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.