convince themselves, received great applause. Each of them visited
alone the place described, without confiding it to me or the others,
and discovered the nut-trees, the tablet, and the spring, though
always at a distance from each other; as they at last confessed to me
afterwards, because it is not easy to conceal a secret at that early
age. But here the contest first arose. One asserted that the objects
did not stir from the spot and always maintained the same distance: a
second averred that they did move, and that too away from each other:
a third agreed with the latter as to the first point of their moving,
though it seemed to him that the nut-tree, tablet, and fountain rather
drew near together: while a fourth had something still more wonderful
to announce, which was, that the nut-trees were in the middle, but that
the tablet and the fountain were on sides opposite to those which I had
stated. With respect to the traces of the little door they also varied.
And thus they furnished me an early instance of the contradictory news
men can hold and maintain in regard to matters quite simple and easily
cleared up. As I obstinately refused the continuation of my tale, a
repetition of the first part was often desired. I was on my guard,
however, not to change the circumstances much, and by the uniformity
of the narrative I converted the fable into truth in the minds of my
hearers.
Yet I was averse to falsehood and dissimulation, and altogether by
no means frivolous. Rather, on the contrary, the inward earnestness
with which I had early begun to consider myself and the world, was
seen even in my exterior, and I was frequently called to account,
often in a friendly way, and often in raillery, for a certain dignity
which I had assumed. For, although good and chosen friends were
certainly not wanting to me, we were always a minority against those
who found pleasure in assailing us with wanton rudeness, and who
indeed often awoke us in no gentle fashion from that legendary and
self-complacent dreaming in which we--I by inventing, and my companions
by sympathising--were too readily absorbed. Thus we learned once more,
that instead of sinking into effeminacy and fantastic delights, there
was reason rather for hardening ourselves, in order either to bear or
to counteract inevitable evils.
[Side-note: Juvenile Stoicism.]
Among the stoical exercises which I cultivated, as earnestly as it
was possible for a lad, was even the endurance of bodily pain. Our
teachers often treated us very unkindly and unskilfully, with blows and
cuffs, against which we hardened ourselves all the more as obstinacy
was forbidden under the severest penalties. A great many of the sports
of youth, moreover, depend on a rivalry in such endurances; as, for
instance, when they strike each other alternately, with two fingers
or the whole fist, till the limbs are numbed, or when they bear
the penalty of blows, incurred in certain games, with more or less
firmness; when in wrestling or scuffling they do not let themselves
be perplexed by the pinches of a half-conquered opponent; or finally,
when they suppress the pain inflicted for the sake of teasing, and even
treat with indifference the nips and ticklings with which young persons
are so active towards each other. Thus we gain a great advantage, of
which others cannot speedily deprive us.
But as I made a sort of boast of this impassiveness, the importunity
of the others was increased; and, since rude barbarity, knows no
limits, it managed to force me beyond my bounds. Let one case suffice
for several. It happened once that the teacher did not come for the
usual hour of instruction. As long as we children were all together,
we entertained ourselves quite agreeably; but when my adherents, after
waiting long enough, went away, and I remained alone with three of my
enemies, these took it into their heads to torment me, to shame me,
and to drive me away. Having left me an instant in the room, they came
back with switches, which they had made by quickly cutting up a broom.
I noted their design, and as I supposed the end of the hour near, I at
once resolved not to resist them till the clock struck. They began,
therefore, without remorse, to lash my legs and calves in the cruellest
fashion. I did not stir, but soon felt that I had miscalculated, and
that such pain greatly lengthened the minutes. My wrath grew with my
endurance, and at the first stroke of the hour, I grasped the one who
least expected it by the hair behind, hurled him to the earth in an
instant, pressing my knee upon his back; the second, a younger and
weaker ore, who attacked me from behind, I drew by the head under my
arm, and almost throttled him with the pressure. The last, and not the
weakest, still remained; and my left hand only was left for my defence.
But I seized him by the clothes, and with a dexterous twist on my part,
and an over precipitate one on his, I brought him down and struck his
face on the ground. They were not wanting in bites, pinches, and kicks,
but I had nothing but revenge in my limbs as well as in my heart. With
the advantage which I had acquired, I repeatedly knocked their heads
together. At last they raised a dreadful shout of murder, and were
were soon surrounded by all the inmates of the house. The switches
scattered around, and my legs, which I had bared of the stockings, soon
bore witness for me. They put off the punishment, and let me leave the
house; but I declared that in future, on the slightest offence, I would
scratch out the eyes, tear off the ears, of any one of them, if not
throttle him.
This event, though, as usually happens in childish affairs, it was
soon forgotten, and even laughed over, was yet the cause that these
instructions in common became fewer, and at last entirely ceased. I was
thus again, as formerly, kept more at home, where I found my sister
Cornelia, who was only one year younger than myself, a companion always
growing more agreeable.
Still, I will not leave this topic without narrating some more stories
of the many vexations caused me by my playfellows; for this is the
instructive part of such moral communications, that a man may learn how
it has gone with others, and what he also has to expect from life; and
that whatever comes to pass, he may consider that it happens to him
as a man, and not as one specially fortunate or unfortunate. If such
knowledge is of little use for avoiding evils, it is very serviceable
so far as it qualifies us to understand our condition, and bear or even
to overcome it.
Another general remark will not be out of place here, which is, that as
the children of the cultivated classes grow up, a great contradiction
appears. I refer to the fact, that they are urged and trained, by
parents and teachers, to deport themselves moderately, intelligently,
and even wisely; to give pain to no one from petulance or arrogance,
and to suppress all the evil impulses which may be developed in them;
but yet, on the other hand, while the young creatures are engaged in
this discipline, they have to suffer from others that which in them
is reprimanded and punished. In this way, the poor things are brought
into a sad strait between the natural and civilised states, and after
restraining themselves for a while, break out according to their
characters into cunning or violence.
[Side-note: Rudeness of Juvenile Companions.]
Force is rather to be put down by force; but a well-disposed child,
inclined to love and sympathy, has little to oppose to scorn and
ill-will. Though I managed pretty well to keep off the active assaults
of my companions, I was by no means equal to them in sarcasm and abuse;
because he who merely defends himself in such cases, is always a loser.
Attacks of this sort, consequently, when they went so far as to excite
anger, were repelled with physical force, or at least excited strange
reflections in me, which could not be without results. Among other
advantages which my ill-wishers grudged me, was the pleasure I took in
the relations that accrued to the family from my grandfather's position
of Schultheiss, since, as he was the first of his class, this had no
small effect on those belonging to him. Once, when after the holding
of the Piper's-court, I appeared to pride myself on having seen my
grandfather in the midst of the council, one step higher than the rest,
enthroned, as it were, under the portrait of the Emperor, one of the
boys said to me in derision, that like the peacock contemplating his
feet, I should cast my eyes back to my paternal grandfather, who had
been keeper of the Willow-inn, and would never have aspired to thrones
and coronets. I replied that I was in no wise ashamed of that, as it
was the glory and honour of our native city that all its citizens might
consider each other equal, and every one derive profit and honour
from his exertions in his own way. I was sorry only that the good man
had been so long dead; for I had often yearned to know him in person,
had many times gazed upon his likeness, nay, had visited his tomb,
and had at least derived pleasure from the inscription on the simple
monument of that past existence to which I was indebted for my own.
Another ill-wisher, who was the most malicious of all, took the first
aside, and whispered something in his ear, while they still looked at
me scornfully. My gall already began to rise, and I challenged them to
speak out. "What is more, then, if you will have it," continued the
first, "this one thinks you might go looking about a long time before
you could find your grandfather!" I now threatened them more vehemently
if they did not more clearly explain themselves. Thereupon they brought
forward an old story, which they pretended to have overheard from their
parents, that my father was the son of some eminent man, while that
good citizen had shown himself willing to take outwardly the paternal
office. They had the impudence to produce all sorts of arguments; as,
for example, that our property came exclusively from our grandmother,
that the other collateral relations, who lived in Friedburg and other
places, were all alike destitute of property, and other reasons of the
sort, which could merely derive their weight from malice. I listened to
them more composedly than they expected, for they stood ready to fly
the very moment that I should make a gesture as if I would seize their
hair. But I replied quite calmly, and in substance, "that even this was
no great injury to me. Life was such a boon, that one might be quite
indifferent as to whom one had to thank for it, since at least it must
be derived from God, before whom we all were equals." As they could
make nothing of it, they let the matter drop for this time; we went on
playing together as before, which among children is an approved mode of
reconciliation.
[Side-note: Goethe's Reputed Grandfather.]
Still those spiteful words inoculated me with a sort of moral disease,
which crept on in secret. It would not have displeased me at all to
have been the grandson of any person of consideration, even if it had
not been in the most lawful way. My acuteness followed up the scent--my
imagination was excited, and my sagacity put in requisition. I began to
investigate the allegation, and invented or found for it new grounds of
probability. I had heard little said of my grandfather, except that his
likeness, together with my grandmother's, had hung in a parlour of the
old house; both of which, after the building of the new one, had been
kept in an upper chamber. My grandmother must have been a very handsome
woman, and of the same age as her husband. I remembered, also, to have
seen in her room the miniature of a handsome gentleman in uniform,
with star and order, which, after her death, and during the confusion
of house-building, had disappeared with many other small pieces of
furniture. These, and many other things, I put together in my childish
head, and exercised that modern poetical talent which contrives to
obtain the sympathies of the whole cultivated world by a marvellous
combination of the important events of human life.
But as I did not venture to trust such an affair to any one, or even
to ask the most remote questions concerning it, I was not wanting in
a secret diligence, in order to get, if possible somewhat nearer to
the matter. I had heard it explicitly maintained, that sons often
bore a decided resemblance to their fathers or grandfathers. Many of
our friends, especially Councillor Schneider, a friend of the family,
were connected by business with all the princes and noblemen of the
neighbourhood, of whom, including both the ruling and the younger
branches, not a few had estates on the Rhine and Maine, and in the
intermediate country, and who at times honoured their faithful agents
with their portraits. These, which I had often seen on the walls from
my infancy, I now regarded with redoubled attention, seeking whether I
could not detect some resemblance to my father or even to myself, which
too often happened to lead me to any degree of certainty. For now it
was the eyes of this, now the nose of that, which seemed to indicate
some relationship. Thus these marks led me delusively backwards and
forwards; and though in the end I was compelled to regard the reproach
as a completely empty tale, the impression remained, and I could not
from time to time refrain from privately calling up and testing all the
noblemen whose images had remained very clear in my fancy. So true is
it that whatever inwardly confirms man in his self conceit, or flatters
his secret vanity, is so highly desirable to him, that he does not ask
further, whether in other respects it may turn to his honour or his
disgrace.
But instead of mingling here serious and even reproachful reflections,
I rather turn my look away from those beautiful times; for who is
able to speak worthily of the fulness of childhood? We cannot behold
the little creatures which flit about before us otherwise than-with
delight, nay, with admiration; for they generally promise more than
they perform, and it seems that nature, among the other roguish tricks
that she plays us, here also especially designs to make sport of us.
The first organs she bestows upon children coming into the world, are
adapted to the nearest immediate condition of the creature, which,
unassuming and artless, makes use of them in the readiest way for its
present purposes. The child, considered in and for itself, with its
equals, and in relations suited to its powers, seems so intelligent
and rational, and at the same time so easy, cheerful, and clever,
that one can hardly wish it further cultivation. If children grew up
according to early indications, we should have nothing but geniuses;
but growth is not merely development; the various organic systems which
constitute one man, spring one from another, follow each other, change
into each other, supplant each other, and even consume each other; so
that after a time scarcely a trace is to be found of many aptitudes and
manifestations of ability. Even when the talents of the man have on the
whole a decided direction, it will be hard for the greatest and most
experienced connoisseur to declare them beforehand with confidence,
although afterwards it is easy to remark what has pointed to a future.
By no means, therefore, is it my design wholly to comprise the stories
of my childhood in these first books; but I will rather afterwards
resume and continue many a thread which ran through the early years
unnoticed. Here, however, I must remark what an increasing influence
the incidents of the war gradually exercised upon our sentiments and
mode of life.
The peaceful citizen stands in a wonderful relation to the great events
of the world. They already excite and disquiet him from a distance,
and even if they do not touch him, he can scarcely refrain from an
opinion and a sympathy. Soon he takes a side, as his character or
external circumstances may determine. But when such grand fatalities,
such important changes, draw nearer to him, then with many outward
inconveniences remains that inward discomfort, which doubles and
sharpens the evil and destroys the good which is still possible. Then
he has really to suffer from friends and foes, often more from those
than from these, and he knows not how to secure and preserve either his
interests or his inclinations.
[Side-note: Feelings of The Frankforters in 1757.]
The year 1757, which still passed in perfectly civic tranquillity,
kept us, nevertheless, in great uneasiness of mind. Perhaps no other
was more fruitful of events than this. Conquests, achievements,
misfortunes, restorations, followed one upon another, swallowed up and
seemed to destroy each other; yet the image of Frederick, his name and
glory, soon hovered again above all. The enthusiasm of his worshippers
grew always stronger and more animated, the hatred of his enemies more
bitter, and the diversity of opinion, which separated even families,
contributed not a little to isolate citizens, already sundered in many
ways and on other grounds. For in a city like Frankfort, where three
religions divide the inhabitants into three unequal masses, where
only a few men, even of the ruling faith, can attain to political
power, there must be many wealthy and educated persons who are thrown
back upon themselves, and, by means of studies and tastes, form for
themselves an individual and secluded existence. It will be necessary
for us to speak of such men, now and hereafter, if we are to bring
before us the peculiarities of a Frankfort citizen of that time.
My father, immediately after his return from his travels, had in his
own way formed the design, that to prepare himself for the service
of the city, he would undertake one of the subordinate offices, and
discharge its duties without emolument, if it were conferred upon
him without balloting. In the consciousness of his good intentions,
and according to his way of thinking and the conception which he had
of himself, he believed that he deserved such a distinction, which
indeed was not conformable to law or precedent. Consequently, when his
suit was rejected, he fell into ill-humour and disgust, vowed that he
would never accept of any place, and in order to render it impossible,
procured the title of Imperial Councillor, which the Schultheiss and
elder _Schöffen_ bear as a special honour. He had thus made himself an
equal of the highest, and could not begin again at the bottom. The same
impulse induced him also to woo the eldest daughter of the Schultheiss,
so that he was excluded from the council on this side also. He was now
of that number of recluses who never form themselves into a society.
They are as much isolated in respect to each other as they are in
regard to the whole, and the more so as in this seclusion the character
becomes more and more uncouth. My father, in his travels and in the
world which he had seen, might have formed some conception of a more
elegant and liberal mode of life than was, perhaps, common among his
fellow-citizens. In this respect, however, he was not entirely without
predecessors and associates.
The name of UFFENBACH is well known. At that time there was a Schöff
von Uffenbach, who was generally respected. He had been in Italy, had
applied himself particularly to music, sang an agreeable tenor, and
having brought home a fine collection of pieces, concerts and oratorios
were performed at his house. Now, as he sang in these himself, and held
musicians in great favour, it was not thought altogether suitable to
his dignity, and his invited guests, as well as the other people of the
country, allowed themselves many a jocose remark on the matter.
I remember, too, a BARON VON HAKEL, a rich nobleman, who being married,
but childless, occupied a charming house in the Antonius-street, fitted
up with all the appurtenances of a dignified position in life. He also
possessed good pictures, engravings, antiques, and much else which
generally accumulates with collectors and lovers of art. From time to
time he asked the more noted personages to dinner, and was beneficent
in a careful way of his own, since he clothed the poor in his own
house, but kept back their old rags, and gave them a weekly charity, on
condition that they should present themselves every time clean and neat
in the clothes bestowed on them. I can recall him but indistinctly, as
a genial, well-made man; but more clearly his auction, which I attended
from beginning to end, and, partly by command of my father, partly from
my own impulse, purchased many things that are still to be found in my
collections.
At an earlier date than this--so early that I scarcely set eyes upon
him--JOHN MICHAEL VON LOEN gained considerable repute in the literary
world, as well as at Frankfort Not a native of Frankfort, he settled
there, and married a sister of my grandmother Textor, whose maiden-name
was Lindheim. Familiar with the court and political world, and
rejoicing in a renewed title of nobility, he had acquired reputation by
daring to take part in the various excitements which arose in Church
and State. He wrote the _Count of Rivera_, a didactic romance, the
subject of which is made apparent by the second title, "or, the Honest
Man at Court." This work was well received, because it insisted on
morality even in courts, where prudence only is generally at home; and
thus his labour brought him applause and respect. A second work, for
that very reason, would be accompanied by more danger. He wrote _The
Only True Religion_, a book designed to advance tolerance, especially
between Lutherans and Calvinists. But here he got in a controversy
with the theologians: one Dr. Benner, of Giessen, in particular,
wrote against him. Von Loen rejoined; the contest grew violent and
personal, and the unpleasantness which arose from it caused him to
accept the office of President at Lingen, which Frederick II. offered
him, supposing that he was an enlightened, unprejudiced man, and not
averse to the new views that more extensively obtained in France. His
former countrymen, whom he left in some displeasure, averred that he
was not contented there, nay, could not be so, as a place like Lingen
was not to be compared with Frankfort. My father also doubted whether
the President would be happy, and asserted that the good uncle would
have done better not to connect himself with the king, as it was
generally hazardous to get too near him, extraordinary sovereign as
he undoubtedly was; for it had been seen how disgracefully the famous
Voltaire had been arrested in Frankfort, at the requisition of the
Prussian Resident Freitag, though he had formerly stood so high in
favour, and had been regarded as the king's teacher in French poetry.
There was no want, on such occasions, of reflections and examples,
to warn one against courts and princes' service, of which a native
Frankforter could scarcely form a conception.
[Side-note: Dr. Orth.]
An excellent man, Dr. ORTH, I will only mention by name, because here
I have not so much to erect a monument to the deserving citizens of
Frankfort, but rather refer to them so far forth as their renown or
personal character had some influence upon me in my earliest years.
Dr. Orth was a wealthy man, and was also of that number who never
took part in the government, although perfectly qualified to do so by
his knowledge and penetration. The antiquities of Germany, and more
especially of Frankfort, have been much indebted to him; he published
remarks on the so-called _Reformation of Frankfort_, a work in which
the statutes of the state are collected. The historical portions of
this book I diligently read in my youth.