all my inattention and repug-
nance, so much of that reading remained in my mind that I
was able, in after times, to take up many threads of the nar-
rative.

120 TRUTH AND FICTION

Amid fill 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 com-
bining to objects of jurisprudence, and therefore gave me
a small book by Hopp, in the shape of a catechism, and
worked up according to the form and substance of the insti-
tutions. I soon learned questions and answers by heart,
and could represent the cateehist as well as the catechumen ;
and, as in religious instruction at that time, one of the chief
exercises was to find passages in the Bible as readily as pos-
sible ; so here a similar acquaintance with the "Corpus
Juris " was found necessary, in which, also, I soon became
completely versed. My father wished me to go on, and the
little " Struve " was taken in hand ; but here affairs did not
proceed so rapidly. The form of the work was not so favor-
able 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, accord-
ing to the old routine, we were to learn, besides other things,
fencing and riding, that we might guard our skins upon occa-
sion, 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 willow, to
protect the hands. Now we might get real steel blades, and
the clash we made with them was very merry.

There were two fencing-masters in the city : an old, earnest I
German, who went to work in a severe and solid style ; and a
Frenchman, who sought to gain his advantage by advancing-
and retreating, and by light, fugitive thrusts, which he always
accompanied by cries. Opinions varied as to whose manner
was the best. The little company with which I was to take
lessons sided with the Frenchman ; and we speedily accus-
tomed ourselves to move backwards and forwards, make
passes and recover, always breaking out into the usual excla-
mations. But several of our acquaintance had gone to

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 121

the German teacher, and practised precisely the opposite.
These distinct modes of treating so important an exercise, the
conviction of each that his master was the best, really caused
a dissension among the young people, who were of about
the same age : and the fencing-schools occasioned serious
battles, for there was almost as much fighting with words
as with swords ; and, to decide the matter in the end, a trial
of skill between the two teachers was arranged, the 'conse-
quences of which I need not circumstantially describe. The
German stood in his position like a wall, watched his oppor-
tunity, 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 still 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 all
depended on that ; for they went to and fro on the horse
without stirrups. Moreover, the instruction seemed con-
trived 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, — per-
haps 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 disagree-
able hours in an employment that ought to have been the

122 TRUTH AND FICTION

most pleasant in the world. Nay, the impression of that time
and of these circumstances has remained with me so vividly,
that although I afterwards became a passionate and daring
rider, and for days and weeks together scarcely got off my
horse, I carefully shunned covered riding-courses, and at
least passed only a few moments in them. The case often
happens, that, when the elements of an 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
still 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 well attained by great
attention to the peculiarities of times and manners and of
distinguished individuals.

Among the ancient remains, that which, from my child-
hood, had been remarkable to me, was the skull of a State
criminal, fastened up on the tower of the bridge, who, out
of three or four, as the naked iron spikes showed, had, since
1616, been preserved in spite of the encroachments of time
and weather. Whenever one returned from Sachsenhausen to
Frankfort, one had this tower before one ; and the skull was
directly in view. As a boy, I liked to hear related the history
of these rebels, — Fettmilch and his confederates, — how they
had become dissatisfied with the government of the city, had
risen up against it, plotted a mutiny, plundered the Jews'
quarter, and excited a fearful riot, but were at last captured,
and condemned to death by a deputy of the emperor. After-
wards 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 unwarrant-
able was then going on ; when I heard the nearer particulars
how all took place, — I pitied the unfortunate persons who

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 123

might be regarded as sacrifices made for a future better
constitution. For from that time was dated the regulation
which allows the noble old house of Limpurg, the Frauen-
stein-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 disagree-
able impression, even if one only looked in as one passed the
gate. Ic was long before I ventured in alone ; and I did not
return there readily, when I had once escaped the importu-
nities 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-will, but by public
order.

However, they still 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 dis-
pleased when a Christian lad, meeting them on the sabbath
in the Fischerfeld, showed himself kindly and attentive. I
was consequently extremely curious to become acquainted
with their ceremonies. I did not desist until I had frequently
visited their school, had assisted at a circumcision and a wed-
ding, and 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 influ-
ence that I had been either introduced or recommended.

124 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 publi-
cation was a French comic romance, which indeed spared the
State, but not religion and manners. There was really some-
thing 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 125

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 all men, yet of all human conditions, — the mere
fact of existence seeming to me the main point, and all the
rest indifferent and accidental.

As my father did not readily permit himself an expense
which would be consumed at once in some momentary enjoy-
ment, — as I can scarcely call 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 smallest inconvenience during
the last days of the war. With this feeling, he had promised
my mother a gold snuff-box, set with diamonds, which she was
to receive as soon as peace should be publicly declared. In
the expectation of the happy event, they had 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 clove and partly on the spot where the box is usually
opened. The jeweller, to whom the execution and the requi-
site stones were intrusted, was named Lautensak, and was a
brisk, skilful man, who, like many artists, seldom did what
was necessary, but usually works of caprice, which gave him
pleasure. The jewels were very soon set, in the shape in
which they were to be put upon the box, on some black wax,
and looked very well ; but they would not come off to be
transferred to the gold. In the outset, my father let the
matter rest : but as the hope of peace became livelier, and
finally when the stipulations, — particularly the elevation of
the Archduke Joseph to the Roman throne, — seemed more
precisely known, he grew more and more impatient ; and I
had to go several times a week, nay, at last, almost daily,
to visit the tardy artist. 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.

126 TRUTH AND FICTION

The chief cause of this conduct, however, was a task
which the artist had undertaken on his own account. Every-
body knew that the Emperor Francis cherished a strong lik-
ing for jewels, and especially 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 well 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 collection of
engravings, and other works of art, with which he liked to
amuse himself ; and I passed many hours with him, not
without profit. Finally, when the Congress of Hubertsburg
was finally fixed, he did 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 can-
vas. It was therefore his great care to possess good oak
boards, of every shape ; because he well knew that just on
this important point the more careless artists trusted to the
joiners. The oldest planks were hunted up, the joiners were
obliged to go accurately to work with gluing, painting, and
arranging ; and they were then kept for years in an upper
room, where they could be sufficiently dried. A precious
board of this kind was intrusted to the painter Junker, who
was to represent on it an ornamental flower-pot, with the

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 127

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 beau-
tiful flowers that fell in my way, which he immediately put
in, and by degrees composed the whole out of these elements
with the utmost care and fidelity. On one occasion I had
caught a mouse, which I took to him, and which he desired
to copy as a very pretty animal ; nay, really represented it,
as accurately as possible, gnawing an ear of corn at the
foot of the flower-pot. Many such inoffensive natural ob-
jects, such as butterflies and chafers, were brought in and
represented ; so that finally, as far as imitation and execu-
tion were concerned, a highly valuable picture was put
together.

Hence I was not a little astonished when the good man
formally declared one day, when the work was just about to
be delivered, that the picture no longer pleased him, — since,
while it had turned out quite well in its details, it was not
well composed as a whole, because it had been produced in
this gradual manner ; and he had committed a blunder at the
outset, in not at least devising a general plan for light and
shade, as well 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 thor-
oughly convince me. Even the copy of the mouse he re-
garded 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 per-
fectly with the artist when he caused to be prepared another
tablet of the same size, on which, according to his taste,
he painted a better-formed vessel and a more artistically
arranged nosegay, and also managed to select and distribute
the little living accessories in an ornamental and agreeable
way. This tablet also he painted with the greatest care,
though altogether after the former copied one, or from mem-
ory, 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 sur-

Goethe— 6 Vol 1

128 TRUTH AND FICTION

prised with two pictures instead of one, and to him the
choice was left. He approved of our opinion, and of the
reasons for it, and especially of our good will and activity ;
but, after considering both pictures some days, decided in
favor of the first, without saying much about the motives of
his choice. The artist, in an ill 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 repre-
sented by the pencils of accomplished workmen. This mul-
tiplicity, 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 occasionally lent a
hand myself. The sale of these commodities was extra-
ordinarily brisk. Whoever at that time was building or fur-
nishing a house, wished to provide for his lifetime ; and this
oil-cloth carpeting was certainly quite indestructible. Noth-
nagel had enough to do in managing the whole, and sat in
his office surrounded by factors and clerks. The remainder
of his time he employed in his collection of works of art,
consisting chiefly of engravings, in which, as well as in the
pictures he possessed, he traded occasionally. At the same
time he had acquired a taste for etching : he etched a variety
of plates, and prosecuted this branch of art even into his
latest years.

As his dwelling lay near the Eschenheim gate, my way
when I had visited him led me out of the city to some pieces
of ground which my father owned beyond the gates. One
was a large orchard, the soil of which was used as a meadow,

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 129

and in which my father carefully attended the transplanting
of trees, and whatever else pertained to their preservation ;
though the ground itself was leased. Still more occupation
was furnished by a very well-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 line season in which my father did not
go there ; and as on these occasions we might generally
accompany him, we were provided with joy and delight from
the earliest 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 vin-
tage-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-balls, 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 fer-
mentation 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 loth 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 Schoff, and son-in-law of the above-mentioned Dr. Orth, a
handsome, comfortable, sanguine man. In his official holiday
costume he could well have personated the most important
French prelate. After his academical, course, he had em-
ployed himself in political and state affairs, and directed even
his travels to that end. lie greatly esteemed me, and often
conversed with me on matters which chiefly interested him.
I was with him when he wrote his " Illustration of the Golden

130 TRUTH AND FICTION

Bull," when he managed to explain to me very clearly the
worth and dignity of that document. My imagination was
led back by it to those wild and unquiet times ; so that I could
not forbear representing what he related historically, as if it
were present, by pictures of characters and circumstances,
and often by mimicry. In this he took great delight, and by
his applause excited me to repetition.

I had from childhood the singular habit of always learning
by heart the beginnings of books, and the divisions of a work,
first of the five books of Moses, and then of the k * JEneid "
and Ovid's "Metamorphoses." I now did the same thing
with the " Golden Bull," and often provoked my patron to a
smile, when I quite seriously and unexpectedly exclaimed,
" Omne regnum in se divisum desolabitur; nam principes ejus
Jacti sunt sociifurum." l 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 intel-
lectual amusement, and induced us young people from time
to time to perform a play ; for such exercises were deemed
particularly useful to the young. We 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 ; " 2 for, be-
sides 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 befell him that his only daughter was carried
off by a friend of the family. He pursued his son-in-law with
the most vehement prosecution : and because the tribunals,
with their formality, were neither speedy nor sharp enough
to gratify his desire of vengeance, he fell out with them ; and
there arose quarrel after quarrel, suit after suit. He retired

1 Every kingdom divided against itself shall be brought to desolation* for the
princes thereof have become the associates of robbers. — Trans.

2 Racine's tragedy. — Trans.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 131

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 all the winter.
He answered, like a second Timon or Heautontimoroumenos,
" Would to God this was the greatest evil of those which tor-
ment 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 still 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 really rode out with
us many times, and again contemplated the country, on which
he had not cast an eye for so many years. He called to mind
the old landowners, and told stories of their characters and
actions, in which he showed himself always severe, but often
cheerful and witty. We now tried also to bring him again
among other men, which, however, nearly turned out badly.

About the same age, if indeed not older, was one 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 ; till at last Von Reineck resolved
to go out with us one Sunday afternoon. The greeting of the
two old gentlemen was very laconic, indeed almost panto-
mimic ; and they walked up and down by the long pink frames

132 - TRUTH AND FICTION

with true diplomatic strides. The display was really extraor-
dinarily 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 line 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 well inspect it. But even this gentle handling vexed
the owner. Von Malapert courteously, indeed, but Stiffly
enough, and somewhat self-complacently, reminded him of
the Ocalis, non manibus. 1 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 inter-
rupted, and turned to another subject), but it would not do ;
the old gentleman had become quite silent : and we feared
every moment that Von Reineck would repeat the act, when
it would be all over with us. The two friends kept their
principals apart by occupying them, now here, now there,
and at last we found it most expedient to make preparation
for departure. Thus, alas ! we were forced to turn our backs
on the inviting side-board, yet unenjoyed.

Hofrath Huesgen, not born in Frankfort, of the Reformed 2
religion, and therefore incapable of public office, including the
profession of advocate, which, however, because much con-
fidence was placed in him as an excellent jurist, he managed
to exercise quietly, both in the Frankfort and the imperial
courts, under assumed signatures, was already sixty years
old when I took writing-lessons with his son, and so came
into his house. His figure was tall without being thin, and
broad without corpulency. You could not look, for the fust
time, on his face, which was not only disfigured by small-pox,

1 Eyes, not hands. — Trans.

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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 133

but deprived of an eye, without apprehension. He always
wore on his bald head a perfectly white bell-shaped cap, tied
at the top with a ribbon. His morning-gowns, of calamanco
or damask, were always very clean. He dwelt in a very cheer-
ful suite of rooms on the ground-floor by the Allee, and the
neatness of 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 cloctrines,
before I could well perceive that he stood in opposition to God
and the world. One of his favorite books was " Agrippa de
Vanitate Scientiarum^" which he especially commended to me,
and so set my young brains in a considerable whirl for a long
time. In the happiness of youth I was inclined to a sort of
optimism, and had again pretty well reconciled myself with
God or the gods ; for the experience of a series of years had
taught me that there was much to counterbalance evil, that
one can well recover from misfortune, and that one may be
saved from dangers and need not always break one's neck.
I looked with tolerance, too, on what men did and pursued,
and found many things worthy of praise which my old gentle-
man 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 xilso 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 mo-
tions of the sun and moon, he caused to be made accord-
ing 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

134 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 in-
significant, 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 de-
light 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
especially practicable nor advisable.

But if I liked to be at the side of these men to profit
by their counsels and directions, younger persons, only a
little older than myself, roused me to immediate emula-
tion. I name here, before all others, the brothers Schlosser
and Griesbach. But as, subsequently, there arose between
us greater intimacy, which lasted for many years uninter-
ruptedly, I will only say, for the present, that they were
then praised as being distinguished in languages, and other
studies which opened the academical course, and held up as
models, and that everybody cherished the certain expecta-
tion that they would once do something uncommon in church
and state.

With respect to myself, I also had it in my mind to pro-
duce something extraordinary ; but in what it was to consist
was not clear. But as we are apt to look rather to the re-
ward which may be received than to the merit which is to
be acquired ; so, I do not deny, that if I thought of a de-
sirable piece of good fortune, it appeared to me most fasci-
nating in the shape of that laurel garland which is woven to
adorn the poet.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 135

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 all that was
rude ; and though I often came into contact with the lower
classes of people, particularly mechanics, no close connec-
tion grew out of it. I had indeed boldness enough to un-
dertake 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 im-
mediately. Once we met in the alleys which offer a very
agreeable walk between the outer and inner gate of Saint
Gailus. 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 will 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 will not speak of it," I replied: "what is the use
of it? one cannot convert them." — " By no means," said
my friend : " I cannot let the affair pass off in this way."

After a short, insignificant conversation, my young com-
rade, who was but too well disposed towards me, could not
suffer the matter to drop, without saying to the other, with
some resentment, " Here is my friend who made those
pretty 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 will not cost much labor to
convince you. Give him any theme, and he will make you

136 TRUTH AND FICTION

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. t4 Nothing is easier than that," I answered,
kk if I only had writing materials." He pulled out his
pocket almanac, in which there were a great many blank
leaves ; and I sat down upon a bench to write. They walked
about in the 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 senti-
ments to me, either in prose or verse. I therefore began
my declaration with delight, and in a little while executed
it in a flowing measure, between doggerel and madrigal,
with the greatest possible naivete, and in such a way that
the sceptic was overcome with admiration, and my friend
with delight. The request of the former to possess the
poem I could the less refuse, as it was written in his almanac ;
and I liked to see the documentary evidence of my capabili-
ties 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 to-
gether 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 knowl-
edge 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 ad-
vancing 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 frugally
in the evenings, and particularly on Sundays and festivals.

On the way there, while they highly extolled my love-let-
ter, they confessed to me that they had made a very merry
use of it; viz., that it had been copied in a feigned hand,
and, with a few pertinent allusions, had been sent to a con-
ceited young man, who was now firmly persuaded that a lady
to whom he had paid distant court was excessively* enam-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 137

orecl of him, and sought an opportunity for closer acquaint-
ance. 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 enjo3 r ment for
those who have neither resources in themselves nor a whole-
some external activity. No age is quite exempt from such
pruriences. We had often tricked each other in our childish
years : many sports turn upon mystification and trick. The
present jest did not seem to me to go farther : I gave my
consent. They imparted to me many particulars which the
letter ought to contain, and we brought it home already fin-
ished.

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

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

My natural good nature would not allow me to take much
pleasure in such a malicious deception, and the repetition of
the same subject soon disgusted me. I should certainly have
passed a tedious evening, if an unexpected apparition had
not revived me. On our arrival we found the table already
neatly and orderly set, and sufficient wine served on it : we
sat down and remained alone, without requiring further ser-
vice. As there was, however, a scarcity of wine at last, one
of them called for the maid ; but, instead of the maid, there
came in a girl of uncommon, and, when one saw her with all
around her, of incredible, beauty. " What do you desire? "
she asked, after having cordially wished us a good-evening :
" the maid is ill in bed. Can I serve you? " — u The wine
is out," said one : " if you would fetch us a few bottles, it
would be very kind." — w ' Do it, Gretchen," * said another :

1 Tbe diminutive of Margaret. —Trans.

138 TRUTH AND FICTION

"it is hut 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 gracefull}' 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 e}'es 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 followed me from that moment on
every path ; it was the first durable impression which a
female being had made upon me : and as I could find no pre-
text to see her at home, and would not seek one, I went to
church for love of her, and had soon traced out where she
sat. Thus, during the long Protestant service, I gazed my
fill at her. When the congregation left the church, I did not
venture to accost her, much less to accompany her, and was
perfectly delighted if she seemed to have remarked me and
to have returned my greeting with a nod. Yet I was not
long denied the happiness of approaching her. They had
persuaded the lover, whose poetical secretary I had been,
that the letter written in his name had been actually de-
spatched 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 earn-
estly, through Pylades, to exert all my wit and employ all
my art, in order that this piece might be quite elegant aud
perfect.

In the hope of again seeing my beauty, I immediately set to
work, and thought of every thing that would be in the high-
est 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 139

similar could be sent from her to me. Thus I mystified my-
self, 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 re-
marked 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 en-
treated 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 wall, behind the large table, and essayed
the alterations that were to be made, on the large slate,
which almost covered the whole table, with a pencil that
always lay in 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 will not do ! " —
" So much the better," said the dear girl in a grave tone :
' ' I wished that it might not do ! You should not meddle in
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 3'our 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

140 TRUTH AND FICTION

upon these relations, — who indeed do nothing bad, though
they often, for the sake of sport or profit, undertake a good
deal that is rash, — I have resisted them, and would not copy
the first letter, as they requested. They transcribed it in a
feigned hand ; and, if it is not otherwise, so may they also do
with this. And you, a young man of good family, rich,
independent, why will you allow yourself to be used as a
tool in a business which can certainly bring no good to you,
and may possibly bring much that is unpleasant? " 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 sup-
pose ; and of what use is wealth to me, when the most pre-
cious 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 man-
ner.

"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." — " TJiat 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."- — M 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 shall ever get it," said I : " the affair
is closed. You have saved me." — "Now complete the
salvation," she exclaimed, " and hurry off, before the others
arrive, and you fall into trouble and embarrassment ! " I
could not tear myself away from her ; but she asked me in
so kindly a manner, while she took my right hand in both of
hers, and lovingly pressed it ! The tears stood in my eyes :
I thought hers looked moist. I pressed my face upon her
hands, and hastened away. Never in my life had I found
myself in such perplexity.

The first propensities to love in an uncorrupted youth take

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 141

altogether a spiritual direction. Nature seems to desire that
oue sex may by the seuses perceive goodness and beauty in
the other. And thus to me, by the sight of this girl, — by my
strong inclination for her, — a new world of the beautiful and
the excellent had arisen. I 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 con-
verse with her again ; for I dreaded the reproofs and impor-
tunities 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 asso-
ciates generally used to go, and actually found them there.
I was, however, greatly surprised, when, instead of behaving
in a cross, distant manner, they came up to me with joyful
countenances. The youngest particularly was very 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 sug-
gested a good thought to us, which otherwise might never
have occurred. By way of atonement, you may treat us
to-day ; and you shall 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 especially 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 young-
est 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 will treat us twice ; and we shall long re-
main your debtors." This proposal pleased me in every
respect ; for 1 had already in my childhood looked with a

142 TRUTH AND FICTION

certain envy on the occasional poems, 1 — of which then sev-
eral circulated every week, and at respectable marriages espe-
cially came to light by the dozen, — because I thought I could
make such things as well, nay, better than others. Now an
opportunity was offered me to show myself, and 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 con-
fess 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 nryself 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 mani-
fold ways and means by which one could gain a living : above
all, they loved to tell of people, now very rich, who had begun
with nothing. Others to whom they referred had, as poor
clerks, rendered themselves indispensable to their employers,
and had finally risen to be their sons-in-law ; while others had
so enlarged and improved a little trade in matches and the
like, that they were now prosperous merchants and tradesmen.
But above all, to young men who were active on their feet,
the trade of agent and factor, and the undertaking of all sorts
of commissions and charges for helpless rich men was, they
said, a most profitable means of gaining a livelihood. We
all 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 extraor-
dinary fortune. But no one seemed to carry on this con-
versation more earnestly than Pylades, who at last confessed

1 That is to eay, a poem written for a certain occasion, as a wedding, funeral,
etc. The German' word is " Gelegenheitsgedicht." — Trans.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 143

that he had an extraordinary passion for a girl, and was
actually engaged to her. The circumstances of his parents
would not allow him to go to universities ; but he had endeav-
ored 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 fellows praised
him for this, although they did not approve of a premature
engagement ; and they added, that while forced to acknowl-
edge him to be a fine, good fellow, 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
tell what he was now able to do, doing, or carrying on, what
he had already accomplished, and what he saw immediately
before him. The turn at last came to me. I was to set
forth my course of life and prospects ; and, while I was
considering, Pylades said, "I make this one proviso, 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 tell us a tale how he would proceed if at this
moment he were thrown entirely upon his own resources, as
we are."

Gretchen, who till this moment had kept on spinning, rose,
and seated herself as usual at the end of the table. We had
already emptied some bottles, and I began to relate the hypo-
thetical 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
gradually procure me the profit of all the occasional poems,
and we do not consume them in mere feasting, I shall soon
come to something. But then, you must not take it ill if I
dabble also in your handicraft." Upon this, I told them
what I had observed in their occupations, and for which I
held myself fit at any rate. Each one had previously rated
his services in money, and I asked them to assist me also in
completing my establishment. Gretchen had listened to all
hitherto very attentively, and that in a position which well
suited her, whether she chose to hear or to speak. With both
hands she clasped her folded arms, and rested them on the
edge of the table. Thus she could sit 'a long while without
moving any thing but her head, which was never done with-
out some occasion or meaning. She had several times put
in a word, and helped us on over this and that, when we

144 TRUTH AND FICTION

halted in 'our projects, and then was again still and quiet as
usual. I kept her in my eye, and it may readily be sup-
posed 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, 1
deceived myself, imagined myself as lonely and helpless as
my story supposed, and felt extremely happy in the prospect
of possessing her. Py lades had closed his confession with
marriage ; and the question arose among the rest of us,
whether our plans went as far as that. u 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 cpithalamium now stood
beneficially at hand : I overcame all fear and care, and con-
trived, 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 still very
much in the bud, did not conceal their tenderness : Gretchen' s
deportment towards me was only suited to keep me at a
distance. She gave her hand to no one, not even to me ;
she allowed no touch : yet she many times seated herself
near me, particularly when I wrote, or read aloud, and then,
laying her arm familiarly upon my 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
equally becoming, beautiful, and charming. But such a
familiarity I never saw her practise towards anybody else.

One of the most innocciit, and, at the same time, amus-
ing, parties of pleasure in which I engaged with different
companies of young people, was this,— - that we seated our-
selves in the Hbchst market-ship, observed the strange pas-
sengers packed away in it, and bantered and teased, now
this one, now that, as pleasure or caprice prompted. At

RELATING TO* MY LIFE. 145

Hochst we got out at the time when the market-boat from
Mentz arrived. At a hotel there was a well-spread table,
where the better sort of travellers, coming and going, ate
with each other, and then proceeded, each on his way, as
both ships returned. Every time, after dining, we sailed
up to Frankfort, having, with a very large company, made
the cheapest water-excursion that was possible. Once I had
undertaken this journey with Gretchen's cousins, when a
young man joined us at table in Hochst, who might be a
little older than we were. They knew him, and he got him-
self 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 Frank-
fort, 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 well in-
formed. When we separated, he bade me farewell, and
added, that he wished I might think well of him, as he
hoped on occasion to avail himself of my recommendation.
I did not know what he meant by this, but the cousins en-
lightened me some days after. They spoke well of him,
and asked me to intercede with my grandfather, as a moder-
ate 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 unfortu-
nately 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 my-
self. For that reason, to gratify my friends, who declared
themselves under every sort of obligation for such a kind-
ness, 1 overcame the timidity of a grandchild, and under-
took 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 approach-
ing, 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 nierit, and, moreover,
good testimonials, I will favor him for your sake and his
own." He said no more, and for a long while I heard
nothing of the matter.

146 TRUTH AND FICTION

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
ball, asked me to fetch her some so-called Italian flowers,
at a fashionable milliner's. They were made in convents,
and were small and pretty : myrtles especially, dwarf-roses,
and the like, came out quite beautifully and naturally. I
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 mantilla seemed veiy well shaped. I could easily recog-
nize that she was an assistant, for she was occupied in fas-
tening a ribbon and feathers upon a hat. The milliner
showed me the long box with single flowers of various sorts.
I looked them over, and, as I made my 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 choos-
ing and rejecting, drove the milliner into despair more than
even a lady could have done. I had, in fact, no choice ; for
I was excessively confused, and at the same time liked to
linger, because it kept me near the girl, whose disguise an-
noyed me, though in that disguise she appeared to me more
enchanting than ever. Finally the milliner seemed to lose
all patience, and with her own hands selected for me a
whole bandbox full of flowers, which I was to place before
my sister, and let her choose for herself. Thus I was, as
it were, driven out of the shop, she sending the box in ad-
vance by one of her girls.

Scarcely had I reached home than my father caused me
to be called, and communicated to me that it was now quite
certain that the Archduke Joseph would be elected and
crowned king of Rome. An event so highly important was
not to be expected without preparation, nor allowed to pass

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 147

with mere gaping and staring. He wished, therefore, he
said, to go through with me the election and coronation
diaries of the two last coronations, as well as through the
last capitulations of election, in order to remark what new
conditions might be added in the present instance. The
diaries were opened, and we occupied ourselves with them
the whole day till far into the night ; while the pretty girl,
sometimes in her old house-dress, sometimes in her new cos-
tume, ever hovered before me, backwards and forwards
among the most august objects of the Holy Roman Empire.
This evening it was impossible to see her, and I lay awake
through a very restless night. The study of yesterday was
the next day zealously resumed ; and it was not till towards
evening that I found it possible to visit my fair one, whom
I met again in her usual house-dress. She smiled when she
saw me, but I did not venture to mention 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 conversa-
tion, 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 con-
sequently proposed that she should make an experiment at
a milliner's, w r ho 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 all suit her other modes of life and
employment. I was indeed set at rest by this declaration ;
but it did not quite please me to know that the pretty girl
was in a public shop, and at a place where the fashionable
world found a convenient resort. But I betrayed nothing,
and strove to work off my jealous care in silence. For this
the younger cousin did not allow me a long time, as he once
more came forward with a proposal for an occasional poem,
told me all the personalities, and at once desired me to
prepare myself for the invention and disposition of the
work. He had spoken with me several times already con-
cerning the proper treatment of such a theme ; and, as I
was voluble in these cases, he readily asked me to explain
to him, circumstantially, what is rhetorical in these things,

J 48 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 utter-
ance to the remark, "It seems as it* you wanted to en-
croach upon my trade, and take away my customers!" —
" I will not deny it," said he, smiling, "as I shall do you
no harm by it. This will only continue to the time when
you go to the university, and till then you must allow me
still to profit something by your society." — "Most cor-
dially," 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 all from the beginning m} T self.
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 mil-
liner's : in the evenings we generally met together, and our
contentment was not even disturbed when at last the com-
missions 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 con-
soled 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 frugally managed.

That great political object, the election and coronation of
a king of Rome, was pursued with more and more earnest-
ness. The assembling of the electoral college, originally
appointed to take place at Augsburg in the October of 17G3,
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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 149

the city, a prolix edict, which announced the forthcoming
proceedings, and exhorted the citizens to a becoming de-
portment suitable to the circumstances. The council was
occupied with weighty considerations ; and it was not long
before the Imperial quartermaster, despatched by the he-
reditary 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 billetting. The middle stor} r , which Count
Thorane had formerly occupied, was given up to a cavalier
of the Palatinate ; and as Baron von Konigsthal, the Nurem-
bnrg charge-cV affaires, occupied the upper floor, we were
still 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 all that was open to public view.

After the preliminary alteration and arrangement of the
rooms in the town-house had seemed to us worth seeing ;
after 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 Rbmer, which
was made with great pomp. The dignified person of the
Prince of Lichtenstein made a good impression ; yet con-
noisseurs 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 : all 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 ambassa-
dors kept us always on our legs. We were, moreover, com-
pelled 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 Konigsthal had deliberated,
partly for our exercise and partly for their own information.
And certainly this was of peculiar advantage to me ; as 1
was enabled very tolerably to keep a living election and
eorouatiou diary, as far as regarded externals.

The person who first of all made a durable impression

150 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 well-
formed man of the world, easy in his exterior, but conduct-
ing himself with great decorum. He everywhere produced
a very agreeable impression. Prince Esterhazy, the Bohe-
mian envoy, was not tall, though well formed, livety, and
at the same time eminently decorous, without pride or cold-
ness. I had a special liking for him, because he reminded
me of Marshal de Broglio. Yet the form and dignity of
these excellent 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 parsimonj', 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 pres-
ence of witnesses, to serve him with the declaration of out-
lawry 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, fieiy eyes
glancing here and there. All eyes were directed towards
him, particularly when he alighted. There arose every time
a sort of joyous whispering ; and but little was wanting to a
regular explosion, or a shout of Vivat! Bravo! So high
did the king, and all who were devoted to him, body and
soul, stand in 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
all 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, repre-
sented 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 151

one valued his influence only so far as he hoped to retain or
enlarge his privileges, and better to secure his independence.
Nay, on this occasion they were more attentive than usual,
because they began to fear Joseph the Second, his vehemence,
and probable plans.

With my grandfather and other members of the council,
whose families I used to visit, this was no pleasant time, they
had so much to do with meeting distinguished guests, compli-
menting, and the delivery of presents. No less had the ma-
gistrate, both in general and in particular, to defend himself,
to resist, and to protest, as every one on such occasions
desires to extort something from him, or burden him with
something ; and few of those to whom he appeals support
him, or lend him their aid. In short, all that I had read
in " Lersner's 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 gradu-
ally overrun with people, both useful and needless. In vain
are the courts reminded, on the part of the city, of prescrip-
tions of the Golden Bull, now, indeed, obsolete. Not only
the deputies with their attendants, but many persons of rank,
and others who come from curiosity or for private objects,
stand under protection ; and the question as to who is to be
billetted out, and who is to hire his own lodging, is not
alwa}^s 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 an/I future king ; that
the proceedings of the college of electors, which were based
on the last electoral capitulation, were now going forward
rapidly ; and that the day of election had been appointed for
the 27th of March. Now there was a thought of fetching
the insignia of the empire from Nuremburg and Aix-la-Cha-

152 TRUTH AND FICTION

pelle, and next we expected the entrance of the Elector of
Mentz ; while the disputes witli his ambassadors about the
quartering ever continued.

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

In the mean time the office of imperial marshal was forced
to undertake many dangerous affairs : the crowd of strangers
increased, and it became more and more difficult to find
lodgings for them. Nor was there unanimit}' as to the limits
of the different precincts of the electors. The magistracy
wished to keep from the citizens the burdens which they
were not bound to bear ; and thus day and night there were
hourly grievances, redresses, contests, and misunderstand-
ings.

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

What I refer to is this : the same day Lavater, on his
return home from Berlin, came through Frankfort, and saw
the solemnity. Now, though such worldly formalities could
not have the least value for him, this procession, with its
display and all its accessories, might have been distinctly
impressed on his very lively imagination ; for many years
afterwards, when this eminent but singular man showed
me a poetical paraphrase of, I believe, the Revelation of
St. John, I discovered the entrance of Anti-Christ copied,
step by step, figure by figure, circumstance by circumstance,
from the entrance of the Elector of Mentz into Frankfort,
in such a manner, too, that even the tassols on the heads

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 153

of the dun-colored horses were not wanting. More can be
said on this point when I reach the epoch of that strange
kind of poetry by which it was supposed that the myths
of the Old and New Testaments were brought nearer to
our view and feelings when they were completely traves-
tied into the modern style, and clothed with the vestments
of present life, whether gentle or simple. How this mode
of treatment gradually obtained favor will be likewise dis-
cussed hereafter ; yet I may here simply remark, that it
could not well be carried farther than it was by Lavatcr
and his emulators, one of tiiese having described the three
holy kings riding into Bethlehem in such modern form, that
the princes and gentlemen whom Lavater used to visit were
not to be mistaken as the persons.

We will, then, for the present, allow the Elector Eme-
ric Joseph to enter the Compostello incognito, so to speak,
and turn to Gretchen, whom, just as the crowd was dis-
persing, I spied in the crowd, accompanied by Pylades
and his mistress, the three now seeming to be inseparable.
We had scarcely come up to each other and exchanged
greetings, than it was agreed that we should pass the
evening together ; and I kept the appointment punctually.
The usual company had assembled ; and each one had some-
thing to relate, to say, or to remark, — how one had been
most struck by this thing, and another by that. "Your
speeches," said Gretchen at last, "perplex me even more
than the events of the time themselves. What I have seen
I cannot make out, and should very much like to know
what a great deal of it means." I replied that it was
easy for me to render her this service. She had only to
say what particularly interested her. This she did ; and, as
I was about to explain some points, it was found that it
would be better to proceed in order. I not unskilfully
Compared these solemnities and functions to a play, in
which the curtain was let down at will, while the actors
played on, and was then raised again, so that the specta-
tors could once more, to some extent, take part in the
action. Being very talkative when I was allowed my own
way, I related the whole, from the beginning down to the
time present, in the best order, and, to make the subject
of my discourse more apparent, did not fail to use the
pencil and the large slate. Being only slightly interrupted
by some questions and obstinate assertions of the others,
I brought my discourse to a close, to the general satisfac-

154 TRUTH AND FICTION

tion ; 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, u 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 well
aware in the milliner's shop. 1 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 ex- |
pose 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 demonstra-
tions 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 harmo-
niously formed by nature, nothing can conduce to a more
beautiful union than when the maiden is anxious to learn,
and the youth inclined to teach. There arises from it a
well-grounded and agreeable relation. She sees in him the
creator of her spiritual existence ; and he sees in her a
creature that ascribes her perfection, not to nature, not to
chance, nor to any one-sided inclination, but to a mutual
will : and this reciprocation is so sweet, that we cannot
wonder, if, from the days of the old and the new * Abelard,
the most violent passions, and as much happiness as un-
happiness, 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

1 The "new Abelard" is St. Preux, iu the Nouvelle Heloise of Rousseau. —
Trans.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 155

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
personally and in mass : first, in the great hall of the
Romer, by the magistracy and staff-officers ; then in the
great square (Platz), the Romerberg, by all the citizens,
.according to their respective ranks, gradations, or quarter-
ing^ ; 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 Elect-
ors of Treves and of Cologne had now also arrived. On
the evening before the day of election, all strangers are
sent out of the city, the gates are closed, the Jews are
confined to their quarter, and the citizen of Frankfort
prides himself not a little that he alone may witness so great
a solemnity.

All that had hitherto taken place was tolerably modern :
the highest and high personages moved about only in
coaches, but now we were going to see them in the prim-
itive manner on horseback. The concourse and rush were
extraordinary. I managed to squeeze myself into the Ro-
mer, which 1 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, well-trained steeds
were covered with richly laced housings, and ornamented
in every way. The Elector Emeric Joseph, a handsome,
portly man, looked well on horseback. Of the other two
I remember less, excepting that the red princes' mantles,
trimmed with ermine, which we had been accustomed to see
only in pictures before, seemed to us very romantic in the
open air. The ambassadors of the absent temporal elect-
ors, with their Spanish dresses of gold brocade, embroid-
ered 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

156 TRUTH AND FICTION

of the kind, that we might have seen a more consistent
costume.

In deportment the Ambassador Von Plotlio again distin-
guished himself from all the rest. He appeared lively and
cheerful, and seemed to have no great respect for the whole
ceremony. For when his front-man, an elderly gentleman,
could not leap immediately on his horse, and he was therefore
forced to wait some time in the grand entrance, he did not
refrain from laughing, till his own horse was brought forward,
upon which he swung himself very dexterously, and was again
admired by us as a most 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 with-
drawn into the sanctum, where prolix ceremonies usurped the
place of a deliberate consideration as to the election. After
long delay, pressure, and bustle, the people at last heard the
name of Joseph the Second, who was proclaimed King of
Rome.

The thronging of strangers into the city became greater
and greater. Everybody went about in his holiday clothes,
so that at last none but dresses entirely of gold were found
worthy of note. The emperor and king had already arrived
at Heusenstamm, a castle of the counts of Schonborn, and
were there in the customary manner greeted and welcomed ;
but the city celebrated this important epoch by spiritual
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 re-
fused to describe more completely, was magnificent and im-
posing enough to suggest to the imagination of an eminent
man the advent of a great prophesied world-ruler : even we
were not a little dazzled by it. But now our expectation was

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 157

stretched to the utmost, as it was said that the emperor and
the future king were approaching the city. At a little dis-
tance from Sachsenhausen, a tent had been erected in which
the entire magistracy remained, to show the appropriate
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 gradually, 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 walls and streets still more than could have been done
in the open fields, were very well entertained for a while by
the barricade set up by the citizens in the lanes, by the throng
of people, and by the various jests and improprieties which
arose, till the ringing of bells and the thunder of cannon
announced to us the immediate approach of majesty. What
must have been particularly grateful to a Frankforter was,
that on this occasion, in the presence of so many 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, followed him ;
then came attendants and officials, drummers and trumpeters,
and deputies of the council, accompanied by the clerks of
the council, in the city livery, on foot. Immediately behind
these were the three companies of citizen cavalry, very well
mounted, — the same that we had seen from our youth, at the
reception of the escort, and on other public occasions. We
rejoiced in our participation of the honor, and in our one
hundred-thousandth part of a sovereignty which now appeared
in its full brilliancy. The different trains of the hereditary
imperial marshal, and of the envoys deputed by the six
temporal electors, marched after these step by step. None
of them consisted of less than twenty attendants and two
state-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

158 TRUTH AND FICTION

many alone. The servants, both on horseback and on foot,
were clothed most splendidly throughout : the lords in the
equipages, spiritual and temporal, had not omitted to appear
richly and venerably dressed, and adorned with all the badges
of their orders. The train of his imperial majesty now,
as was fit, surpassed all the rest. The riding-masters, the
led horses, the equipages, the shabracks and caparisons,
attracted every eye ; and the sixteen six-horse gala-wagons
of the imperial chamberlains, privy councillors, high cham-
berlain, high stewards, and high equerry, closed, with great
pomp, this division of the procession, which, in spite of its
magnificence and extent, was still only to be the 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 foot-
men, one and forty lackeys, and eight hey ducks 1 announced
their majesties. The most magnificent state-carriage, fur-
nished 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, allowed us very conveniently to behold the emperor
and king, the long-desired heads, in all their glory. The
procession was led a long, circuitous route, partly from
necessity, that it might be able to unfold itself, and partly
to render it visible to the great multitude of people. It had
passed through Sachsenhausen, over the bridge, up the Fahr-
gasse, 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, with-
out 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 re-

1 A class of attendants dressed in Hungarian costume. — Trans.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 159

moved all the projecting eaves from the shops and booths
in the street, that neither crown nor eagle nor the genii
should receive any shock or injury.

Eagerly as we directed our eyes to the high personages when
this precious vessel with such precious contents approached us,
we could not avoid turning our looks upon the noble horses,
their harness, and its embroidery ; but the strange coachmen
and outriders, both sitting on the horses, particularly struck
us. They looked as if they had come from some other nation,
or even from another world, with their long black and yellow
velvet coats, and their caps with large plumes of feathers, after
the imperial-court fashion. Now the crowd became so dense
that it was impossible to distinguish much more. The Swiss
guard on both sides of the carriage ; the hereditary marshal
holding the Saxon sword upwards in his right hand ; the field-
marshals, as leaders of the imperial guard, riding behind the
carriage ; the imperial pages in a body ; and, finally, the impe-
rial horse-guard (Hatschiergarde) itself, in black velvet frocks
(Flilgelrock) , with all 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 splen-
didly clad body-guards of the electors were barely looked at ;
and we should, perhaps, have withdrawn from the windows, if
we had not wished to take a view of our own magistracy, who
closed the procession in their fifteen two-horse coaches ; and
particularly the clerk of the council, with the city keys on red
velvet cushions. That our company of city grenadiers should
cover the rear seemed to us honorable enough, and we felt
doubly and highly edified as Germans and as Frankf orters by
this great day.

We had taken our place in a house which the procession
had to pass again when it returned from the cathedral. Of
religious services, of music, of rites and solemnities, of
addresses and answers, of propositions and readings aloud,
there was so much in church, choir, and conclave, before it
came to the swearing of the electoral capitulation, that we
had time enough to partake of an excellent collation, and to
empty 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

Goethe— 7 Vol 1

1G0 TRUTH AND FICTIOX

all had not been so settled as now ; peace had not yet been
concluded; France and the Electors of Brandenburg mid
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, com-
ing 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 carried 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 after her, reaches her ship ; and the loving pair is
delighted at this surprising meeting. The story spreads
immediately ; and all the world sympathizes with this tender
pair, so richly blessed with children, who have been so insep-
arable 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 his
equals when he wishes to love them ; and that he can best do
when he can picture them to himself as loving husbands, tender
parents, devoted brothers, and true friends. At that time all
uappiness had been wished and prophesied : and to-day it was
seen fulfilled in the first-born son, to whom everybody was
well inclined on account of his handsome, youthful form, and
upon whom the world set the greatest hopes, on account of
the great qualities that he showed.

We had become quite absorbed in the past and future,
when some friends who came in recalled us to the present.
They were of that class of people who know the value of
novelty, and .therefore hasten to announce it first. They

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 161

were even able to tell of a fine humane trait in those exalted
personages whom we had seen go by with the greatest pomp.
It had been eoncerted, that on the way, between Heuscn-
stamm 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 digni-
ties, 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 cit}'. 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 ; 1 thought more of how I should tell 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

162 TRUTH AND FICTION

and immediate use. At last I reached her residence some-
what 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 un-
known persons among them. They sat down to play, all
except Gretchen and her younger cousin, who remained with
me at the slate. The dear girl expressed most gracefully
her delight that she, though a stranger, had passed for a
citizen on the election-day, and had taken part in that unique
spectacle. She thanked me most warmly for having man-
aged to take care of her, and for having been so attentive as
to procure her, through Pylades, all sorts of admissions by
means of billets, directions, friends, and intercessions.

She liked to hear about the jewels of the empire. I prom-
ised her that we should, if possible, see these together. She
made some jesting remarks when she learned that the gar-
ments 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 in-
spected 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 embarrass-
ment to her. " After all," said she, " it will 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 gradually slackened ; conversation failed ; the mother
slept in the great chair ; the strangers, weary from travelling,
nodded here and there ; and Pylades and his fair one sat in a
corner. She had laid her head on his shoulder, and had gone
to 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 163

by me. We talked in a low voice : but at last sleep over-
came her also ; she leaned her head on my shoulder, aud sank
at once into a slumber. Thus I uow 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, cordially pressed my 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 wall, 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 media-
tion alwaj's came in well for us, had endeavored to palliate
my absence in the morning at breakfast, by the supposition
that I had gone out early ; and I experienced no disagreeable
effects from this innocent night.

Taken as a whole, this infinitely various world which sur-
rounded me produced upon me but a very simple impression.
I had no interest but to mark closely the outside of the
objects, no business but that with which I had been charged
by my father and Herr von Konigsthal, by which, indeed, I
perceived the inner course of things. I had no liking but
for Gretchen, and no other view than to see and 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
all the particulars, and to be praised by my fair one for this
attention and accuracy : the applause and acknowledgments
of the others I regarded as a mere appendix.

I was indeed presented to many exalted and distinguished
persons ; but partly, no one had time to trouble himself about
others, and partly, older people do not know at once how
they should converse with a young man and try him. I, on
my side, was likewise not particularly skilful in adapting my-
self to people. I generally 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 sullen, just as persons attracted or
repelled me ; and thus I was considered to be indeed full of
promise, but at the same time was declared eccentric.

The coronation-day dawned at last on the 3d of April,
1764 : the weather was favorable, and everybody was in

164 TRUTH AND FICTION

motion. I, with several of my relations and friends, had
been provided with a good place in one of the upper storiea

of the Homer itself, where we might completely survey the
Whole. We betook ourselves to the spot very early in the
morning, and from above, as in a bird's-eye view, contem-
plated 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.
All the avenues leading out from the Homer, and from other
streets back to the Homer, were secured on both sides by
barriers and guards. The great square was gradually filled ;
and the waving and pressure grew every moment stronger
and more in motion, as the multitude always, if possible, en-
deavored to reach the spot where some new scene arose, and
something particular was announced.

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

In the mean time the ambassadors drove before our eyes up
to the Komer, from which the canopy is carried by the under-
ollicers 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, feath-
ered hat, and the loose, Hying hair, became very well. He
puts himself in motion ; and, amid the sound of all the bells,
the ambassadors follow him on horseback to the quarters

RELATING TO MY LTFE. 165

of the emperor in still greater magnificence than on the day
of eleotionf One would have liked to be there too ; as

indeed, on this day, it would have been altogether desirable
to multiply one's self. However, we told each other what
was going on there. Now the emperor is putting on his
domestic robes, we said, a new dress, made after the old
Carolingian pattern. The hereditary officers receive the
insignia, and with them get on horseback. The emperor
in his robes, the Roman king in the Spanish habit, imme-
diately mount their steeds ; and, while this is done, the end-
less 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 schoffen and
senators, the emperor, in romantic costume, and to the left,
a little behind him, in the Spanish dress, his son, slowly
iloated 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, b} 7 a magic charm ; but the
glory passed on without stopping : and the space that was
scarcely quitted was immediately filled again b}' the crowd,
which poured in like billows.

But now a new pressure ensued ; for another approach
from the market to the R6mer gate had to be opened, and a
road of planks to be bridged over it, on which the train re-
turning 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 all the family cellars ; so that, in this respect
at least, we celebrated the ancient festival in ancient style.

In the square, the sight most worth seeing was now the
bridge, which had been finished, and covered with orange
and white cloth ; and we who had stared at the emperor,
first in his carriage and then on horseback, were now to
admire him walking on foot. Singularly enough, the last

166 TRUTH AND FICTION

pleased us tne 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 be-
yond measure, had looked on this solemnity from a balcony
window of the Frauenstein house, close to the Romer. As
her consort returned from the cathedral in his strange cos-
tume, and seemed to her, so to speak, like a ghost of
Charlemagne, he had, as if in jest, raised both his hands,
and shown her the imperial globe, the sceptre, and the curious
gloves, at which she had broken out into immoderate laugh-
ter, which served for the great delight and edification of the
crowd, which was thus 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, par-
ticularly 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 canop} r (Baldachin) ; the three spiritual electors, who
immediately followed ; the schoffen and senators, dressed in
black ; the gold-embroidered canopy (Himmel) , — all seemed
only one mass, which, moved by a single will, splendidly har-
monious, and thus stepping from the temple amid the sound
of the bells, beamed towards us as something holy.

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

The rejoicings which resounded from the market-place
now spread likewise over the great square ; and a boisterous
vivat burst forth from thousands upon thousands of throats,

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 167

and doubtless from as many hearts. For this grand festival
was to be the pledge of a lasting peace, which indeed for
many a long year actually blessed Germany.

Several days before, it had been made known by public
proclamation, that neither the bridge nor the eagle over the
fountain was to be exposed to the people, and they were there-
fore not, as at other times, to be touched. This was done
to prevent the mischief inevitable with such a rush of per-
sons. But, in order to sacrifice in some degree to the genius
of the mob, persons expressly appointed went behind the
procession, loosened the cloth from the bridge, wound it up
like a flag, and threw it into the air. This gave rise to no
disaster, but to a laughable mishap ; for the cloth unrolled
itself in the air, and, as it fell, covered a larger or smaller
number of persons. Those now who took hold of the ends
and drew them towards 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 all sorts of little steps and
passages, down to the great Romer-stairs, where the dis-
tinguished 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-
hall were well garrisoned ; and I fortunately reached at
once the iron balustrades above. Now the chief person-
ages ascended past me, while their followers remained be-
hind 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 well as his crown, sceptre, and impe J
rial orb, struck the eye with good effect. For all in them'
was new, and the imitation of the antique was tasteful. He
moved, too, quite easily in his attire ; and his true-hearted,!
dignified face, indicated at once the emperor and the father J
The young king, on the contrary, in his monstrous articles
of dress, with the crown- jewels of Charlemagne, dragged'
himself alon^ as if he had been in a disguise ; so that he
himself, looking at his father from time to time, could not

168 TRUTH AND FICTION

refrain from laughing. The crown, which it had been neces-
sary to line a great deal, stood out from his head like an
overhanging roof. The dalmatica, the stole, well as the}'
had been litted and taken in by sewing, presented by no
means an advantageous appearance. The sceptre and impe-
rial 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 posses-
sion of my window, for the most remarkable part of all that
was to be seen in public was just about to take place. All
the people had turned towards the Komer ; and a reiterated
shout of vivat gave us to understand that the emperor and
king, in their vestments, were showing themselves to the
populace from the balcony of the great hall. But they
were not alone to serve as a spectacle, since another strange
spectacle occurred before their e} r es. First of all, the hand-
some, 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 >
Romer. Now it was the turn of the hereditary cup-bearer,
who rode to the fountain and fetched wine. Thus now was
the imperial table furnished ; and every eye waited upon the
hereditary treasurer, who was to throw about the money.
He, too, mounted a line 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 169

in the air like metallic ruin. A thousand hands waved in-
stantly in the air to catch the gifts; but hardly had the
coins fallen 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 every-
body tried to catch this highest prize.

Their majesties had retired from the balcony ; and another
offering was to be made to the mob, who, on such occasions,
would rather steal the gifts than receive them tranquilly and
gratefully. The custom prevailed, in more rude and uncouth
times, of giving up to the people on the spot the oats, as
soon as the hereditary marshal had taken away his share ;
the fountain and the kitchen, after the cup-bearer and the
carver had performed their ofiices. But this time, to guarc^
against all mischief, order and moderation were preserved
as far as possible. But the old malicious jokes, that when
one filled a sack with oats another cut a hole in it, with sal-
lies 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 fall to one of the two. The butchers believed
that they had the best right to an ox which they provided
entire for the kitchen: the wine-porters, on the other hand,
laid claim because the kitchen was built near the abode of
their guild, and because they had gained the victory the last
time, the horns of the captured steer still projecting from
the latticed gable-window of their guild and meeting-house
as a sign of victory. Both these companies had very strong
and able; members ; but which of them conquered this time,
I no longer remember.

But, as a festival of this kind must always close with
something dangerous and frightful, it was really a terrible
moment when the wooden kitchen itself was made a prize.
The roof of it swarmed instantly with men, no one knowing
how they got there : the boards were torn loose, and pitched
down ; so that one could not help supposing, particularly
at a distance, that each would kill a few of those pressing
to the spot. In a trice the hut was unroofed ; and single
individuals hung to tin; beams and rafters, in order to pull

170 TRUTH AND FICTION

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, threat-
ened to fall in. Sensitive persons turned their eyes away,
and everybody expected a great calamity ; but we did not
hear of any mischief : and the whole affair, though impetu-
ous and violent, had passed off happily.

Everybody knew now that the emperor and king would
return from the cabinet, whither they had retired from the
balcony, and feast in the great hall of the 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, all splendidly dressed, passed me, carry-
ing the dishes from the kitchen ; so that the contrast between
their dignity and their occupation might well be bewilder-
ing to a boy. The crowd was not great, but, considering
the little space, sufficiently perceptible. The hall-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 sanc-
tuary. The Palatine buffet stood to the left, directly by the
door ; and with some steps I placed myself on the elevation
of it, behind the barriers.

At the other end of the hall, immediately by the windows,
raised on the steps of the throne, and under canopies, sat
the emperor and king in their robes ; but the crown and
sceptre lay at some distance behind them on gold cushions.
The three spiritual electors, their buffets behind them, had
taken their places on single elevations ; the Elector of Mentz
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 all the temporal electors, which were, indeed, mag-
nificently ornamented, but without occupants, made one
think of the misunderstanding which had gradually arisen

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 171

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 all those who had cer-
tainly 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 brilliant night I purposed celebrating in a right hearty
way ; for I had agreed with Gretchen, and Pylades and his
mistress, that we should meet somewhere at nightfall. The
city was already resplendent at every end and corner when
I met my beloved. I offered Gretchen my arm : we went
from one quarter to another, and found ourselves very happy
in each other's society. The cousins at first were also of
our party, but were afterwards lost in the multitude of peo-
ple. 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 dis-
guised myself to a certain extent ; and Gretchen did not find
it amiss. We admired the various brilliant representations
and the fairy-like structures of flame by which each ambas-
sador strove to outshine the others. But Prince Esterhazy's
arrangements surpassed all 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 spcke to us of the glorious illumi-
nation with which the Brandenburg ambassador had adorned
his quarters. We were not displeased at taking the long way
from the Ross-markt (Horse-market) to the Saalhof, but
found that we had been villanously hoaxed.

The Saalhof is, towards the Main, a regular and hand-
some structure ; but the part in the direction of the city is

172 TRUTH AND FICTION

exceedingly old, irregular, and unsightly. Small windows,
agreeing neither in form nor size, neither in a line nor
placed at equal distances ; gates and doors arranged without
symmetry ; a ground-floor mostly turned into shops, — it forms
a confused outside, which is never observed by any one.
Now, here this accidental, irregular, unconnected architect-
ure had been followed; and every window, eveiydoor, every
opening, was surrounded by lamps, — as indeed can be done
with a well-built house ; but here the most wretched and
ill-formed of all facades was thus quite incredibly placed
in the clearest light. Did one amuse one's self with this as
with the jests of the 2^gliasso^ though not without scru-
ple, 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 all 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 porta!
illuminated 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 upou transparent pedestals; from one tree to another
were stretched glittering garlands, on which floated sus-
pended lights. In several places bread and sausages were
distributed among the people, and there was no "want of
wine.

Here now, four abreast, we walked very comfortably up
and down ; and I, by Gretchen's side, fancied that I really
wandered in those happy Elysian iields where they pluck
from the trees crystal cups that immediately fill themselves
with the wine desired, and shake down fruits that change
into every dish at will. At last we also felt such a ne-
cessity ; 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 all the better pleased, and passed the greatest part
of the night most happily and cheerfully, in the feeling of
friendship, love, and attachment. When I had accompa-

1 A sort of buffoon.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 173

nied Grctchen as far as her door, she kissed me on the
fore! lead. 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
I entered, in trouble and anxiety. It was easy to sec when
she was at all distressed. " Get up," she said, " and
prepare yourself for something unpleasant. It has come
put that you frequent very bad company, and have in-
volved yourself in very dangerous and bad affairs. Youi
father is beside himself ; and we have only been able to
get thus much from him, that he will investigate the affair
by means of a third party. Remain in your chamber, and
await what may happen. Councillor Schneider will come
to you : he has the commission both from your father and
from the authorities ; for the matter is already prosecuted,
and may take a very bad turn."

I saw that they took the affair for much worse than it
was ; yet I felt myself not a little disquieted, even if only
the actual state of things should be detected. My old
" Messiah "-loving friend finally entered, with the tears
standing in his eyes : he took me by the arm, and said, " I am
heartily sorry to come to you on such an affair. I could
not have supposed that you could go astray so far. But
what will not wicked companions and bad example do !
Thus can a young, inexperienced man be led step by step
into crime!" — " I am conscious of no crime," I re-
plied, " and as little of having frequented bad company."
— " The question now is not one of defence, '• said he, in-
terrupting 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 ? " — ' L In my walks. ' ' — "In what company ? " I
hesitated, for I would not willingly betray my friends.
"Silence will not do now/' he continued, "for all is suf-
ficiently 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 ex-
plained to the questioner. " You pretend," he resumed,
"not to know these men, and have yet had frequent meet-
ings with them." — "Not in the least," I replied; "for,

174 TRUTH AND FICTION.

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 re-
plied. 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 com-
posed letters for these people themselves or for their accom-
plices, have furnished them writings, and have thus been
accessory to their evil acts ; for the question is of nothing less
than of forged papers, false wills, counterfeit bonds, and
things of the sort. I have come, not only as a friend of the
family, I come in the name and by order of the magis-
trates, 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 circum-
stances touched, without agreeing ; and I could still hope
to save my young friends. But the good man grew more
and more urgent. I could not deny that I had come home
late many nights, that I had contrived to have a house-
key made, that I had been seen at public places more than
once with persons of low rank and suspicious looks, that
some girls were mixed up in the affair, — in short, every
thing seemed to be discovered but the names. This gave
me courage to persist steadfastly in my silence. " Do
not," said my excellent friend, " let me go away from
you ; the affair admits of no delay ; immediately after me
another will come, who will not grant you so much scope.
Do not make the matter, which is bad enough, worse by
your obstinacy."

I represented very vividly to myself the good cousins,
and particularly Gretchen : I saw them arrested, tried,
punished, disgraced ; and then it went through m} r soul like
a flash of lightning, that the cousins, though they always
Observed integrity towards me, might have engaged in such

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 175

bad affairs, at least the oldest, who never quite pleased
me, who came home later and later, and had little to tell
of a cheerful sort. Still I kept back my confession. " Per-
sonally," said I, "I am conscious of nothing evil, and
can rest satisfied on that side ; but it is not impossible
that those with whom I have associated may have been
guilty of some daring or illegal act. They may be sought,
found, convicted, punished : I have hitherto nothing to
reproach myself with, and will not do any wrong to those
who have behaved well and kindly to me." He did not
let me finish, but exclaimed, with some agitation, "Yes,
they will be found out. These villains met in three houses.
(He named the streets, he pointed out the houses, and,
unfortunately, among them was the one 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 will be clear.
Avoid, by a frank confession, a judicial inquiry, a con-
frontation, 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 all, and at once lighten your heart and
mine ; only one thing I ask, — henceforth let there be no
doubt of my veracity."

I soon told my friend the whole progress of the affair, and
was at first calm and collected ; but the more I brought
to mind and pictured to myself the persons, objects, and
events, so many innocent pleasures and charming enjoj'-
ments, 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 repug-
nance something monstrous) , sought to pacify me ; as with
him the discovery was the all-important matter. In this he
only partly succeeded ; but so far, however, that I could eke
out my story to the end. Though satisfied of the innocence
of the proceedings, he was still doubtful to some extent, and
put further questions to me, which excited me afresh, and
transported me with pain and rage. I asserted, finally, that
I had nothing more to say, and well knew that I need fear
nothing, for I was innocent, of a good family, and well

176 TRUTH AND FICTION

reptlted ; but that they might he 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 01
unjust happened t© them, I would do some violence to my-
self, and no one should prevent nie. 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 re-
proached 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 all 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 satisfac-
tion, and had even laughed. She believed that she had heard
the words, w ' 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, the)' would contrive to help me through : but the others,
the others," I cried, tk w r ho will stand by them? "

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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 177

not fail to assist me vigorously with all sorts of good consola-
tion ; nay, even on the second day they came in the name of
my father, who was now better informed, to offer me a per-
fect amnesty, which indeed I gratefully accepted : but the

proposal that I should go out with him and look at the insig-
nia 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 w r orld or of the Roman Empire, till T
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 gala-
day, nor what happened on the occasion of so many eleva-
tions of rank, nor the public table of the emperor and king, —
in short, nothing could move me. The Elector of the Pala-
tinate 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 re-
newal of the electoral union, — nothing could call me forth
from my passionate solitude. I let the bells ring for the
rejoicings, the emperor repair to the Capuchin Church, the
electors and emperor depart, without on that account moving
one step from my chamber. The final cannonading, immod-
erate as it might be, did not arouse me ; and as the smoke
of the powder dispersed, and the sound died aw T ay, 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 circumstantially 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 threaten-
ing letters to the family friend, insisting that he should not

178 TRUTH AND FICTION

withhold from me the further progress of the affair. Some-
times I tore them up again, from the fear of learning my
unhappiness quite distinctly, and of losing the principal con-
solation with which hitherto I had alternately tormented and
supported inyself.

Thus I passed both day and night in great disquiet, in
raving and lassitude ; so that I felt happy at last when a
bodily illness seized me with considerable violence, when
they had to call in the help of a physician, and think of
every way to quiet me. They supposed that they could do
it generally by the sacred assurance that all who were more
or less involved in the guilt had been treated with the great-
est forbearance ; that my nearest friends, being as good as
innocent, had been dismissed with a slight reprimand ; and
that Gretchen had retired from the cnVy, 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 banish-
ment. 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 ro-
mance of sad events, and an inevitably tragical catastrophe.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 179

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 there-
fore conjectured that Pylades, or one of the cousins, or even
Gretchen herself, might have attempted to write to me, either
to give or to obtain information. In addition to my sorrow,
I was now more cross than hitherto, and had again fresh
opportunities to exercise my conjectures, and to mislead my-
self 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 univer-
sity. 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 empkyvment,
pacify me, and, as I was well aware, keep his eye on me.
Still, as I esteemed him from my heart, and had already
confided many things to him, though not my affection for
Gretchen, I determined so much the more to be perfectly
candid and straightforward with him ; as it was intolerable
to me to live in daily intercourse with any one, and at the
same time to stand on an uncertain, 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

180 TRUTH AND FICTION

be clear as to the whole, and that, with earnestness and zeal,
I might be persuaded of the necessity of composing myself,
throwing the past behind me, and beginning a new life. First
he confided to me who the other young people of quality were
who had allowed themselves to be seduced, at the outset, into
daring hoaxes, then into sportive breaches of police, after-
wards into frolicsome impositions on others, and other such
dangerous matters. Thus actually had arisen a little con-
spiracy, which unprincipled men had joined, who, by forging
papers and counterfeiting signatures, had perpetrated many
criminal acts, and had still more criminal matters in prepa-
ration. The cousins, for whom I at last impatiently in-
quired, had been found to be quite innocent, only very
generally acquainted with those others, and not at all impli-
cated 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 villanies. After all this, I could at last contain my-
self no longer, and asked what had become of Gretchen, for
whom I, once for all, confessed the strongest attachment.
My friend shook his head and smiled. "Make yourself
easy," replied he: "this girl has passed her examination
very well, 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 cheer-
fulness of his face showed me that he concealed nothing dan-
gerous. " If you must know, then," replied he at last,
" when she was 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 sis-
ter. In many cases I have given him good advice ; and,
instead of instigating him to any equivocal action, 1 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 gov-
erness ; but I had already for some time ceased to listen to

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 181

him, for I was terribly affronted that she had set me down
in the reports as a child, and believed myself at once cured
of all passion for her. I even hastily assured my friend that
all was now over. I also spoke no more of her, named her
no more : but I could not leave off the bad habit of thinking
about her, and of recalling her form, her air, her 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 allowed herself to take with
me, but had not permitted me to return, were altogether
odious. Yet all would have been well 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 milliner's, too, no longer seemed to me so innocent ; and
I turned these annoying reflections over and over within my-
self until I had entirely stripped her of all her amiable quali-
ties. ,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 hap-
pened 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
realiy 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,
seem i'd 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, some-
thing 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

182 TRUTH AND FICTION

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, 1
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 Danes, and, possessing a well-
regulated mind, had acutely seized the relations of that
doctrine, which he now sought to impart to me. But, unfor-
tunately, 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 ne-
cessary, as the whole of it was already contained in religion
and poetry. This he would by no means allow, but rather
tried to prove to me that these must first be founded on phi-
losophy ; 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 posi-
tion 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 anima-
tion, when the Book of Job and the Song and Proverbs of
Holomon, as well as the lays of Orpheus and Hesiod, seemed

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 183

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 well be compared with Christ.
His disciples, on the other hand, seemed to me to bear a
strong resemblance to the apostles, who disagreed immedi-
ately after their Master's death, when each manifestly rec-
ognized 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 Epic-
tetus, whom I studied with much interest. My friend unwil-
lingly let me have my way in this one-sidedness, from which
he could not draw me ; for, in spite of his varied studies, he
did not know how to bring the leading question into a narrow
compass. He need only have said to me that in life action
is every thing, and that joy and sorrow come of themselves.
However, } T outh 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 Un-
known 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

184 TRUTH AND FICTION

the densest thickets, from which the mossy rocks mightily
and venerably peered forth, and made a rapid fall for a
copious brook*

Scarcely had I dragged hither my friend, who would
rather have been in the open country by the stream, among
men, when he playfully assured me that 1 showed myself
a true German, lie related to me circumstantially, out of
Tacitus, how our ancestors found pleasure in the feelings
which Nature so provides for us, in such solitudes, with
her inartificial architecture. Ho had not been Ions; dis-
coursing 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 hallow and separate from
the world both it and ourselves ! Surely there is no more
beautiful adoration of the Deity than that which needs no
image, but which springs up in our bosom merely from the
intercourse with nature ! " What I then felt is still present
to my mind : what I said I know not how to recall. Thus
much, however, is certain, that the undetermined, widely ex-
panding 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 incom-
prehensible forms, must surround us with a greatness to
which we are not equal.

All 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 try twilight and night, when
objects are blended, it is, on the other hand, scared away
by the da} T , which separates and sunders every tiling ; and
so must it also be destroyed by every increase of cultiva-
tion, if it be not fortunate enough to take refuge with the
beautiful, and unite itself closely with it, whereby both become
equally undying and indestructible.

The brief moments of such enjoyments were still more
shortened by my meditative friend : but, when 1 turned
back into the world, it was altogether in vain that 1
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
coved, 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
uo feeling of comfort ; while a woman who is forming you,

RELATING TO BUY LIFE. 185

while she seems to spoil you, is adored as a heavenly, joy-
bringing beingr. But thai form in which fche 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
s< ek something similar in the distance.

I had imperceptibly accustomed, nay, compelled, my
friend and overseer to leave me alone ; for, even in my
sacred grove, those undefined, gigantic feelings were not
sufficient for me. The eye was, above all others, the organ
by which I seized the world. I had, from childhood, lived
among painters, and had accustomed myself to look at
objects, as they did, with reference to art. Now I was
left to myself and to solitude, this gift, half natural, half
acquired, made its appearance. Wherever I looked, I saw
a picture ; and whatever struck me, whatever gave me de-
light, 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, how-
ever, 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 will not deny that there was a certain mixture of
roguery ; for I had remarked, that if I chose for an irk-
some 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 en-
deared 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
1 drew. Thus plants and flowers of the commonest kind
may form a charming diary for us, because nothing that

186 TRUTH AND FICTION

calls back the remembrance of a happy moment can be in.
significant ; 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, al-
though 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 pas-
sionately 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 follow out? My father's mode
of training me in this respect was really to be admired.
He kindly asked for my attempts, and drew lines round
every imperfect sketch. He wished, by this means, to
compel me to completeness and fulness of detail. The ir-
regular leaves he cut straight, and thus made the begin-
ning of a collection, in which he wished, at some future
time, to rejoice at the progress of his son. It was, there-
fore, 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 per-
fect 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 Hoinburg, Kroneburg, ascended
the Feldberg, from which the prospect invited us still far-

BELATJLNG TO MY LIFE. 187

ther and farther into the distance. Komgstein, 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 re-
sumed our journey home.

This whole tour, from which my father had promised him-
self many a drawing, might have been almost without fruit ;
for what taste, what talent, what experience, does it not
require to seize an extensive landscape as a picture ! I was
again imperceptibly drawn into a narrow compass, from
which I derived some profit ; for I met no ruined castle, no
piece of wall which pointed to antiquity, that I did not think
an object worthy of my pencil, and imitate as well as I
could. Even the 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. Unfortu-
nately 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
compelled me to draw the outline of different mountains up
to the margin, and to fill up the foreground with some weeds
and stones.

If his faithful endeavors could not increase my talent,
nevertheless this mark of his love of order had upon me a
secret influence, which afterwards manifested itself vigor-
ously 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, externally, with incredible consistency,

188 TRUTH AND FICTION

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, capa-
ble of life, and desiring present enjoyment. This contra-
diction 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 ad-
here to their mother, that they might singly snatch the pleas-
ures 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 nry sister, who could
never leave the house for so long a time as I could, the ne-
cessity she felt for entertaining herself w r ith me was still
sharpened by the sense of longing with which she accompa-
nied 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 commu-
nity, 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 illumine the vale from which it
is about to rise ; the many errors and aberrations springing
therefrom, — all these the brother and sister shared and en-
dured 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.

xxeluctantly do I mention, in a general way, what I under-
cook 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 o-f the

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 189

Riehardsonian novels. Only by the minutest detail, by end-
less particularities which hear 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 appre-
hended 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, well and delicately formed, and had some-
thing naturally 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 ex-
pressed any affection, any love, their brilliancy was un-
equalled. And yet, properly speaking, this expression was
not tender, like that which comes from the heart, and at
the same time carries with it something of longing and
desire : this expression came from the soul ; it was full and
rich ; it seemed as if it would only give, without 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, winch not only bared the forehead,
but, either accidentally or on purpose, did every thing ap-
parently or really 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 cir-
cumstances 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 sh^ advanced into the
years when both sexes find an innocent pleasure in being
mutually agreeable.

To nobody can his own form be repugnant ; the ugliest,
as well as the most beautiful, has a right to enjoy his own
presence : and as favor beautifies, and every oue regards
himself in the looking-glass with favor, it may be asserted
that every one must see himself with complacency, even if
be would struggle against the feeling. Yet my sister had

190 TRUTH AND FICTION

such a decided foundation of good sense, that she could not
possibly be blind and silly in this respect ; on the contrary,
she perhaps knew more clearly than she ought, that she stood
far behind her female playfellows in external beauty, with-
out 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, all cherished the same senti-
ments. A very pleasant society had collected around her :
young men were not wanting who knew how to insinuate
themselves ; nearly every girl found an admirer ; she alone
had remained without a partner. 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 excellence 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 S} T mpathy 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 se-
cretly felt the satisfaction of having gotten rid of a rival ;
and I, too, could not but feel a quiet, half -mischievous pleas-
ure, 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 our-
selves infinitely unhappy, and the more so, as, in this sin-
gular case, the confidants could not change themselves into
lovers.

Fortunately, however, the capricious god of love, who
needlessly does so much mischief, here for once interfered
beneficially, to extricate us out of all perplexity. I had
much intercourse with a young Englishman who was edu-
cated in Pfeil's boarding-school. He could give a good
account of his own language : I practised it with him, and

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 191

thus learned much concerning his country and people. He
went in and out of our house long enough without nry re-
marking in him a liking for my sister ; yet he may have been
nourishing it in secret, even to passion, for at last it de-
clared 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 pro-
nunciation, 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 all seemed
to speak as if out of one mouth. The pains he took to
learn as much German from us in the like manner were
to no purpose ; and I think I have remarked that even this
little love-affair was also, both orally and in writing, carried
on in the English language. Both the young persons were
very well suited to each other : he was tall and well built,
as she was, only still more slender ; his face, small and
compact, might really have been pretty, had it not been too
much disfigured by the small-pox ; his manner was calm,
precise, — one might often have called it dry and cold ; but
his heart was full of kindness and love, his soul full of gener-
osity, and his attachments as lasting as they were decided
and controlled. 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*
all 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 re-
mained either no conversation with the ladies at all, or only
such as no one would have chosen for a day of pleasure.
A friend who found himself in this situation, and w r ho
might have been in want of a partner chiefly for this rea-
son, that, with the best humor, he lacked tenderness, and,
Goethe— 8 Vol 1

192 TRUTH AND FICTION

with much intelligence, 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 yery pleasant walk, reclining
on the grass between shady knolls, or sitting on mossy
locks and roots of trees, we had cheerfully and happily
consumed a rural meal, and our friend saw us all cheerful
and in good spirits, he, with a waggish dignity, commanded
us to sit close round him in a semicircle, before which he
stepped, and began to make an emphatic peroration as fol-
lows : —

" Most worthy friends of both sexes, paired and un-
paired ! " — 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 the} 7 may find themselves
quite happy ; another unpaired, and these find themselves
in the highest degree miserable, as I can assure }'Ou 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 senti-
ments. "The latter," said he, "can never fail us; we
always carry them about with us, and every one becomes a
master in them without practice : but we must go in quest of
the former, we must take some trouble about them ; and,
though we progress in them as much as we will, 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 : }'et our friend had this privilege, thai nothing
he did was taken ill ; and so he could proceed without inter-
ruption.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 193

" 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 will not,
therefore, my friends, something like a preacher in Passion
Week, exhort you in general terms to repentance and amend-
ment : I rather wish all 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. 1
have," he continued, wt 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 shall 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
shall attend }^ou 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 pur-
pose : he therefore cried with humorous vehemence, —

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

Here he took off his hat —

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

He had delivered the whole speech, but especially the last
part, with the tone and gesture of a Capuchin ; for, as he
was a Catholic, he might have had abundant opportunity to

194 TRUTH AND FICTION

study the oratory of these fathers. He now appeared out of
breath, wiped his youthful, bald head, which really gave him
the look of a priest, and by these drolleries put the light-
hearted 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 will do credit
to the master. If in a week's time we do not like it, we
will give it up, and stick to the old plan."

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

These masters of ceremonies, who wished at once to do
themselves credit, brought into play some very prett}- new
games, prepared at some distance a supper, which we had
not reckoned on, and illuminated 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 out-
shine 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 un-
expected turn to the company ; and every one was stimulated
to display whatever of wit and grace was in him, and to pay
court to his temporary fair one in the most obliging manner,
since he might depend on having a sufficient store of com-
plaisance for one week at least.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 195

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 pro-
tested 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, how-
ever, they gave him no peace, he began a Capuchinade on
the spot, more comical than ever, perhaps, for the very rea-
son that he took it into his head to speak on the most serious
subjects. For with texts out of the Bible, which had noth-
ing to do with the business ; with similes which did not fit ;
with allusions which illustrated nothing, — he carried out the
proposition, that whosoever does not know how to conceal
his passions, inclinations, wishes, purposes, and plans, will
come to no good in the world, but will be disturbed and made
a butt in every end and corner ; and that especially if one
would be happy in love, one must take pains to keep it a
most profound secret.

This thought ran through the whole, without, properly
speaking, a single word of it being said. If you would form
a conception of this singular man, let it be considered, that,
being born with a good foundation, he had cultivated his
talents, and especially his acuteness, in Jesuit schools, and
had amassed an extensive knowledge of the world and of
men, but only on the bad side. He was some two and
twenty 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 personal of every merry company,
an actor is necessary who feels pleasure when the others, to
enliven many an indifferent moment, point the arrows of
their wit at him. If he is not merely a stuffed Saracen,
like those on whom the knights used to practise their lances
in mock battles, but understands himself how to skirmish, to
rally, and to challenge, how to wound lightly, and recover
himself again, and, while he seems to expose himself, to give
others a thrust home, nothing more agreeable can be found.
Such a man we possessed in our friend Horn, whose name,
to begin with, gave occasion for all sorts of jokes, and who,
on account of his small figure, was called nothing but Horn-
chen (little Horn). He was, in fact, the smallest in the com-
pany, of a stout but pleasing form ; a pug-nose, a mouth

196 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 lie 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 every-
body granted, since he was bent on having it so, but about
which many a joke arose : for, since he w T as 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 follow me to the university ; and he well
deserves that I should mention him with all honor, as he ad-
hered to me for many years with inlinite 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 poetically ; and thus, b} r 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, how-
ever, could soon be softened down and effaced.

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

Although it is no wonder, yet it excites wonderment, when
contemplating a literature, especially the German, one ob-
serves how a whole nation cannot get free from a subject
which has been once given, and happily treated in a certain
form, but will have it repeated in every manner, until, at
last, the original itself is covered up, and stifled by the
heaps of imitations.

The heroic poem of my friend was a voucher for this re-
mark. At a great sledging-party, an awkward man has
assigned to him a lady who does not like him : comically

RELATING TO MY* LIFE. 107

enough, there befalls him, one after another, every accident
that can happen on such an occasion, until at last, as he is
entreating for the sledge-driver's right (a kiss), he falls from
the back-seat ; for just then, as was natural, the Fates tripped
nim 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 well be
compared with the " Walpurgisnight " of Lowen, or the
" Renommist " of Zacharia. 1

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 back-
wards, by which means I made myself complete master of
the chief contents of the institutes. But a restless eager-
ness for knowledge urged me farther : I lighted upon the his-
tory of ancient literature, and from that fell into an encyclo-
psedism, 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 learn-
ing and life. By this persevering and rapid industry, con-
tinued day and night, I became more confused than in-
structed ; 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 continually revived
within me, was that of the importance of the ancient
tongues ; since from amidst this literary hurty-burly, thus
much continually forced itself upon me, that in them were
preserved all 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 there-
fore the more zealously kept to Latin, the masterpieces in
which lie nearer to us, and which, besides its splendid

1 This word, which signifies something like our "bully," is specially used to
designate a Hghting student. — Tkans-

198 TRUTH AND FICTION

original productions, offers us the other wealth of all ages
in translations, and the works of the greatest scholars. I
consequently read much in this language, with great ease,
and was bold enough to believe I understood the authors,
because I missed nothing of the literal sense. Indeed, I
was very indignant when I heard that Grotius had insolently
declared, " he did not read Terence as boys do." Happy
narrow-mindedness of youth ! — nay, of men in general, that
they can, at every moment of their existence, fancy them-
selves 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 Eng-
lish, merely by practice, without rules, and without compre-
hension. Whoever knows the then condition of scholastic
instruction will not think it strange that I skipped grammar
as well as rhetoric ; all seemed to me to come together nat-
urally : I retained the words, their forms and inflexions, in
my ear and mind, and used the language with ease in writ-
ing 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 Gret-
chen'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 grad-
ually 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 hith-
erto implicitly revered becomes in any degree suspicious to
them. The fruitless indignation of upright men, in opposi-
tion to those who are to be gained and even bribed by fac-
tions, had become but too plain to me : I hated every
injustice beyond measure, for children are all moral rigor-
ists. My father, who was concerned in the affairs of the

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 199

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

All hopes of Gottingen being cut off, I now turned my

200 TRUTH AND FICTION

eyes towards Leipzig. There Ernesti appeared to me a^ Et
brilliant light: Moms, too, already awakened much confi-
dence. I planned for myself in secret an opposition-course,
or rather I built a castle in the air, on a tolerably solid foun-
dation ; and it seemed to me quite romantically honorable to
mark out my own path of life, which appeared the less vision-
ary, as Gricsbach had already made great progress in a simi-
lar way, and was commended for it b} r 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 clay after day disappear,
and October draw nigh. The inclement season and the bad
roads, of which everybody had something to tell, did not
frighten me. The thought of making good m} r 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 nry-
self up exclusively, and promised myself nothing but happi-
ness and content in the distance.

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

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

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

We had driven out through the Allerheiligen (All Saints)
gate, and had soon left Hanau behind us, after which Ave
reached scenes which aroused my attention by their novelty,
if, at this season of the year, they offered little that was
pleasing. A continual rain had completely spoiled the roads,
which, generally speaking, were not then in such good order
as we find them now ; and our journey was thus neither

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 201 ?

pleasant nor happy. Yet I was indebted to this damp
weather for the sight of a natural phenomenon which must
be exceedingly rare, for 1 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. All at once, in a ravine
an the right-hand side of the way, I saw a sort of amphi-
theatre, 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 e} T e was dazzled. But what still 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 called 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 filled with water. Now, whether this was a pandemonium
of will-o'-the-wisps, or a company of luminous creatures, I
will not decide.

The roads through Thuringia were yet worse ; and unfortu-
nately, at night-fall, our coach stuck fast in the vicinity of
Auerstadt. We were far removed from all mankind, and did
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.

Y"et on that same night, as if it had been destined for
alternate good and bad luck, I was forced, after an unex-
pectedly fortunate incident, to experience a teazing vexation.
We met, in Auerstadt, a genteel married couple, who had
also just arrived, having been delayed by a similar accident ;
a pleasing, dignified man, in his best years, with a very hand-
some wife. They politely persuaded us to sup in their com-
pany, and I felt very happy when the excellent lady addressed
a friendly word to rac, But when I was sent out to hasten
the soup which had been ordered, not having been accus-
tomed to the loss of rest and the fatigues of travelling, such

202 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 droll way. Madame Fleis-
cher, who lacked neither spirit nor wit nor tongue, entreated
the strangers, before they had seated themselves, not to be
surprised at any thing they might see here ; for that their
young fellow-traveller had in his nature much of the peculiar-
ity 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 accord-
ance with their polished manners, immediately dropped the
joke, and, with the best wine from their bottle-case, com-
pletely extinguished sleep, chagrin, and the memory of all
past troubles.

I arrived in Leipzig just at the time of the fair, from
which I derived particular pleasure ; for here I saw before
me the 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 coun-
tries in their strange dresses, the Poles and Russians, and,
above all, the Greeks, for the sake of whose handsome forms
and dignified costume I often went to the spot.

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

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 calls up before the spectator
no antique time : it is a new, recently elapsed epoch, testify-
ing commercial activity, comfort and wealth, which announces

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 203

itself to us in these monuments. Yet quite to my taste were
the houses, which to me seemed immense, and which, front-
ing two streets, and embracing a citizen- world within their
large court-yards, built round with lofty walls, are like large
castles, nay, even half-cities. In one of these strange places
I quartered myself ; namely, in the Bombshell Tavern (Feuer-
kugel), between the Old and the New Newmarket (Neu-
markt) . A couple of pleasant rooms looking out upon a
Eourt-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 fellow-lodger I found a theological
student, who was deeply learned in his professional studies,
a sound thinker, but poor, and suffering much from his eyes,
which caused him great anxiety for the future. He had
brought this affliction upon himself by his inordinate reading
till the latest dusk of the evening, and even by moonlight, to
save a little oil. Our old hostess showed herself benevolent
to him, always friendly to me, and careful for us both.

I now hastened with my letters of introduction to Hofrath
Bohme, who, once a pupil of Maskow, and now his successor,
was professor of history and public law. A little, thick-set,
lively man received me kindly enough, and introduced me to
his wife. Both of them, as well as the other persons whom
I waited on, gave me the pleasantest hopes as to my future
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 jurispru-
dence, and devoted to the study of the classics. I cautious-
ly waited till the Fleischers had returned, that my purpose
might not be too prematurely betrayed to my family. But I
then went, without delay, to Hofrath Bohme, to whom, before
all, I thought I must confide the matter, and with much self-
importance and boldness of speech disclosed my views to
him. However, I found by no means a good reception of
my proposition. As professor of history and public law, he
had a declared hatred for every thing that savored of the
belles-lettres. Unfortunately he did not stand on the best
footing with those who cultivated them ; and Gellert in par-
ticular, 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 especially under such circumstances, seemed to
him altogether out of the question. He therefore gave me a

204 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 1 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 finally concluded, that, if
I wished to enter more closely into the study of the ancients,
it could be done much better by the way of jurisprudence.
He brought to my recollection man}' 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 delib-
eration, and with the consent of my parents, I should deter-
mine to follow out nry own plan. He begged me, in a
friendly manner, to think the matter over once more, and to
open my mind to him soon ; as it would be necessary to come
to a determination at once, on account of the impending com-
mencement of the lectures.

It was, however, very polite of him not to press me on the
spot. His arguments, and the weight with which he ad-
vanced, 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 nvyself as so feasible. Fran
Hofrath Bohme 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 all 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 leotures on philosophy, the history of law, the Insti-
tutes, and some other matters. I was content with this ;
but I carried my point so as to attend Gellcrt's history of
literature (with Stockhausen for a text-book) , and his " Prac-
ticum M besides.

The reverence and love with which G elicit was regarded
by all young people was extraordinary. I had already called
on him, and had been kindly received by him. Not of feali

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 205

stature ; elegant without being lean ; soft and rather pensive
eyes ; a very line forehead ; a nose aquiline, but not too much
so ; a delicate mouth ; a face of an agreeable oval, — all made
his presence pleasing and desirable. It cost some trouble to
reach him. His two Famuli appeared like priests who guard
a sanctuary, the access to which is not permitted to every-
body, nor at every time : and such a precaution was very
necessary ; for he would have sacrificed his whole time, had
he been willing to receive and satisfy all those who wished
to become intimate with him.

At first I attended my lectures assiduously and faithfully,
but the philosophy would not enlighten me at all. In the
logic it seemed strange to me that I had so to tear asunder,
isolate, and, as it were, destroy, those operations of the mind
which I had performed with the greatest ease from my youth
upwards, and this in order to see into the right use of them.
Of the thing itself, of the world, and of God, I thought I
knew about as much as the professor himself ; and, in more
places than one, the affair seemed to me to come into a
tremendous strait. Yet all went on in tolerable order till
towards Shrovetide, when, in the 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 exer-
cises in the languages, and a foundation in what are, properly
speaking, preparatory studies, in order to be applied to what
are called " Realities,' ' which dissipate more than they cul-'
tivate, if they are not methodically and thoroughly taught.

I here mention, by the way, another evil by which students
are much embarrassed. Professors, as well as other men in
office, cannot all be of the same age : but when the younger
ones teach, in fact, only that they may learn, and moreovei

206 TRUTH AND FICTION

if they have talent, anticipate their age, they acquire their
own cultivation altogether at the cost of their hearers ; since
these are not instructed in what they really need, but in that
which the professor finds it necessary to elaborate for him-
self. 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 suffi-
cient 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 1
could digest, whereby a constantly increasing uncomfortable-
ness was forced upon me ; so also from life I experienced
many disagreeable trifles, — as, indeed, one must always pay
one's footing when one changes one's place and comes intc
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 some-
thing happened in vain, when any one did not know how to
make use of his time, or found no opportunity for turning
it to account, carried his economy of time and abilities so
far, that nothing gave him greater pleasure than to kill two
birds with one stone. 1 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 advanta-
geous 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 still remember well that
he always visited the Herrn von Lowenicht, of Aix-la-Cha-
pelle, 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

1 Literally, " to strike two flies with one flapper." — Trans.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 207

Gotting 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 sew-
ing 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 perfec-
tion. 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 predilec-
tion 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 mysel!
sufficiently well dressed ; but it was not long before my fe
male friends, first by gentle raillery, then by sensible remon-
strances, 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 con-
cerned 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 called the defects
of that idiom, and so prepared us for a better manner of
speaking, I retained nevertheless many deeper-seated pecul-
iarities, 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-towns-
men. 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 pro-

208 TRUTH AND FICTION

verbial savings witli 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 nryself . Allu-
sions to the pithy biblical texts were to be forbidden me, as
well as the use of the honest-hearted expressions from the
Chronicles. I had to forget that I had read the wu Kaiser von
Geisersberg," and eschew the use of proverbs, which never-
theless, instead of much fiddle-faddle, just hit the nail upon
the head, — all this, which I had appropriated to myself
with youthful ardor, I was now to do without : I felt para-
lyzed to the core, and scared}' 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 209

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

All politeness, indeed, when it does not present itself as
the flowering of a great and comprehensive mode of life,
must appear restrained, stationary, and, from some points of
view, perhaps, absurd ; and so those wild huntsmen from the
Saale 1 thought they had a great superiority over the tame
shepherds on the Pleisse. 2 Zacharia's " Renommist " will
always be a valuable document, from which the manner of
life and thought at that time rises visibly forth ; as in gen-
eral 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 amia-
ble on account of its innocence and child-like simplicity.

All manners which result from the given relations of a
common existence are indestructible ; and, in my time, many
things still reminded us of Zacharia's epic poem. Only one
of our fellow-academicians thought himself rich and independ-
ent enough to snap his fingers at public opinion. He drank
acquaintance with all the hackney-coachmen, whom he al-
lowed to sit inside the coach as if they were gentlemen, while
he drove them on the box ; thought it a great joke to upset
hem now and then, and contrived to satisfy them for their
-mashed 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 miller'in St. Thomas's square : well-dressed,
and in their shoes and stockings, they rode around the city
with the greatest solemnity, stared at by all the promenaders,
with whom the glacis was swarming. When some sensible
persons remonstrated with him on the subject, he assured

1 The river on which Halle is huilt. — Trans. 2 The river near Leipzig. — Tkans.

210 TRUTH AND FICTION

them, quite unembarrassed, that he only wanted to see how
the Lord Christ might have looked in a like case. Yet he
found no imitators and few companions.

For the student of any wealth and standing had every
reason to show himself attentive to the mercantile cLass, and
to be the more solicitous about the proper external forms, as
the colony * exhibited a model of French manners. The pro-
fessors, opulent both from their private property and fron
their liberal salaries, were not dependent upon their scholars ;
and many subjects of the state, educated at the government
schools or other gymnasia, and hoping for preferment, did
not venture to throw off the traditional customs. The neigh-
borhood 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 well. But
as I was soon forced to feel that the company had much to
find fault with in me, and that, after dressing myself in their
fashion, I must now talk according to their tongue also ; and
as, moreover, I could plainly see that I was, on the other
hand, but little benefited by the instruction and mental im-
provement I had promised myself from my academical resi-
dence, — I began to be lazy, and to neglect the social duties
of visiting, and other attentions ; and indeed I should have
sooner withdrawn from all such connections, had not fear
and esteem attached me firmly to Hofrath Bohme, and con-
fidence and affection to his wife. The husband, unfortu-
nately, 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

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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 211

resumed those unmannerly habits from which the other had
already weaned me. Nevertheless she always had patience
enough with me, taught me piquet, ombre, and similar games,
the knowledge and practice of which is held indispensable
in society.

But it was in the matter of taste that Madame Bohme had
the greatest influence upon me, — in a negative way truly, yet
one in which she agreed perfectly with the critics. The
Gottsched waters 1 had inundated the German world with a
true deluge, which threatened to rise up, even over the high-
est mountains. It takes a long time for such a flood to sub-
side again, for the mire to dry away ; and as in any epoch
there are numberless aping poets, so the imitation of the flat
and watery produced a chaos, of which now scarcely a notion
remains. To find out that trash was trash was hence the
greatest sport, yea, the triumph, of the critics of those days.
Whoever had only a little common sense, was superficially
acquainted with the ancients, and was somewhat more famil-
iar with the moderns, thought himself provided with a stand-
ard scale which he could everywhere apply. Madame
Bohme was an educated woman, who opposed the trivial,
weak, and 'commonplace : she was, besides, the wife of a
man who lived on bad terms with poetry in general, and
would not even allow that of which she perhaps might have
somewhat approved. She listened, indeed, for some time
with patience, when I 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 ven-
tured 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
compelled to toss about the drying hay myself, and to ridi-
cule that as lifeless which, a short time before, had given
me such lively joy.

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

212 TRUTH AND FICTION

Without knowing it, Professor Morns came to strengthen
her instructions. He was an uncommonly gentle and friendly
man, with whom I became acquainted at the table of Hofrath
Ludwig, 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 still worse, with
more profundity than Madame Bohme ; and he thus opened
my eyes, at first to my greatest chagrin, but afterwards to
my surprise, and at last to my edification.

Besides this, there came the Jeremiads, with which Gel-
lert, in his course, was wont to warn us against poetry.
He wished only for prose essays, and always criticised these
first. Verses he treated as a sorry addition : and, what was
the worst of all, even my prose found little favor in his eyes ;
for, after nry old fashion, I used alwa}*s to lay, as the founda-
tion, a little romance, which I loved to work out in the epis-
tolary form. The subjects were impassioned, the style went
be} T ond 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, al-
though he carefully 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 unfortu-
nately, 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 some-
thing 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 excellen-
cies, or stood so near me that I thought it not a whit better
than what they inveighed against. I thus became thor-
oughly perplexed on the subject, and promised myself the
best results from a lecture of Ernesti's on " Cicero de Ora-
tore." I learned something, indeed, from this lecture, but
was not enlightened on the subject which particularly con-
cerned me. What I demanded was a standard of opinion,
and thought I perceived that nobody possessed it ; for no

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 213

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 Wie-
land so many faults in his amiable writings, which so com-
pletely captivated us younger folks?

Amid this manifold distraction, this dismemberment of my
existence and my studies, it happened that I took my din-
ners at Hofrath Lud wig's. He was a medical man, a botan-
ist ; 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 conver-
sation than about medicine or natural history, and my imagi-
nation was drawn over into quite a new field. I heard the
names of Haller, Linnaeus, Buffon, mentioned with great
respect ; and, even if disputes often arose about mistakes
into which it was said they had fallen, all agreed in the end
to 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 willingly
as I was afraid to write down a rhyme, however sponta-
neously 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 situa-
tion in which one is placed when a complete change of mind
is required, — a renunciation of all that one has hitherto loved
and found good. However, after some time and many
struggles, I conceived so great a contempt for my 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 small fright
and anxiety by the smoke which filled the whole house.

214 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 well ; and what at
present I intend to say piecemeal and disconnectedly con-
cerning it, relates not so much to the way in which it was
constituted in itself, as to its relation to me. I will there-
ore first speak of those things by which the public is partic-
ularly excited ; of those two hereditary foes of all comfort-
able life, and of all cheerful, self-sufficient, living poetry, —
I mean, satire and criticism.

In quiet times every one wants to live after his own fash-
ion : the citizen will carry on his trade or his business, and
enjoy the fruits of it afterwards ; thus will the author, too,
willingly compose something, publish his labors, and, since he
thinks he has done something good and useful, hope for
praise, if not reward. In this tranquillity the citizen is dis-
turbed 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 trans-
actions, 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
vith the Romans in order to express his thoughts with pro-
priety. But this was to be done in the mother-tongue, when
the literal application of those idioms, and their half-Ger-
manization, made both the social and business style ridicu-
lous. 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,

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 215

the German sense of freedom and joy also began to stir it-
self. This, accompanied by a genuine earnestness, insisted
that men should write purely and naturally, without the inter-
mixture of foreign words, and as common intelligible 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 all 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 the}* 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 called on for assistance.

Liskow, a daring young man, first ventured to attack by
name a shallow, silly writer, whose awkward demeanor soon
gave him an opportunit} T to proceed still more severely. He
then went farther, and constantly aimed his scorn at partic-
ular persons and objects, whom he despised and sought to
render despicable, — nay, even persecuted them with passion-
ate 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 country-
men ; 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 universally beloved Ra-
bener. 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, well 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 follies springs from the clear views of
a quiet common sense, and from a fixed moral conception

216 TRUTH AM) FICTION

of what the world ought to be. His denunciation of faults
and failings is harmless and cheerful ; and, in order to excuse
even the slight boldness of his writings, it is supposed that
the improving of fools by ridicule is no fruitless undertaking.

Rabener's personal character will not easily appear again.
As an able, punctual man of business, he does his duty, and
thus gains the good opinion of his fellow-townsmen and the
confidence of his superiors ; along with which, he gives him-
self up to the enjoyment of a pleasant contempt for all that
immediately surrounds him. Pedantic literati, vain young-
sters, 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 blam-
ing 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- know-
ing 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 pre-
possessed 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, followed 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 writ-
ings, 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 Raj
bener deserves to be honored as a saint by all cheerful, intel-
ligent men, who cheerfully resign themselves to earthly
events.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 217

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

Now for criticism ! and first of all for the theoretic at
tempts. It is not going too far when we say that the ideii
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
(iottsched's " Critical Art of Poetry" into our hands; it
was useful and instructive enough, for it gave us a historical
information of all the kinds of poetry, as well as of rhythm
and its different movements : the poetic genius was presup-
posed ! But, besides that, the poet w r as 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 tw Art
of Poetry : " we gazed at single golden maxims of this in-
valuable 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 Li 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, w r as driving us about in it. Let a brief review
justify these words.

For poetry in itself they had been able to find no funda-
mental axiom : it was too spiritual and too volatile. Paint-
ing, 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 followed, and only that
was expressed which had always been apparent to the exter-
nal senses.

218 TRUTH AND FICTION

Images, then ! But where should these images be got ex-
cept from nature ? The painter professedly imitated nature :
why not the poet also? But nature, as she lies before us,
cannot be imitated : she contains so much that is insignifi-
cant 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
hue to consider ; for they came to a notion, which is indeed
singular, but clever, and even comical, inasmuch as they say,
the new is always the most important : and after they have
considered this for a while, they discover that the marvellous
is always newer than every thing else.

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

Strange as such a deduction may now appear, it had the
most decided influence on the best minds. That Gellert and
subsequently Lichtwer devoted themselves to this depart-
ment, 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
.heir works what is the men's opinion, and, from their
opinions, predict what they will do.

Yet we must not dismiss our Swiss theory without doing
it justice. Bodmer, with all the pains he took, remained
theoretically and practically a child all his life. Breitinger
was an able, learned, sagacious man, whom, when he looked
rightly about him, the essentials of a poem did not all escape,
— nay, it can be shown that he may have dimly felt the defi-
ciencies of his system. Remarkable, for instance, is his
query, "Whether a certain descriptive poem by Konig, on
the ' Review-camp of Augustus the Second,' is properly a

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 219

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 alread3 r , still struck
upon the main principle, and at the end of his book finds
himself compelled to recommend as additions, so to speak,
the representation of manners, 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
.'elt 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 falling.
For him who felt any thing productive in himself it was a
desperate condition.

When one considers closely what was wanting in the Ger-
man poetry, it was a material, and that, too, a national one :
there was never a lack of talent. Here we make mention
only of Gunther, who may be called a poet in the full sense
of the word. A decided talent, endowed with sensuousness,
imagination, memory, the gifts of conception and represen-
tation, 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 occa-
sional poems, he elevates all circumstances by the feelings,
and embellishes 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 vacillating conduct, Gunther had trifled away the
good fortune of being appointed at the court of Augustus
the Second, where, in addition to every other species of osten-
tation, they were also looking about for a court-poet, who
could give elevation and grace to their festivities, and im-
mortalize a transitory pomp. Von Konig was more man-
nerly and more fortunate : he filled this post with dignity
and applause.

220 TRUTH AND FICTION

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

This subject had, indeed, the internal defect, that it wr
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 con-
sult 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 becom-
ing 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 manv
reasons. He accepted, without hesitation, an oilice as pri-
vate secretary to the I)uke Ludwig of Wurtemberg, who re-
sided in Treptow ; for the prince was named among those
great men who, in a noble and independent manner, purposed
to enlighten themselves, their families, and the world, and
to unite for higher aims. It was this Prince Ludwig who, to
ask advice about the education of his children, had written
to Rousseau, whose well-known answer began with the sus-
picious-looking phrase, " Si f 'avals le malheur d'etre n'e
prince."

Not only in the affairs of the prince, but also in the educa-
tion of iiis children, Schlosser was now willingly to assist
in word and deed, if not to superintend them. This noble

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 221

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 long-
ing. He came and put up at a little inn or wine-house that
stood in the Bruhl (Marsh), and the host of which was
named Schonkopf. 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 scarely 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, indi-
cated earnestness, sternness, and perhaps obstinacy. He
was, in a certain measure, the opposite of myself ; and this
very thing doubtless laid the foundation of our lasting friend-
ship. I had the greatest respect for his talents, the more so
as I very well saw, that, in the certainty with which he acted
and produced, he was completely my superior. The respect
and the confidence which I showed him confirmed his affec-
tion, 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 writ-
ten a poem in like form and measure, which was to give the
Christian religion the triumph over the deism of the other
work. From the great store of papers which he carried
with him, he showed me poetical and prose compositions in
all languages, which, as they challenged me to imitation,
once more gave me infinite disquietude. Yet I contrived to
get over it immediately by activity. I wrote German,
FYench, English, and Italian poems, addressed to him, the
subject-matter of which T took from our conversations, which
were always important and instructive.

Schlosser did not wish to leave Leipzig without having

222 TRUTH AND FICTION

seen face to face the men who had a name. I willingly tootf
him to Jiose 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 well-informed man of educa-
tion, 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 charac
ter and manners of that man. He lived very respectably ii
the first story of the Golden Bear, where the elder Breitkopf
on account of the great advantage which Gottsched' s writ-
ings, 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 can-
not 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 o;
boarders. Some Livonians, and the son of Hermann (chief
court-preacher in Dresden), afterwards burgomaster in Leip-
zig, and their tutor, Hofrath Pfeil, author of the "Count
von P.," a continuation of Gellert's " Swedish Countess ; "
Zacharia, a brother of the poet ; and Krebel, editor of geo-
graphical and genealogical manuals, — all these were polite,
cheerful, and friendly men. Zacharia was the most quiet;
Pfeil, an elegant man, who had something almost diplomatic
about him, yet without affectation, and with great good humor ;
Krebel, a genuine Falstaff, tall, corpulent, fair, with proip-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 223

inent, merry eyes, as bright as the sky, always happy and in
good spirits. These persons all treated me in the most hand-
some manner, partly on Schlosser's account — partly, too, on
account of my own frank good humor and obliging dispo-
sition ; and it needed no great persuasion to make me par-
take 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 affec-
tion 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 definite-
ness, precision, and brevity. In the style which had hitherto
prevailed, one could not distinguish the commonplace from
what was better ; since all were brought down to a level with
each other. Authors had already tried to escape from this
wide-spread disease, with more or less success. Haller and
Rainier 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 well
in "Nathan." Wieland, who had been occasionally prolix
in " Agathon," " Don Sylvio," and the " Comic Tales," be-
comes condensed and precise to a wonderful degree, as well
as exceedingly graceful in u Musarion " and " Idris." Klop-
stock, in the first cantos of " The Messiah," is not without
diffuseness : in his u Odes " and other minor poems he
appears compressed, as also in his tragedies. By his emu-
lation 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,
Goethe— U Vol 1

224 TRUTH AND FICTION

diffuse and easy by nature, is scarcely once concise in his
war-songs. Raraler 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 fully
satisfies him : he must leave out, arrange, and alter, that the
things may have some shape or other. By this means he
makes himself almost as many enemies as there are poets
and amateurs ; since every one, properly speaking, recognizes
himself only in his defects : and the public interests itself
sooner for a faulty individuality than for that which is pro-
duced or amended according to a universal law of taste.
Rhythm lay yet in the cradle, and no one knew of a method
to shorten its childhood. Poetical prose came into the
ascendant. Gessner and Klopstock excited many imitators :
others, again, still demanded an intelligible metre, and trans-
lated 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 im-
portant, 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 them-
selves, among which, indeed, were some which were really
caricatures, while many an attempt proved unsuccessful.

Without question, Wieland possessed the finest natural
gifts of all. He had early cultivated himself thoroughly in
those ideal regions where youth so readily lingers ; but when,
by what is called experience, by the events of the world, anc
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 beautifully. How many of his brilliant produc-
tions fall into the time of my academic years ! " Musarion "
had the most effect upon me ; and I can yet remember the
place and the very spot where I got sight of the first proof-
sheet, which Oeser gave me. Here it was that I believed I
Baw antiquity again living and fresh. Every thing that is
plastic in Wieland' s genius here showed itself in its highest

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 225

perfection ; and when that Phauias-Timon, condemned to an
unhappy insipidity, finally reconciles himself to his mistress
and to the world, one can well, with him, live through the
misanthropical epoch. For the rest, we readily conceded to
these works a cheerful aversion from those exalted senti-
ments, 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 Li-
brary." Of li 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 all have before one's e} r es the original
noble, beautiful object, in order to see whether the parodist
has really gotten from it a weak and comical side, whether
he has borrowed any thing from it, or, under the appearance
of such an imitation, has perhaps given us an excellent inven-
tion of his own. Of all this there is not a notion, but the
poems are praised and blamed by passages. The reviewer,
as he himself confesses, has marked so much that pleased
him, that he cannot quote it all in print. When they even
meet the highly meritorious translation of Shakspeare with
the exclamation, " By rights, a man like Shakspeare should
not have been translated at all !' ' it will be understood,
without further remark, how infinitely " The Universal Ger-
man 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 deter-
mined 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 char-
acter with Gessner, with all his great gracefulness and child-
like heartiness, made every one think that he could do some-
thing 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 alto-

226 TRUTH AND FICTION

gether, and whatever else related to the Old Testament. Bod-
mer's " Noachide " was a perfect symbol of the wateiy deluge
that swelled high around the German Parnassus, and which
abated but slowly. The leading-strings of Anacreon like-
wise allowed innumerable mediocre genuises to reel about at
large. The precision of Horace compelled 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 distin-
guished 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 Potery ; ' ' and it had been
shown at the same time that German poets, too, had already
known how to fill up all the rubrics with excellent works.
And thus it ever went on. Each year the collection 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 with-
out ; 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 Prot-
estant part of Germany and of Switzerland, what is gen-
erally 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 dark-
ness 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 super-
fluous. Many a one became convinced that nature had
endowed him with as great a portion of good and straight-
forward 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 227

troubling himself about the most universal problems, and
inquiring how the most remote things which do not partic-
ularly 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 en-
titled, not only to philosophize, but also by degrees to con-
sider 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 all the faculties, —
nay, in all classes and trades.

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

But over this work, as well as over the whole body of pro-
fane writers, was impending a singular fate, which, in the
lapse of time, was not to be averted. Hitherto it had been
received as a matter of implicit faith, that this book of books
was 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 cavilled at, now apologized for, by believers
and unbelievers. English, French, and Germans had attacked
the Bible with more or less violence, acuteness, audacity, and
wantonness ; and just as often had it been taken under the
protection of earnest, sound-thinking men of each nation.
As for myself, I loved and valued it ; for almost to it

228 TRUTH AND FICTION

alone did I owe my moral culture : and the events, the doc-
trines, the symbols, the similes, had all impressed themselves
deeply upon me, and had influenced me in one way or an-
other. These unjust, scoffing, and perverting attacks, there-
fore, disgusted me ; but people had already gone so far as
very willingly to admit, partly as a main ground for the
defence of many passages, that God had accommodated him-
self 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 individ-
uality, 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 con-
stantly increasing knowledge of languages, was very natu-
rally developed that kind of study by which it was attempted
to examine more accurately the Oriental localities, national-
ities, 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 knowl-
edge on this side. Descriptions of travels became a power-
ful help in explaining the Holy Scriptures ; and later travel-
lers, furnished with numerous questions, were made, by the
answers to them, to bear witness for the prophets and
apostles.

But whilst they were on all sides busied to bring the Holy
Scriptures to a natural intuition, and to render peculiar
modes of thought and representation in them more univer-
sally comprehensible, that by this historico-critical aspect
many an objection might be removed, many offensive things
effaced, and many a shallow scoffing be made ineffective,
there appeared in some men just the opposite disposition,
since these chose the darkest, most mysterious, writings as
the subject of their meditations, and wished, if not to eluci-
date 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 proph-
ecies, 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 intelligent, upright, God-fearing, blame-
less man. Deep minds are compelled to live in the past as
well as in the future. The ordinary movements of the world
can be of no importance to them, if they do not, in the

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 229

course of ages up to the present, revere prophecies which
have been revealed, and in the immediate, as well as in the
most remote futurity, predictions still veiled. Hence arises
a 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 quali-
ties of human nature, the affections, and the acuteness of
the intellect. Many young men had devoted themselves to
this doctrine, and already formed a respectable body, which
attracted the more attention, as Ernesti with his friends
threatened, not to illuminate, but completely to disperse, the
obscurity in which these delighted. Hence arose contro-
versies, hatred, persecution, and much that was unpleasant.
I attached myself to the lucid party, and sought to appro-
priate to myself their principles and advantages ; although I
ventured to forebode, that by this extremely praiseworthy,
intelligent method of interpretation, the poetic contents of
the writings must at last be lost along with the prophetical.

But those who devoted themselves to German literature
and the belles-lettres were more nearly concerned with the
efforts of such men, who, as Jerusalem, Zollikofer, and
Spalding, tried, by means of a good and pure style in their
sermons and treatises, to gain, even among persons of a cer-
tain 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 wiite about their studies and their profes-
sions clearly, perspicuously, and impressively, and as well
for the adepts as for the multitude.

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

The jurists, accustomed from their youth upward to an
abstruse style, which, in all legal papers, from the petty

230 TRUTH AND FICTION

court of the Immediate Knight up to the Imperial Diet at
Ratisbon, was still maintained in all its quaintness, could not
easily elevate themselves to a certain freedom, the less so as
the subjects of which they had to treat were most intimately
connected with the external form, and consequently also with
the st}de. 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 compelled to write clearly and intelligibly. Men-
delssohn and Garve appeared, and excited universal interest
and admiration.

With the cultivation of the German language and style in
every department, the capacity for forming a judgment also
increased, and we admire the reviews then published of works
upon religious and moral, as well as medical, subjects ; while,
on the contrary, we remark that the judgments of poems,
and of whatever else may relate to the belles-lettres, will be
found, if not pitiful, at least very feeble. This holds good
of the "Literary Epistles" (" Literaturbriefen "), and of
"The Universal German Library," as well as of "The Library
of the Belles-Lettres," notable instances of which could easily
be produced.

No matter in how motley a manner all this might be con-
fused, still, for every one who contemplated producing 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,">".o look about him for
some subject-matter which he might determine to use. Here,
too, we were much led astray. People were constantly re-
peating a saying of Kleist, which we had tc 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, — h*3 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 partidge-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, wMch, in a kindly
manner, remind us of nature. But now tuey also recom-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 231

mended us, quite seriously, to go out on the image-hunt,
which did not at last leave us wholly 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, allowed 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 repre-
sent but little in themselves, so I accustomed myself to see
in them a significance, which inclined now towards the sym-
bolical, now towards the allegorical, side, accordingly as
intuition, feeling, or reflection had the preponderance. I will
relate one incident in place of many.

I was, after the fashion of humanity, in love with my name,
and, as young, uneducated people commonly do, wrote it
down everywhere. Once I had carved it very handsomely
and accurately on the smooth bark of a linden-tree of mode-
rate age. The following autumn, when my affection for An-
nette was in its fullest bloom, I. took the trouble to cut hers
above it. Towards the end of the winter, in the mean time,
like a capricious lover, I had wantonly sought many oppor-
tunities 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, 1 which I never could
read to myself without affection, or to others without emotion.

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

1 Die Laune des Verliebten, translated as The Lover's Caprice, see p. 341.

232 TRUTH AND FICTION

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

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

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

For the internal matter of the subject treated is the begin-
ning and end of art. It will 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 treat-
ment of it, by skill, pains, and industry, may present to us
the dignity of the subject-matter only the more happily and
splendidly.

The Prussians, and with them Protestant Germany, ac-
quired thus for their literature a treasure which the opposite
party lacked, and the want of which they have been able to
supply by no subsequent 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 institu-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 233

tions, had a mass of French civilization come into Prussia,
which was highly advantageous to the Germans, since by it
they were challenged to contradiction and resistance ; thus
the very aversion of Frederick from German was a fortunate
thing for the formation of its literary character. They did
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 especially 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 all, 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 pro-
duced an incalculable effect, — " Minna von Barnhelm."
Lessing, who, in opposition to Klopstock andGleim, was fond
of casting off his personal dignity, because he was confident
that he could at any moment grasp and take it up again, de-
lighted in a dissipated life in taverns and the world, as he
always needed a strong counterpoise to his powerfully labor-
ing 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 re-
moved by its termination. The Saxon now first felt, with
true bitterness, the wounds which the upstart Prussian had
inflicted upon him. Political peace could not immediately
re-establish a peace between their dispositions. But this was
to be brought about symbolically by the above-mentioned

234 TRUTH AND FICTION

drama. The grace and amiability of the Saxon ladies con-
quer the worth, the dignity, and the stubbornness of the
Prussians ; and, in the principal as well as in the subordinate
characters, a happy union of bizarre and contradictory ele-
ments is artistically represented.

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

The period of prolixity into which my youth had fallen,
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
fellow-boarder Hofrath Pfeil, I learned to value more and
more the importance of the subject-matter and the concise-
ness 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 exclusive-
ness of the educated inhabitants ; and what with the perfect
insignificance of the natural objects, — I was compelled 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 235

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
all 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 Zacha-
ria ; played the "Duke Michael " of Kriiger, in which a
knotted handkerchief had to take the place of the nightin-
gale ; 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 de-
votedness with wanton and tyrannical caprice. My ill humor
at the failure of my poetical attempts, at the apparent im-
possibility 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

236 TRUTH AND FICTION

from me, and that I might now have good ground for the
madness in which I had indulged without necessity and with-
out cause. There were also terrible scenes between us, iu
which I gained nothing ; and I then first felt that I had truly
loved her, and could not bear to lose her. My passion grew,
and assumed all the forms of which it is capable under such
circumstances ; nay, at last I even took up the role which
the girl had hitherto played. I sought 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
really ; and the frenzy with which I revenged my fault upon
myself, by assaulting in various frantic ways my physical
nature, in order to inflict some hurt on my moral nature,
contributed very much to the bodily maladies under which I
lost some of the best years of my life : indeed, I should per-
chance 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 ill conduct. I really pitied the poor child,
when I saw her so thoroughly wounded by me, without
necessity. I pictured to myself so often and so circumstan-
tially her condition and my own, and, as a contrast, the con-
tented state of another couple in our company, that at last I
could not forbear treating this situation dramatically, as a
painful and instructive penance. Hence arose the oldest of
my extant dramatic 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 boiliug 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, all 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 mairy a rotten wall that tumbles
together overnight, and produces an effect the more frightful,
as it comes into the midst of a condition of repose. A great
many families, far and near, I had seen already, either over-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 237

whelmed 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 preser-
vation. 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 well in my own person
as through others, I could not fail to come to tjie knowledge
of many afflicting and humiliating facts. To relieve myself
I designed several plays, and wrote the arguments * of most
of them. But since the intrigues were always obliged to be
painful, and almost all these pieces threatened a tragical con-
clusion, I let them drop one after another. " Die Mitschuldi-
gen" ("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 some-
thing 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
Mm who is ivithout 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

1 " Exposition" in a dramatic sense, properly means a statement of the events
■which take place before the action of the play commences. — Tbans.

238 TRUTH AND FICTION

vocabulary of our young university friends, they are called
Suites ; and, on account of the close similarity of signification,
to say "play suites," means just the same as to "play
pranks." 1

Such humorous acts of daring, brought on the theatre with
wit and sense, are of the greatest effect. They are distin-
guished from intrigue, inasmuch as they are momentary, and
that their aim, whenever they are to have one, must not be
remote. Beaumarchais has seized their full value, and the
effects of his "Figaro" spring pre-eminently from this.
Whereas such good-humored roguish and half -knavish pranks
are practised with personal risk for noble ends, the situations
which arise from them are aesthetically and morally con-
sidered of the greatest value for the theatre ; as, for instance,
the opera of "The Water-Carrier" treats perhaps the hap-
piest 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 all,
partly in the service of my friends, whom I liked to please.
For myself, I could not say that I had once acted in this
designedly, nor did I ever happen to consider a feat of the
kind as a subject for art. Had I, however, seized upon and
elaborated such materials, which were so close at hand, my
earliest 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 attach-
ments, the mutability of human character, moral sensuality,
and all the heights and depths, the combination of which in
our nature may be considered as the riddle of human life.
Here, too, I sought to get rid of that which troubled me, in
a song, an epigram, in some kind of rhyme ; which, since they
referred to the most private feelings and the most peculiar
circumstances, could scarcely interest any one but myself.

In the mean time, my external position had very much
changed after the lapse of a short time. Madame Bohme,
after a long and melancholy illness, had at last died : she had
latterly ceased to admit me to her presence. Her husband
could not be very much satisfied with me : I seemed to him

1 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.

KELATING TO MY LIFE. 239

not sufficiently industrious, and too frivolous. He especially
took it very ill of me, when it was told him, that at the
lectures on German Public Law, instead of taking proper
notes, I had been drawing on the margin of my note-book
the personages presented to our notice in them, such as the
President of the Chamber, the Moderators and Assessors, in
strange wigs ; and by this drollery had disturbed my atten-
tive neighbors and set them laughing. After the loss of his
wife he lived still more retired than before, and at last I
shunned him in order to avoid his reproaches. But it was
peculiarly unfortunate that Gellert would not use the power
which he might have exercised over us. Indeed, he had not
time to play the father-confessor, and to inquire after the
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 will make the attempt.

In moral and religious, as well 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
willingly, it must not have become strange to him. If the

240 TRUTH AND FICTION

Protestant worship lacks fulness in general, so let it be in-
vestigated in detail, and it will be found that the Protestant
has too few sacraments, — nay, indeed, he has only one iu
which he is himself an actor, — the Lord's Supper ; for bap-
tism 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 all kinds of Christian churches : whether the
sacrament is taken with more or less submission to the mys-
tery, with more or less accommodation as to that which is
intelligible, it always remains a great, holy thing, which in
reality takes the place of the possible or the impossible, the
place of that which man can neither attain nor do without.
But such a sacrament should not stand alone : no Christian
can partake of it with the true joy for which it is given, if
the symbolical or 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 perfect!}' 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 saluta-
tion 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 Chris-
tian, 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 will constantly be a question
of doctrines and of transgressions ; but punishment shall no
longer take place. For here, in the infinite confusion in

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 241

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 s}'inbolical 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 man-
hood. Thus prepared, and purely set at rest by several sac-
ramental 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 } r outh believe that this is all he has to do r
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 adminis-
ters all that is necessary for counsel, consolation, and help.
But, to this end, that remedy is instituted for our whole life ;
and an intelligent, pious man is continually waiting to show
the right way to the wanderers, and to relieve the distressed.

And what has been so well tried through the whole life,
is now to show forth all its healing power with tenfold ac-
tivity 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 heav-
enly one, of a blessed existence for all 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 God-
head, 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

242 TRUTH AND FICTION

them the clod of earth which hitherto attracted them. And
so, through a brilliant cycle of equally I10I3' 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 all times. Here we meet the highest of these sym-
bols, 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 b}^ spiritual inherit-
ance. 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 bless-
ings, 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 immedi-
ately 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, will they prepare
us for the high dignity of the others ?

In my time I had been confided to the religious instruction
of a good old infirm clergyman, who had been confessor of
the family for many years. The "Catechism," a "Para-
phrase " of it, and the " Scheme of Salvation," I had at my
finger's ends : I lacked not one of the strongly proving bibli-
cal texts, but from all this I reaped no fruit ; for, as they
assured me that the honest old man arranged his chief ex-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 243

animation according to an old set form, I lost all pleasure
and inclination for the business, spent the last week in all
sorts of diversions, laid in my hat the loose leaves borrowed
from an older friend, who had gotten them from the clergy-
man, and unfeelingly and senselessly read aloud all 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 still 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 all 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 intelligent man, in general terms, that which I was for-
bidden to tell him in detail. But when I entered the old
choir of the Barefoot Friars, when I approached the strange
latticed closets in which the reverend gentlemen used to be
found for that purpose, when the sexton opened the door for
me, when I now saw myself shut up in the narrow place face
to face with my spiritual grandsire, and he bade me welcome
with his weak, nasal voice, all the light of my mind and heart
was extinguished at once, the well-conned confession-speech
would not cross my lips : 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 absolu-
tion, 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 condi-

244 TRUTH AND FICTION

tion, and raises this to its highest point, to fixed ideas. I
have known several men, who, though their manner of think-
ing and living was perfectly rational, could not free them-
selves 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 earty,
already made a monstrous impression upon me. Every fear-
ful thing that I had read in the histories of the Middle Ages,
of the judgments of God, of those most strange ordeals, by
red-hot iron, flaming fire, swelling water, and even what the
Bible tells us of the draught which agrees well with the in-
nocent, 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, all seemed to weigh down the unworthy person
at this most holy act, which was so much the more horrible,
as no one could dare to pronounce himself worthy : and the
forgiveness of sins, by which 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 generally
laconic style with which he was obliged to repel our obtru-
siveness, I was unwilling to trouble with such singular ques-
tions, and the less so as in my more cheerful hours I way
nvyself ashamed of them, and at last left completely behind
me this strange anguish of conscience, together with church
and altar.

Gellert, in accordance with his pious feelings, had com-
posed 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. Gellert's writings had
already, for a long time, been the foundation of German
moral culture, and every one anxiously wished to see that
work printed ; but, as this was not to be done till after the
good man's death, people thought themselves very fortunate
to hear him deliver it himself in his lifetime. The philo-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 245

sophical auditorium * was at such times crowded : and the
beautiful soul, the pure will, and the interest of the noble
man in our welfare, his exhortations, warnings, and entreat-
ies, uttered in a somewhat hollow 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 travelling
through the town, who asked what were the maxims and
opinions of the man who attracted such an immense con-
course. 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 en-
dure any thing worthy near it, know how to spoil, on occasion,
the moral influence which Gellert might have had upon us.
Now it was taken ill of him that he instructed the Danes of
distinction and wealth, who were particularly 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, notwith-
standing the too great lenity of his brother, the noble boarders
were often treated harshly and roughly : hence the people
thought they must again take the part of these young folks,
and pulled about the good reputation of the excellent Gellert
to such a degree, that, in order not to be mistaken about him,
we became indifferent towards him, and visited him no more ;
yet we always saluted him in our best manner when he came
riding along on his tame 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 all
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 all the
distinguished men of the century in my thoughts ; and it
must therefore have appeared very surprising to me, that I

1 The lecture-room. The word is also used in university 'auguasre to denote a pro-
fessor's audien««.

246 TRUTH AND FICTION

could praise him as little before the inhabitants of Leipzig
as formerly in my grandfather's house. They had felt the
hand of war heavily, it is true ; and therefore they were not
to blame for not thinking the best of him who had begun and
continued it. They, therefore, were willing to let him pass
as a distinguished, but by no means as a great, man. " There
was no art," they said, "in performing something with great
means ; and, if one spares neither lands nor money nor
blood, one may well accomplish one's purpose at last. Frede-
rick had shown himself great in none of his plans, and in
nothing that he had, properly speaking, undertaken. So long
as it depended on himself, he had only gone on making blun-
ders, and what was extraordinary in him had only come to light
when he was compelled to make these blunders good again. It
was purely from this that he had obtained his great reputation ;
since every man wishes for himself that same talent of making
good, in a clever way, the blunders which he frequently com-
mits. If one goes through the Seven Years' War, step by step,
it will be found that the king quite uselessly sacrificed his fine
army, and that it was his own fault that this ruinous feud
had been protracted to so great a length. A truly great man
and general would have got the better of his enemies much
sooner." In support of these opinions they could cite infinite
details, which I did not know how to deny ; and I felt the
unbounded reverence which I had devoted to this remarkable
prince, from my youth upwards, gradually cooling away.

As the inhabitants of Leipzig had now destroyed for me the
pleasant feeling of revering a great man ; so did a new friend,
whom I gained at the time, very much diminish the respect
which I entertained for my present fellow-citizens. This
friend was one of the strangest fellows in the world. He was
named Behrisch, and was tutor to the young Count Lindenau.
Even his exterior was singular enough. Lean and well-built,
far advanced in the thirties, a very large nose, and altogether
marked features : he wore from morning till night a scratch
which might well have been called a peruke, but dressed him-
self very neatly, and never went out but with his sword by
his side, and his hat under his arm. He was one of those
men who have quite a peculiar gift of killing time, or, rather,
who know how to make something out of nothing, in order
to pass time away. 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 some-
thing affected in his manner. He resembled an old French-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 247

man, and also spoke and wrote French very well and easily.
His greatest delight was to busy himself seriously about drol-
leries, and to follow up without end any silly notion. Thus he
was constantly dressed in 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 well, was particularly versed
in the modern languages and their literature, and wrote an
excellent hand. He was very well 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 pleas-
ure 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 hand-
some volume. This undertaking now afforded an opportunity
for the greatest possible waste of time. For before he could
find the right paper, before he could make up his mind as to
the size, before he had settled the breadth of the margin and
the form of handwriting, before the crow-quills were pro-
vided and cut into pens, and Indian ink was rubbed, whole
weeks passed, without the least bit having been done. "With
just as much ado he always set about his writing, and really,
by degrees, put together a most charming manuscript. The
title of the poems was in German text ; the verses themselves
in a perpendicular Saxon hand ; and at the end of every poem
was an analogous vignette, which he had either selected some-
where or other, or had invented himself, and in which he
contrived to imitate very neatly the hatching of the wood-cuts

248 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 alwa}*s secretly instructive, by reason
of his liberal acquirements, and, as he knew how to subdue
my restless, impetuous disposition, was also quite wholesome
for me in a moral sense. He had, too, quite a peculiar
abhorrence of roughness ; and his jests were always quaint
without ever falling into the coarse or the trivial. He in-
dulged himself in a distorted aversion from his countrymen,
and described with ludicrous touches even what they were
able to undertake. He was particularly inexhaustible in a
comical representation of individual persons, as he found some-
thing to find fault with in the exterior of every one. Thus,
when we lay together at the window, he could occupy him-
self for hours criticising the passers-by, and, when he had
censured them long enough, in showing exactly and circum-
stantially how they ought to have dressed themselves, ought to
have walked, and ought to have behaved, to look like orderly
people. Such attempts, for the most part, ended in something
improper and absurd ; so that we did not so much laugh at how
the mau looked, but at how, perchance, he might have looked
had he been mad enough to caricature himself. In all such
matters. Behrisch went quite unmercifully to work, without
being in the slightest degree malicious. On the other hand,
we knew how to 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 usually the signal for dis-
sertations an hour long, in which he used to set forth the
difference, wide as the heavens, which there was between him
and an old Frenchman. At the same time he commonly
imputed to us all sorts of awkward attempts, that we might
possibly have made for the alteration and modification of his
wardrobe.

My poetical compositions, which I only carried on the
more zealously as the transcript went on becoming more beau-
tiful and more careful, now inclined altogether to the natural
and the true : and if the subjects could not always be impor-
tant, I nevertheless always endeavored to express them clearly
and pointedly, the more so as my friend often gave me to un-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 249

derstand what a great thing it was to write down a verse on
Dutch paper, with the crow-quill and Indian ink ; what time,
talent, and exertion it required, which ought not to be squan-
dered 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 con-
gratulate us that it actually did not stand there. He then
spoke with great contempt of the art of printing, mimicked
the compositor, ridiculed his gestures and his hurried picking
out of letters here and there, and derived from this manoeuvre
all the calamities of literature. On the other hand, he ex-
tolled the grace and noble posture of a writer, and immedi-
ately 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 vol-
umes 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.

Gellert 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 litera-
ture, criticism, and poetry, and, as a young, lively, obliging
man, found many friends, both in the university and in the
city. Gellert himself referred us to the lectures now com-
menced by him ; and, as far as the principal matter was con-
cerned, we remarked little difference. He, too, only criticised
details, corrected likewise with red ink ; and one found 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 re-
moved from that light and frivolous period in which a similar
thing would have given me pleasure ; anol, since I could get

250 TRUTH AND FICTION

nothing out of the actual circumstance itself, I determined to
trick out my work in the best manner with extraneous orna-
ment. I therefore convened all Olympus to consult about the
marriage of a Frankfort lawyer, and seriously enough, to be
sure, as well became the festival of such an honorable man.
Venus and Themis had quarreJled 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 expres-
sion 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 fellow-citizens, who, never-
theless, willingly put up with him on account of his good
qualities, and the fine promise which he gave.

He was usually commissioned with the poems which had
become necessary on festive occasions. In the so-called
"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.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 251

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 excellent cakes in the kitchen-gardens (KoJilgarten) ,
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 h was
written on the wall of the house with a lead-pencil.

" O Hendel, dessen Ruhm vom Sud zum Norden reicht,
Vernimm den Pdan der zu deinen Ohren steigt.
Du backst was Gallien und Britten emsig suchen,
Mit schopfrischen Genie, originelle Kuchen.
Des Kaffee's Ocean, der sich vor dir ergiesst,
1st siisser als der Saf t der vom Hymettus fliesst.
Dein Hans ein Monument, wie wir den Kiinsten lohnen
Umhangen mit Trophan, erzahlt den Nationen :
Anch ohne Diadem fand Hendel hier sein Gliick
Und raubte dem Cothurn gar manch Achtgroschenstiick.
Glanzt deine Urn dereinst in majestats'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 romischen Ballisten
Vermog Germanien und Hendel zu verwiisten.
Dein Wohl is unser Stolz, dein Leiden unser Schmerz,
Und Hendel's Tempel ist der Musensohne Herz." 1

1 The humor of the ahove 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 will be observed that we have said that the pecu-
liarity 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.

41 O Hendel, whose fame extends from south to north, hear the patan which
ascends to thine ears! Thou bakest that which Gauls and Britons industriously
seek, (thou bakest) with creative genius original cakes. The ocean of coffee which
pours itself out before thee is sweeter than the juice which flows from Hymettus.
Thy house, a monument, how we reward the arts, hung round with trophies, tells
the nations : ' Even without a diadem, Hendel formed his fortune here, and robbed
the Cothurnus of many an eight-groschen-piece.' When thy urn shines hereafter in

252 TRUTH AND FICTION

This poem had its place for a long time among many others
which disfigured the walls of that room, without being noticed ;
and we, who had sufficiently amused ourselves with it, forgot
it altogether amongst other things. A long time afterwards,
Clodius came out with his "Medon," whose wisdom, mag-
nanimity, 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 preliminaiy jokes, tells the spectators in
confidence, that in the two sacks moral aesthetic dust is to be
found, which the actors will very frequently throw into their
eyes. One, to wit, was filled with good deeds, that cost
nothing ; and the other with splendidly expressed opinions,
that had no 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 well with
them, with many more things of the kind. This prologue
was acted in the room, on the spot, by friend Horn : but the
jest remained quite among ourselves, not even a copy had
been taken ; and the paper was soon lost. However, Horn,
who had 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 iugenious : 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. Uni-
versal disapproval was the consequence, and the originators
(it was soon found out that the poem had proceeded from our
clique) were severely censured ; for nothing of the sort had
been seen since Cronegk's and Host's attacks upon Gottsched.
We had besides already secluded ourselves, and now found
ourselves quite in the case of the owl with respect to the
other birds. In Dresden, too, they did not like the affair ; and

majestic pomp, then will the patriot weep at thy catacomb. But live! let Chy hed
(torus) he the nest of a noble brood, stand high as Olymjms, and firm as Parnassus.
May no phalanx of Greece with Roman balliaUx be able to destroy Germania and
Hendel. Thy weal is our pride, thy tooe our pain, and Ilendel's temple is the heaii
of the aons of the Muses." — Trans,

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 253

it had for us serious, if T aot 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
lis 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 societ}^, and at last, towards nine o'clock in the even-
ings, generally transferred his pupil into the hands of the
valet de chambre, and went in quest of us to the wine-house,
whither, however, he never used to come but in shoes and
stockings, with his sword by his side, and commonly his hat
under his arm. The jokes and fooleries, which he generally
started, went on ad 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 con-
verse only at that hour. We did not like to lose him ; and
one evening, when we sat very happily together, Behrisch
secretly determined that he would not let him off this time.
At the stroke of ten, the other arose and took leave. Behrisch
called after him, and begged him to wait a moment, as he
was just going with him. He now began, in the most amus-
ing 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 fellow, chimed in, and let Behrisch have his
own way till the happy hour was past, when, for the first
time, there followed general pleasure and agreeable conversa-
tion till deep into the night.

Unfortunately Behrisch, and we through him, had a certain
other propensity for some girls who were better than their
reputation, — by which our own reputation could not be im-
proved. We had often been seen in their garden ; and we
directed our walks thither, even when the young count was
with us. All this may have been treasured up, and at last
communicated to his father : enough, he sought, in a gentle-

254 TRUTH AND FICTION

manly manner, to get rid of the tutor, to whom the event
proved fortunate. His good exterior, his knowledge and
talents, his integrity, which no one could call in question, had
won him the affection and esteem of distinguished persons, on
whose recommendation he was appointed tutor to the heredi-
tary prince of Dessau, and at the court of a prince, excellent
in every respect, found a solid happiness.

The loss of a friend like Behrisch was of the greatest con-
sequence 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 briug forth fruit for
society. He knew how to engage me in all kinds of pretty and
agreeable things, in whatever was just appropriate, and to
bring out my social talents. But as I had gained no self-
dependence in such things, so when I was alone again I im-
mediately relapsed into my confused and crabbed disposition,
which always increased, the more discontented I was with
those about me, since I fancied that they were not contented
with me. With the most arbitrary caprice, I took offence at
what I might have 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 well-wishers, that I
lacked experience. The same thing was told me by every
person of sound sense who saw my productions, especially
when these referred to the external world. I observed this
as well as I could, but found in it little that was edifying,
and was still forced to add enough of my own to make it only
tolerable. I had often pressed my friend Behrisch, too, that
he would make plain to me what 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 prep-
arations, disclosed to me, that true experience was properly
when one experiences how an experienced man must expe-
rience in experiencing his experience. Now, when we scolded
him outrageously, and called him to account for this, he
assured us that a great mystery lay hidden behind these
words, which we could not comprehend until we had expe-
rienced . . . and so on without end, — for it cost him noth-
ing 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 255

despair at such fooleries, he protested that he had learned
this way of making himself intelligible and impressive from
the latest and greatest authors, who had made us observe
how one can rest a restful rest, and how silence, in being
silent, can constantly become more silent.

By chance an officer, who came among us on furlough, was
praised in good company as a remarkable, sound-minded, and
experienced man, who had fought through the Seven Years'
War, and had gained universal confidence. It was not diffi-
cult for me to approach him, and we often went walking with
each other. The idea of experience had almost become fixed
in my brain, and the craving to make it clear to me passionate.
Being of a frank disposition, I disclosed to him the uneasi-
ness in which I found myself. He smiled, and was kind
enough to tell 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 especially held
to be an inexperienced man.

Yet, as he was a gallant, good fellow, he assured me that
he had himself not quite given up these vagaries, and felt
himself tolerably well off with the little faith, love, and hope
which remained. He then felt obliged to tell me a great
deal about war, about the sort of life in the field, about skir-
mishes and battles, especially so far as he had taken part in
them ; when these vast events, by being considered in relation
to a single individual, gained a very marvellous aspect. I
then led him on to an open narration of the late situation of
the court, which seemed to me quite like a tale. I heard
of the bodily strength of Augustus the Second, of his many
children and his vast expenses, then of his successor's love of
art and of making collections ; of Count Briihl and his bound-
less love of magnificence, which in detail appeared almost
absurd, of his numerous banquets and gorgeous amusements,
which were all cut off by Frederick's invasion of Saxony.
The royal castles now lay in ruins, Briihl' s 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 followed, and

informed me that one expects from an experienced man

exactly this, that he shall be astonished at neither the one

GoetUe— 10 Vol i

256 TRUTH AND FICTION

nor the other, nor take too lively an interest in them, I felt
a great desire still 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 silly, that it would seem almost impossible to put a rational
meaning into them ; and yet, perhaps, the attempt might be
made."

And, when I pressed him, he replied in his intelligent,
cheerful manner, "If you will 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 noth-
ing 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 cer-
tain 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 as-
cended a repaired, cheerful, winding staircase. The saloons
of the Academy of Design, of which he was director, were

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 257

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 apart-
ments, 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 noble-
men, 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 scroll-and-shell 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 well as with other appur-
tenances 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 cer-
tain 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 smaller 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 foreshorten-
ing, manner, had for the most part the look of Lazzaroni.
Since he designed his composition less with regard to form
than lo light, shade, and masses, the general effect was

258 TRUTH AND FICTION

good ; as indeed all that he did and produced was attended
by a peculiar grace. As he at the same time neither could
nor would control a deep-rooted propensity to the significant
and the allegorical — to that which excites a secondary
thought, so his works always furnished something to reflect
upon, and were complete through a conception, even where
they could not be so from art and execution. This bias,
which is always dangerous, frequently led him to the very
bounds of good taste, if not beyond them. He often sought
to attain his views by the oddest notions and by whimsical
jests ; nay, his best works always have a touch of 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 extraor-
dinarily 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 still quite
new, had certainly an uncommonly charming effect. Oeser
had taken the Muses out of the clouds, upon which they
usually hover on such occasions, and set them upon the
earth. The statues of Sophocles and Aristophanes, around
whom all the modern dramatic writers were assembled,
adorned a vestibule to the Temple of Fame. Here, too, the
goddesses of the arts were likewise present ; and all was dig-
nified 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 Shakspeare, who without predecessors
or followers, without concerning himself about models, went
to meet immortality in his own way. This work was exe-
cuted 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,

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 259

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 concep-
tions of the figures, and desired that we should impress them
vividly upon our minds. That might have been beautifully
and properly done, if he had not had mere beginners before
him. If, on this account, a pre-eminent talent for instruc-
tion 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 in-
directly and very laconically. One was now compelled to
think over the matter, and soon came to a far deeper insight.
Thus, for instance, I had very carefully 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 re-
marked, 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 our-
selves to find the application of the principles communicated.
Probably his view with regard to us who did not intend to
become artists, was only to form the judgment and taste,
and to make us acquainted with the requisites of a work of
art, without precisely requiring that we should produce one.
Since, moreover, patient industry was not my talent, for
nothing gave me pleasure except what came to me at once,
so by degrees I became discouraged, if not lazy ; and, as
knowledge is more comfortable than doing, I was quite con-
tent to follow wherever he chose, after his own fashion, to
lead us.
At this time the " Lives of the Painters," by D'Argenville,

260 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 port-
folio out of the great Leipzig collections, and thus introduced
us to the history of the art. But even these exercises pro-
duced 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 dif-
ferences between the arts. Of such little things many were
in the collection which Behrisch had arranged, but there is
nothing left of them now.

The atmosphere of art and taste in which Oeser lived, and
into which one was drawn, provided one visited him fre-
quently, was the more and more worthy and delightful,
because he was fond of remembering departed or absent per-
sons, with whom he had been, or still continued to be, on
good terms ; for, if he had once given anyone his esteem, he
remained unalterable in his conduct towards him, and always
showed himself equally friendly.

After we had heard Caylus pre-eminently extolled among
the French, he made us also acquainted with Germans of
activity in this department. Thus we learned that Professor
Christ, as an amateur, a collector, a connoisseur, a fellow-
laborer, had done good service for art, and had applied his
learning to its true improvement. Heinecken, on the con-
trary, could not be honorably mentioned, partly because he
devoted himself too assiduously to the ever- childish begin-
nings of German art ; which Oeser little valued, partly be-
cause 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

RELATING TO MY LItfE. 261

seen ; on the contrary, by Lippert, a little world of gems if
made known, in which the more comprehensible merit of thf
ancients, their happy invention, judicious composition, taste-
ful treatment, are made more striking and intelligible, while,
from the great number of them, comparison is much more
possible." While now we were busying ourselves with these
as much as was allowed, Winckelmann's lofty life of art in
Italy was pointed out, and we took his first writings in hand
with devotion ; for Oeser had a passionate reverence for
him, which he was able easily to instil into us. The problem-
atical part of those little treatises, which are, besides, con-
fused 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 still more of the tasteful and the pleasing, we
found out the general sense, and fancied, that, with such
interpretations, we should go on the more securely, as we
regarded it no small happiness to draw from the same fouiv
tain from which Winckelmann had allayed his earliest thirst,

No greater good fortune can befall a city, than when sev-
eral educated men, like-minded in what is good and right,
live together in it. Leipzig had this advantage, and enjoyed
it the more peacefully, as so many differences of judgment
had not yet manifested themselves. Huber, a print col-
lector and well-experienced connoisseur, had furthermore
the gratefully acknowledged merit of having determined to
make the worth of German literature known to the French ;
Kreuchauf, an amateur with a practised eye, who, as the
friend of the whole society of art, might regard all collec-
tions 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 excel-
lence 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,

262 TRUTH AND FICTION

abilities, and opportunities, these amateurs and collectors
inclined more to the Dutch school, yet, while the eye was
practised on the endless merits of the north-western artist, a
look of 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 all, 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 in-
structed only incidentally, and for whom the most difficult
part of the business — that of rightly arranging all — yet
remains, must find himself in a very painful situation. I
therefore, as well as others, looked about with longing for
some new light, which was indeed to come to us from a man
to whom we owed so much already.

The mind can be highly delighted in two ways, — by per-
ception 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. Concep-
tion, 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 " Laocoon "
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 * was
made clear ; the summits of the two now appeared sun-
dered, 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

1 "Bildende und Redende Kunst." The expression ''speaking art" is used to
produce a corresponding antithesis, though " belles-lettres " would be the ordinary
rendering. — Trans.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 263

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.
All the consequences of this splendid thought were illumined
to us as by a lightning-flash : all the criticism which had
hitherto guided and judged was thrown away like a worn-
out coat. We considered ourselves freed from all evil, and
fancied we might venture to look down with some compas-
sion 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 Mensechmi. 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 concep-
tions appears only to the mind upon which they exercise
their infinite activity, — appears only to the age in which,
after being longed for, they come forth at the right moment.
Then do those at whose disposal such nourishment is placed
fondly occupy whole periods of their lives with it, and re-
joice in a superabundant growth ; while men are not want-
ing, 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 deter-
mined to visit Dresden without delay. I was not in want of
the necessary cash : but there were other difficulties to over-
come, which I needlessly increased still 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
allow no one to perplex me. Besides this, so simple a mat-
ter 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

2e4 TRUTH AND FICTION

trouble. Willingly as I made myself familiar with all sorts
of conditions, and many as had been my inducements to do
so, an excessive aversion from all 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 Ger-
many. Although he seldom spoke in images, and only
called 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 im-
moderately for renouncing one's habits and all that was dear
to one in life, and living after the manner of publicans
and waiters. He praised the hospitality of the olden time ;
and, reluctantly as he otherwise endured even 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 impres-
sions, which nothing had as yet rubbed off, how could I have
resolved to set foot in an inn in a strange city? Nothing
would have been easier than to find quarters with good
friends. Hofrath Krebel, Assessor Hermann, and others,
had often spoken to me about it already ; but even to these
my trip was to remain a secret, and I hit upon a most singu-
lar notion. My next-room neighbor, the industrious theo-
logian, 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 ac-
count 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 con-
viction that life is in itself and on its own account a bless-
ing, 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 265

this man, extolled his happy natural gift, and expressed the
wish to become acquainted with him. All this being pre-
mised, 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 yellow 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 call you a whimsical
Christian because you acknowledge yourself a follower of our
Lord in one thing, but not in another. " On my requesting
him to enlighten me, he said further, " It seems that your
view is, to announce glad tidings to the poor and lowly ; that
is good, and this imitation of the Lord is praiseworthy : but
you should reflect, besides, that he rather sat down to table
with prosperous rich folks, where there was good fare, and
that he himself did not despise the sweet scent of the oint-
ment, of which you will find the opposite in my house."

This pleasant beginning put me at once in good humor,
and we rallied each other for some time. His wife stood
doubting how she should board and lodge such a guest. On
this point, too, he had notions which referred, not only to
the Bible, but also to " Gottfried's Chronicle ; " and when we
were agreed that I was to stay, I gave my purse, such as it
was, into the charge of my hostess, and requested her to fur-
nish herself from it, if 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 re-
source would not be out of place, since there are no more
miracles nowadays." The hostess seemed to find my con-
duct less and less strange : we had soon accommodated our-
selves to each other, and spent a very merry evening. He
remained always the same, because all flowed from one source.
His peculiarity was an apt common sense, which rested upon
a cheerful disposition, and took delight in uniform habitual
activity. That he should labor incessantly was his first and

266 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 called practical unconscious philosophers. 1

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 concep-
tion which I had formed. This room, returning into itself,
in which splendor and neatness reigned together with the
deepest stillness ; the dazzling frames, all nearer to the time
in which they had been gilded ; the floor polished with bees'-
wax ; the spaces more trodden by spectators than used by
copyists, — imparted a feeling of solemnity, unique of its kind,
which so much the more resembled the sensation with which
one treads a church, as the adornments of so many a temple,
the objects of so much adoration, seemed here again set up
only for the sacred 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
principally 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 gallery. 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.

1 " 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.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 267

I visited the gallery 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 underkeepers had hitherto had intercourse with me, the
gallery-inspector, Counsellor Riedel, now also took notice of
me, and called my attention to many things which seemed
chiefly to lie within nry sphere. I found this excellent man
just as active and obliging then, as when I afterwards saw
him during many years, and as he shows himself to this day.
His image has, for me, interwoven itself so closely with those
treasures of art, that I can never regard the two apart : the
remembrance of him has even accompanied me to Italy, where,
in many large and rich collections, his presence would have
been very desirable.

Since, even with strangers and unknown persons, one can-
not 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 resid-
ing at Dresden, and to belong to some embassy. He invited
me to come in the evening to an inn where a lively company
met, and where, by each one's paying a moderate reckoning,
one could pass some very pleasant hours.

I repaired thither, but did not find the company ; and the
waiter somewhat surprised me when he delivered the compli-
ments of the gentleman who made the appointment with me,
by which the latter sent an excuse for coming somewhat later,
with the addition that I must not take offence at 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 com-
posed myself to await whatever might befall. The company
assembled ; my acquaintance introduced me ; and I could not
be attentive long, without discovering that they were aiming
at the mystification of a young man, who showed himself
a novice by an obstreperous, assuming deportment : I there-
fore kept very much on my guard, so that they might not
find delight in selecting me as his fellow. At table this
intention became more apparent to everybody, except to
himself. Thej' 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

268 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 even-
ing. I was far from my lodgings, and it was near midnight
when I reached them. I found the doors unlocked ; every-
body was in bed ; and one lamp illuminated the narrow do-
mestic household, where my eye, more and more practised,
immediately perceived the finest picture by Schalken, from
which I could not tear myself away, so that it banished from
me all sleep.

The few da}^s of my residence in Dresden were solely de-
voted to the picture-gallery. The antiquities still stood in
the pavilion of the great garden ; but I declined seeing them,
as well as all the other precious things which Dresden con-
tained, being but too full of the conviction, that, even in and
about the collection of paintings, much must yet remain hid-
den from me. Thus I took the excellence of the Italian mas-
ters more on trust and in faith, than by pretending to any
insight into them. What I could not look upon as nature,
put in the place of nature, and compare with a known object,
was without effect upon me. It is the material impression
which makes the beginning even to every more elevated 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 well occupied, entertained, excited, but by
no means happy ; and the shoes from his last would not fit
me. We parted, however, as the best friends ; and even my
hostess, on my departure, was not dissatisfied with me.

Shortly before my departure, something else very pleasant
was to happen. By the mediation of that young man, who
wished to somewhat regain his credit with me, I was intro-
duced to the Director Von Hagedorn, who, with great kind-
ness, 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 particu-
lar satisfaction that I was so excessively pleased with a pic-
ture by Schwanefeld, and that I was not tired of praising
and extolling it in every single part ; for landscapes, which
again reminded me of the beautiful clear sky under which I

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 269

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,
whib 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 deso-
late condition of so many of the streets of Dresden through
which I took my wa} T . The Mohrenstrasse in ruins, and the
Church (Kreuzkirche) of the Cross, with its shattered tower,
impressed themselves deeply upon me, and still stand like a
gloomy spot in my imagination. From the cupola of the Lady
Church (Frauenhirche) I saw these pitiable ruins scattered
about amid the beautiful order of the city. Here the clerk com-
mended 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 rains on all sides, and said doubtfully and laconically,
" The enemy Jiath 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 all its force : and the more I struggled to
arrange and appropriate to myself what I had seen, the less
I succeeded. I had at last to content myself with a silent
after-operation. Ordinary life carried me away again ; and I
at last felt myself quite comfortable when a friendly inter-
course, improvement in branches of knowledge which were
suitable for me, and a certain practice of the hand, engaged
me in a manner less important, but more in accordance with
my strength.

Very pleasant and wholesome for me was the 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

270 TRUTH AND FICTION

Newmarket, with Gottsched as an inmate. The son, Joliann
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 ths,n in
putting up, opposite the first house, a large new one, the Sil-
ver Bear, which they built higher and more extensive than the
original house itself. Just at the time of the building I be-
came acquainted with the family. The eldest son, who might
have been some years older than I, was a well-formed young
man, devoted to music, and practised to play skilfully on
both the piano and the violin. The second, a true, good soul,
likewise musical, enlivened the concerts which were often got
up, no less than his elder brother. They were both kindly dis-
posed towards me, as well as their parents and sisters. I lent
them a helping hand during the building up and the finishing,
the furnishing and the moving in, and thus formed a concep-
tion of much that belongs to such an affair : I also had an
opportunity of seeing Oeser's instructions put in practice. In
the new house, which I had thus seen erected, I was often a
visitor. We had many pursuits in common ; and the eldest
son set some of my songs to music, which, when printed, bore
his name, but not mine, and have been little known. I have
selected the best, and inserted them among my other little
poems. The father had invented or perfected musical type.
He granted me the use of a fine library, which related prin-
cipally 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 still further
promoted by the circumstance that a considerable collection
of casts had fallen into disorder in moving. I set them right
again as well as I could, and in doing so was compelled to
search Lippert and other authorities. A physician, Doctor
Reichel, likewise an inmate of the house, I consulted from
time to time when I felt, if not sick, yet unwell ; and thus
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 industri-
ous 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 271

little touching-up remained to be done with the graver, which
he handled very well. He made an exact calculation how
long a plate would occupy him, and nothing could call him
off from his work if he had not completed the daily task he
had set himself. Thus he sat 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 excel-
lent 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 unprac-
tised hand, produced some effect, and were well received.
The grounding (varnishing) of the plates, the putting in the
high lights, the etching, and at last the biting with aquafor-
tis, 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, allow his theatrical pieces to be
models throughout, but we suffered ourselves to be carried
away by them ; and his operas, set to music by Hiller in an
easy style, gave us much pleasure. Schiebler, of Hamburgh,
pursued the same track ; and his " Lisuard and Dariolette "

272 TRUTH AND FICTION

was likewise favored by us. Eschenburg, a handsome young
man, but little older than we were, distinguished himself
advantageously among the students. Zacharia 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, well-formed, comfortable man, he did not conceal
his love of good eating. Lessing came at a time when we
had I know not what in our heads : it was our good pleasure
to go nowhere on his account, — nay, even to avoid the places
to which he came, probably because we thought ourselves
too good to stand at a distance, and could make no preten-
sion to obtain a closer intimacy with him. This momentary
absurdity, which, however, is nothing rare in presuming and
freakish youth, proved, indeed, its own punishment in the
sequel ; for I have never set eyes on that eminent man, who
was most highly esteemed by me.

Notwithstanding all our efforts relative to art and anti-
quity, we each of us always had Winckelmann before our
eyes, whose ability was acknowledged in his 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, unas-
sailed 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, well and nobly minded, he had

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 273

on his travels and at other times shown himself truly desir-
able. 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 Winckel-
mann would return back from Italy, visit his princely friend,
call on Oeser by the way, and so come within our sphere of
-^sion. We made no pretensions to speaking with him, but
,e hoped to see him ; and, as at that time of life one will-
ingly changes every occasion into a party of pleasure, we
had already agreed upon a journey to Dessau, where in a
beautiful spot, made glorious by art, in a land well governed
and at the same time externally adorned, we thought to lie
in wait, now here, now there, in order to see with our own
eyes these men so highly exalted above us walking about.
Oeser himself was quite elated if he only thought of it, and
the news of Winckelmann 's death fell down into the midst
of us like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. I still remember
the place where I first heard it : it was in the court of the
Pleissenburg, not far from the little gate through which one
used to go up to Oeser' s residence. One of my fellow-pupils
met me, and told me that Oeser was not to be seen, with the
reason why. This monstrous event l 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 Winck-
elmann, I did not think that I should soon find myself in
the case of being apprehensive about my own life ; since,
during all these events, my bodily condition had not taken
the most 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 Auerstadt, and which

* W'nckelmann was assassinated. — Trans.

274 TRUTH AND FICTION

after a fall from horseback had perceptibly increased, made
me dejected. By an unfortunate diet I destroyed my pow-
ers 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 m} T
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 ra-
tional mode of Ufe. My natural disposition, supported by
the sufficient strength of youth, fluctuated between the ex-
tremes of unrestrained gayety and melancholy discomfort.
Moreover, the epoch of cold-water bathing, which was un-
conditionally recommended, had then begun. One was to
sleep on a hard bed, only slightly covered, by which all the
usual perspiration was suppressed. These and other follies,
in consequence of some misunderstood suggestions of Rous-
seau, would, it was promised, bring us nearer to nature, and
deliver us from the corruption of morals. Now, all the
above, without discrimination, applied with injudicious alter-
nation, were felt by many most injuriously ; and I irritated
my 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 sub-
sequent 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
painfully : and, since nature had helped herself with me, I
appeared now to have become another man ; for I had gained
a greater cheerfulness of mind than I had known for a long
time, and I was rejoiced to feel my inner self at liberty,
although externally a wearisome affliction threatened me.

But what particularly set me up at this time was, to see
how many eminent men had, undeservedly, given me their
affection. Undeservedly, I say ; for there was not one among
them to whom I had not been troublesome through contra-
dictory humors, not one whom I had not more than once
wounded by morbid absurdity, — nay, whom I had not stub-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 275

bornly avoided for a long time, from a feeling of my own
injustice. All 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 well
reckon him the most industrious of his academical fellow-
citizens. He attended his lectures with the greatest regu-
larity, and his private industry remained always the same.
Step by step, without the slightest deviation, I saw him
attain his doctor's degree, and then raise himself to the
assessorship, without any thing of all this appearing arduous
to him, or his having in the least hurried or been too late
with 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
especially for this reason, because I thought, by acknowledg-
ments and high esteem, to appropriate to myself at least a
part of a merit of which I could by no means boast.

He was just as regular in the exercise of his talents and
the enjoyment of his pleasures as in his business. He played
the harpsichord with great skill, drew from nature with
feeling, and stimulated me to do the same ; when, in his
manner, on gray paper and with black and white chalk, I
used to copy many a willow-plot on the Pleisse, and many
a lovely nook of those still waters, and at the same time
longingly to indulge in my fancies. He knew how to meet
my sometimes comical disposition with merry jests ; and I
remember many pleasant hours which we spent together when
he invited me, with mock solemnity, to a tete-a-tete supper,
where, with some dignity, by the light of waxen candle©, we
ate what they call a council-hare, which had run into his
kitchen as a perquisite of his place, and, with many jokes in
the manner of Behrisch, were pleased to season the meat
and heighten the spirit of the wine. That this excellent
man, who is still constantly 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 full extent ; that he bestowed every

276 TRUTH AND FICTION

leisure hour upon me, and, by remembrances of former happy
times, contrived to brighten the gloomy moment, — I still
acknowledge with the sincerest thanks, and rejoice that after
so long a time I can give them publicly.

Besides this worthy friend, Groening of Bremen particu-
larly interested himself in me. I had made his acquaintance
only a short time before, and first discovered his good
feeling towards me during my misfortune : I felt the value
of this 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 whole-
some 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 actually forgot it. This was Lan-
ger, afterwards librarian at Wolfenbuttel. Eminently learned
and instructed, he was delighted at my voracious hunger after
knowledge, which, with the irritability of sickness, now broke
out into a perfect fever. He tried to calm me by perspicuous
summaries ; and I have been very much indebted to his ac-
quaintance, short as it was, since he understood how to guide
me in various wavs, and made me attentive whither I had to
direct myself at the present moment. I felt all the more
obliged to this important man, as my intercourse exposed him
to some danger ; for when, after Behrisch, he got the situation
of tutor to the young Count Lindenau, the father made it an
express condition with the new Mentor that he should have
no intercourse with me. Curious to become acquainted with
such a dangerous subject, he frequently found means of
meeting me indirectly. I soon gained his affection ; and he,
more prudent than Behrisch, called for me by night : we went
walking together, conversed on interesting things, and at last
I accompanied him to the very door of his mistress ; for even

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 277

this externally severe, earnest, scientific man had not kept
free from the toils of a very amiable lady.

German literature, and with it my own poetical undertak-
ings, had already for some time become strange to me ; and, as
is usually the result in such an auto-didactic circular course, I
turned back towards the beloved ancients who still constantly,
like distant blue mountains, distinct in their outlines and
masses, but indiscernible in their parts and internal relations,
bounded the horizon of my intellectual wishes. I made an
exchange with Langer, in which I at last played the part of
Glaucus and Diomedes : I gave up to him whole baskets of
German poets and critics, and received in return a number
of Greek authors, the reading of whom was to give me recre-
ation, even during the most tedious convalescence.

The confidence which new friends repose in each other
usually develops itself by degrees. Common occupation and
tastes are the first things in which a mutual harmony shows
itself ; then the mutual communication generally extends over
past and present passions, especially over love-affairs : but it
is a lower depth which opens itself, if the 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 friend-
ship.

The Christian religion was fluctuating between its own his-
torically positive base and a pure deism, which, grounded on
morality, was in its turn to lay the foundation of ethics. The
diversity of characters and modes of thought here showed itself
in infinite gradations, especially when a leading difference was
brought into play by the question arising as to how great a
share reason, and how great a share the feelings, could and
should have in such convictions. The most lively and ingen-
ious men showed themselves, in this instance, like butterflies,
who, quite regardless of their caterpillar state, throw away
the chrysalis veil in which they have grown up to their organic
perfection. Others, more honestly and modestly minded,
might be compared to the flowers, which, although they un-
fold 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 writ-
ings which have come down to us, and regard it as a docu-

278 TRUTH AND FICTION

ment 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 illness, found
it highly desirable to turn the activity of his mind towards
the heavenly. Grounded as I was in the Bible, all that was
wanted was merely the faith to explain as divine that which
I had hitherto esteemed in human fashion, — a 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 wel-
come ; 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 well-prepared proselyte, that
he did not scruple to sacrifice to me many of the hours destined
for his fair one, and even to run the risk of being betrayed and
looked upon unfavorably by his patron, like Behrisch. I re-
turned his affection in the most grateful manner ; and, if what
he did for me would have been of value at any time, I could
not but regard it, in my present condition, as worthy of the
highest honor.

But as when the concert of our souls is most spiritually
attuned, the rude, shrieking tones of the world usually break
in most violently and boisterously, and the contrast which
has gone on exercising a secret control affects us so much the
more sensibly when it comes forward all at once : thus was I
not to be dismissed from the peripatetic school of my Langer
without having first witnessed an event, strange at least for
Leipzig ; namely, a tumult which the students excited, and
that on the following pretence. Some young people had
quarrelled with the city soldiers, and the affair had not gone
off without violence. Many of the students combined to
revenge the injuries inflicted. The soldiers resisted stub-
bornly, and the advantage was not on the side of the very
discontented academical citizens. It was now said that

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 279

respectable persons had commended and rewarded the con-
querors 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 w r as 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 back-
wards and forwards, as long as the panes would rattle. Just
as quietly as this was done, all at last dispersed ; and the
affair had no further consequences.

With such a ringing echo of university exploits, I left Leip-
zig in the September of 1768, in a comfortable hired coach,
and in the company of some respectable persons of my ac-
quaintance. In the neighborhood of Auerstadt I thought of
that previous accident ; but I could not forebode that which
many years afterwards would threaten me from thence with
still greater danger, just as little as in Gotha, where we had
the castle shown to us, I could think in the great hall adorned
with stucco figures, that so much favor and affection would
befall me on that very spot.

The nearer I approached my native city, the more I recalled
to myself doubtingly the circumstances, prospects, and hopes
with which I had left home ; and it was with a very dis-
heartening feeling that I now returned, as it were, like one
shipwrecked. Yet, since I had not very much with which to
reproach myself, I contrived to compose myself tolerably
well : however, the welcome was not without emotion. The
great vivacity of my nature, excited and heightened by sick-
ness, 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 commu-
nicate many things to me only by degrees, and before all
things to let me have some repose, both bodily and mental.

My sister immediately associated herself with me, and as
previously, from her letters, so I could now more in detail

280 TRUTH AND FICTION

and accurately understand the circumstances and situation of
the family. My father had, after my departure, applied all
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 pur-
sue 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 still 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 will 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 for-
give for having, in these three years, hindered, or embittered
to her, so many innocent joys ; and of his good and excellent
qualities she would not acknowledge even one. She did all
he commanded and arranged, but in the most unamiable man-
ner 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 wholly
on me. Her care in nursing and entertaining me absorbed all
her time : her female companions, who were swayed by her
without her intending it, had likewise to contrive all sorts of
things to be pleasing and consolatory to me. She was inven-
tive in cheering me up, and even developed some germs of
comical 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 all people with-
out their understanding us ; and she often used this gibberish
with great pertness in the presence of our parents.

My father was personally tolerably comfortable. He was
in good health, spent a great part of the day in the instruc-
tion 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 281

life, an invalid who seemed to suffer still more in soul than
in body. He did not conceal his wish that they would be
expeditious with my cure ; but one was forced to be specially
on one's guard in his presence against hypochondriacal ex-
pressions, 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 house-
keeping 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 Fraulein von Klettenberg. She
is the same person from whose conversations and letters arose
the " Confessions of a Beautiful Soul," which are found in-
serted in " Wilhelm Meister." She was slenderly formed,
of the middle size : a hearty natural demeanor had been
made still more pleasing by the manners of the world and
the court. Her very neat attire reminded of the dress of the
Hernhutt 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, con-
versation, 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 recall 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 edu-
cated, and the liveliness and originality of her mind, she did
not agree very well with the other ladies who had set out
on the same road to salvation. Frau Griesbach, the chief
of them, seemed too severe, too dry, too learned : she knew,
thought, comprehended, more than the others, who contented
themselves with the development of their feelings ; and she was
therefore burdensome to them, because every one neither could
nor would carry with her so great an apparatus on the road to
bliss. But for this reason most of them were indeed some-
what monotonous, since they confined themselves to a certain

282 TRUTH AND FICTION

terminology which might well have been compared to that of
the later sentimentalists. Fraulein von Klettenberg guided her
way between both extremes, and seemed, with some self-com-
placency, 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 well as with much which I had gained for my-
self. 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 impa-
tience, my striving, my seeking, investigating, musing, and
wavering, she interpreted in her own way, and did not con-
ceal 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 my-
self, 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 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 excres-
cence, 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 sur-
geon, a slender, well-built man, of easy and skilful hand,

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 283

was unfortunately somewhat heotic, but endured his con-
dition 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 all 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 ap-
plied 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 possi-
bility of such an universal remedy, the physician, wherever
he found any susceptibility, had recommended certain chem-
ico-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 neces-
sary, as the mode of its preparation, both for physical, and
especially for moral, reasons, could not be well communi-
cated ; nay, that in order to comprehend, produce, and use
this great work, one must know the secrets of nature in con-
nection, 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
Welliiag'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 com-
pany. It needed small incitement to inoculate me also with
this disease. I procured the work, which, like all writings
of this kind, could trace its pedigree in a direct line up to
the Neo-Platonic school. My chief labor in this book was
most accurately to notice the obscure hints by which the
author refers from one passage to another, and thus prom-
ises to reveal what he conceals, and to mark down on the

284 TRUTH AND FICTION

margin the number of the page where such passages as
should explain each other were to be found. But even thus
the book still remained dark and unintelligible enough, ex-
cept that one at last studied one's self into a certain term-
inology, and, by using it according to one's own fancy,
believed that one was, at any rate, saying, if not under-
standing, 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 Basil-
ius Valentinus, as well 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
follow out. I was particularly pleased with the " Aurea
Catena Homeri," in which nature, though perhaps in fan-
tastical 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 compelled
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 mo-
ments, 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 nry 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 crystallized 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 situ-
ation appeared relieved ; and from that moment the disease
took a turn which, by degrees, led to my recovery. I need
not sa} r 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, well-situated house, had already before this
begun to purchase herself a little air-furnace, alembics, and
retorts of moderate size, and, in accordance with the hints
of Welling, and the significant signs of our physician and

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 285

master, operated principally on iron, in which the most heal-
ing 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 re-
quired, 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
die 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 small air-furnace with a sand-bath was
prepared ; and I very soon learned to change the glass alem-
bics, with a piece of burning match-cord, into vessels in
which the different mixtures were to be evaporated. Now
were the strange ingredients of the macrocosm and micro-
cosm handled in an odd, n^sterious manner ; and, before
all, 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, will not blame those who believe in a maiden
earth, and in the possibility of producing further effects
upon it by means of it. I had become quite skilful in pre-
paring 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 philosophically imagined, for it very
easily separated itself again ; and this most beautiful mineral
fluidity, which, to my greatest astonishment, had sometimes
appeared in the form of an animal jelly, always deposited a
powder, which I was forced to pronounce the finest flint
dust, but which gave not the least sign of any thing pro-
ductive in its nature from which one could have hoped to
see this maiden earth pass into the maternal state.

Strange and unconnected as these operations were, I yet
learned many things from them. I paid strict attention to
all the crystallizations that might occur, and became ac-
quainted with the external forms of many natural things :

286 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 all those who
operated with common fire. However, the chemical " Com-
pendium " of Boerhaave attracted me powerfully, and led
me on to read several of his writings, in which (since, more-
over, my tedious illness had inclined me towards medical
subjects) I found an inducement to study also the "Apho-
risms" 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 } 7 et too young, and
the epoch which was represented by those papers was still too
near. As in our younger years we do not in general easily
cast off a certain self-complacent conceit, this especially
shows itself in despising what we have been but a little time
before ; for while, indeed, we perceive, as we advance from
step to step, that those things which we regard as good and
excellent in ourselves and others do not stand their ground,
we think we can best extrieate 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 carefully 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-
lowing January. But, in the middle of March, there appeared
all 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 Gellert, who, as

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 287

I now well remembered, whenever we handed in our essays
to him, represented to us, in his hearty tone of voice, that it
was our sacred duty to practise our hand as much, nay, more,
than our style. He repeated this as often as he caught sight
of an} 7 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 never-
theless written with facility and freedom. These languages
I had likewise continued to practise in my correspondence
with George Schlosser, who was still at Treptow ; and I had
remained in constant communication with him, by which I
was instructed in many secular affairs (for things did not
always turn out with him quite as he had hoped) , and acquired
an ever increasing confidence in his earnest, noble way of
thinking.

Another consideration which could not escape me in 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 Bohme, as long as she lived, contrived to persuade
me, after her own fashion, by declaring that my father's
warnings were only against the abuse. Now, as I likewise
saw the advantages of it in society, I readily submitted to
being led by her. I had indeed the sense of play, but not
the spirit of play : I learned all games easily and rapidly,
but I could never keep up the proper attention for a whole
evening. Therefore, 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 Bohme died, who, moreover, had no longer kept
me in practice during her tedious illness, 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 my-
self than to others, and declined the invitations, which then
became more rare, and at last ceased altogether. Play, which
is much to be recommended to young people, especially to
those who incline to be practical, and wish to look about in
Goethe— 11 Vol 1

288 TRUTH AND FICTION

the world for themselves, could never, indeed, become a pas-
sion 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 ma-
terial, at which judgment and activity can exercise them-
selves ; had any one made me see several games at once, — I
might sooner have become reconciled. With all this, at the
time of which I am now speaking, I had, from the above con-
siderations, come to the conviction, that one should not avoid
social games, but should rather strive after a certain skill in
them. Time is infinitely long ; and each day is a vessel into
which a great deal may be poured, if one would actually fill
it up.

Thus variously was I occupied in my solitude ; the more
so, as the departed spirits of the different tastes to which
I had from time to time devoted myself had an opportunity
to 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. All 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 com-
pleted. 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 per-
spective lines of the rooms and chambers, which then, indeed,
stood in pretty harsh contrast with those cloudy looking fig-
ures. 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 precis-
ion. At last I took it into my head to etch once more. I
had composed a tolerably interesting landscape, and felt my-
self very happy when 1 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 289

I now tormented myself to bring in both ; but, as it was not
quite clear to me what was really the essential point, I could
not finish. Up to this time I had been quite well, after my
owu fashion ; but now a disease attacked me which had never
troubled me before. My throat, namely, had become com-
pletely sore, and particularly what is called the u uvula " very
much inflamed : I could only swallow with great pain, and
the physicians did not know what to make of it. They tor-
mented 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 physi-
cians this cause was plausible, and very soon certain on my
leaving my etching and biting, and that so much the more
readily as the attempt had by no means turned out well, and
I had more reason to conceal than to exhibit my 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 our-
selves, 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 all 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 actualty 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

290 TRUTH AND FICTION

preceding one, and therefore cannot be recognized under the
same form.

While I was reading over the letters which had been writ-
ten 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 Gellert had imparted or advised in his
lectures, without seeing, that, both in life and in books, a
thing may be proper for a young man without being suitable
for a young lady ; and we both together made merry over
these mimicries. The poems also which I had composed in
Leipzig were already too poor for me ; and they seemed to
me cold, dry, and, in respect of all that was meant to ex-
press 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 com-
menced 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 Verlieb-
ten" and "Die Mitschuldigen," which latter play I con-
stantly went on improving with peculiar affection ; and, as
the piece was already complete, I again worked over the
plot, to make it more bustling and intelligible. Lessing, in
the first two acts of his "Minna," had set up an unattaina-
ble 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 all, so far as
might be possible, undertook to form some notion.

I experienced a great influence from an important work that
fell into my hands : it was Arnold's "History of the Church
and of Heretics.' ' This man is not merely a reflective histo-
rian, but at the same time pious and feeling. His senti-
ments chimed in very well with mine ; and what particularly
delighted me in his work was, that I received a more favora-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 291

ble notion of many heretics, who had been hitherto repre-
sented to me as mad or impious. The spirit of contradiction
and the love of paradoxes are inherent in us all. 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 mysti-
cal, the cabalistic, also contributed their share ; and thus I
built for myself a world that looked strange enough.

I could well represent to myself a Godhead which has gone
on producing itself from all eternity ; but, as production can-
not be conceived without multiplicity, so it must of 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 God-
head 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, in-
asmuch 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 be-
ings were to proceed. He immediately displayed his infinite
activity by creating the whole body of angels, — all, 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 him-
self ; and from this first ingratitude sprang all that does not
seem to us in accordance with the will and purposes of the
Godhead. Now, the more he concentrated himself within
himself, the more painful must it have become to him, as
well as to all the spirits whose sweet uprising to their origin
he had embittered. And so that happened which is intimated
to us under the form of the Fall of the Angels. One part of
them concentrated itself with 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 im-

292 TRUTH AND FICTION

mediately, 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 all
that is gained by concentration, while it lacked all 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 all
its claims to an equal eternity with the Godhead. This con-
dition 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 conse-
quence 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 continually 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 all things was to be similar,
yea, equal to the Godhead, but thereby, in effect, found him-
self 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 exist-
ence, and a perfect consciousness, as well as a decided will,
was to accompany his various conditions, it was to be fore-
seen 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 fall was manifest for the second
time, although the whole creation is nothing and was nothing
but a falling from and returning to the original.

One easily sees how the Redemption is not only decreed
from eternity, but is considered as eternally necessary, — nay,
that it must ever renew itself through the whole time of gen-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 293

eration * and existence. In this view of the subject, nothing
is more natural than for the Divinity himself to take the form
of man, which had already prepared itself as a veil, and to
share his fate for a short time, in order, by this assimilation,
to enhance his joys and alleviate his sorrows. The history
of all religions and philosophies teaches us, that this great
truth, indispensable to man, has been handed down by differ-
ent nations, in different times, in various wa} T s, 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 (iins zu
verselbsten) , we, on the other hand, do not omit to expand
ourselves (uns zu entselbstigen) in regular pulsation. 2

NINTH BOOK.

" The heart is often affected, moreover, to the advantage of
different, but especially of social and refined, virtues ; and the
more tender sentiments are excited and unfolded in it. Many
touches, in particular, will impress themselves, which give
the young reader an insight into the more hidden corner of
the human heart and its passions, — a knowledge which is
more worth than all Latin and Greek, and of which Ovid
was a very excellent master. But yet it is not on this account
that the classic poets, and therefore Ovid, are placed in the
hands of youth. We have received from a kind Creator a
variety of mental powers, to which we must not neglect giving
their proper culture in our earliest } r ears, 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

1 " 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.

2 If we could make use of some such verbs as " inself " and " unself," we should
more accurately render this passage. — Trans.

294 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 multi-
tude of conceptions and general knowledge is necessary to
us, as well for the sciences as for daily life, which can be
learned out of no compendium. Our feelings, affections, and
passions should be advantageously developed and purified."

This significant passage, which is found in " The Universal
German Library," was not the only one of its kind. Similar
principles and similar views manifested themselves in
many directions. They made upon us lively youths a
very great impression, which had the more decided effect, as
it was strengthened besides by Wieland's example ; for the
works of his second brilliant period clearly showed that he
had formed himself according to such maxims. And what
more could we desire? Philosophy, with its abstruse ques-
tions, 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 pas-
sions, 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 extolled as the most excellent
means of cultivating our mental powers. Besides, such a
mode of thought was quite in accordance with my own con-
viction, — nay, with my poetical mode of treatment. I there-
fore, without opposition, after I had thwarted so many good
designs, and seen so many fair hopes vanish, reconciled my-
self to my father's intention of sending me to Strasburg,
where I was promised a cheerful, gay life, while I should
prosecute my studies, and at last take my degree.

In spring I felt my health, but still more my 3 T outhful spir-
its, 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 suf-
fered 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 295

tedious recovery ; nay, for having, instead of comforting me
by forbearance, frequently expressed himself in a cruel man-
ner, 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 gen-
eral notion of architecture, and of the arrangement and dec-
oration 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 exclu-
sively 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
well have been chambers themselves, as, indeed, we always
passed the fine season in them. But this pleasant, cheerful
existence for a single family — this communication from
above to below — became the greatest inconvenience as soon
as several parties occupied the house, as we had but too well
experienced on the occasion of the French quartering. For
that painful scene with the king's lieutenant would not have
happened, nay, my father would even have felt all those dis-
agreeable matters less, if, after the Leipzig fashion, our stair-
case 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 Al-
sace, which I accomplished in a newly contrived comfortable
diligence, without delay, and in a short time.

I had alighted at the Ghost (Oeist) tavern, and hastened
at once to satisfy my most earnest desire and to approach
the minster, which had long since been pointed out to me
by fellow-travellers, and had been before my eyes for a great
distance. When I first perceived this Colossus through the

296 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 beau-
tiful moment of a high and cheerful sun, which was to dis-
close to me at once the broad, rich land.

And now, from the platform, I saw before me the beauti-
ful 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 Iller, less adorned with varied green. Even west-
ward, towards the mountains, there are many low grounds,
which afford quite as charming a view of wood and meadow-
growth, just as the northern and more hilly part is intersected
by innumerable little brooks, which promote a rapid vege-
tation everywhere. If one imagines, between these luxuri-
antly outstretched meads, between these joyously scattered
groves, all land adapted for tillage, excellently prepared,
verdant, and ripening, and the best and richest spots marked
by hamlets and farmhouses, and this great and immeasura-
ble plain, prepared for man, like anew paradise, bounded far
and near by mountains partly cultivated, partly overgrown
with woods, he will then conceive the rapture with which I
blessed my fate, that it had destined me, for some time, so
beautiful a dwelling-place.

Such a fresh glance into a new land in which we are to
abide for a time, has still the peculiarity, both pleasant and
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 e}*e is only fixed on the objects so far
as they are intrinsically important, and neither affection nor
passion has especialty to render prominent this or that spot.
But a presentiment of the future already disquiets the young
heart ; and an unsatisfied craving secretly demands that which
is to come and may come, and which at all events, whether
for good or ill, will imperceptibly assume the character of
the spot in which we find ourselves.

Having descended the height, I still tarried a while before
the face of the venerable pile ; but what I could not quite

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 297

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 fin-
ish. 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 small, but well-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 unoc-
cupied moment. I then delivered my letters of introduction,
and found among my patrons a merchant, who, with his fam-
ily, 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 cou-
ple 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. Fron,
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 in-
credible 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 physi-
ognomy had the peculiar expression of a rake, from the cir-
cumstance 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 all. His memory was incredible ;
attention at the lectures was no effort for him ; he retained
all he heard, and was intellectual enough to take an interest in
every thing, and this the more easily, as he was studying med-
icine. All 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

298 TRUTH AND FICTION

the professors with each other, paragraphwise, and often
even more abruptly, which motley lecture frequently enter-
tained us, but often, too, became troublesome.

The rest were more or less polite, steady, serious people.
A pensioned knight of the order of St. Louis was one of
these : but the majority were students, all really good and
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 re-
spectability. He possessed a handsome property, kept him-
self close and neat in his exterior, even belonging to those
who always go in shoes and stockings, and with then* hat
under their arm. To put on the hat was with him an ex-
traordinary action. He commonly carried an umbrella, wisely
reflecting that the finest summer-days often bring thunder-
storms and passing showers over the country.

With this man I talked over my design of continuing to
study jurisprudence at Strasburg, so as to be able to take my
degree as soon as possible. Since he was exactly informed
of 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 re-
lation towards France, all was really directed to the practi-
cal, 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 com-
municated only what was most necessary. Hereupon he
made me acquainted with a man, in whom, as a repetent, 1
great confidence was entertained ; which he very soon man-
aged to gain from me also. By way of introduction, I began
to speak with him on subjects of jurisprudence ; and he won-
dered 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

1 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 En-
glish 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.

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 299

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 con-
stantly 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 all 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 in-
quired how and when a law arose, and what gave the internal
or external occasion for it : there is no inquiry as to how it
has been altered by time and custom, or how far it has perhaps
been perverted b}~ 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 follows in proportion
to their talents and activity." Hereupon he handed me his
pamphlets, which were written in question and answer, and in
which I could have stood a pretty good examination at once ;
for Hopp's smaller law-catechism was yet perfectly in my
memory : the rest I supplied with some diligence, and, against
my will, qualified myself in the easiest manner as a candidate.

But since in this way all my own activity in the study was
cut off, — for I had no sense for any thing positive, but wished
to have every thing explained historically, if not intelligibly,
— I found for my powers a wider field, which I employed in
the most singular manner by devoting myself to a matter of
interest which was accidentally presented to me from without.

Most of my fellow-boarders were medical students. These,
as is well known, are the only students who zealously converse
about their science and profession, even out of the hours of
study. This lies in the nature of the case. The objects of
their endeavors are those most obvious to the senses, and at
the same time the highest, the most simple, and the most com-
plicated. Medicine employs the whole man, for it occupies
itself with man as a whole. All that the young man learns

300 TRUTH AND FICTION

refers directly to an important, dangerous indeed, but yet in
many respects lucrative, practice. He therefore devotes him-
self 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 fellow-boarders, like good fel-
lows, 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 all these things that my desire for science could soon be
increased and inflamed. At the commencement of the sec-
ond 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 polit-
ical event set every thing in motion, and procured us a tolera-
ble succession of holidays. Marie Antoinette, Archduchess
of Austria and Queen of France, was to pass through Stras-
burg 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 especially
remarkable to me was the building which stood on an island
in the Rhine between the two bridges, erected for her recep-
tion 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 smaller ones ;
then followed other chambers, which extended somewhat
backward. In short, had it been more durably built, it might
have answered very well as a pleasure-house for persons of
rank. But that which particularly interested me, and for
which I did not grudge many a bilsel (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 car-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 301

Ioods ; 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 willingly have
comprehended what interested me in so extraordinary a man-
ner. I found these side-chambers highly delightful and
refreshing, but the chief saloon so much the more shocking.
This had been hung with many larger, more brilliant and
richer, hangings, which were surrounded with crowded orna-
ments, 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 strug-
gling with the most horrible death, surrounded by persons
full of sympathizing woe ; to the right was the father, horri-
fied at the murdered babes before his feet ; whilst the Fury,
in her dragon-car, drove along into the air. And, that the
horrible and atrocious should not lack something absurd, the
white tail of that magic bull flourished out on the right hand
from 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-halls of a nuptial build-
ing ; and doubtless the size of the chambers had guided the
royal tapestry-keeper. This, however, I willingly forgave,
because it had turned out so much to my advantage ; but a
blunder like that in the grand saloon put me altogether out
of my self-possession, and with animation and vehemence I
called 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 pic-

302 TRUTH AND FICTION

tures work upon the mind and feelings, that they maKe im-
pressions, 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 oc-
curred ; while the whole population of Strasburg and the
vicinity, which was to throng thither, would no more take
such crotchets into their heads than the queen herself and
her court.

I yet remember well the beauteous and lofty mien, as
cheerful as it was imposing, of this youthful lady. Perfectly
visible to us all in her glass carriage, she seemed to be jest-
ing 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 illuminated buildings, but especially 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 par-
ticularly 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 intelli-
gence, that, owing to an oversight of the police during the
festal fireworks, an infinite number of persons, with horses
and carriages, had been destroyed in a street obstructed by
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 mis-
fortune, both from the young royal pair and from the world,

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 303

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 cer-
tain itch for imposing on and in some way mystifying one
another. With this wanton love of mischief I wrote to a
friend in Frankfort (he was the one who had amplified my
poem on the cake- baker Hendel, applied it to Medon, and
caused its general circulation) a letter dated from Versailles,
in which I informed him of my happy arrival there, my par-
ticipation 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 especially as he was the drollest man
in the world, and was never more amiable than when he was
discovering the cheat into which he had deliberately been
led. Shortly after I had written this letter, I went on a
little journey, and remained absent about a fortnight. Mean-
while the news of that disaster had reached Frankfort : my
friend believed me in Paris, and his affection led him to
apprehend that I might have been involved in the calamity.
He inquired of my parents and other persons to 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 send-
ing any, they were altogether wanting. He went about in
the greatest uneasiness, and at last told the matter in confi-
dence to our nearest friends, who were now in equal anxiety.
Fortunately this conjecture did not reach my parents until a
letter had arrived announcing my return to Strasburg. My
young friends were satisfied to learn that I was alive, but re-
mained firmly convinced that I had been at Paris in the
interim. The affectionate intelligence of the solicitude they
had felt on my account affected me so much that I vowed to
leave off such tricks forever ; but, unfortunately, I have often

304 TRUTH AND FICTION

since allowed myself to be guilty of something similar. Real
life frequently loses its brilliancy to such a degree, that one
is many a time forced to polish it up again with the varnish
of fiction.

This mighty stream of courtly magnificence had now
flowed by, and had left in me no other longing than after
those tapestries of Raffaelle, which I would willingly have
gazed at, revered, nay, adored, every day and every hour.
Fortunately, my passionate 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 uni-
versity and society ; and in the latter the Actuary Salzmann,
president of our table, continued to be the general pedagogue.
His intelligence, complaisance, and dignity, which he always
contrived to maintain amid all the jests, and often even in
the little extravagances, which he allowed us, made him be-
loved and respected by the whole company ; and I could
mention but few instances where he showed his serious dis-
pleasure, or interposed with authority in little quarrels and
disputes. Yet among them all I was the one who most at-
tached myself to him ; and he was not less inclined to con-
verse with me, as he found me more variously accomplished
than the others, and not so one-sided in judgment. I also
followed his directions in external matters ; so that he could,
without hesitation, publicly acknowledge me as his com-
panion and comrade : for, although he only filled an office
which seems to be of little influence, he administered it in a
manner which redounded to his highest honor. He was ac-
tuary to the Court of Wards (Pupillen- 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 adminis-
tration of government can earn more blessings or more curses
than one who takes charge of the orphans, or, on the con-
trary, 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
will find pleasure-grounds, partly natural, partly adorned by
art in ancient and modern times, all of them visited and en-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 305

joyed 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 still some families of opulence
and distinction who would not permit their daughters to de-
viate from this costume. The rest followed the French
fashion, and this party made some proselytes every year.
Salzmann had many acquaintances and an entrance every-
where : a very pleasant circumstance for his companion, es-
pecially 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 ap-
pointed 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 embarrass-
ment. 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, } 7 et certainly for some of
the guests. "The case is very easily mended," replied I:
"permit me to take my leave, and stipulate for indemni-
fication." As they were persons of consequence and good
breeding, they would by no means allow 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 instruc-

306 TRUTH AND FICTION

tions of Madame Bdhme ; 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 all 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 well, and pardoned
many a little irregularity, to which, nevertheless, my friend,
though kindly enough, used to call my attention.

But that I might experience symbolically how much one,
even in externals, has to adapt one's self to society, and direct
one's self according to it, I was compelled to something which
seemed to me the most disagreeable thing in the world. I
had really very fine hair ; but my Strasburg hair-dresser at
once assured me that it was cut much too short behind, and
that it would be impossible to make afrizure of it in which I
could show myself, since nothing but a few short curls in
front were decreed lawful ; and all the rest, from the crown,
must be tied up in a 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 wear-
ing understockings of fine leather, as a defence against the
Rhine gnats, which, on the fine summer evenings, generally
spread themselves over the meadows and gardens. 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 307

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 in-
destructible faith in God, and in an assistance flowing imme-
diately 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
called 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

308 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 fellowship rested on the simplest founda-
tion of morality, well-wishing and well-doing, the deviations
which could take place with men of such limited circum-
stances were of little importance ; and hence their con-
sciences, 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 all ages and ranks, and was generally
social by its nature. For this reason, too, these persons
were, in their own circle, truly eloquent, and capable of
expressing themselves appropriately and pleasingly on all
the tenderest and best concerns of the heart. Now, good
Jung was in this very case. Among a few persons, who, if
not exactly like-minded with himself, did not declare them-
selves 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 all the circumstances plainly and vividly pres-
ent to his listeners. I persuaded him to write them down,
and he promised to do so. But because, in his way of ex-
pressing himself, he was like a somnambulist, who must not
be called by name lest he should fall from his elevation, or
like a gentle stream, to which one dare oppose nothing
lest it should foam, he was often constrained to feel uncom-
fortable 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 naivete, — 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 dis-
position, his age and circumstances, could not but stand and

RELATING TO MY LIFE.

309

continue on the side of the rational, or rather the common-
sense, Christians, whose religion properly rested on the recti-
tude 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 numer-
ous : 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 fellow-boarder, also belonged to this
number : a perfectly upright young man, and, with limited
gifts of fortune, frugal and exact. His manner of life and
housekeeping was the closest I ever knew among students.
He was, of us all, 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 all things in ordinary life to go according to
his example. He never happened to lean anywhere, or to
prop his elbow on the table ; he never forgot to mark his
table-napkin ; and 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 cor-
dially, with precise and dry liveliness, in which a light ironi-
cal 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 socia-
ble hours, which he induced us to spend in good exercise
and practice.

By all these peculiarities, Lerse completely qualified him-
self 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 fa-
therly 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 occasionally 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

310 TRUTH AND FICTION

could no longer be settled by words and explanations, he
knew how to conduct the desired satisfaction, in an honora-
ble 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
" Gotz von Berlichingen," I felt myself induced to set up a
memorial of our friendship, and to give the gallant fellow,
who knew how to subordinate himself in so dignified a man-
ner, 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 oth-
ers, 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 all that I would and should un-
dertake ; 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. All these infirmities I tried to remedy,
and, indeed, as I wished to lose no time, in a somewhat
violent way. In the evening, when they beat the tattoo, I
went near the multitude of drums, the powerful rolling and
beating of which might have made one's heart burst in one's
bosom. All alone I ascended the highest pinnacle of the
minster spire, and sat in what is called the neck, under the
nob or crown, for a quarter of an hour, before I would ven-
ture to step out again into the open air, where, standing
upon a platform scarce an ell square, without any particular
holding, one sees the boundless prospect before ; while the
nearest objects and ornaments conceal the church, and 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 balloon.
Such troublesome and painful sensations I repeated until the
impression became quite indifferent to me ; and I have since

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 311

then derived great advantage from this training, in moun-
tain 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 repul-
sive sights, while I satisfied my thirst for knowledge. And
thus I also attended the clinical course of the elder Dr. Ehr-
mann, as well as the lectures of his son on obstetrics, with
the double view of becoming acquainted with all conditions,
and of freeing rrryself from all apprehension as to repulsive
things. And I have actually succeeded so far, that nothing
of this kind could ever put me out of my self-possession.
But I 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 him-
self the faults of others, and expatiates upon them with
complacent censoriousness. It is a tolerably pleasant sen-
sation even to set ourselves above our equals by disapproba-
tion and misrepresentation ; for which reason good society,
whether it consists of few or many, is most delighted with
ijt. 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

312 TRUTH AND FICTION

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^ 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- favor-
ites. 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 stran-
gest 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 com-
pletion ; and, meanwhile, the city oddly enough wavered be-
tween 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, ven-
tured to improve or replace any thing that related to the
street. All these strange accidental inconveniences gave to

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 31$

us rambling idlers the most welcome opportunity of practis-
ing our ridicule ; of making proposals, in the manner of
Behrisch, for accelerating the completion, and of constantly
doubting the possibility of it, although man} 7 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 sa}\

Another subject on which the Protestant Strasburgers
liked to converse was the expulsion of the Jesuits. These
fathers, as soon as the city had fallen to the share of the
French, had made their appearance and sought a domicilium.
But they soon extended themselves and built a magnificent
college, which bordered so closely on the minster that the
back of the church covered a third part of its front. It was
to be a complete quadrangle, and have a garden in the mid-
dle : three sides of it were finished. It is of stone, and solid,
like all 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 reli-
gion 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. Flow glad are men when they get
rid of an opponent, or only of a guardian ! and the herd
does not reflect, that, where there is no dog, it is exposed to
wolves.

Now, since every city must have its tragedy, at which
children and children's children shudder ; so in Strasburg fre-
quent mention was made of the unfortunate Praetor Kling-
ling, who, after he had mounted the highest step of earthly
felicity, ruled city and country with almost absolute power,
and enjo} r ed all that wealth, rank, and influence could afford,
had at last lost the favor of the court, and was dragged up
to answer for all in which he had been indulged hitherto, —
nay, was even thrown into prison, where, more than seventy
years old, he died an ambiguous death.

This and other tales, that knight of St. Louis, our fellow-
boarder, knew how to tell with passion and animation ; for
which reason I was fond of accompanying him in his walks,
unlike the others, who avoided such invitations, and left me
alone with him. As with new acquaintances I generally took
my ease for a long time without thinking much about them
or the effect which the}' were exercising upon me, so I only

214 TRUTH AND FICTION

remarked gradually that his stories and opinions rather un-
settled 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 easity fixes itself fast, which may
be regarded as a mental disease. To such a fixed view he al-
ways came back again, and was thus in the long run exces-
sively tiresome. He would bitterly complain of the decline of
his memory, especially with regard to the latest events, and
maintained, by a logic of his own, that all virtue springs from
a good memory, and all vice,- on the contrary, from forgetful-
ness. 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 nar-
rower, now closer, now more remote.

At first it was amusing to hear him ; nay, his persuasive-
ness even astonished us. We fancied we were standing be-
fore a rhetorical sophist, who for jest and practice knew how
to give a fair appearance to the strangest things. Unfortu-
nately 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 small 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 simi-
lar 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 re-
tort, — 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 315

been, — I was too honest a fellow for that ; but hang myself —
hang up my own self — that is true — that I should have
done : I should have turned a charge of powder against my-
self, that I might not live to see that I am not even worth
that anymore." The woman stood as if petrified; but he
continued, "You have said a great truth, witch-mother ; and,
as they have neither drowned nor burned you yet, you shall
be paid for your proverb." He handed her a biisel, a coin
not usually given to a beggar.

We had crossed over the first Rhine-bridge, and were go-
ing to the inn where we meant to stop ; and I was trying to
lead him back to our previous conversation, when, unexpect-
edly, a very pretty girl met us on the pleasant foot-path, re-
mained standing before us, bowed prettily, and cried, " Eh,
eh, captain, where are you going?" and whatever else is
usually said on such an occasion. " Mademoiselle," replied
he, 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, ma-
demoiselle, 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 fel-
low-traveller 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 still 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 call
you to witness ! You remember that small-ware woman at
the corner, who is neither young nor pretty? I salute her
every time we pass, and often exchange a couple of friendly
words with her ; aud 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 will not recognize her, but insult
her in return for her favors ! Do I not always say, that in-
gratitude 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, swarm-
ing crowd in the ante-rooms stopped the invectives which he
rattled off against himself and his contemporaries. He was

316 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 gallantry, have traced some other
indication that the young man had not been so solitary all
the time. And scarcely had the conjecture arisen in his mind,
and ripened into a probability, that the pretty girl had been
paying a visit here, than the most outrageous jealousy added
itself to that first vexation, so as completely to perplex him.

Now, before I could suspect any thing, — for I had hitherto
been conversing quite harmlessly with the young man, — the
captain, in an unpleasant tone, which I well knew, began to
be satirical about the pair of cups, and about this and that.
The young man, surprised, tried to turn it off pleasantly and
sensibly, as is the custom among men of good breeding : but
the old fellow continued to be unmercifully rude ; so that there
was nothing left for the other to do but to seize his hat and
cane, and at his departure to leave behind him a pretty un-
equivocal challenge. The fury of the captain now burst out
the more vehemently, as he had in the interim drunk another
bottle of wine almost by himself. He struck the table with
his fist, and cried more than once, " I will 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 1 had the want of foresight to repre-
sent 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

RELATING T?0 MY LIFE. 317

against himself I never saw again : it was the most passionate
conclusion to that beginning to which the pretty girl had
given occasion. Here I saw sorrow and repentance carried
into caricature, and, as all passion supplies the place of gen-
ius, to a point really genius-like. He then went over all the
incidents of our afternoon ramble again, employed them rhe-
torically 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 1 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 acci-
dental meeting, where a reconciliation should take place of
itself. The drollest thing about it was, that this time the
captain, too, had slept off his rudeness, and found himself
ready to apologize to the young man, to whom petty quarrels
were of some consequence. All was arranged in one morn-
ing ; 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 friend-
ship 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 fagade, 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 will 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.

318 TRUTH AND FICTION

First of all, without thinking of the towers, we devote our
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 wall, the height of which bears an ad-
vantageous 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 necessi-
ties, and according to these we can at once divide it into
nine compartments. The great middle door, which opens
into the nave of the church, first meets the eye. On both
sides of it lie two smaller ones, belonging to the cross- ways.
Over the chief door our glance falls upon the wheel-shaped
window, which is to spread an awe-inspiring light within the
church and its vaulted arches. At its sides appear two large,
perpendicular, oblong openings, which form a striking con-
trast 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 horizon-
tally closed by the balustrade of the gallery, instead of a cor-
nice. These nine spaces described are supported, enclosed,
and separated into three great perpendicular divisions by four
pilliars 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
pillars and the narrow compartments between them.

But if we adhere to our abstraction, and imagine to our-
selves this immense wall without ornaments, with firm but-
tresses, with the necessary openings in it, but only so far as
necessity requires them, we even then must allow that these
chief divisions are in good proportion : thus the whole will
appear solemn and noble indeed, but always heavily unpleas-
ant, and, being without ornament, unartistical. For a work
of art, the whole of which is conceived in great, simple, har-
monious parts, makes indeed a noble and dignified impression ;
but the peculiar enjoyment which the pleasing produces can
only find place in the consonance of all developed details.

And it is precisely here that the building we are examining
satisfies us in the highest degree, for we see all the orna-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 319

merits 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 im-
penetrable wall, which had moreover to announce itself as the
base of two heaven-high towers, made to appear to the e}-e 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 open-
ings in the wall, its solid parts, the pillars, every thing has its
peculiar character, which proceeds from its particular desti-
nation : this communicates itself by degrees to the subdivis-
ions ; hence every thing is adorned in proportionate taste, the
great as well as the small 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 frame-
work, as wel 1 as to the slender reed-like pillars of the perpen-
dicular compartments. Let one represent to himself the pillars
retreating step by step, accompanied by little, slender, light-
pillared, pointed structures, likewise striving upwards, and
furnished with canopies to shelter the images of the saints,
and how at last every rib, every boss, seems like a flower-head
and row of leaves, or some other natural object transformed
into stone. One may compare, if not the building itself, yet
representations « the whole and of its parts, for the purpose
of reviewing an, giving life to what I have said. It may
seem exaggerate to many ; for I myself, though transported
into love for this work at first sight, required a long time
to make mysp 1 " intimately acquainted with its value.

Having grown up among those who found fault with Gothic
architecture, I cherished my aversion from the abundantly
overloaded, complicated ornaments which, by their capricious-
ness, made a religious, gloomy character highly adverse. I
strengthened myself in this repugnance, since I had only met
with spiritless works of this kind, in which one could perceive
neither good proportions nor a pure consistency. But here I
thought I saw a new revelation of it, since what was objec-
Goot.he— 12 Yol. 1

320 TRUTH AND FICTION

tionable by no means appeared, but the contrary opinion rather
forced itself upon my mind.

But the longer I looked and considered, I all the while
thought I discovered yet greater merits beyond that which ]
have already mentioned. The right proportion of the largei
divisions, the ornamental, as judicious as rich, even to the
minutest, were found out ; but now I recognized the con-
nection of these manifold ornaments amongst each other,
the transition from one leading part to another, the enclos-
ing 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 aston-
ished ; the more I amused and wearied myself with measur-
ing and drawing, so much the more did my attachment
increase, so that I spent much time, partly in studying what
actually existed, partly in restoring, in my mind and on
paper, what was wanting and unfinished, especially in the
towers.

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 in-
cited by the worth of this work of art, to change the hitherto
decried appellation of "Gothic architecture," and to claim
it for our nation as ' ' German architecture ; ' ' nor did I fail
to bring my patriotic views to light, first orally, and after-
wards 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 will 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 verv
well, that in opposition to this honest, hopeful old German
saying, " Of whatever one wishes in youth, he has abun-
dance 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 will 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 con-

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 321

dition to perform. Whatever we are able and would like to
do, presents itself to our imagination, as without us and in
the future. We feel a longing after that which we already
possess in secret. Thus a passionate anticipating grasp
changes the truly possible into a dreamed reality. Now, if
such a bias lies decidedly in out nature, then, with every
step of our development will a part of the first wish be ful-
filled, — 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 them-
selves with riches, splendor, and external honor. Others
strive yet more certainly after intellectual advantages, ac-
quire 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 suc-
cessful. When a man's youth falls into a pregnant time ;
when production overweighs destruction, and a presentiment
is early awakened within him as to what such an epoch de-
mands and promises, — he will then, being forced by outward
inducements into an active interest, take hold now here, now
there, and the wish to be active on many sides will be lively
within him. But so many accidental hinderances are associ-
ated 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 com-
posedly 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 bj r
others, for which we ourselves felt an earlier call, but had
been obliged to give it up, with much besides, then the beau-
tiful 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 edi-
fices, when I reckon up the time which I devoted to the
Strasburg minster alone, the attention with which I after-

322 TRUTH AND FICTION

wards examined the cathedral at Cologne, and that at Frey-
burg, 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 per-
sons 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, the}-
try to represent, in pictures at least, the original design, so
as thus to make us acquainted with the thought, which is
ever the beginning and end of all undertakings ; and that
they strive with considerate zeal to clear up and vivify what
seems to be a confused past. Here I especially 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
really 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 will not remain fruit-
less ; and the judgment will, for once at least, be in a con-
dition to exercise itself on these works with justice. Nay,
this will be done most thoroughly if our active young friend,
besides the monograph devoted to the cathedral of Cologne,
follows out in detail the history of our mediaeval architect-
ure. 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 compari-
son with the Graeco-Roman and the Oriental Egyptian, little
can remain to be done in this department. And I, when the

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 323

results of such patriotic labors lie before the world, as they
are now known in friendly private communications, shall
be able, with true content, to repeat that motto in its best
sense, u Of whatever one wishes in youth, he will 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 per-
mitted, with this sudden turn, to mention dancing, of which
the ear is reminded, as the eye is of the minster, every day
and every hour in Strasburg and all Alsace. From early
youth my father himself had given my sister and me instruc-
tion in dancing, a task which must have comported strangely
enough with so stern a man. But he did not suffer his com-
posure 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 up-
wards, if not ballets, yet pas seuls and pas de deux, and had
noticed in them various strange motions of the feet, and all
sorts of springs. When 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, 1 offered
us a rich supply ; and I immediately found out, of my-
self, the steps and other motions for them, the time being
quite suitable to my limbs, and, as it were, born with them.
This pleased my father to a certain degree ; indeed, he
often, by way of joke for himself and us, let the " monkies "
dance in this way. After my misfortune with Gretchen,
and during the whole of my residence in Leipzig, I did not
make my appearance again on the floor : on the contrary, I
still remember, that when, at a ball, 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 all desire to
invite me and draw me into their circle against my will.

1 A" murki'Ms defined as an old species of short composition for the harpsV
chord, with a lively murmuring accompaniment in the bass. — Trans,

324 TRUTH AND FICTION

During my residence in Frankfort I was qu:i,e cut off from
such pleasures ; but in Strasburg, with other enjoyments ot
life, there soon arose in my limbs the faculty of keeping
time. On Sundays and week-days one sauntered by no pleas-
ure-ground without finding there a joyous crowd assembled
for the dance, and for the most part revolving in the circle.
Moreover, there were private tails in the country houses ;
and people were already talking of the brilliant masquerades
of the coming winter. Here, indeed, I should have been
out of my place, and useless to the company, when a friend,
who waltzed very well, advised me to practise myself first in
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 well known for his skill. This man promised me,
that, when I had in some degree repeated the first elements
and made myself master of them, he would then lead me
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 instruc-
tion 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 skil-
ful, and might have been able, as partners, soon to help
even the most clumsy scholars into some cultivation. They
were both very polite, spoke nothing but French ; and I, on
my part, did my best, that I might not appear awkward or
ridiculous before them. I had the good fortune that they
likewise praised me, and were alwa} r s willing to dance a
minuet to their father's little violin, and, what indeed was
more difficult for them, to initiate me by degrees into waltz-
ing 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 willingly did,
as the younger one pleased me well ; 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 well as

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 325

the latter, always conducted herself towards me more obli-
gingly, 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
an}^ 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,
1 ' Let us remain here a little longer ; for I will confess to you
that my sister has with her a woman who tells fortunes from
cards, and who is to reveal to her how matters stand with an
absent lover, on whom her whole heart hangs, and upon
whom she has placed all her hope. Mine is free," she con-
tinued, "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 consult-
ing 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 compelled her to
go with me into that room, as soon as she had ascertained
that the consultation was over. We found her sister in a
very cheerful 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 carefully
considered the situation of the cards, but seemed to hesitate,
and would not speak out what she had to say. "I see
now," said the younger, who was already better acquainted
with the interpretation of such a magic tablet, "you hesi-
tate, 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 will not cost one's head ! " The old woman, after a

326 TRUTH AND FICTION

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 embar-
rassment. The old woman thought somewhat to improve
the affair by giving hopes of letters and money. " Let-
ters," said the lovely child, " I do not expect ; and money I
do not desire. If it is true, as you say, that I love, I de-
serve a heart that loves me in return." — " Let us see if it
will not be better," replied the old woman, as she shuffled
the cards and laid them out a second time ; but before the
eyes of all of us it had only become still worse. The fair
one stood, not only more lonely, but surrounded with many
sorrows. Her lover had moved somewhat farther, and the
intervening figures nearer. The old woman wished to try it
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 pain-
ful 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.
1,(1 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 acquaint-
ance, 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

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 327

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 de-
clared that he had rarely seen a prettier and more nimble
pair upon his floor. After the lesson, I went as usual into
the sitting-room ; the father left us alone ; I missed Lucinda.
" She is in bed," said Emilia, " and I am glad of it : do not
be concerned about it. Her mental illness is first alleviated
when she fancies herself bodily sick : she does not like to die,
and therefore she then does what we wish. We have certain
family medicines which she takes, and reposes ; and thus, by
degrees, the swelling waves subside. She is indeed too good
and amiable in such an imaginary sickness ; and as she is
in reality very well, and is only attacked by passion, she
imagines various kinds of romantic deaths, with which she
frightens herself in a pleasant manner, like children when we
tell them ghost-stories. Thus, only last night, she announced
to me with great vehemence, that this time she should cer-
tainly die ; and that only when she was really near death,
they should bring again before her the ungrateful, false friend,
who had at first acted so handsomely to her, and now treated
her so ill ; she would reproach him bitterly, and then give up
the ghost." — "I know not that I am guilty," exclaimed I,
4 4 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 all find ourselves in
a bad plight together. What will you say if I entreat you not
to continue your lessons? You have, I believe, four tickets
yet of the last month : and my father has already declared
that he finds it inexcusable to take your money any longer,
unless you wish to devote yourself to the art of dancing in a
more serious manner ; what is required by a young man of
the world you possess already." — " And do you, Emilia, give
me this advice, to avoid your house? " replied I. " Yes, I
do," said she, " but not of myself. Only listen ! When you
hastened away, the day before yesterday, I had the cards cut
for you ; and the same response was repeated thrice, and each
time more emphatically. You were surrounded by every thing
good and pleasing, by friends and great lords ; and there was
no lack of money. The ladies kept themselves at some dia-

328 TliUTII AND FICTION

tance. My poor sister in particular stood alwa}^ 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 will best comprehend my well-meant counsel.
To an absent friend I have promised my heart and my hand ;
and, until now, I loved him above all : yet it might be possi-
ble for your presence to become more important to me than
hitherto ; and what kind of a situation would you have be-
tween two sisters, one of whom you had made unhappy by
your affection, and the other by your coldness, and all this
ado about nothing and only for a short time ? For, if we had
not known already who you are and what are your expecta-
tions, the cards would have placed it before my eyes in the
clearest manner. Fare you well ! " said she, and gave me her
hand. I hesitated. " Now," said she, leading me towards
the door, " that it may really be the last time that we shall
speak to each other, take what I would otherwise have denied
you." She fell upon my neck, and kissed me most tenderly.
I embraced her, and pressed her to my bosom.

At this moment the side-door flew open ; and her sister, in
a light but becoming night-dress, rushed out and cried, "You
shall 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 be-
tween 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 recollection, and
which, although really it had nothing theatrical about it, but
was quite suitable to a lively young Frenchwoman, could only
be properly repeated in the theatre by a good and feeling
actress.

Lucinda overwhelmed her sister with a thousand reproaches.
" This is not the first heart," she cried, " that was inclining
itself to me, and that you have turned away. Was it not just
so with him who is absent, and who at last betrothed himself
to you under my very eyes? 1 was compelled to look on ; I

RELATING TO MY LIFE. 329

endured it ; but I know how many thousand tears it has cost
me. This one, too, you have now taken away from me, with-
out 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 j^our
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 be-
came 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
[ 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 fur-
ther pretensions to you. But neither shall 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
q,gain to enter the house.

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