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and we should perhaps have withdrawn from the windows, if we had not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

[Side-note: Maria Theresa.]

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, in the meanwhile, as is usual on such
occasions, reverted to the time past, and there were not wanting aged
persons who preferred that to the present, at least with respect to a
certain human interest and impassioned sympathy which then prevailed.
At the coronation of Francis the First all had not been so settled
as now; peace had not yet been concluded; France and the Electors of
Brandenburg and the Palatinate were opposed to the election; the
troops of the future emperor were stationed at Heidelberg, where he
had his head-quarters, and the insignia of the Empire coming from Aix,
were almost carried off by the inhabitants of the Palatinate. Meanwhile
negotiations went on, and on neither side was the affair 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, from Heidelberg, thinks to
meet his wife, but comes too late; she has already departed. Unknown,
he throws himself into a little boat, hastens after her, reaches her
ship, and the loving pair is delighted at this surprising meeting. The
story spreads immediately, and all the world sympathizes with this
tender pair, so richly blessed with their children, who have been so
inseparable since their union, that once on a journey from Vienna to
Florence they are forced to keep quarantine together on the Venetian
border. Maria Theresa is welcomed in the city with rejoicings, she
enters the _Roman Emperor_ inn, while the great tent for the reception
of her husband is erected on the Bornheim heath. There of the spiritual
Electors is found only Mentz, and of the ambassadors of the temporal
Electors, only Saxony, Bohemia, and Hanover. The entrance begins, and
what it may lack of completeness and splendour is richly compensated
by the presence of a 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 thinks them
his equals when he wishes to love them, and that he can best do when he
can picture them to himself as loving husbands, tender parents, devoted
brothers, and true friends. At that time all happiness had been wished
and prophesied, and to-day it was seen fulfilled in the first-born son;
to whom everybody was well inclined on account of his handsome youthful
form, and upon whom the world set the greatest hopes, on account of the
great qualities that he showed.

We had become quite absorbed in the past and future, when some friends
who came in recalled us to the present. They were of those who know the
value of novelty, and therefore hasten to announce it first. They were
even able to tell of a fine humane trait in those exalted personages
whom we had seen go by with the greatest pomp. It had been concerted
that on the way, between Heusenstamm and the great tent, the Emperor
and King should find the Landgrave of Darmstadt in the forest. This
old prince, now approaching the grave, wished to see once more the
master to whom he had been devoted in former times. Both might remember
the day when the Landgrave brought over to Heidelberg the decree of
the Electors choosing Francis as Emperor, and replied to the valuable
presents he received with protestations of unalterable devotion.
These eminent persons stood in a grove of firs, and the Landgrave,
weak with old age, supported himself against a pine, to continue the
conversation, which was not without emotion on both sides. The place
was afterwards marked in an innocent way, and we young people sometimes
wandered to it.

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

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

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

[Side-note: At Evening with Gretchen.]

In these days I did not come to myself. At home I had to write and
copy; everything had to be seen; and so ended the month of March,
the second half of which had been so rich in festivals for us. I had
promised Gretchen a faithful and complete account of what had lately
happened, and of what was to be expected on the coronation-day. This
great day approached; I thought more 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 and immediate use. At
last I reached her residence somewhat late one evening, and was not
a little proud to think how my discourse on this occasion would be
much more successful than the first unprepared one. But a momentary
incitement often brings us, and others through us, more joy than the
most deliberate purpose can afford; I found, indeed, pretty nearly the
same company, but there were some unknown persons among them. They sat
down to play, all except Gretchen and her younger cousin, who remained
with me at the slate. The dear girl expressed most gracefully her
delight that she, though a stranger, had passed for a citizen on the
election-day, and had taken part in that unique spectacle. She thanked
me most warmly for having managed to take care of her, and for 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 promised her that
we should, if possible, see these together. She made some jesting
remarks when she learned that the garments and crown had been tried
on the young king. I knew where she would gaze at the solemnities of
the coronation-day, and directed her attention to everything that was
impending, and particularly to what might be minutely inspected from
her place of view.

Thus we forgot to think about time; it was already past midnight; and I
found that I unfortunately had not the house-key with me. I could not
enter the house without making the greatest disturbance. I communicated
my embarrassment to her. "After all," said she, "it will be best for
the 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 by me. We talked in
a low voice: but at last sleep overcame her also, she leaned her head
on my shoulder, and sank at once into a slumber. Thus I now sat, the
only one awake, in a most singular position, in which the kind brother
of death soon put me also to rest. I went to sleep, and when I awoke
it was already bright day. Gretchen was standing before the mirror
arranging her little cap; she was more lovely than ever, and when I
departed 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 neighbour. This side we avoided when we wanted not to be observed
by him in coming home. My mother, whose mediation always came in
well for us, had endeavoured to palliate my absence in the morning
at breakfast, by the supposition that I had gone out early, and I
experienced no disagreeable effects from this innocent night.

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

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

[Side-note: The Coronation-Day.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Side-note: The Coronation Procession.]

Now, the sound of bells, and the van of the long train which gently
made its way over the many-coloured bridge, announced that all was
done. The attention was greater than ever, and the procession more
distinct than before, particularly for us, since it now came directly
up to us. We saw it, as well as the whole of the square, which was
thronged with people, almost as if on a ground-plan. Only at the end
the magnificence was too much crowded; for the envoys, the hereditary
officers, the Emperor and King, under the canopy (_Baldachin_), the
three spiritual Electors, who immediately followed, the Schöffen
and senators, dressed in black, the gold embroidered canopy
(_Himmel_),--all seemed only one mass, which moved by a single will,
splendidly harmonious, and thus stepping from the temple amid the sound
of the bells, beamed towards us as something holy.

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

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

Several days before, it had been made known by public proclamation,
that neither the bridge nor the eagle over the fountain were to be
exposed to the people, and were therefore not, as at other times, to be
touched. This was done to prevent the mischief inevitable with such a
rush of persons. But in order to sacrifice in some degree to the genius
of the mob, persons expressly appointed went behind the procession,
loosened the cloth from the bridge, wound it up like a flag, and threw
it into the air. This gave rise to no disaster, but to a laughable
mishap; for the cloth unrolled itself in the air, and, as it fell,
covered a larger or smaller number of persons. Those now who took hold
of the ends and drew them towards themselves, pulled all those in the
middle to the ground, 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 rude sport, but hastened from my high
position, through all sorts of little steps and passages, down to the
great Römer stairs, where the distinguished and majestic mass, which
had been stared at from the distance, was to ascend in its undulating
course. The crowd was not great, because the entrances to the
council-house were well garrisoned, and I fortunately reached at once
the iron balustrades above. Now the chief personages ascended past me,
while their followers remained behind in the lower arched passages, and
I could observe them on the thrice broken stairs from all sides, and at
last quite close.

[Side-note: Coronation Ceremonies.]

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

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

It was precisely at the right time that I again took possession of my
window; for the most remarkable part of all that was to be seen in
public was just about to take place. All the people had turned towards
the Römer, and a reiterated shout of _vivat_ gave us to understand
that the Emperor and King, in their vestments, were showing themselves
to the populace from the balcony of the great hall. But they were not
alone to serve as a spectacle, since another strange spectacle occurred
before their eyes. First of all, the handsome slender 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 Römer. Now it was the
turn of the Hereditary Cupbearer, who rode to the fountain and fetched
wine. Thus now was the imperial table furnished, and every eye waited
upon the Hereditary Treasurer, who was to throw about the money. He,
too, mounted a fine steed, to the sides of whose saddle, instead of
holsters, a couple of splendid bags embroidered with the arms of the
Palatinate, were suspended. Scarcely had he put himself in motion than
he plunged his hands into these pockets, and generously scattered right
and left gold and silver coins, which on every occasion glittered
merrily in the air like metallic rain. A thousand hands waved instantly
in the air to catch the gifts; but hardly had the coins fallen than the
crowd tumbled over each other on the ground, and struggled violently
for the pieces which might have reached the earth. As this agitation
was constantly repeated on both sides as the giver rode forwards, it
afforded the spectators a very diverting sight. It was most lively at
the close, when he threw out the bags themselves, and everybody tried
to catch this highest prize.

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

[Side-note: The Ox and The Wooden Kitchen.]

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 the beams and rafters, in order to pull them also
out of their joinings; nay, many floated above upon the posts which had
been already sawn off below, and the whole skeleton, moving backwards
and forwards, threatened to fall in. Sensitive persons turned their
eyes away, and everybody expected a great calamity; but we did not hear
of any mischief, and the whole affair, though impetuous and violent,
had passed off happily.

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

At the other end of the 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, magnificently ornamented, but without occupants,
made one think of the misunderstanding which had gradually arisen for
centuries between them and the head of the Empire. Their ambassadors
had already withdrawn to eat in a side-chamber; and if the greater part
of the hall assumed a sort of spectral appearance, by so many invisible
guests being so magnificently attended, a large unfurnished table in
the middle was still more sad to look upon; for there also many covers
stood empty, because all those who had certainly a right to sit there
had, for appearance sake, kept away, that on the greatest day of honour
they might not renounce any of their honour, if, indeed, they were then
to be found in the city.

Neither my years nor the mass of present objects allowed me to make
many reflections. I strove to see all as much as 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 neighbourhood, after a day's half-fasting, and to
prepare for the illumination in the evening.

[Side-note: The Illuminations.]

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

The Saalhof is, towards the Maine, a regular and handsome structure,
but the part in the direction of the city is 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 architecture had been followed,
and every window, every door, every opening, was surrounded by lamps;
as indeed can be done with a well-built house; but here the most
wretched and ill-formed of all façades was thus quite incredibly placed
in the clearest light. Did one amuse oneself with this as with the
jests of the Pagliasso,[5] though not without scruple, since everybody
must recognise something intentional in it;--just as people had before
glossed over the previous external deportment of Von Plotho, so much
prized in other respects, and when once inclined towards him, had
admired him as a wag, who, like his king, would place himself above all
ceremonies--one nevertheless gladly returned to the fairy kingdom of
Esterhazy.

This eminent envoy, to honour the day, had quite passed over his own
unfavourably situated quarters, and in their stead bad caused the
great esplanade of linden-trees in the Horse-market to be decorated
in the front with a portal illuminated with colours, and at the back
with a still more magnificent prospect. The entire enclosure was marked
by lamps. Between the trees stood pyramids and spheres of light,
upon transparent pedestals; from one tree to another were stretched
glittering garlands, on which floated suspended lights. In several
places bread and sausages were distributed among the people, and there
was no want of wine.

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

The next morning, while I was yet in bed, my mother entered, in trouble
and anxiety. It was easy to see when she was at all distressed. "Get
up," she said, "and prepare yourself for something unpleasant. It
has come out that you frequent very bad company, and have involved
yourself in very dangerous and bad affairs. Your father is beside
himself, and we have only been able to get thus much from him, that
he will investigate the affair by means of a third party. 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."

[Side-note: Goethe in Trouble.]

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 replied,
"and as little of having frequented bad company." "The question now is
not one of defence," said he, interrupting me, "but of investigation,
and on your part of an upright confession" "What do you want to know?"
retorted I. He seated himself, drew out a paper, and began to question
me: "Have you not recommended N. N. to your grandfather as a candidate
for the * * place?" I answered, "Yes." "Where did you become acquainted
with him?" "In my walks." "In what company?" I started: for I would not
willingly betray my friends. "Silence will not do now," he continued,
"for all is sufficiently known." "What is known then?" said I. "That
this man has been introduced to you by others like him--in fact, by * *
*." Here he named three persons whom I had never seen nor known: which
I immediately explained to the questioner. "You pretend," he resumed,
"not to know these men, and have yet had frequent meetings with them."
"Not in the least," I replied; "for, as I have said, except the first,
I do not know one of them, and even him I have never seen in a house."
"Have you not often been in * * * street?" "Never," I replied. This was
not entirely conformable to the truth. I had once accompanied Pylades
to his sweetheart, who lived in that street; but we had entered by the
back-door, and remained in the summer-house. I therefore supposed that
I might permit myself the subterfuge, that I had not been in the street
itself.

The good man put more questions, all of which I could answer with a
denial: for of all that he wished to learn I knew nothing. At last
he seemed to become vexed, and said, "You repay my confidence and
good-will very badly; I come to save you. You cannot deny that you have
composed letters for these people themselves or for their accomplices,
have furnished them writings, and have thus been accessory to their
evil acts, for the question is of nothing less than of forged papers,
false wills, counterfeit bonds, and things of the sort. I come not
only as a friend of the family, I come in the name and by order of
the magistrates, who, in consideration of your connexions and youth,
would spare you and some other young persons, who, like you, have
been lured into the net." It was strange to me that among the persons
he named, none of those with whom I had been intimate were found. The
circumstances touched, without agreeing, and I could still hope to save
my young friends. But the good man grew more and more urgent. I could
not deny that I had come home late many nights, that I had contrived
to have a house-key made, that I had been seen at public places more
than once with persons of low rank and suspicious looks, that some
girls were mixed up in the affair; in short, everything seemed to be
discovered but the names. This gave me courage to persist steadfastly
in my silence. "Do not," said my excellent friend, "let me go away from
you; the affair allows of no delay; immediately after me another will
come, who will not grant you so much scope. Do not make the matter,
which is bad enough, worse by your obstinacy."

I represented very vividly to myself the good cousins, and particularly
Gretchen: I saw them arrested, tried, punished, disgraced, and then
it went through my soul like a flash of lightning, that the cousins,
though they always observed integrity towards me, might have engaged
in such bad affairs, at least the oldest, who never quite pleased me,
who came home later and later, and had little to tell of a cheerful
sort. Still I kept back my confession. "Personally," said I, "I am
conscious of nothing evil, and can rest satisfied on that side, but
it is not impossible that those with whom I have associated may have
been guilty of some daring or illegal act. They may be sought, found,
convicted, punished; I have hitherto nothing to reproach myself with;
and will not do any wrong to those who have behaved well and kindly
to me." He did not let me finish, but exclaimed with some agitation,
"Yes, they will be found out. These villains met in three houses. (He
named the streets, he pointed out the houses, and, unfortunately, among
them was the one to which I used to go.) The first nest is already
broken up, and at this moment so are the two others. In a few hours the
whole will be clear. Avoid, by a flunk confession, a judicial inquiry,
a confrontation, and all other disagreeable matters." The house was
known and marked. Now I deemed silence useless; nay, considering the
innocence of our meetings, I could hope to be still more useful to them
than to myself. "Sit down," I exclaimed, fetching him back from the
door; "I will tell all, and at once lighten your heart and mine; only
one thing I ask; henceforth let there be no doubt of my veracity."

[Side-note: Goethe's Distress.]

I soon told my friend the whole progress of the affair, and was, at
first, calm and collected; but the more I brought to mind and pictured
to myself the persons, objects, and events, so many innocent pleasures
and charming enjoyments, and was forced to depose as before a criminal
court, the more did the most painful feeling increase, so that at last
I burst forth in tears and gave myself up to unrestrained passion. The
family friend, who hoped that now the real secret was coming to light
(for he regarded my distress as a symptom that I was on the point of
confessing with repugnance something 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 reputed; but
that they might be just as guiltless without having it recognised, or
being otherwise favoured. I declared at the same time, that if they
were not spared like myself, that if their follies were not regarded
with indulgence, and their faults pardoned, that if anything in the
least harsh or unjust happened to them, I would do myself a mischief,
and no one should prevent me. In this, too, my friend tried to pacify
me; but I did not trust him, and was, when he quitted me at last, in
a most terrible state. I now reproached myself for having told the
affair, and brought all the positions to light. I foresaw that our
childish actions, our youthful inclinations and confidences, might be
quite 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 might have lain, when my sister entered, was
frightened at my gestures, and did all that she could to raise me up.
She told me that a person connected with the magistracy had waited
below with my father for the return of the family friend, and that
after they had been closeted together for some time, both the gentlemen
had departed, had talked to each other with apparent satisfaction, and
had even laughed. She believed that she had heard the words--"It is all
right; the affair-is of no consequence." "Indeed!" I broke out, "the
affair is of no consequence for me,--for us; for I have committed no
crime, and if I had, they would contrive to help me through: but the
others, the others," I cried, "who will stand by them!"

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

The family friend had ordered me to remain in my room, and have nothing
to do with any one but the family. This was just what I wanted, for I
found myself best alone. My mother and sister visited me from time to
time, and did not fail to assist me vigorously with all sorts of good
consolation; nay, even on the second day they came in the name of my
father, who was now better informed, to offer me a perfect amnesty,
which indeed I gratefully accepted; but the proposal that I should go
out with him and look at the insignia of the Empire, which were now
exposed to the curious, I stubbornly rejected, and I asserted that I
wanted to know nothing either of the world or of the Roman Empire till
I was informed how that distressing affair, which for me could have no
further consequences, had turned out for my poor acquaintance. They
had nothing to say on this head, and left me alone. Yet the next day
some further attempts were made to get me out of the house and excite
in me a sympathy for the public ceremonies. In vain! neither the great
gala-day, nor what happened on the occasion of so many elevations of
rank, nor the public table of the Emperor and King,--in short, nothing
could move me. The Elector of the Palatinate might come and wait
on both their Majesties; these might visit the Electors; the last
electoral sitting might be attended for the despatch of business in
arrear, and the renewal of the electoral union;--nothing could call
me forth from my passionate solitude. I let the bells ring for the
rejoicings, the Emperor repair to the Capuchin church, the Electors
and Emperor depart, without on that account moving one step from my
chamber. The final cannonading, immoderate as it might be, did not
arouse me, and as the smoke of the powder dispersed, and the sound died
away, so had all this glory vanished from my soul.

[Side-note: Goethe's illness.]

I now experienced no satisfaction but in chewing the cud of my misery,
and in a thousandfold imaginary multiplication of it. My whole
inventive faculty, my poetry and rhetoric, had cast themselves on this
diseased spot, and threatened, 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 threatening letters to
the family friend, insisting that he should not withhold from me the
further progress of the affair. Sometimes I tore them up again, from
the fear of learning my unhappiness quite distinctly, and of losing the
principal consolation with which hitherto I had alternately tormented
and supported myself.

Thus I passed both day and night in great disquiet, in raving and
lassitude, so that I felt happy at last when a bodily illness seized
me with considerable violence, when they had to call in the help of
a physician, and think of every way to quiet me. They supposed that
they could do it generally by the sacred assurance that all who were
more or less involved in the guilt had been treated with the greatest
forbearance, that my nearest friends, being as good as innocent, had
been dismissed with a slight reprimand, and that Gretchen had retired
from the city and had returned to her own home. They lingered the
most over this last point, and I did not take it in the best part;
for I could discover in it, not a voluntary departure, but only a
shameful banishment. My bodily and mental condition was not improved
by this; my distress now first really began, and I had time enough to
torment myself by picturing the strangest romance of sad events, and an
inevitably tragical catastrophe.

[1] The diminutive of Margaret.--_Trans._

[2] That is to say, a poem written for a certain
occasion, as a wedding, funeral, &c. The German word is
"_Gelegenheitsgedicht._"--_Trans._

[3] The "_new_ Abelard" is St. Preux, in the _Nouvelle Heloise_ of
Rosseau.--_Trans._

[4] A class of attendants dressed in Hungarian costume.--_Trans._

[5] A sort of buffoon.

PART THE SECOND.

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

SIXTH BOOK.

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

It was not long before they gave me a special overseer. Fortunately,
it was a man whom I loved and valued. He had held the place of tutor
in the family of one of our friends; and his former pupil had gone
alone to the university. He often visited me in my sad condition, and
they at last found nothing more natural than to give him a chamber
next to mine, as he was then to employ me, pacify me, and, as I
marked, keep his eye upon me. Still, as I esteemed him from my heart,
and had already confided many things to him, though not my affection
for Gretchen, I determined so much the more to be perfectly candid
and straightforward with him, as it was intolerable to me to live in
daily intercourse with any one, and at the same time to stand on an
uncertain, constrained footing with him. It was not long, then, before
I spoke to him about the affair, refreshed myself by the relation and
repetition of the minutest circumstances of my past happiness, and
thus gained so much, that he, like a sensible man, saw it would be
better to make me acquainted with the issue of the story, and that
too in its details and particulars, so that I might be clear as to
the whole, and that with earnestness and zeal, I might be persuaded
of the necessity of composing myself, throwing the past behind me,
and beginning a new life. First he confided to me who the other young
people of quality were who had allowed themselves to be seduced, at
the outset, into daring hoaxes, then into sportive breaches of police,
afterwards into frolicsome impositions on others, and other such
dangerous matters. Thus actually had arisen a little conspiracy, which
unprincipled men had joined, who, by forging papers and counterfeiting
signatures, had perpetrated many criminal acts, and had still more
criminal matters in preparation. The cousins, after whom I at last
impatiently inquired, had been found to be quite innocent, only very
generally acquainted with those others, and not at all implicated with
them. My client, by recommending whom to my grandfather I had in fact
put people on the scent, was one of the worst, and bad sued for that
office chiefly that he might undertake or conceal certain villanies.
After all this, I could at last contain myself no longer, and asked
what had become of Gretchen, for whom I, once for all, confessed the
strongest attachment. My friend shook his head and smiled,--"Make
yourself easy," replied he; "this girl has passed her examination very
well, and has borne off honourable testimony to that effect. They could
discover nothing in her but what was good and amiable, the examiners
themselves were well-disposed to her, and could not refuse her desire
of removing from the city. Even what she has confessed in respect to
you, too, my friend, does her honour; I have read her deposition in
the secret reports myself, and seen her signature." "The signature!"
exclaimed I, "which makes me so happy and so miserable. "What has she
confessed, then? What has she subscribed?" My friend delayed answering;
but the cheerfulness of his face showed me that he concealed nothing
dangerous. "If you must know, then," replied he at last, "when she
was interrogated concerning you, and her intercourse with you, she
said quite frankly, 'I cannot deny that I have seen him often and with
pleasure; but I have always treated him as a child, and my affection
for him was truly that of a sister. In many cases I have given him
good advice, and instead of instigating him to any equivocal action, I
have hindered him from taking part in wanton tricks, which might have
brought him into trouble.'"

[Side-note: Change of Feeling Towards Gretchen.]

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

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

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

[Side-note: History of Philosophy.]

However, this very history of philosophy, which my friend was compelled
to go over with me, because I could learn nothing from dogmatical
discourse, amused me very much, but only on this account, that one
doctrine or opinion seemed to me as good as another, so far, at least,
as I was capable of penetrating into it. With the most ancient men and
schools I was best pleased, because poetry, religion, and philosophy
were completely combined into one; and I only maintained that first
opinion of mine with the more animation, when the book of Job and
the Song and Proverbs of Solomon, as well as the lays of Orpheus and
Hesiod, seemed to bear valid witness in its favour. My friend had taken
the smaller work of Brucker as the foundation of his discourse; and the
further we went on, the less I could make of it. I could not clearly
see what the first Greek philosophers would have. Socrates I esteemed
as an excellent, wise man, who in his life and death might well be
compared with Christ. His disciples, on the other hand, seemed to me to
bear a strong resemblance to the Apostles, who disagreed immediately
after their Master's death, when each manifestly recognised only a
limited view as the right one. Neither the keenness of Aristotle nor
the fulness of Plato produced the least fruit in me. For the Stoics, on
the contrary, I had already conceived some affection, and even procured
Epictetus, whom I studied with much interest. My friend unwillingly
let me have my way in this one-sidedness, from which he could not draw
me; for, in spite of his varied studies, he did not know how to bring
the leading question into a narrow compass. He need only have said to
me that in life action is everything, and that joy and sorrow come of
themselves. However, youth should be allowed its own course; it does
not stick to false maxims very long; life soon tears or charms it away
again.

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

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

Scarcely had I compelled my friend hither, who would rather have
been in the open country by the stream, among men, than he playfully
assured me that I showed myself a true German, he related to me
circumstantially, out of Tacitus, how our ancestors found pleasure
in the feelings which nature so provides for us, in such solitudes,
with her inartificial architecture. He had not been long discoursing
of this, when I exclaimed, "Oh! why did not this precious spot lie
in a deeper wilderness! why may we not train a hedge around it, to
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 me; what I said,
I know not how to recall. Thus much, however, is certain, that the
undetermined, widely-expanding feelings of youth and of uncultivated
nations are alone adapted to the sublime, which, if it is to be
excited in us through external objects, formless, or moulded into
incomprehensible forms, must surround us with a greatness to which we
are not equal.

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

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

[Side-note: Drawing From Nature.]

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

But I will not deny that there was a certain mixture of roguery; for
I had remarked that if I chose for an irksome study a half-shaded
old trunk, to the hugely curved roots of which clung well-lit fern,
combined with twinkling maidenhair, 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, since my paper was endeared to me by the circumstance that I
had accustomed myself to see in it, not so much what stood upon it,
as what I had been thinking of at any time and hour when I drew. Thus
plants and flowers of the commonest kind may form a charming diary for
us, because nothing that calls back the remembrance of a happy moment
can be insignificant; and even now it would be hard for me to destroy
as worthless many things of the kind that have remained to me from
different epochs, because they transport me immediately to those times
which I remember with melancholy indeed, but not unwillingly.

But if such drawings may have had anything of interest in themselves,
they were indebted for this advantage to the sympathy and attention
of my father. He, informed by my overseer that I had become gradually
reconciled to my condition, and, in particular, had applied myself
passionately to drawing from nature, was very well satisfied--partly
because he himself set a high value on drawing and painting, partly
because gossip Seekatz had once said to him, that it was a pity I was
not destined for a painter. But here again the peculiarities of the
father and son came into conflict; for it was almost impossible for
me to make use of a good, white, perfectly clean sheet of paper; grey
old leaves, even if scribbled over on one side already, charmed me
most, just as if my awkwardness had feared the touchstone of a white
ground. Nor were any of my drawings quite finished; and how should I
have executed a whole, which indeed I saw with my eyes, but did not
comprehend, and how an individual object, which I had neither skill
nor patience to follow out? The pedagogism of my father on this point,
too, was really to be admired. He kindly asked for my attempts, and
drew lines round every imperfect sketch. He wished, by this means, to
compel me to completeness and fulness of detail. The irregular leaves
he cut straight, and thus made the beginning of a collection, in which
he wished, at some future time, to rejoice at the progress of his son.
It was therefore by no means disagreeable to him when my wild, restless
disposition sent me roving about the country; he rather seemed pleased
when I brought back a parcel of 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 connexions; they left me by degrees perfect liberty. By accidental
inducements and in accidental society I undertook many journeys to
the mountain-range which, from my childhood, had stood so distant and
solemn before me. Thus we visited Homburg, Kroneburg, ascended the
Feldberg, from which the prospect invited us still further and further
into the distance. Königstein, too, was not left unvisited; Wiesbaden,
Schwalbach, with its environs, occupied us many days; we reached the
Rhine, which, from the heights, we had seen winding along far off.
Mentz astonished us, but could not chain a youthful mind, which was
running into the open country; we were delighted with the situation of
Biberich; and, contented and happy, we resumed our journey home.

This whole tour, from which my father had promised himself many a
drawing, might have been almost without fruit; for what taste, what
talent, what experience does it not require to seize an extensive
landscape as a picture! I was again imperceptibly drawn into a narrow
compass, from which I derived some profit; for I met no ruined castle,
no piece of wall which pointed to antiquity, that I did not think an
object worthy of my pencil, and imitate as well as I could. Even the
stone of Drusus, on the ramparts of Mentz, I copied at some risk,
and with inconveniences which every one must experience who wishes
to carry home with him some pictorial reminiscences of his travels.
Unfortunately I had again taken with me nothing but the most miserable
common paper, and had clumsily crowded several objects into one sheet.
But my paternal teacher was not perplexed at this; he cut the sheets
apart, had the parts which belonged to each other put together by the
bookbinder, 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 endeavours could not increase my talent, nevertheless
this mark of his love of order had upon me a secret influence, which
afterwards manifested itself vigorously in more ways than one.

[Side-note: Goethe's Sister.]

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

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

And as, in our first years, playing and learning, growth and education,
had been quite common to both of us, so that we might well have been
taken for twins, so did this community, this confidence, remain during
the development of our physical and moral powers. That interest of
youth, that amazement at the awakening of sensual impulses which
clothe themselves in mental forms, of mental necessities which clothe
themselves in sensual images, all the reflections upon these, which
obscure rather than enlighten us, as the fog covers over and does not
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 endured hand in hand, and were the less enlightened as to
their strange condition, as the nearer they wished to approach each
other, to clear up their minds, the more forcibly did the sacred awe
of their close relationship keep them apart.

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

[Side-note: Goethe's Sister.]

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

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

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

If a lady can be recompensed for the want of beauty, then was she
richly so by the unbounded confidence, the regard, and love which
all her female friends bore to her; whether they were older or
younger, all cherished the same sentiments. A very pleasant society
had collected around her; young men were not wanting who knew how to
insinuate themselves; nearly every girl found an admirer; she alone
had remained without a partner. Indeed, if her exterior was in some
measure repulsive, the mind that gleamed through it was also rather
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 ease was singular enough. As confidants to whom one
reveals a love-affair actually by genuine sympathy become lovers also,
nay, grow into rivals, and at last, perchance, transfer the passion to
themselves, so it was with us two: for, when my connexion with Gretchen
was torn asunder, my sister consoled me the more earnestly, because she
secretly felt the satisfaction of having gotten rid of a rival; and
I, too, could not but feel a quiet, half-mischievous pleasure, when
she did me the justice to assure me that I was the only one who truly
loved, understood, and esteemed her. If now, from time to time, my
grief for the loss of Gretchen revived, and I suddenly began to weep,
to lament, and to act in a disorderly manner, my despair for my lost
one awakened in her likewise a similar despairing impatience as to
the never-possessings, the failures, and miscarriages of such youthful
attachments, that we both thought ourselves infinitely unhappy, and
the more so as, in this singular case, the confidants could not change
themselves into lovers.

[Side-note: The Sister's Lover.]

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

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

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

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

[Side-note: Humorous Oration.]

"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 amendment; 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. I have," he continued,
"already provided for the execution of my project, if it should
meet your approbation. Here is a bag in which are the names of the
gentlemen; now draw, my fair ones, and be pleased to favour as your
servant, for a week, him whom fate shall send you. This is binding only
within our circle; as soon as that is broken up, these connexions are
also abolished, and the heart may decide who shall attend you home."

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

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

Here he took off his hat--

"But I would expose it to view with joy and honour if my lucubrations,
which dry up my skin, and rob me of my finest adornment, could only
be in some measure beneficial to myself and others. We are young, my
friends,--that is good; we 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 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 humour that every one was eager to
hear him longer. But instead of proceeding, he drew open the bag, and
turned to the nearest lady--"Now for a trial of it!" exclaimed he; "the
work will do credit to the master. If in a week's time we do not like
it, we will give it up, and stick to the old plan."

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

These masters of ceremonies, who wished at once to do themselves
credit, brought into play some very pretty new games, prepared at some
distance a supper, which we had not reckoned on, and illuminated the
yacht on our return at night, although there was no necessity for it
in the bright moonlight; but they excused themselves by saying that
it was quite conformable to the new social regulation to outshine the
tender glances of the heavenly moon by earthly candles. The moment we
touched the shore, our Solon cried, "_Ite, missa est!_" Each one now
handed out of the vessel the lady who had fallen to him by lot, and
then surrendered her to her proper partner, on receiving his own in
exchange.

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

[Side-note: Second Oration.]

We had scarcely settled ourselves, than, instead of thanking our
orator, we reproached him for having kept to himself the best part
of his speech--the conclusion. He thereupon protested that the best
part of a speech was persuasion; and that he who did not aim at
persuasion should make no speech; for, as to conviction, that was a
ticklish business. As, however, they gave him no peace, he began a
Capuchinade on the spot, more comical than ever, perhaps, for the very
reason that he took it into his head to speak on the most serious
subjects. For, with texts out of the Bible which had nothing to do with
the business--with similes which did not fit--with 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 personæ_ 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 Hörnchen (little Horn). He was, in
fact, the smallest in the company, of a stout, but pleasing form; a
pug-nose, a mouth somewhat pouting, little sparkling eyes, made up
a swarthy countenance, which always seemed to invite laughter. His
little compact skull was thickly covered with curly black hair; his
beard was prematurely blue, and he would have liked to let it grow,
that, as a comic mask, he might always keep the company laughing. For
the rest, he was neat and nimble, but insisted that he had bandy legs,
which everybody granted, since he was bent on having it so, but about
which many a joke arose; for since he was in request as a very good
dancer he reckoned it among the peculiarities of the fair sex, that
they always liked to see bandy legs on the floor. His cheerfulness was
indestructible, and his presence at every meeting indispensable. We
two kept more together because he was to follow me to the university;
and he well deserves that I should mention him with all honour, as he
adhered to me for many years with infinite love, faithfulness, and
patience.

By my ease in rhyming, and in winning from common objects a poetical
side, he had allowed himself to be seduced into similar labours. Our
little social excursions, parties of pleasure, and the contingencies
that occurred in them, we decked out poetically, and thus by the
description of an event, a new event always arose. But as such social
jests commonly degenerate into personal ridicule, and my friend Horn,
with his burlesque representations, did not always keep within proper
bounds, many a misunderstanding arose, which, however, could soon be
softened down and effaced.

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

It is not wonderful, but yet it excites wonder, when, in contemplating
a literature, especially the German, one observes 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.

[Side-note: Comic Heroical Poetry.]

The heroic poem of my friend was a voucher for this remark. At a great
sledging party, an awkward man has assigned to him a lady who does not
like him; comically enough there befalls him, one after another, every
accident that can happen on such an occasion, until at last, as he is
entreating for the sledge-driver's right (a kiss), he falls from the
back seat; for just then, as was natural, the fates tripped him up.
The fair one seizes the reins, and drives home alone, where a favoured
friend receives her, and triumphs over his presumptuous rival. As to
the rest, it was very prettily 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 Löwen, or the _Renommist_ of Zachariä.[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
backwards, by which means I made myself complete master of the chief
contents of the Institutes. But a restless eagerness for knowledge
urged me further; I lit upon the history of ancient literature, and
from that fell into an encyclopedism, in which I read through Gessner's
_Isagoge_ and Morhov's _Polyhistor_, and thus gained a general notion
of how many strange things might have happened in learning and life. By
this persevering and rapid industry, continued day and night, I more
confused than instructed myself; but I lost myself in a still greater
labyrinth when I found Bayle in my father's library, and plunged deep
into him.

But a leading conviction, which was continually revived within me, was
that of the importance of the ancient tongues; since from amidst this
literary hurly-burly, thus much continually forced itself upon me, that
in them were preserved all the models of oratory, and at the same time
everything else of worth that the world has ever possessed. Hebrew,
together with biblical studies, had retired into the background, and
Greek likewise, since my acquaintance with it did not extend beyond
the New Testament. I therefore the more zealously kept to Latin,
the master-pieces in which lie nearer to us, and which, besides its
splendid 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 themselves finished, and inquire
after neither the true nor the false, after neither the high nor the
deep, but merely after that which is suited to them.

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

[Side-note: Disgust at Frankfort.]

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

Indeed, at all times, the poetic imitation of what I had 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 productions, I could certainly regard them as defective, but not
such as to be utterly rejected. Was this or that censured in them, I
still retained in private my conviction that I could not but gradually
improve, and that some time I might be honourably named along with
Hagedorn, Gellert, and other such men. But such a distinction alone
seemed to me too empty and inadequate; I wished to devote myself
professionally and with zeal to those aforesaid fundamental studies,
and while I thought to advance myself more rapidly in my own works
by a more thorough insight into antiquity, to qualify myself for a
university professorship, which seemed to me the most desirable thing
for a young man who intended to cultivate himself and to contribute to
the cultivation of others.

With these intentions, I always had my eye upon Göttingen. 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.

Since all hopes of Göttingen were cut off, I now turned my eyes towards
Leipzig. There Ernesti appeared to me as a brilliant light; Morus,
too, already awakened much confidence*. I planned for myself in secret
an opposition-course, or rather I built a castle in the air, on a
tolerably solid foundation; and it seemed to me quite romantically
honourable to mark out my own path of life, which appeared the less
visionary, as Griesbach had already made great progress in a similar
way, and was commended for it by every one. The secret joy of a
prisoner, when he has unbound the fetters and rapidly filed through
the bars of his gaol-window, cannot be greater than was mine as I saw
day after day disappear, and October draw nigh. The inclement season
and the bad roads, of which everybody had something to tell, did not
frighten me. The thought of making good my footing in a strange place,
and in winter, did not make me sad; suffice it to say, that I only saw
my present situation was gloomy, and represented to myself the other
unknown world as light and cheerful. Thus I formed my dreams, to which
I gave myself up exclusively, and promised myself nothing but happiness
and content in the distance.

Closely as I kept these projects a secret from every one else, I could
not hide them from my sister, who, after being very much alarmed about
them at first, was 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, servants from
masters, _protégés_ 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.

[Side-note: Departure for Leipzig.]

We had driven out through the Allerheiligen (_All Saints_) gate, and
had soon left Hanau behind us, after which we reached scenes which
aroused my attention by their novelty, if, at this season of the year,
they offered little that was pleasing. A continual rain had completely
spoiled the roads, which, generally speaking, were not then in such
good order as we find them now; and our journey "was thus neither
pleasant nor happy. Yet I was indebted to this damp weather for the
sight of a natural phenomenon which must be exceedingly rare, for I
have seen nothing like it since, nor have I heard of its being observed
by others. At night, namely, we were driving 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 on the right-hand side of
the way, I saw a sort of amphitheatre, wonderfully illuminated. In a
funnel-shaped space there were innumerable little lights gleaming,
ranged step-fashion over one another, and they shone so brilliantly
that the eye was dazzled. But what stiff more confused the sight
was, that they did not keep still, but jumped about here and there,
as well downwards from above as _vice versâ_, and in every direction.
The most of them, however, remained stationary, and beamed on. It was
only with the greatest reluctance that I suffered myself to be called
away from this spectacle, which I could have wished to examine more
closely. On interrogating the postillion, he indeed knew nothing about
such a phenomenon, but said that there was in the neighbourhood an
old stone-quarry, the excavation of which was filled with water. Now
whether this was a pandemonium of will-o'-the-wisps, or a company of
shining creatures, I will not decide.

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

Yet on that same night, as if it had been destined for alternate good
and bad luck, I was forced, after an unexpectedly fortunate incident,
to experience a teazing vexation. We met, in Auerstädt, a genteel
married couple, who had also just arrived, having been delayed by a
similar accident; a pleasing, dignified man, in his best years, with a
very handsome wife. They politely persuaded us to sup in their company,
and I felt very happy when the excellent lady addressed a friendly
word to me. But when I was sent out to accelerate the soup which had
been ordered, not having been accustomed to the loss of rest and the
fatigues of travelling, such an unconquerable drowsiness overtook me,
that actually I fell asleep while 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 Fleischer, who lacked neither
spirit nor wit, nor tongue, entreated the strangers, before they had
seated themselves, not to be surprised at anything they might see
here; for that their young fellow-traveller had in his nature much of
the peculiarity of the Quakers, who believe that they cannot honour
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 everything in the world not to have
been the cause of a merriment which was so beautifully becoming in her
countenance. I had, however, scarcely laid aside my hat, than these
persons, in accordance with their polished manners, immediately dropped
the joke, and with the best wine from their bottle-case completely
extinguished sleep, chagrin, and the memory of all past troubles.

[Side-note: Leipzig.]

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

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

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

[Side-note: Gellert.]

I now hastened-with my letters of introduction to Hofrath Böhme, 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 favourable moment
when I should declare myself free from jurisprudence, and devoted to
the study of the classics. I cautiously waited till the Fleischers
had returned, that my purpose might not be too prematurely betrayed
to my family. But I then went, without delay, to Hofrath Böhme, to
whom, before all, I thought I must confide the matter, and with much
self-importance and boldness of speech disclosed my views to him.
However, I found by no means a good reception of my proposition. As
professor of history and public law, he had a declared hatred for
everything that savoured of the _belles lettres._ Unfortunately he
did not stand on the best footing with those who cultivated them, and
Gellert in particular, in whom I had, awkwardly enough, expressed much
confidence, he could not even endure. To send a faithful student to
those men, 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 severe lecture on the spot, in which he
protested that he could not permit such a step without the permission
of my parents, even if he approved of it himself, which was not the
case in this instance. He then passionately inveighed against philology
and the study of languages, but still more against poetical exercises,
which I had indeed allowed to peep out in the back-ground. 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 many elegant jurists, such as Eberhard,
Otto, and Heineccius, promised me mountains of gold from Roman
antiquities and the history of law, and showed me, clear as the sun,
that I should here be taking no roundabout way, even if afterwards,
on more mature deliberation, and with the consent of my parents, I
should determine to follow out my own plan. He begged me, in a friendly
manner, to think the matter over once more, and to open my mind to him
soon, as it would be necessary to come to a determination at once, on
account of the impending commencement of the lectures.

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

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

The reverence and love with which Gellert was regarded by all young
people was extraordinary. I had already visited him, and had been
kindly received by him. Not of tall stature, elegant without being
lean, soft and rather pensive eyes, a very fine forehead, a nose
aquiline, but not too much so, a delicate mouth, a face of an agreeable
oval,--all made his presence pleasing and desirable. It cost some
trouble to reach him His two _Famuli_ appeared like priests who guard a
sanctuary, the access to which is not permitted to everybody, nor at
every time; and such a precaution was very necessary: for he would have
sacrificed his whole time, had he been willing to receive and satisfy
all those who wished to become intimate with him.

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

It was soon quite as bad with the law lectures: for I already knew
just as much as the professor thought good to 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 for ever in my memory. The harm
which is done when young people at school are advanced too far in many
things, was afterwards manifested still more when time and attention
were diverted from exercises in the languages, and a foundation in what
are, properly speaking, preparatory studies, in order to be applied to
what are called "Realities," which dissipate more than they cultivate,
if they 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 moreover, it 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 himself. Among the oldest professors, on the contrary, many are for
a long time stationary; they deliver on the whole only fixed views,
and, in the details, much that time has already condemned as useless
and false. Between the two arises a sad conflict, in which young minds
are dragged hither and thither, and which can scarcely be set right by
the middle-aged professors, who, though sufficiently instructed and
cultivated, always feel within themselves an active endeavour after
knowledge and reflection.

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

[Side-note: Domestic Tailoring.]

My father, who detested nothing so much as when something happened in
vain, when any one did not know how to make use of his time, or found
no opportunity for turning it to account, carried his economy of time
and abilities so far, that nothing gave him greater pleasure than to
kill two birds with one stone.[2] He had therefore never engaged a
servant who could not be useful to the house in something else. Now, as
he had always written everything with his own hand, and had, latterly,
the convenience of dictating to the young inmate of the house, he
found it most advantageous to have tailors for his domestics, who were
obliged to make good use of their time, as they not only had to make
their own liveries, but the clothes for my father and the children,
besides doing all the mending. My father himself took pains to have the
best cloths and stuffs, by getting fine wares of the foreign merchants
at the fair, and laying them up in store. I still remember well that
he always visited the Herrn von Löwenicht, of Aix-la-Chapelle, and
from my earliest youth made me acquainted with these and other eminent
merchants.

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

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

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

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

[Side-note: Provincial Dialect.]

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

Every one who perceives in this the influence which men and women
of education, the learned, and other persons who take pleasure in
refined society, so decidedly exercise over a young student, would
be immediately convinced that we were in Leipzig, even if it had not
been mentioned. Each one of the German universities has a particular
character: for, as no universal cultivation can pervade our fatherland,
every place adheres to its own fashion, and carries out, even to the
last, its own characteristic peculiarities; exactly the same thing
holds good of the universities. In Jena and Halle roughness had been
carried to the highest pitch: bodily strength, skill in fighting, the
wildest self-help was there the order of the day; and such a state of
affairs can only be maintained and propagated by the most universal
riot. The relations of the students to the inhabitants of those cities,
various as they might be, nevertheless agreed in this, that the wild
stranger had no regard for the citizen, and looked upon himself as a
peculiar being, privileged to all sorts of freedom and insolence. In
Leipzig, on the contrary, a student could scarcely be anything else
than polite, as soon as he wished to stand on any footing at all with
the rich, well-bred, and punctilious inhabitants.

All politeness, indeed, when it does not present itself as the
flowering of a great and comprehensive mode of life, must appear
restrained, stationary, and from some points of view, perhaps, absurd;
and so those wild huntsmen from the Saale[3] thought they had a great
superiority over the tame shepherds on the Pleisse.[4] Zachariä's
_Renommist_ will always be a valuable document, from which the manner
of life and thought at that time rises visibly forth; as in general
his poems must be welcome to every one who wishes to form for himself
a conception of the then prevailing state of social life and manners,
which was indeed feeble, but amiable on account of its innocence and
childlike simplicity.

All manners which result from the given relations of a common existence
are indestructible, and, in my time, many things still reminded us
of Zachariä's epic poem. Only one of our fellow-academicians thought
himself rich and independent enough to snap his fingers at public
opinion. He drank acquaintance with all the hackney-coachmen, whom he
allowed to sit inside the coach as if they were gentlemen, while he
drove them on the box, thought it a great joke to upset them now and
then, and contrived to satisfy them for their smashed vehicles as well
as for their occasional bruises; but otherwise he did no harm to any
one, seeming only to make a mock of the public _en masse._ Once, on a
most beautiful promenade-day, he and a comrade of his seized upon the
donkeys of the miller in St. Thomas's-square; well-dressed, and in
their shoes and stockings, they rode around the city with the greatest
solemnity, stared at by all the promenaders, with whom the glacis was
swarming. When some sensible persons remonstrated with him on the
subject, he assured them, quite unembarrassed, that he only wanted to
see how the Lord Christ might have looked in a like case. Yet he found
no imitators, and few companions.

[Side-note: Student-life at Leipzig.]

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[5] exhibited
a model of French manners. The professors, opulent both from their
private property and from their liberal salaries, were not dependent
upon their scholars, and many subjects of the state, educated at the
Government schools or other gymnasia, and hoping for preferment, did
not venture to throw off the traditional customs. The neighbourhood
of Dresden, the attention paid to us from thence, and the true piety
of the superintendent of the course of study, could not be without a
moral, nay, a religious influence.

At first this kind of life was not repugnant to me; my letters of
introduction had given me the _entrée_ 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
improvement I had promised myself from my academical residence, I began
to be lazy, and to neglect the social duties of visiting, and other
attentions, and indeed I should have sooner withdrawn from all such
connexions, had not fear and esteem bound me fast to Hofrath Böhme,
and confidence and affection to his wife. The husband, unfortunately,
had not the happy gift of dealing with young people, of winning their
confidence, and of guiding them, for the moment, as occasion might