modern languages and their literature, and wrote an excellent hand.
He was very well disposed to me, and I, having been always accustomed
and inclined to the society of older persons, soon attached myself to
him. My intercourse, too, served him for a special amusement, since he
took pleasure in taming my restlessness and impatience, with which, on
the other hand, I gave him enough to do. In the art of poetry he had
what is called taste, a certain general opinion about the good and bad,
the mediocre and tolerable; but his judgment was rather censorious,
and he destroyed even the little faith in contemporary writers which I
cherished within me, by unfeeling remarks, which he knew how to advance
with wit and humour, about the writings and poems of this man and that.
He received my own affairs with indulgence, and let me have my way, but
only on the condition that I should have nothing printed. He promised
me, on the other hand, that he himself would copy those pieces which he
thought good, and would present me with them in a handsome volume. This
undertaking now afforded an opportunity for the greatest possible waste
of time. For before he could find the right paper, before he could
make up his mind as to the size, before he had settled the breadth of
the margin, and the form of handwriting, before the crow-quills were
provided and cut into pens, and Indian ink was rubbed, whole weeks
passed, without the least bit having been done. With just as much ado
he always set about his writing, and really, by degrees, put together
a most charming manuscript. The title of the poems was in German text,
the verses themselves in a perpendicular Saxon hand, and at the end
of every poem was an analogous vignette, which he had either selected
somewhere or other, or had invented himself, and in which he contrived
to imitate very neatly the hatching of the wood-cuts and tail-pieces
which are used for such purposes. To show me these things as he went
on, to celebrate beforehand in a comico-pathetical manner my good
fortune in seeing myself immortalized in such exquisite handwriting,
and that in a style which no printing-press could attain, gave another
occasion for passing the most agreeable hours. In the meantime, his
intercourse was always secretly instructive, by reason of his liberal
acquirements, and, as he knew how to subdue my restless impetuous
disposition, was also quite wholesome for me in a moral sense. He had,
too, quite a peculiar abhorrence of roughness, and his jests were
always quaint, without ever falling into the coarse or the trivial.
He indulged himself in a distorted aversion from his countrymen, and
described with ludicrous touches even what they were able to undertake.
He was particularly inexhaustible in a comical representation of
individual persons, as he found something to find fault with in the
exterior of every one. Thus, when we lay together at the window, he
could occupy himself for hours criticising the passers-by, and when he
had censured them long enough, in showing exactly and circumstantially
how they ought to have dressed themselves, ought to have walked, and
ought to have behaved to look like orderly people. Such attempts, for
the most part, ended in something improper and absurd, so that we did
not so much laugh at how the man looked, but at how, perchance, he
might have looked, had he been mad enough to caricature himself. In
all such matters, Behrisch went quite unmercifully to work, without
being in the slightest degree malicious. On the other hand, we knew
how to teaze him, on our side, by assuring him that, to judge from his
exterior, he must be taken, if not for a French dancing-master, at
least for the academical teacher of the language. This reproval was
usually the signal for dissertations an hour long, in which he used to
set forth the difference, wide as the heavens, which there was between
him and an old Frenchman. At the same time he commonly imputed to us
all sorts of awkward attempts, that we might possibly have made for the
alteration and modification of his wardrobe.
The direction of my poetizing, which I only carried on the more
zealously as the transcript went on becoming more beautiful and more
careful, now inclined altogether to the natural and the true; and if
the subjects could not always be important, I nevertheless always
endeavoured to express them clearly and pointedly, the more so as
my friend often gave me to understand, what a great thing it was to
write down a verse on Dutch paper, with the crow-quill and Indian
ink; what time, talent, and exertion it required, which ought not to
be squandered on anything empty and superfluous. At the same time, he
commonly used to open a finished parcel and circumstantially to explain
what ought not to stand in this or that place, or congratulate us that
it actually did not stand there. He then spoke, with great contempt, of
the art of printing, mimicked the compositor, ridiculed his gestures
and his hurried picking out of letters here and there, and derived from
this manœuvre all the calamities of literature. On the other hand, he
extolled the grace and the noble posture of a writer, and immediately
sat down himself to exhibit it to us, while he rated us at the same
time for not demeaning ourselves at the writing-table precisely after
his example and model. He now returned to the contrast with the
compositor, turned a begun letter upside down, and showed how unseemly
it would be to write anything from the bottom to the top, or from the
right to the left, with other things of like kind with which whole
volumes might have been,filled.
With such harmless fooleries we lavished away our precious time, while
it could have occurred to none of us, that anything would chance to
proceed out of our circle, which would awaken a general sensation and
bring us into not the best repute.
[Side-note: Professor Clodius.]
Gellert may have taken little pleasure in his _Practicum_, and if,
perhaps, he took pleasure in giving some directions as to prose and
poetical style, he did it most privately only to a few, among whom we
could not number ourselves. Professor Clodius thought to fill the gap
which thus arose in the public instruction. He had gained some renown
in literature, criticism, and poetry, and as a young, lively, obliging
man, found many friends both in the university and in the city. Gellert
himself referred us to the lectures now commenced by him, and, as far
as the principal matter was concerned, we remarked little difference.
He, too, only criticised details, corrected likewise with red ink, and
one found oneself in company with mere blunders, without a prospect as
to where the right was to be sought. I had brought to him some of my
little labours, which he did not treat harshly. But just at this time
they wrote to me from home, that I must without fail furnish a poem for
my uncle's wedding. I felt myself far from that light and frivolous
period in which a similar thing would have given me pleasure, and since
I could get nothing out of the actual circumstance itself, I determined
to trick out my work in the best manner, with extraneous ornament.
I therefore convened all Olympus to consult about the marriage of a
Frankfort lawyer; and seriously enough, to be sure, as well became the
festival of such an honourable man. Venus and Themis had quarrelled for
his sake; but a roguish prank which Amor played the latter, gained the
suit for the former, and the gods decided in favour of the marriage.
My work by no means displeased me. I received from home a handsome
letter in its praise, took the trouble to have another fair copy, and
hoped to extort some applause from my professor also. But here I had
missed my aim. He took the matter severely, and as he did not notice
the tone of parody, which nevertheless lay in the notion, he declared
the great expenditure of divine means for such an insignificant human
end, in the highest degree reprehensible; inveighed against the use
and abuse of such mythological figures, as a false habit originating
in pedantic times; found the expression now too high, now too low, and
in divers particulars had indeed not spared the red ink, though he
asserted that he had yet done too little.
Such pieces were read out and criticised anonymously, it is true;
but we used to watch each other, and it remained no secret that this
unfortunate assembly of the gods was my work. Yet since his critique,
when I took his point of view, seemed to be perfectly just, and those
divinities more nearly inspected were in fact only hollow shadow-forms;
I cursed all Olympus, flung the whole mythic Pantheon away, and from
that time Amor and Luna have been the only divinities which at all
appear in my little poems.
[Side-note: Ridicule of Clodius.]
Among the persons whom Behrisch had chosen as the butts of his wit,
Clodius stood just at the head; nor was it hard to find a comical side
in him. As a little, rather stout, thick-set figure, he was violent
in his motions, somewhat impetuous in his utterances, and restless
in his demeanour. In all this he differed from his fellow-citizens,
who, nevertheless, willingly put up with him on account of his good
qualities and the fine promise which he gave.
He was usually commissioned with the poems which had become necessary
on festal occasions. In the so-called _Ode_, he followed the manner
used by Ramler, whom, however, it alone suited. But Clodius, as an
imitator, had especially marked the foreign words by means of which
the poems of Ramler come forth with a majestic pomp, which, because
it is conformable to the greatness of his subject and the rest of his
poetic treatment, produces a very good effect on the ear, feelings,
and imagination. In Clodius, on the contrary, these expressions had
a heterogeneous air, since his poetry was in other respects not
calculated to elevate the mind in any manner.
Now we had often been obliged to see such poems printed and highly
lauded in our presence, and we found it highly offensive, that he who
had sequestered the heathen gods from us, now wished to hammer together
another ladder to Parnassus out of Greek and Roman word-rungs. These
oft-recurring expressions stamped themselves firmly on our memory,
and in a merry hour, when we were eating some most excellent cakes in
the Kitchen-gardens (_Kohlgärten_), it all at once struck me to put
together these words of might and power, in a poem on the cake-baker
Hendel. No sooner thought than done! And let it stand here, too, as it
was written on the wall of the house with a lead-pencil.
"O Hendel, dessen Ruhm vom _Süd_ zum _Norden_ reicht,
Vernimm den _Päan_ der zu deinen Ohren steigt
Du bäckst was _Gallien_ und _Britten_ emsig suchen,
Mit _schöpfrischen Genie, originelle_ Kuchen.
Des Kaffee's _Ocean_, der sich vor dir ergiesst,
Ist süsser als der Saft der vom _Hymettus_ fliesst.
Dein Haus ein _Monument_, wie wir den Künsten lohnen
Umhangen mit _Trophän_, erzählt den _Nationen_:
Auch ohne _Diadem_ fand Hendel hier sein Glück
Und raubte dem _Cothurn_ gur manch Achtgroschenstück.
Glänzt deine _Urn_ dereinst in majestäts'chen _Pompe_,
Dann weint der _Patriot_ un deinem _Katacomhe._
Doch leb! dein _Torus_ sey von edler Brut ein _Nest_,
Steh'hoch wie der _Olymp_, wie der _Parnassus_ fest!
Kein _Phalanx_ Griechenland mit Römischen _Ballisten_
Vermög _Germanien_ und Hendel zu verwüsten.
Dein _Wohl_ is unser _Stolz_, dein _Leiden_ unser _Schmerz
Und_ Hendel's _Tempel ist der Musensöhne Herz._"[5]
This poem stood a long time among many others which disfigured the
walls of that room, without being noticed, and we, who had sufficiently
amused ourselves with it, forgot it altogether amongst other things. A
long time afterwards, Clodius came out with his _Medon_, whose wisdom,
magnanimity and virtue we found infinitely ridiculous, much as the
first representation of the piece was applauded. That evening, when we
met together in the wine-house, I made a prologue in doggerel verse,
in which Harlequin steps out with two great sacks, places them on each
side of the _proscenium_, and after various preliminary jokes, tells
the spectators in confidence, that in the two sacks moral æsthetic**
dust is to be found, which the actors will very frequently throw
into their eyes. One, to wit, was filled with good deeds, that cost
nothing, and the other with splendidly expressed opinions, that had
no meaning behind them. He reluctantly withdrew, and sometimes came
back, earnestly exhorted the spectators to attend to his warning and
shut their eyes, reminded them that he had always been their friend,
and meant well with them, with many more things of the kind. This
prologue was acted in the room, on the spot, by friend Horn, but the
jest remained quite among ourselves, not even a copy had been taken,
and the paper was soon lost. However, Horn, who had performed the
Harlequin very prettily, took it into his head to enlarge my poem to
Hendel by several verses, and then to make it refer to _Medon._ He
read it aloud to us, and we could not take any pleasure in it, for
we did not find the additions even ingenious, while the first poem,
being written for quite a different purpose, seemed to us disfigured.
Our friend, out of humour at our indifference, or rather censure, may
have shown it to others, who found it new and amusing. Copies were now
made of it, to which the reputation of Clodius's _Medon_ gave at once
a rapid publicity. Universal disapproval was the consequence, and the
originators (it was soon found out that the poem had proceeded from our
clique) were severely censured: for nothing of the sort had been seen
since Cronegk's and Rost's** attacks upon Gottsched. We had besides
already secluded ourselves, and now found ourselves quite in the case
of the owl with respect to the other birds. In Dresden, too, they did
not like the affair, and it had for us serious, if not unpleasant
consequences. For some time, already, Count Lindenau had not been quite
satisfied with his son's tutor. For, although the young man was by no
means neglected, and Behrisch kept himself either in the chamber of the
young Count, or at least close to it, when the instructors gave their
daily lessons, regularly frequented the lectures with him, never went
out in the day-time without him, and accompanied him in all his walks;
yet the rest of us were always to be found in Apel's house, and joined
them whenever they went on a pleasure ramble; this already excited some
attention. Behrisch, too, accustomed himself to our society, and at
last, towards nine o'clock in the evenings, generally transferred his
pupil into the hands of the _valet de chambre_, and went in quest of
us to the wine-house, whither, however, he never used to come but in
shoes and stockings, with his sword by his side, and commonly his hat
under his arm. The jokes and fooleries, which he generally started,
went on _ad infinitum._ Thus, for instance, one of our friends had a
habit of going away precisely at ten, because he had a connexion with a
pretty girl, with whom he could converse only at that hour. We did not
like to lose him; and one evening, when we sat very happily together,
Behrisch secretly determined that he would not let him off this time.
At the stroke of ten, the other arose and took leave. Behrisch called
after him and begged him to wait a moment, as he was just going with
him. He now began, in the most amusing manner, first to look after his
sword, which stood just before his eyes, and in buckling it on behaved
awkwardly, so that he could never accomplish it. He did this, too, so
naturally, that no one took offence at it. But when, to vary the theme,
he at last went further, so that the sword came now on the right side,
now between his legs, an universal laughter arose, in which the man in
a hurry, who was likewise a merry fellow, chimed in, and let Behrisch
have his own way till the happy hour was past, when, for the first
time, there followed general pleasure and agreeable conversation till
deep into the night.
[Side-note: Eccentricities of Behrisch.]
Unfortunately Behrisch, and we through him, had a certain other
propensity for some girls who were better than their reputation; by
which our own reputation could not be improved. We had often been seen
in their garden, and we directed our walks thither, even when the young
Count was with us. All this may have been treasured up, and at last
communicated to his father; enough, he sought, in a gentlemanly manner,
to get rid of the tutor, to whom the event proved fortunate. His good
exterior, his knowledge and talents, his integrity, which no one could
call in question, had won him the affection and esteem of distinguished
persons, on whose recommendation he was appointed tutor to the
hereditary prince of Dessau; and at the court of a prince, excellent in
every respect, found a solid happiness.
The loss of a friend like Behrisch was of the greatest consequence to
me. He had** spoiled, while he cultivated me, and his presence was
necessary, if the pains he had thought good to spend upon me were in
any degree to bring forth fruit for society. He knew how to engage
me in all kinds of pretty and agreeable things, in whatever was just
appropriate, and to bring out my social talents. But as I had gained
no self-dependence in such things, so when I was alone again, I
immediately relapsed into my confused and crabbed disposition, which
always increased, the more discontented I was with those about me,
since I fancied that they were not contented with me. With the most
arbitrary caprice, I took offence at what I might have reckoned as an
advantage to me; thus alienated many with whom I had hitherto stood
on a tolerable footing; and, on account of the many disagreeable
consequences which I had drawn on myself and others, whether by doing
or leaving undone, by doing too much or too little, was obliged to
hear the remark from my well-wishers, that I lacked experience. The
same thing was told me by every person of sound sense who saw my
productions, especially when these referred to the external world.
I observed this as well as I could, but found in it little that was
edifying, and was still forced to add enough of my own to make it only
tolerable. I had often pressed my friend Behrisch, too, that he would
make plain to me what experience might be? But, because he was full
of nonsense, he put me off with fair words from one day to another,
and at last, after great preparations, disclosed to me, that true
experience was properly when one experiences how an experienced man
must experience in experiencing his experience. Now when we scolded
him outrageously, and called him to account for this, he assured us
that a great mystery lay hidden behind these words, which we could not
comprehend until we had experienced ... and so on without end;--for
it cost him nothing to talk on in that way by the quarter of an hour
since the experience would always become more experienced and at last
come to true experience. When we were falling into despair at such
fooleries, he protested that he had learned this way of making himself
intelligible and impressive from the latest and greatest authors, who
had made us observe how one can rest a restful rest, and how silence,
in being silent, can constantly become more silent.
[Side-note: What is Experience?]
By chance an officer, who came among us on furlough, was praised in
good company as a remarkable sound-minded and experienced man, who
had fought through the Seven Years' War, and had gained universal
confidence. It was not difficult for me to approach him, and we often
went walking with each other. The idea of experience had almost become
fixed in my brain, and the craving to make it clear to me passionate.
Open-hearted as I was, I disclosed to him the uneasiness in which I
found myself. He smiled, and was kind enough to tell me, as an answer
to my question, something of his own life, and generally of the world
immediately about us; from which, indeed, little better was to be
gathered than that experience convinces us that our best thoughts,
wishes and designs are unattainable, and that he who fosters such
vagaries and advances them with eagerness, is especially held to be an
inexperienced man.
[Side-note: What is Experience?]
Yet, as he was a gallant, good fellow, he assured me that he had
himself not quite given up these vagaries, and felt himself tolerably
well off with the little faith, love, and hope which remained. He
then felt obliged to tell me a great deal about war, about the sort
of life in the field, about skirmishes and battles, especially so
far as he had taken part in them; when these vast events, by being
considered in relation to a single individual, gained a very marvellous
aspect. I then led him on to an open narration of the late situation
of the court, which seemed to me quite like a tale. I heard of the
bodily strength of Augustus the Second, of his many children and his
vast expenses, then of his successor's love of art and of making
collections, of Count Brühl and his boundless love of magnificence,
which in detail appeared almost absurd, of his numerous banquets and
gorgeous amusements, which were all cut off by Frederick's invasion of
Saxony. The royal castles now lay in ruins, Brühl's splendours were
annihilated, and, of the whole, a glorious land, much injured alone
remained.
When he saw me astonished at that mad enjoyment of fortune, and then
grieved by the calamity that followed, and informed me that one expects
from an experienced man exactly this, that he shall be astonished at
neither the one nor the other, nor take too lively an interest in them,
I felt a great desire still to remain awhile in the same inexperience
as hitherto; in which desire he strengthened me, and very urgently
entreated me, for the present at least, always to cling to agreeable
experiences, and to try to avoid those that were disagreeable as much
as possible, if they should intrude themselves upon me. But once, when
the discussion was again about experience in general, and I related to
him those ludicrous phrases of my friend Behrisch, he shook his head,
smiling, and said, "There, one sees how it is with words which are only
once uttered! These sound so comical, nay, so silly, that it would
seem almost impossible to put a rational meaning into them; and yet,
perhaps, the attempt might be made."
And when I pressed him, he replied in his intelligent, cheerful
manner, "If you will allow me, while commenting on and completing
your friend, to go on after his fashion, think he meant to say, that
experience is nothing else than that one experiences what one does not
wish to experience; which is what it amounts to for the most part, at
least in this world."
[1] "Die Laune des Verliebten," translated as _The Lover's Caprice_,
see p. 241
Footnote 2: "_Exposition_," in a dramatic sense, properly means a
statement of the events which take place before the action of the play
commences.--_Trans._]
[3] The real meaning of the passage is that the idiom "Possen reissen,"
used also with the university word "Suite," so that one can say "Suiten
reissen."--_Trans_.
[4] The lecture-room. The word is also used in university language to
denote a professor's audience.
[5] The humour of the above consists, not in the thoughts, but in the
particular words employed. These have no remarkable effect in English,
as to us the words of Latin origin are often as familiar as those
which have Teutonic roots, and these form the chief peculiarity of the
style. We have therefore given the poem in the original language, with
the peculiar words (as indicated by Goethe) in italics, and subjoin a
literal translation. It will be observed that we have said that the
peculiarity consists _chiefly_, not _solely_, in the use of the foreign
words, for there are two or three instances of unquestionably German
words, which are italicised on account of their high-sounding pomp.
"Oh Hendel, whose fame extends from _south_ to _north_, hear the
_Pæan_ which ascends to thine ears. Thou bakest that which _Gauls_
and _Britons_ industriously seek, (thou bakest) with _creative genius
original_ cakes. The _ocean_ of coffee which pours itself out before
thee, is sweeter than the juice which flows from _Hymettus._ Thy house,
a _monument_, how we reward the arts, hung round with _trophies_, tells
the _nations_: 'Even without a _diadem_, Hendel formed his fortune
here, and robbed the _Cothurnus_ of many an eight-groschen-piece.'
When thine _urn_ shines hereafter in majestic _pomp_, then will the
_patriot_ weep at thy _catacomb._ But live! let thy bed (_torus_)
be the _nest_ of a noble brood, stand high as _Olympus_, and firm
as _Parnassus._ May no _phalanx_ of Greece with Roman _ballistæ_ be
able to destroy _Germania_ and Hendel. Thy _weal_ is our _pride_, thy
_suffering_ our _pain_, and Hendel's _temple_ is the _heart_ of the
_sons of the Muses._"--_Trans._
EIGHTH BOOK.
[Side-note: Oeser.]