everything that I possessed, to call to mind with pleasure how I came
by it, from whom I received it, whether it was by way of present,
exchange, or purchase, or in any other manner. I have accustomed
myself, in showing my collections, to mention the persons by whose
means I obtained each article, nay, even to do justice to the occasion,
to the accident, to the remotest cause and coincidence, by which
things which are dear and of value to me have become mine. That
which surrounds us thus receives a life; we see in it a spiritual
combination, full of love, reminding us of its origin; and, by thus
making past circumstances present to us, our momentary existence is
elevated and enriched, the originators of the gifts rise repeatedly
before the imagination, we connect with their image a pleasing
remembrance, ingratitude becomes impossible, and a return, on occasion,
becomes easy and desirable. At the same time, we are led to the
consideration of that which is not a possession palpable to the senses,
and we love to recapitulate to whom our higher endowments are to be
ascribed, and whence they take their date.
Before I turn my attention from that connexion with Herder, which was
so important and so rich in consequences for me, I find yet something
more to adduce. Nothing was more natural than that I should by degrees
become more and more reserved towards Herder, in communicating those
things which had hitherto contributed to my culture, but especially
such as still seriously occupied my attention at the moment. He had
destroyed my enjoyment of so much that I had loved before, and had
especially blamed me in the strongest manner for the pleasure I took
in _Ovid's Metamorphoses._ I might defend my favourite as I would, I
might say that, for a youthful fancy, nothing could be more delightful
than to linger in those cheerful and glorious regions with gods
and demi-gods, and to be a witness of their deeds and passions; I
might circumstantially quote that previously mentioned opinion of a
sober-minded man, and corroborate it by my own experience; all this,
according to Herder, went for nothing; there was no immediate truth,
properly so called, to be found in these poems; here was neither
Greece nor Italy, neither a primitive world nor a cultivated one,
everything was rather an imitation of what had already existed, and
a mannerised representation, such as could be expected only from an
over-cultivated man. And if at last I would maintain, that whatever an
eminent individual produces is also nature, and that always, in all
nations, ancient and modern, the poet alone has been the maker; this
was not allowed to pass, and I had to endure much on this account, nay,
I was almost disgusted with my Ovid by it; for there is no affection,
no habit so strong, that it can hold out in the long run against the
animadversions of eminent men in whom one places confidence. Something
always cleaves to us, and if one cannot love unconditionally, love is
already in a critical condition.
I most carefully concealed from him my interest in certain subjects
which had rooted themselves within me, and were, by little and
little, moulding themselves into poetic form. These were _Götz von
Berlichingen_ and _Faust._ The biography of the former had seized my
inmost heart. The figure of a rude, well-meaning self-helper, in a
wild anarchical time, awakened my deepest sympathy. The significant
puppet-show fable of the latter resounded and vibrated many-toned
within me. I had also wandered about in all sorts of science, and had
early enough been led to see its vanity. I had, moreover, tried all
sorts of ways in real life, and had always returned more unsatisfied
and troubled. Now these things, as well as many others, I carried about
with me, and delighted myself with them during my solitary hours,
but without writing anything down. But most of all, I concealed from
Herder my mystico-cabalistical chemistry, and everything relating to
it, although, at the same time, I was still very fond of secretly
busying myself in working it out more consistently than it had been
communicated to me. Of my poetical labours, I believe I laid before
him _Die Mitschuldigen_, but I do not recollect that on this account
I received either correction or encouragement on his part. Yet, with
all this, he remained what he was; whatever proceeded from him had an
important, if not a cheering effect, and even his handwriting exercised
a magic power over me. I do not remember having ever torn up or thrown
away one of his letters, or even a mere envelope from his hand; yet,
with my various changes of place and time, not one document of those
strange, foreboding, and happy days is left.
[Side-note: Herder's Influence on Jung.]
That Herder's power of attraction operated upon others as well as upon
me, I should scarcely mention, had I not to remark that it extended
itself particularly to JUNG, commonly called STILLING. The true, honest
striving of this man could not but deeply interest everybody who had
any feeling, and his susceptibility must have charmed into candour
every one who was in a condition to impart anything. Even Herder
behaved towards him with more forbearance than towards the rest of us:
for his counter-action always seemed to stand in relation with the
action exerted upon him. Jung's narrowness was accompanied by so much
good-will, his urgency with so much softness and earnestness, that a
man of intelligence could certainly not be severe against him, and a
benevolent man could not scoff at him, or turn him into ridicule. Jung
was also exhilarated to such a degree by Herder, that he felt himself
strengthened and advanced in all he did; even his affection for me
seemed to lose ground in the same ratio; yet we always remained good
companions, made allowances for each other from first to last, and
mutually rendered the most friendly services.
Let us now, however, withdraw ourselves from the sick chamber of
friendship, and from the general considerations which refer rather to
disorder than to health of mind; let us betake ourselves into the open
air, to the lofty and broad gallery of the minster, as if the time were
still present, when we young fellows often appointed an evening meeting
to greet the departing sun with brimming goblets. Here all conversation
was lost in the contemplation of the country: here sharpness of
eye-sight was put to the proof, and every one strove to perceive, nay,
plainly to distinguish, the most distant objects. Good telescopes were
employed to assist us, and one friend after another exactly pointed out
the spot which had become the most dear and precious to him; and I also
did not lack such a little spot, which, although it did not come out
with importance in the landscape, nevertheless more than all the rest
attracted me with an amiable magic. On these occasions the imagination
was excited by relating our adventures, and several little jaunts were
concerted, nay, often undertaken on the spur of the moment, of which
I will circumstantially relate only one instead of a number, since in
many respects it was of consequence to me.
With two worthy friends and fellow-boarders, Engelbach and Weyland,
both natives of Lower Alsace, I repaired on horseback to Zabern, where,
in the fine weather, the friendly little place smiled pleasantly upon
us. The sight of the bishop's castle awakened our admiration; the
extent, height, and splendour of a new set of stables bore witness to
the other comforts of the owner. The gorgeousness of the staircase
surprised us, the chambers and saloons we trode with reverence, only
the person of the cardinal, a little wreck of a man, whom we saw at
table, made a contrast. The view of the garden is splendid, and a
canal, three quarters of a league long, which leads straight up to the
middle of the castle, gives a high idea of the taste and resources of
the former possessors. We rambled up and down there, and enjoyed many
parts of this beautifully situated whole, which lies on the outskirts
of the magnificent plain of Alsace, at the foot of the Vosges.
After we had enjoyed ourselves at this clerical outpost of a royal
power, and had made ourselves comfortable in its region, we arrived
early next morning at a public work, which most nobly opens the
entrance into a mighty kingdom. Illumined by the beams of the rising
sun, the famous Zabern-stairs, a work of incredible labour, rose before
us. A road, built serpentine-wise over the most fearful crags, and
wide enough for three wagons abreast, leads up hill so gently, that
the ascent is scarcely perceptible. The hardness and smoothness of the
way, the flat-topped elevations on both sides for the foot-passengers,
the stone channels to lead off the mountain-water, all are executed as
neatly as artistically and durably, so that they afford a satisfactory
view. Thus one gradually arrives at Pfalzburg, a modern fortification.
It lies upon a moderate hill; the works are elegantly built on blackish
rocks, and of the same kind of stone, and the joinings being pointed
out with white mortar, show exactly the size of the square stones, and
give a striking proof of neat workmanship. We found the place itself,
as is proper for a fortress, regular, built of stone, and the church in
good taste. When we wandered through the streets--it was nine o'clock
on Sunday morning--we heard music; they were already waltzing in the
tavern to their hearts' content, and as the inhabitants did not suffer
themselves to be disturbed in their pleasures by the great scarcity,
nay, by the threatened famine, so also our youthful cheerfulness
was not at all troubled when the baker on the road refused us some
bread, and directed us to the tavern, where perhaps we might procure
provisions at the usual place.
[Side-note: Zabern-Buchsweiler.]
We now very willingly rode down the Zabern-stairs again to gaze at
this architectural wonder a second time, and to enjoy once more the
refreshing prospect over Alsace. We soon reached Buchsweiler, where
friend Weyland had prepared for us a good reception. To a fresh
youthful mind the condition of a small town is well suited; family
connexions are closer and more perceptible; domestic life, which, with
moderate activity, moves hither and thither between light official
duties, town business, agriculture and gardening, invites us to a
friendly participation; sociableness is necessary, and the stranger
finds himself very pleasantly situated in the limited circles, if the
disputes of the inhabitants, which in such places are more palpable, do
not everywhere come in contact with him. This little town was the chief
place of the county of Hanau-Lichtenberg, belonging to the Landgrave of
Darmstadt, under French sovereignty. A regency and board of officers
established here made the place an important centre-point of a very
beautiful and desirable principality. We easily forgot the unequal
streets and the irregular architecture of the place when we went out
to look at the old castle and the gardens, which are excellently laid
out on a hill. Numerous little pleasure-woods, a preserve for tame and
wild pheasants, and the relics of many similar arrangements, showed how
pleasant this little residence must formerly have been.
Yet all these views were surpassed by the prospect which met the eye,
when, from the neighbouring Baschberg, one looked over the perfectly
paradisiacal region. This height, wholly heaped together out of
different kinds of shells, attracted my attention for the first time
to such documents of antiquity; I had never before seen them together
in so great a mass. Yet the curious eye soon turned itself exclusively
to the landscape. You stand on the last landward[2] mountain-point;
towards the north lies a fruitful plain, interspersed with little
forests, and bounded by a stem low of mountains that stretches itself
westward towards Zaber, where the episcopal palace and the abbey of St.
John, lying a league beyond it, may be plainly recognised. Thence the
eye follows the more and more vanishing chain of the Vosges towards the
south. If you turn to the north-east you see the castle of Lichtenberg
upon a rock, and towards the south-east the eye has the boundless plain
of Alsace to scrutinize, which, afar off, withdraws itself from the
sight in the more and more misty landscape, until at last the Suabian
mountains melt away like shadows into the horizon.
Already in my limited wanderings through the world, I had remarked
how important it is in travelling to inquire after the course of the
waters, and even to ask with respect to the smallest brook, whither
in reality it runs. One thus acquires a general survey of every
stream-region, in which one happens to be, a conception of the heights
and depths which bear relation to each other, and by these leading
things, which assist the contemplation as well as the memory, extricates
oneself in the surest manner from the geological and political
labyrinth. With these observations, I took a solemn farewell of my
beloved Alsace, as the next morning we meant to turn our steps towards
Lorraine.
The evening passed away in familiar conversation, in which we tried to
cheer ourselves up under a joyless present, by remembrances of a better
past. Here, as in the whole of this small country, the name of the
last Count Reinhard von Hanau was blessed above all others; his great
understanding and aptitude had appeared in all his actions, and many
a beautiful memorial of his existence yet remained. Such men have the
advantage of being double benefactors: once to the present, which they
make happy, and then to the future, the feeling of which and courage
they nourish and sustain.
[Side-note: Saarbrück.]
Now as we turned ourselves north-westward into the mountains, passed
by Lützelstein, an old mountain tower, in a very hilly country, and
descended into the region of the Saar and the Moselle, the heavens
began to lower, as if they would render yet more sensible to us the
condition of the more rugged western country. The valley of the Saar,
where we first found Bockenheim, a small place, and saw opposite to it
Neusaarwerden, which is well-built, with a pleasure-castle, is bordered
on both sides by mountains which might be called melancholy, if at
their foot an endless succession of meadows and fields, called the
Huhnau, did not extend as far as Saaralbe, and beyond it, further than
the eye can reach. Great buildings, belonging to the former stables of
the Duke of Lorraine, here attract the eye; they are at present used
as a dairy, for which purpose, indeed, they are very well situated.
We passed through Saargemünd to Saarbrück, and this little residence
was a bright point in a land so rocky and woody. The town, small and
hilly, but well adorned by the last prince, makes at once a pleasing
impression, as the houses are all painted a greyish white, and the
different elevation of them affords a variegated view. In the middle
of a beautiful square, surrounded with handsome buildings, stands the
Lutheran church, on a small scale, but in proportion with the whole.
The front of the castle lies on the same level with the town; the back,
on the contrary, on the declivity of a steep rock. This has not only
been worked out terrace-fashion, to afford easy access to the valley,
but an oblong garden-plot has also been obtained below, by turning off
the stream on one side, and cutting away the rock on the other, after
which this whole space was lastly filled up with earth and planted. The
time of this undertaking fell in the epoch when they used to consult
the architects about laying out gardens, just as at present they call
in the aid of the landscape-painter's eye. The whole arrangement of
the castle, the costly and the agreeable, the rich and the ornamental,
betokened a life-enjoying owner, such as the deceased prince had
been; the present sovereign was not at home. President von Günderode
received us in the most obliging manner, and entertained us for three
days better than we had a right to expect. I made use of the various
acquaintance which we formed to instruct myself in many respects. The
life of the former prince, rich in pleasure, gave material enough for
conversation, as well as the various expedients which he hit upon to
make use of the advantages supplied by the nature of his land. Here I
was now properly initiated into the interest for mountain countries,
and the love for those economical and technical investigations which
have busied me a great part of my life, was first awakened within me.
We heard of the rich coal-pits at Dutweil, of the iron and alum works,
and even of a burning mountain, and we prepared ourselves to see these
wonders close.
We now rode through woody mountains, which must seem wild and dreary to
him who comes out of a magnificent fertile land, and which can attract
us only by the internal contents of its bosom. We were made acquainted
with one simple, and one complicated piece of machinery, within a short
distance of each other; namely, a scythe-smithy and a wire-drawing
factory. If one is pleased at the first because it supplies the place
of common hands, one cannot sufficiently admire the other, for it works
in a higher organic sense, from which understanding and consciousness
are scarcely to be separated. In the alum-works we made accurate
inquiries after the production and purifying of this so necessary
material, and when we saw great heaps of a white greasy, loose, earthy
matter, and asked the use of it, the labourers answered, smiling, that
it was the scum thrown up in boiling the alum, and that Herr Stauf had
it collected, as he hoped perchance to turn it to some profit. "Is Herr
Stauf alive yet?" exclaimed my companion in surprise. They answered
in the affirmative, and assured us that according to the plan of our
journey we should not pass far from his lonely dwelling.
[Side-note: Coal and Alum-Works.]
Our road now led up along the channels by which the alum-water is
conducted down, and the principal horizontal works (_stollen_), which
they call the "_landgrube_," and from which the famous Dutweil coals
are procured. These, when they are dry, have the blue colour of darkly
tarnished steel, and the most beautiful succession of rainbow tints
plays over the surface with every movement. The deep abysses of the
coal-levels, however, attracted us so much the less as their contents
lay richly poured out around us. We now reached the open mine, in which
the roasted alum-scales are steeped in lye, and soon after, a strange
occurrence surprised us, although we had been prepared. We entered into
a chasm and found ourselves in the region of the Burning Mountain.
A strong smell of sulphur surrounded us; one side of the cavity was
almost red-hot, covered with reddish stone burnt white; thick fumes
arose from the crevices, and we felt the heat of the ground through our
strong boot-soles. An event so accidental, for it is not known how this
place became ignited, affords a great advantage for the manufacture
of alum, since the alum-scales of which the surface of the mountain
consists, lie there perfectly roasted, and may be steeped in a short
time and very well. The whole chasm had arisen by the calcined scales
being gradually removed and used up. We clambered up out of this depth,
and were on the top of the mountain. A pleasant beech-grove encircled
the spot, which followed up to the chasm and extended itself on both
sides of it. Many trees stood already dried up, some were withering
near others, which, as yet quite fresh, felt no forebodings of that
fierce heat which was approaching and threatening their roots also.
Upon this space different openings were steaming, others had already
done smoking, and this fire had thus smouldered for ten years already
through old broken-up pits and horizontal shafts, with which the
mountain is undermined. It may, too, have penetrated to the clefts
through new coal-beds: for, some hundred paces further into the wood,
they had contemplated following up manifest indications of an abundance
of coal; but they had not excavated far before a strong smoke burst
out against the labourers and dispersed them. The opening was filled
up again, yet we found the place still smoking as we went on our way
past it to the residence of our hermit-like chemist. This lies amid
mountains and woods; the vallies there take very various and pleasing
windings, the soil round about is black and of the coal kind, and
strata of it frequently come in sight. A coal philosopher--_philosophus
per ignem_, as they said formerly--could scarcely have settled himself
more suitably.
We came before a small house, not inconvenient for a dwelling, and
found Herr Stauf, who immediately recognised my friend, and received
him with lamentations about the new government. Indeed we could
see from what he said, that the alum-works, as well as many other
well-meant establishments, on account of external and perhaps internal
circumstances also, did not pay their expenses; with much else of the
sort. He belonged to the chemists of that time, who, with a hearty
feeling for all that could be done with the products of nature, took
delight in abstruse investigations of trifles and secondary matters,
and with their insufficient knowledge were not dexterous enough to do
that from which properly economical and mercantile profit is to be
derived. Thus the use which he promised himself from that scum lay
very far in the distance; thus he had nothing to show but a cake of
sal-ammoniac, with which the Burning Mountain had supplied him.
Ready** and glad to communicate his complaints to a human ear, the
lean, decrepit little man, with a shoe on one foot and a slipper on
the other, and with stockings hanging down and repeatedly pulled up in
vain, dragged himself up the mountain to where the resin-house stands,
which he himself had erected, and now, with great grief, sees falling
to ruins. Here was found a connected row of furnaces, where coal was
to be cleansed of sulphur, and made fit for use in iron-works; but at
the same time they wished also to turn the oil and resin to account;
nay, they would not even lose the soot; and thus all failed together,
on account of the many ends in view. During the life-time of the former
prince, the business had been carried on in the spirit of an amateur,
and in hope; now they asked for the immediate use, which was not to be
shown.
After we left our adept to his solitude, we hastened--for it was now
late--to the glass-house in Friedrichsthal, where we became acquainted,
on our way, with one of the most important and most wonderful
operations of human ingenuity.
Nevertheless, some pleasant adventures, and a surprising firework at
night-fall, net far from Neukirch, interested us young fellows almost
more than these important experiences. For as a few nights before,
on the banks of the Saar, shining clouds of glow-worms hovered around
us, betwixt rock and thicket, so now the spark-spitting forges played
their sprightly firework towards us. We passed, in the depth of night,
the smelting-houses situated in the bottom of the valley, and were
delighted with the strange half-gloom of these dens of plank, which are
but dimly lighted by a little opening in the glowing furnace. The noise
of the water, and of the bellows driven by it, the fearful whizzing and
shrieking of the blast of air which, raging into the smelted ore, stuns
the ears and confuses the senses, drove us away, at last, to turn into
Neukirch, which is built up against the mountain.