Personally I never saw him; nor did I hold any immediate communication

with him by means of letters. It seems to me that he was extremely

clear in the relations of life and friendship, and that he had a

correct feeling for the positions of persons among each other,

and with reference to himself. All the letters which I saw by him

were excellent, and much plainer than his works, because here the

reference to time, circumstances, and personal affairs, was more

clearly prominent. I thought, however, that I could discern this much

generally, that he, feeling the superiority of his mental gifts, in the

most _naïve_ manner, always considered himself somewhat wiser and more

shrewd than his correspondents, whom he treated rather ironically than

heartily. If this held good only of single cases, it applied to the

majority, as far as my own observation went, and was the cause that I

never felt a desire to approach him.

On the other hand, a kindly literary communication between Herder and

us was maintained with great vivacity, though it was a pity that he

could not keep himself quiet. But Herder never left off his teazing

and scolding; and much was not required to irritate Merck, who also

contrived to excite me to impatience. Because now Herder, among all

authors and men, seems to respect Swift the most, he was among us

called the "Dean," and this gave further occasion to all sorts of

perplexities and annoyances.

Nevertheless we were highly pleased when we learned that he was to

have an appointment at Bückeburg, which would bring him double honour,

for his new patron had the highest fame as a clear-headed and brave,

though eccentric man. Thomas Abt had been known and celebrated in this

service; his country still mourned his death, and was pleased with

the monument which his patron had erected for him. Now Herder, in the

place of the untimely deceased, was to fulfil all those hopes which his

predecessor had so worthily excited.

The epoch in which this happened gave a double brilliancy and value to

such an appointment; for several German princes already followed the

example of the Count of Lippe, inasmuch as they took into their service

not merely learned men, and men of business, properly so called, but

also persons of mind and promise. Thus, it was said, Klopstock had

been invited by the Margrave Charles of Baden, not for real business,

but that by his presence he might impart a grace and be useful to the

higher society. As now the regard felt for this excellent prince,

who paid attention to all that was useful and beautiful, increased

in consequence, so also was the veneration for Klopstock not a

little heightened. Everything that emanated from him was held dear

and valuable; and we carefully wrote down his odes and elegies as we

could get them. We were therefore highly delighted when the great

Land-gravine Caroline of Hesse-Darmstadt made a collection of them,

and we obtained possession of one of the few copies, which enabled us

to complete our own manuscript collection. Hence those first readings

have long been most in favour with us; nay, we have often refreshed and

delighted ourselves with poems which the author afterwards rejected.

So true it is, that the life which presses forth out of a "fine soul"

works with the greater freedom the less it appears to be drawn by

criticism into the department of art.

Klopstock, by his character and conduct, had managed to attain regard

and dignity, both for himself and for other men of talent; now they

were also, if possible, to be indebted to him for the security and

improvement of their domestic condition. For the book-trade, in the

previous period, had more to do with important scientific books,

belonging to the different faculties--with stock-works, for which a

moderate remuneration was paid. But the production of poetical works

was looked upon as something sacred; and in this case the acceptance or

increase of any remuneration would have been regarded almost as simony.

Authors and publishers stood in the strangest reciprocal position.

Both appeared, accordingly as it was taken, as patrons and clients.

The authors, who, irrespectively of their talent, were generally

respected and levered by the public as highly moral men, had a mental

rank, and felt themselves rewarded by the success of their labours;

the publishers were well satisfied with the second place, and enjoyed

a considerable profit. But now opulence again set the rich bookseller

above the poor poet, and thus everything stood in the most beautiful

equilibrium. Magnanimity and gratitude were not unfrequent on either

side. Breitkopf and Gottsched lived, all their lives, as inmates of the

same house. Stinginess and meanness, especially that of piracy, were

not yet in vogue.

[Side-note: Commotion in the Book-Trade.]

Nevertheless a general commotion had arisen among the German authors.

They compared their own very moderate, if not poor condition, with

the wealth of the eminent booksellers; they considered how great was

the fame of a Gellert, of a Rabener, and in what narrow domestic

circumstances an universally esteemed German poet must struggle

on, if he did not render life easy by some other calling. Even the

mediocre and lesser minds felt a strong desire to see their situation

improved,--to make themselves free of the publishers.

Now Klopstock came forward and offered his "Republic of Letters"

(_Gelehrte-Republik_) for subscription. Although the latter cantos of

the _Messiah_, partly on account of their subject, partly on account of

the treatment, could not produce the same effect as the earlier ones,

which, themselves pure and innocent, came into a pure and innocent

time, the same respect was always maintained for the poet, who, by

the publication of his odes, had drawn to himself the hearts, minds,

and feelings of many persons. Many well-thinking men, among whom were

several of great influence, offered to secure payment beforehand. This

was fixed at a _Louis d'or_, the object being, it was said, not so much

to pay for the book, as on this occasion to reward the author for his

services to his country. Now every one pressed forward; even youths and

young girls, who had not much to expend, opened their saving-boxes; men

and women, the higher and the middle classes, contributed to this holy

offering; and perhaps a thousand subscribers, all paying in advance,

were collected. Expectation was raised to the highest pitch, and

confidence was as great as possible.

After this, the work, on its appearance, was compelled to experience

the strangest result in the world; it was, indeed, of important value,

but by no means universally interesting. Klopstock's thoughts on poetry

and literature were set forth in the form of an old German Druidical

republic; his maxims on the true and false were expressed in pithy

laconic aphorisms, in which, however, much that was instructive was

sacrificed to the singularity of form. For authors and _littérateurs_,

the book was and is invaluable; but it was only in this circle that

it could be useful and effective. He who had thought himself followed

the thinker; he who knew how to seek and prize what was genuine, found

himself instructed by the profound, honest man; but the amateur, the

general reader, was not enlightened,--to him the book remained sealed;

and yet it had been placed in all hands; and while every one expected

a perfectly serviceable work, most of them obtained one from which

they could not get the smallest taste. The astonishment was general,

but the esteem for the man was so great, that no grumbling, scarcely a

murmur, arose. The young and beautiful part of the world got over their

loss, and now freely gave away the copies they had so dearly purchased.

I received several from kind female friends, but none of them have

remained with me.

This undertaking, which was successful to the author, but a failure

to the public, had the ill consequence, that there was now no further

thought about subscriptions and prepayments; nevertheless the wish

had been too generally diffused for the attempt not to be renewed.

The Dessau publishing-house now offered to do this on a large scale.

Learned men and publishers were here, by a close compact, to enjoy,

both in a certain proportion, the hoped-for advantage. The necessity,

so long painfully felt, again awakened a great confidence; but this

could not last long; and after a brief endeavour the parties separated,

with a loss on both sides.

[Side-note: Combination of young poets.]

However, a speedy communication among the friends of literature was

already introduced. The _Musenalmanache_[1] united all the young poets

with each other; the journals united the poet with other authors. My

own pleasure in production was boundless; to what I had produced I

remained indifferent; only when, in social circles, I made it present

to myself and others, my affection for it was renewed. Moreover, many

persons took an interest in both my larger and smaller works, because

I urgently pressed every one who felt in any degree inclined and

adapted to production, to produce something independently, after his

own fashion, and was, in turn, challenged by all to new poetising and

writing. These mutual impulses, which were carried even to an extreme,

gave every one a happy influence in his own fashion; and from this

whirling and working, this living and letting-live, this taking and

giving, which was carried on by so many youths, from their own free

hearts, without any theoretical guiding-star, according to the innate

character of each, and without any special design, arose that famed,

extolled, and decried epoch in literature, when a mass of young genial

men, with all that audacity and assumption which is peculiar to their

own period of youth, produced, by the application of their powers,

much that was good, and by the abuse of these, much ill-feeling and

mischief; and it is, indeed, the action and reaction which proceeded

from this source, that form the chief theme of this volume.

In what can young people take the highest interest, how are they to

excite interest among those of their own age, if they are not animated

by love, and if affairs of the heart, of whatever kind they may be, are

not living within them? I had in secret to complain of a love I had

lost; this made me mild and tolerant, and more agreeable to society

than in those brilliant times when nothing reminded me of a want or a

fault, and I went storming along completely without restraint.

Frederica's answer to a written adieu rent my heart. It was the same

hand, the same tone of thought, the same feeling, which had formed

itself for me and by me. I now, for the first time, felt the loss which

she suffered, and saw no means to supply it, or even to alleviate it.

She was completely present to me; I always felt that she was wanting to

me and, what was worst of all, I could not forgive myself for my own

misfortune. Gretchen had been taken away from me; Annette had left me;

now, for the first time, I was guilty I had wounded the most beautiful

heart to its very depths; and the period of a gloomy repentance, with

the absence of a refreshing love, to which I had grown accustomed,

was most agonising, nay, insupportable. But man will live; and hence

I took an honest interest in others; I sought to disentangle their

embarrassments, and to unite what was about to part, that they might

not have the same lot as myself. They were hence accustomed to call

me the "confidant," and on account of wandering about the district,

the "wanderer." In producing that calm for my mind, which I felt under

the open sky, in the valleys, on the heights, in the fields and in the

woods, the situation of Frankfort was serviceable, as it lay in the

middle between Darmstadt and Hamburg, two pleasant places, which are on

good terms with each other, through the relationship of both courts. I

accustomed myself to live on the road, and, like a messenger, to wander

about between the mountains and the flat country. Often I went alone,

or in company, through my native city, as if it did not at all concern

me, dined at one of the great inns in the High-street, and after dinner

went further on my way. More than ever was I directed to the open

world and to free nature. On my way I sang to myself strange hymns

and dithyrambics, of which one entitled "The Wanderer's Storm-song"

(_Wanderer's Sturmlied_) still remains. This half-nonsense I sang

aloud, in an impassioned manner, when I found myself in a terrific

storm, which I was obliged to meet.

My heart was untouched and unoccupied; I conscientiously avoided all

closer connexion with ladies, and thus it remained concealed from me,

that, inattentive and unconscious as I was, an amiable spirit was

secretly hovering round me. It was not until many years afterwards,

nay, until after her death, that I learned of her secret heavenly

love, in a manner that necessarily overwhelmed me. But I was innocent,

and could purely and honestly pity an innocent being; nay, I could do

this the more, as the discovery occurred at an epoch when, completely

without passion, I had the happiness of living for myself and my own

intellectual inclinations.

At the time when I was pained by my grief at Frederica's situation,

I again, after my old fashion, sought aid from poetry. I again

continued the poetical confession which I had commenced, that by this

self-tormenting penance I might be worthy of an internal absolution.

The two Marias in _Götz von Berlichingen_ and _Clavigo_, and the two

bad characters who play the part of their lovers, may have been the

results of such penitent reflections.

[Side-note: Skating.]

But as in youth one soon overcomes mental wounds and diseases, because

a healthy system of organic life can rise up for a sick one, and

allow it time to grow healthy again, corporeal exercises, on many a

favourable opportunity, came forward with very advantageous effect;

and I was excited in many ways to man myself afresh, and to seek new

pleasures of life and enjoyments. Riding gradually took the place of

those sauntering, melancholy, toilsome, and at the same time tedious

and aimless rambles on foot; one reached one's end more quickly,

merrily, and commodiously. The young people again introduced fencing,

but in particular, on the setting-in of winter, a new world was

revealed to us, since I at once determined to skate,--an exercise

which I had never attempted,--and, in a short time, by practice,

reflection, and perseverance, brought it as far as was necessary to

enjoy with others a gay, animated course on the ice, without wishing to

distinguish myself.

For this new joyous activity we were also indebted to Klopstock,--to

his enthusiasm for this happy species of motion, which private accounts

confirmed, while his odes gave an undeniable evidence of it. I still

exactly remember that on a cheerful frosty morning I sprang out of bed,

and uttered aloud these passages:--

"Already, glad with feeling of health,

Far down along the shore, I have whiten'd

The covering crystal.

'How does the winter's advancing day

Softly illumine the lake! The night has cast

The glittering frost, like stars, upon it.'

My hesitating and wavering resolution was fixed at once, and I flew

straight to the place where so old a beginner might with some degree

of propriety make his first trial. And, indeed, this manifestation of

our strength well deserved to be commended by Klopstock, for it is an

exercise which brings us into contact with the freshest childhood,

summons the youth to the full enjoyment of his suppleness, and is

fitted to keep off a stagnant old age. We were immoderately addicted

to this pleasure. To pass thus a splendid Sunday on the ice did not

satisfy us, we continued our movement late into the night. For as other

exertions fatigue the body, so does this give it a constantly new

power. The full moon rising from the clouds, over the wide nocturnal

meadows, which were frozen into fields of ice; the night-breeze, which

rustled towards us on our course; the solemn thunder of the ice, which

sank as the water decreased; the strange echo of our own movements,

rendered the scenes of Ossian just present to our minds. Now this

friend, now that, uttered an ode of Klopstock's, in a declamatory

recitative; and if we found ourselves together at dawn, the unfeigned

praise of the author of our joys broke forth:--

"And should he not be immortal,

Who found for us health and joys

Which the horse, though bold in his course, never gave,

And which even the ball is without?"

Such gratitude is earned by a man who knows how to honour and worthily

to extend an earthly act by spiritual incitement.

And thus, as children of talent, whose mental gifts have, at an early

period, been cultivated to an extraordinary degree, return, if they

can, to the simplest sports of youth, did we, too, often forget our

calling to more serious things. Nevertheless this very motion, so

often carried on in solitude--this agreeable soaring in undetermined

space--again excited many of my internal wants, which had, for a time,

lain dormant; and I have been indebted to such hours for a more speedy

elaboration of older plans.

The darker ages of German history had always occupied my desire for

knowledge and my imagination. The thought of dramatizing _Götz von

Berlichingen_, with all the circumstances of his time, was one which

I much liked and valued. I industriously read the chief authors; to

Datt's work, _De Pace Publica_, I devoted all my attention; I had

sedulously studied it through, and rendered those singular details as

visible to me as possible. These endeavours, which were directed to

moral and poetical ends, I could also use in another direction, and

I was now to visit Wetzlar. I had sufficient historical preparation;

for the Imperial Chamber had arisen in consequence of the public

tranquillity, and its history could serve as an important clue through

the confused events of Germany. Indeed, the constitution of the courts

and armies gives the most accurate insight into the constitution of

every empire. Even the finances, the influence of which are considered

so important, come much less under consideration; for if the whole is

deficient, it is only necessary to take from the individual what he has

laboriously scraped together, and thus the state is always sufficiently

rich.

What occurred to me at Wetzlar is of no great importance, but it may

inspire a greater interest, if the reader will not disdain a cursory

history of the Imperial Chamber, in order to render present to his mind

the unfavourable moment at which I arrived there.

[Side-note: History of the Imperial Chamber.]

The lords of the earth are such, principally because they can assemble

around them, in war, the bravest and most resolute, and in peace, the

wisest and most just. Even to the state of a German emperor belonged

a court of this kind, which always accompanied him in his expeditions

through the empire. But neither this precaution, nor the Suabian law,

which prevailed in the south of Germany, nor the Saxon law, which

prevailed in the north,--neither the judges appointed to maintain them,

nor the decisions of the peers of the contending parties,--neither

the umpires recognised by agreement, nor friendly compacts instituted

by the clergy,--nothing, in short, could quiet that excited chivalric

spirit of feuds which had been roused, fostered, and made a custom

among the Germans, by internal discord, by foreign campaigns, by the

crusades especially, and even by judicial usages. To the emperor,

as well as to the powerful estates, these squabbles were extremely

annoying, while, through them, the less powerful became troublesome

to each other, and if they combined, to the great also. All outward

strength was paralysed, while internal order was destroyed; and besides

this, a great part of the country was still encumbered with the

_Vehmgericht_, of the horrors of which a notion may be formed, if we

think that it degenerated into a secret police, which, at last, even

fell into the hands of private persons.

Many attempts to steer against these evils had been made in vain,

until, at last, the estates urgently proposed a court formed from

among themselves. This proposal, well-meant as it might have been,

nevertheless indicated an extension of the privileges of the estates,

and a limitation of the imperial power. Under Frederic III. the matter

is delayed; his son Maximilian, being pressed from without, complies.

He appoints the chief judge, the estates send the assistants. There

were to be four-and-twenty of them; but, at first, twelve are thought

sufficient.

An universal fault, of which men are guilty in their under-takings, was

the first and perpetual fundamental defect of the Imperial Chamber:

insufficient means were applied to a great end. The number of the

assessors was too small. How was the difficult and extensive problem

to be solved by them? But who could urge an efficient arrangement?

The emperor could not favour an institution which seemed to work more

against him than for him; far more reason had he to complete the

formation of his own court--his own council. If, on the other hand,

we regard the interest of the estates, all that they could properly

have to do with was the stoppage of bloodshed. Whether the wound was

healed, did not so much concern them: and now there was to be, besides,

a new expense. It may not have been quite plainly seen that by this

institution every prince increased his retinue, for a decided end

indeed,--but who readily gives money for what is necessary? Every one

would be satisfied, if he could have what is useful "for God's sake."

At first the assistants were to live on fees; then followed a moderate

grant from the estates; both were scanty. But to meet the great and

striking exigency, willing, clever, and industrious men were found,

and the court was established. Whether it was perceived that the

question here was concerning only the alleviation and not the cure

of the evil, or whether, as in similar cases, the flattering hope

was entertained that much was to be done with little, is not to be

decided. It is enough that the court served rather as a pretext to

punish the originators of mischief, than completely to prevent wrong.

But it has scarcely met, than a power grows out of itself; it feels the

eminence on which it is placed; it recognises its own great political

importance. It now endeavours, by a striking activity, to acquire for

itself a more decided respect; they briskly got through what can and

must be rapidly dispatched, what can be decided at the moment, or what

can otherwise be easily judged; and thus, throughout the empire, they

appear effective and dignified. On the other hand, matters of weightier

import, the law-suits, properly so called, remained behindhand,

and this was no misfortune. The only concern of the state is, that

possession shall be certain and secure; whether it is also legal, is of

less consequence. Hence, from the monstrous and ever-swelling number

of delayed suits, no mischief arose to the empire. Against people who

employed force, provision was already made, and with such matters could

be settled; but those, on the other hand, who legally disputed about

possession, lived, enjoyed, or starved, as they could; they died, were

ruined, or made it up; but all this was the good or evil of individual

families,--the empire was gradually tranquillised. For the Imperial

Chamber was endowed with a legal club-law against the disobedient; had

it been able to hurl the bolt of excommunication, this would have been

more effective.

But now, what with the sometimes increased, sometimes diminished

number of assessors, what with the many interruptions, what with the

removal of the court from one place to another, these arrears, these

records necessarily increased to an infinite extent. Now, in the

distress of war, a part of the archives was sent for safety from Spire

to Aschaffenburg, a part to Worms, the third fell into the hands of

the French, who thought they had gained the state-archives, but would

afterwards have been glad to get rid of such a chaos of paper, if any

one would but have furnished the carriages.

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