days, when she privately told me that the ladies wished to hear me
read. The daughters of the house had spoken much on this subject,
for at Sesenheim I had read what and when I was desired. I was ready
at once, but craved quiet and attention for several hours. This
was conceded, and one evening I read through the whole of _Hamlet_
without interruption, entering into the sense of the piece as well as
I was able, and expressing myself with liveliness and passion, as is
possible in youth. I earned great applause. Frederica drew her breath
deeply from time to time, and a transient red had passed over her
cheeks. These two symptoms of a tender heart internally moved, while
cheerfulness and calmness were externally apparent, were not unknown
to me, and were indeed the only reward which I had striven to obtain.
She joyfully collected the thanks of the party for having caused me to
read, and in her graceful manner did not deny herself the little pride
at having shone in me and through me.
This town visit was not to have lasted long: but the departure was
delayed. Frederica did her part for the social amusement, and I was not
wanting, but the abundant sources which yield so much in the country
now dried up in their turn, and the situation was the more painful, as
the elder sister gradually lost all self-control. The two sisters were
the only persons in the society who dressed themselves in the German
fashion. Frederica had never thought of herself in any other way, and
believed herself so right everywhere, that she made no comparisons with
any one else; but Olivia found it quite insupportable to move about in
a society of genteel appearance attired so like a maid-servant. In the
country she scarcely remarked the town costume of others, and did not
desire it, but in the town she could not endure the country style. All
this, together with the different lot of town ladies, and the thousand
trifles of a series of circumstances totally opposed to her own
notions, so worked for some days in her impassioned bosom, that I was
forced to apply all my flattering attention to appease her, according
to the wish of Frederica. I feared an impassioned scene. I looked
forward to the moment when she would throw herself at my feet, and
implore me by all that was sacred to rescue her from this situation.
She was good to a heavenly degree if she could conduct herself in her
own way, but such a restraint at once made her uncomfortable, and could
at last drive her even to despair. I now sought to hasten that which
was desired by the mother and Olivia, and not repugnant to Frederica. I
did not refrain from praising her as a contrast to her sister; I told
her what pleasure it gave me to find her unaltered, and, even under the
present circumstances, just as free as the bird among the branches. She
was courteous enough to reply that I was there, and that she wished to
go neither in nor out when I was with her.
At last I saw them take their departure, and it seemed as though a
stone fell from my heart; for my own feelings had shared the condition
of Frederica and Olivia; I was not passionately tormented like the
latter, but I felt by no means as comfortable as the former.
[Side-note: The "Disputation."]
Since I had properly gone to Strasburg to take my degree, it may be
rightly reckoned among the irregularities of my life, that I treated
this material business as a mere collateral affair. All anxiety as to
my examination I had put aside in a very easy fashion, but I had now
to think of the _disputation_[1] for on my departure from Frankfort I
had promised my father, and resolved within myself to write one. It is
the fault of those who can do many things, nay, much, that they trust
everything to themselves, and youth must indeed be in this position, if
anything is to be made of it. A survey of the science of jurisprudence
and all its framework I had pretty well acquired, single subjects of
law sufficiently interested me, and as I had the good Leyser for my
model, I thought I should get tolerably through with my own little
common-sense. Great movements were showing themselves in jurisprudence;
judgments were to be more according to equity, all rights by usage
were daily seen to be compromised, and in the criminal department
especially a great change was impending. As for myself, I felt well
enough that I lacked an infinite deal to fill up the legal commonplace
which I had proposed. The proper knowledge was wanting, and no inner
tendency urged me to such subjects. Neither was there any impulse from
without, nay, quite another faculty[2] had completely earned me away.
In general, if I was to take any interest in a thing, it was necessary
for me to gain something from it, to perceive in it something that
appeared fertile to me, and gave me prospects. Thus I had once more
noted down some materials, had afterwards made collections, had taken
my books of extracts in hand, had considered the point which I wished
to maintain, the scheme according to which I wished to arrange the
single elements; but I was sharp enough soon to perceive that I could
not get on, and that to treat a special matter, a special and long
pursuing industry was requisite, nay, that such a special task cannot
be successfully accomplished unless, upon the whole, one is at any rate
an old hand, if not a master.
The friends to whom I communicated my embarrassment deemed me
ridiculous, because one can dispute upon _theses_ as well, nay, even
better, than upon a treatise, and in Strasburg this was not uncommon.
I allowed myself to be very well inclined to such an expedient, but
my father, to whom I wrote on the subject, desired a regular work,
which, as he thought, I could very well prepare, if I only chose so
to do and allowed myself proper time. I was now compelled to throw
myself upon some general topic, and to choose something which I should
have at my fingers' ends. Ecclesiastical history was almost better
known to me than the history of the world, and that conflict in which
the church--the publicly recognised worship of God--finds itself, and
always will find itself, in two different directions, had always highly
interested me. For now it lies in an eternal conflict with the state,
over which it will exalt itself; now with the individuals, all of
whom it will gather to itself. The state, on its side, will not yield
the superior authority to the church, and the individuals oppose its
restraints. The state desires everything for public, universal ends;
the individual for ends belonging to the home, heart, and feelings.
From my childhood upwards I had been a witness of such movements, when
the clergy now offended their authorities, now their congregations.
I had therefore established it as a principle in my young mind, that
the state--the legislator--had the right to determine a worship,
according to which the clergy should teach and conduct themselves,
and the laity, on the other hand, should direct themselves publicly
and externally; while there should be no question about any one's
thoughts, feelings, or notions. Thus I believed that I had at once
got rid of all collisions. I therefore chose for my _disputation_
the first half of this theme, namely, that the legislator was not
only authorised, but bound to establish a certain worship, from which
neither the clergy nor the laity might free themselves. I carried out
this theme partly historically, partly argumentatively, showing that
all public religions had been introduced by leaders of armies, kings,
and powerful men; that this had even been the case with Christianity.
The example of Protestantism lay quite close at hand. I went to work
at this task with so much the more boldness, as I really only wrote
it to satisfy my father, and desired and hoped nothing more ardently
than that it might not pass the censorship. I had imbibed from Behrisch
an unconquerable dislike to see anything of mine in print, and my
intercourse with Herder had discovered to mo but too plainly my own
insufficiency, nay, a certain mistrust in myself had through this
means been perfectly matured. As I drew this work almost entirely out
of myself, and wrote and spoke Latin with fluency, the time which I
expended on the treatise passed very agreeably. The matter had at least
some foundation, the style, naturally speaking, was not bad, the whole
was pretty well rounded off. As soon as I had finished it, I went
through it with a good Latin scholar, who, although he could not, on
the whole, improve my style, yet easily removed all striking defects,
so that something was produced that was fit to be shown. A fair copy
was at once sent to my father, who disapproved of one thing, namely,
that none of the subjects previously taken in hand had been worked out,
but nevertheless, as a thorough Protestant, he was well pleased with
the boldness of the plan. My singularities were tolerated, my exertions
were praised, and he promised himself an important effect from the
publication of the work.
[Side-note: The "Disputation."]
I now handed over my papers to the faculty, who fortunately behaved
in a manner as prudent as it was polite. The dean, a lively, clever
man, began with many laudations of my work, then went on to what
was doubtful, which he contrived gradually to change into something
dangerous, and concluded by saying that it might not be advisable
to publish this work as an academical dissertation. The _aspirant_
had shown himself to the faculty as a thinking young man, of whom
they might hope the best; they would willingly, not to delay the
affair, allow me to dispute on _theses._ I could afterwards publish
my treatise, either in its present condition or more elaborated, in
Latin, or in another language. This would everywhere be easy to me
as a private man and a Protestant, and I should have the pleasure of
an applause more pure and more general. I scarcely concealed from
the good man what a stone his discourse rolled from my heart; at
every new argument which he advanced, that he might not trouble me
nor make me angry by his refusal, my mind grew more and more easy,
and so did his own at last, when, quite unexpectedly, I offered no
resistance to his reasons, but, on the contrary, found them extremely
obvious, and promised to conduct myself according to his counsel and
guidance. I therefore sat down again with my _repetent._ _Theses_
were chosen and printed, and the disputation, with the opposition
of my fellow-boarders, went off with great merriment, and even with
facility, for my old habit of turning over the _Corpus Juris_ was very
serviceable to me, and I could pass for a well instructed man. A good
feast, according to custom, concluded the solemnity.
My father, however, was very dissatisfied that the little work had not
been regularly printed as a _disputation_, because he had hoped that I
should gain honour by it on my entrance into Frankfort. He therefore
wished to publish it specially, but I represented to him that the
subject, which was only sketched, could be more completely carried
out at some future time. He put up the manuscript carefully for this
purpose, and many years afterwards I saw it among his papers.
[Side-note: Schöpflin.]
I took my degree on the 6th August, 1771; and on the following day
Schöpflin died, in the 75th year of his age. Even without closer
contact, he had had an important influence upon me; for eminent
contemporaries may be compared to the greater stars, towards which,
so long as they merely stand above the horizon, our eye is turned,
and feels strengthened and cultivated, if it is only allowed to take
such perfections into itself. Bountiful nature had given Schöpflin an
advantageous exterior, a slender form, kindly eyes, a ready mouth, and
a thoroughly agreeable presence. Neither had she been sparing in gifts
of mind to her favourite; and his good fortune was the result of innate
and carefully-cultivated merits, without any troublesome exertion. He
was one of those happy men, who are inclined to unite the past and the
present, and understand how to connect historical knowledge with the
interests of life. Born in the Baden territory, educated at Basle and
Strasburg, he quite properly belonged to the paradisiacal valley of the
Rhine, as an extensive and well-situated fatherland. His mind being
directed to historical and antiquarian objects, he readily seized upon
them with a felicitous power of representation, and retained them by
the most convenient memory. Desirous as he was both of learning and
of teaching, he pursued a course of study and of life which equally
advanced. He soon emerges and rises above the rest, without any kind
of interruption; diffuses himself with ease through the literary
and citizen-world, for historical knowledge passes everywhere, and
affability attaches itself everywhere. He travels through Germany,
Holland, France. Italy; he comes in contact with all the learned men
of his time; he amuses princes, and it is only when, by his lively
loquacity, the hours of the table or of audience are lengthened, that
he is tedious to the people at court. On the other hand, he acquires
the confidence of the statesmen, works out for them the most profound
legal questions, and thus finds everywhere a field for his talent.
In many places they attempt to retain him, but he remains faithful
to Strasburg and the French court. His immoveable German honesty is
recognised even there, he is even protected against the powerful Prætor
Klingling, who is secretly his enemy. Sociable and talkative by nature,
he extends his intercourse with the world, as well as his knowledge and
occupations; and we should hardly be able to understand whence he got
all his time, did we not know that a dislike to women accompanied him
through his whole life; and that thus he gained many days and hours
which are happily thrown away by those who are well-disposed towards
the ladies.
For the rest, he belongs, as an author, to the ordinary sort of
character, and, as an orator, to the multitude. His programme, his
speeches, and addresses are devoted to the particular day--to the
approaching solemnity; nay, his great work, _Alsatia Illustrata_,
belongs to life, as he recalls the past, freshens up faded forms,
reanimates the hewn and the formed stone, and brings obliterated broken
inscriptions for a second time before the eyes and mind of his reader.
In such a manner, his activity fills all Alsatia and the neighbouring
country; in Baden and the Palatinate he preserves to an extreme old
age an uninterrupted influence; at Mannheim he founds the Academy of
Sciences, and remains president of it till his death.
I never approached this eminent man, excepting on one night, when we
gave him a torch-serenade. Our pitch-torches more filled with smoke
than lighted the court-yard of the old chapter-house, which was
over-arched by linden-trees. When the noise of the music had ended, he
came forward and stepped into the midst of us; and here also was in
his right place. The slender, well-grown, cheerful old man stood with
his light, free manners, venerably before us, and held us worthy the
honour of a well-considered address, which he delivered to us in an
amiable paternal manner, without a trace of restraint or pedantry, so
that we really thought ourselves something for the moment; for, indeed,
he treated us like the kings and princes whom he had been so often
called upon to address in public. We testified our satisfaction aloud,
trumpets and drums repeatedly sounded, and the dear, hopeful academical
_plebs_ then found its way home with hearty satisfaction.
[Side-note: Koch and Oberlin.]
His scholars and companions in study, Koch and Oberlin, were men
in close connexion with me. My taste for antiquarian remains was
passionate. They often let me into the museum, which contained, in
many ways, the vouchers to his great work on Alsace. Even this work I
had not known intimately until after that journey, when I had found
antiquities on the spot, and now being perfectly advanced, I could, on
longer or shorter expeditions, render present to myself the valley of
the Rhine as a Roman possession, and finish colouring many a dream of
times past.
Scarcely had I made some progress in this, than Oberlin directed me
to the monuments of the middle ages, and made me acquainted with the
ruins and remains, the seals and documents, which those times have
left behind them; nay, sought to inspire me with an inclination for
what we called the Maine-singers and heroic poets. To this good man, as
well as to Herr Koch, I have been greatly indebted; and if things had
gone according to their wish, I should have had to thank them for the
happiness of my life. The matter stood thus:--
Schöpflin, who for his whole lifetime had moved in the higher sphere of
political law, and well knew the great influence which such and kindred
studies are likely to procure for a sound head, in courts and cabinets,
felt an insuperable, nay, unjust aversion from the situation of a
civilian, and had inspired his scholars 'with the like sentiments. The
above-mentioned two men, friends of Salzmann, had taken notice of me in
a most friendly manner. My impassioned grasping at external objects,
the manner in which I continued to bring forward their advantages, and
to communicate to them a particular interest, they prized higher than
I did myself. My slight, and I may say, my scanty occupation with the
civil law, had not remained unobserved by them; they were well enough
acquainted with me to know how easily I was to be influenced; I had
made no secret of my liking for an academical life, and they therefore
thought to gain me over to history, political law, and rhetoric, at
first for a time, but after wards more decidedly. Strasbourg itself
offered advantages enough. The prospect of the German Chancery at
Versailles, the precedent of Schöpflin, whose merits, indeed, seemed
to me unattainable, were to incite to emulation, if not to imitation;
and perhaps a similar talent was thus to be cultivated, which might be
both profitable to him who could boast of it, and useful to others who
might choose to employ it on their own account. These, my patrons, and
Salzmann with them, set a great value on my memory and my capacity for
apprehending the sense of languages, and chiefly by these sought to
further their views and plans.
I now intend to describe, at length, how all this came to nothing, and
how it happened that I again passed over from the French to the German
side. Let me be allowed, as hitherto, some general reflections, by way
of transition.
There are few biographies which can represent a pure, quiet, steady
progress of the individual. Our life, as well as all in which we are
contained, is, in an incomprehensible manner, composed of freedom and
necessity. Our will is a prediction of what we shall do, under all
circumstances. But these circumstances lay hold on us in their own
fashion. The _what_ lies in us, the _how_ seldom depends on us, after
the _wherefore_ we dare not ask, and on this account we are rightly
referred to the _quia._
The French tongue I had liked from my youth upwards; I had learned to
know the language through a bustling life, and a bustling life through
the language. It had become my own, like a second mother-tongue,
without grammar and instruction--by mere intercourse and practice. I
now wished to use it with still greater fluency, and gave Strasburg the
preference, as a second university residence, to other high schools;
but, alas! it was just there that I had to experience the very reverse
of my hopes, and to be turned rather from than to this language and
these manners.
The French, who generally aim at good behaviour, are indulgent
towards foreigners who begin to speak their language; they will not
laugh any one out of countenance at a fault, or blame him in direct
terms. However, since they cannot endure sins committed against their
language, they have a manner of repeating, and, as it were, courteously
confirming what has been said with another turn, at the same time
making use of the expression which should properly have been employed;
thus leading the intelligent and the attentive to what is right and
proper.
[Side-note: Difficulty with the French Language.]
Now although, if one is in earnest--if one has self-denial enough to
profess oneself a pupil, one gains a great deal, and is much advanced
by this plan, one nevertheless always feels in some degree humiliated;
and, since one talks for the sake of the subject-matter also, often
too much interrupted, or even distracted, so that one impatiently lets
the conversation drop. This happened with me more than with others,
as I always thought that I had to say something interesting, and, on
the other hand, to hear something important, and did not wish to be
always brought back merely to the expression,--a case which often
occurred with me, as my French was just as motley as that of any other
foreigner. I had observed the accent and idiom of footmen, valets,
guards, young and old actors, theatrical lovers, peasants, and heroes;
and this Babylonish idiom was rendered still more confused by another
odd ingredient, as I liked to hear the French reformed clergy,
and visited their churches the more willingly, as a Sunday walk to
Bockenheim was on this account not only permitted but ordered. But even
this was not enough; for as in my youthful years, I had always been
chiefly directed to the German of the 16th century, I soon included the
French also of that noble epoch among the objects of my inclination.
Montaigne, Amyot, Rabelais, Marot, were my friends, and excited in me
sympathy and delight. Now all these different elements moved in my
discourse chaotically one with another, so that for the hearer the
meaning was lost in the oddity of the expression; nay an educated
Frenchman could no more courteously correct me, but had to censure me
and tutor me in plain terms. It therefore happened with me here once
more as it had happened in Leipzig, only that on this occasion I could
not appeal to the right of my native place to speak idiomatically, as
well as other provinces; but being on a foreign ground and soil, was
forced to adapt myself to traditional laws.
Perhaps we might even have resigned ourselves to this, if an evil
genius had not whispered into our ears that all endeavours by a
foreigner to speak French would remain unsuccessful; for a practised
ear can perfectly well detect a German, Italian, or Englishman under a
French mask. One is tolerated, but never received into the bosom of the
only church of language.
Only a few exceptions were granted. They named to us a Herr von
Grimm; but even Schöpflin, it seemed, did not reach the summit. They
allowed that he had early seen the necessity of expressing himself in
French to perfection; they approved of his inclination to converse
with every one, and especially to entertain the great and persons of
rank; they praised him, that living in the place where he was, he
had made the language of the country his own, and had endeavoured
as much as possible to render himself a Frenchman of society and
orator. But what does he gain by the denial of his mother-tongue,
and his endeavours after a foreign one? He cannot make it right with
anybody. In society they are pleased to deem him vain; as if any one
would or could converse with others without some feeling for self and
self-complacency! Then the refined connoisseurs of the world and of
language assert that there is in him more of dissertation and dialogue
than of conversation, properly so called. The former was generally
recognised as the original and fundamental sin of the Germans, the
latter as the cardinal virtue of the French. As a public orator he
fares no better. If he prints a well-elaborated address to the king or
the princes, the Jesuits, who are ill-disposed to him as a Protestant,
lay wait for him, and show that his terms of expression are _not
French._
Instead of consoling ourselves with this, and bearing as green wood
that which had been laid upon the dry, we were annoyed at such pedantic
injustice. We fall into despair, and, by this striking example, are
the more convinced that it is a vain endeavour to try to satisfy the
French by the matter itself, as they are too closely bound to the
external conditions under which everything is to appear. We therefore
embrace the opposite resolution of getting rid of the French language
altogether, and of directing ourselves more than ever, with might and
earnestness, to our own mother-tongue.