which had great influence on the German poetry of this period, and
which is especially worthy of remark, because this very influence has
lasted through the history of our poetic art to the present day, and
will not be lost even in the future.
From the earlier times, the Germans were accustomed to rhyme; it had
this advantage in its favour, that one could proceed in a very naïve
manner, scarcely doing more than count the syllables. If with the
progress of improvement attention began more or less instinctively to
be paid also to the sense and signification of the syllables, this
was highly praiseworthy, and a merit which many poets contrived to
make their own. The rhyme was made to mark the close of the poetical
proposition; the smaller divisions were indicated by shorter lines, and
a naturally refined ear began to make provision for variety and grace.
But now all at once rhyme was rejected before it was considered that
the value of the syllables had net as yet been decided, indeed that it
was a difficult thing to decide. Klopstock took the lead. How earnestly
he toiled and what he has accomplished is well known. Every one felt
the uncertainty of the matter, many did not like to run a risk, and
stimulated by this natural tendency, they snatched at a poetic prose.
Gessner's extremely charming Idylls opened an endless path. Klopstock
wrote the dialogue of _Hermann's Schlucht_ (_Hermann's Battle_) in
prose, as well as _Der Tod Adams_ (_The Death of Adam_). Through the
domestic tragedies as well as the more classic dramas, a style more
lofty and more impassioned gained possession of the theatre; while,
on the other hand, the Iambic verse of five feet, which the example
of the English had spread among us, was reducing poesy to prose. But
in general the demand for rhythm and for rhyme could not be silenced.
Ramler, though proceeding on vague principles (as he was always severe
with respect to his own productions). Could not help exercising the
same severity upon those of others. He transformed prose into verse,
altered and improved the works of others, by which means he earned
little thanks and only confused the matter still more. Those succeeded
best who still conformed to the old custom of rhyme with a certain
observance of syllabic quantity, and who, guided by a natural taste,
observed laws though unexpressed and undetermined; as, for example,
Wieland, who, although inimitable, for a long time served as a model to
more moderate talents.
But still in any case the practice remained uncertain, and there was
no one, even among the best, who might not for the moment have gone
astray. Hence the misfortune, that this epoch of our poetic history, so
peculiarly rich in genius, produced little which, in its kind, could
be pronounced correct; for here also the time was stirring, advancing,
active, and calling for improvement, but not reflective and satisfying
its own requirements.
In order, however, to find a firm soil on which poetic genius might
find a footing,--to discover an element in which they could breathe
freely, they had gone back some centuries, where earnest talents were
brilliantly prominent amid a chaotic state of things, and thus they
made friends with the poetic art of those times. The Minnesingers
lay too far from us; it would have been necessary first to study the
language, and that was not our object, we wanted to five and not to
learn.
[Side-note: Hans Sachs.]
Hans Sachs, the really masterly poet, was one whom we could more
readily sympathise with. A man of true talent, not indeed like the
Minnesinging knights and courtiers, but a plain citizen, such as we
also boasted ourselves to be. A didactic realism suited us, and on many
occasions we made use of the easy rhythm, of the readily occurring
rhyme. His manner seemed so suitable to mere poems of the day, and to
such occasional pieces as we were called upon to write at every hour.
* * * * *
If important works, which required the attention and labor of a year or
a whole life, were built, more or less, upon such hazardous grounds on
trivial occasions, it may be imagined how wantonly all other ephemeral
productions took their rise and shape; for example, the poetical
epistles, parables, and invectives of all forms, with which we went on
making war within ourselves, and seeks squabbling abroad.
Of this kind, besides what has already been printed, something, though
very little, survives; it may be laid up somewhere. Brief allusions
will suffice to reveal to thinking men their origin and purposes.
Persons of more than ordinary penetration, to whose sight these may
hereafter be brought, will be ready to observe that an honest purpose
lay at the bottom of all such eccentricities. An upright will revolts
against presumption, nature against conventionalities, talent against
forms, genius with itself, energy against indecision, undeveloped
capacity against developed mediocrity; so that the whole proceeding may
be regarded as a skirmish which follows a declaration of war, and gives
promise of a violent contest. For, strictly considered, the contest is
not yet fought out, in these fifty years; it is still going on, only in
a higher region.
* * * * *
[Side-note: The "Hanswurst's Hochzeit."]
I had, in imitation of an old German puppet play, invented a wild
extravaganza, which was to bear the title of _Hanswurst's Hochzeit_
(_Jack Pudding's Wedding_).[1] The scheme was as follows:--Hanswurst,
a rich young farmer and an orphan, has just come of age, and wishes
to marry a rich maiden, named Ursel Blandine. His guardian, Kilian
Brustflech (_Leather apron_), and her mother Ursel, are highly pleased
with the purpose. Their long-cherished plans, their dearest wishes,
are at last fulfilled and gratified. There is not the slightest
obstacle, and properly the whole interest turns only upon this, that
the young people's ardour for their union is delayed by the necessary
arrangements and formalities of the occasion. As prologue, enters the
inviter to the wedding festivities, who proclaims the banns after the
traditional fashion, and ends with the rhymes:
The wedding feast is at the house
Of mine host of the Golden Louse.
To obviate the charge of violating the unity of place, the aforesaid
tavern, with its glittering insignia, was placed in the background of
the theatre; but so that all its four sides could be presented to
view, by being turned upon a peg; and as it was moved round, the front
scenes of the stage had to undergo corresponding changes.
In the first act the front of the house facing the street was turned to
the audience, with its golden sign magnified as it were by the solar
microscope; in the second act, the side towards the garden. The third
was towards a little wood; the fourth towards a neighboring lake; which
gave rise to a prediction that in aftertimes the decorator would have
little difficulty in carrying a wave over the whole stage up to the
prompter's box.
But all this does not as yet reveal the peculiar interest of the piece.
The principal joke which was carried out, even to an absurd length,
arose from the fact that the whole _dramatis personæ_ consisted of mere
traditional German nicknames, which at once brought out the characters
of the individuals, and determined their relations to one another.
As we would fain hope that the present book will be read aloud in good
society, and even in decent family circles, we cannot venture, after
the custom of every play-bill, to name our persons here in order,
nor to cite the passages in which they most clearly and prominently
showed themselves in their true colours; although, in the simplest way
possible, lively, roguish, broad allusions, and witty jokes, could
not but arise. We add one leaf as a specimen, leaving our editors the
liberty of deciding upon its admissibility.
Cousin Schuft (_scamp_), through his relationship to the family, was
entitled to an invitation to the feast; no one had anything to say
against it; for though he was a thoroughly good-for-nothing fellow, yet
there he was, and since he was there, they could not with propriety
leave him out; on such a feast-day, too, they were not to remember that
they had occasionally been dissatisfied with him.
With Master Schurke (_knave_), it was a still more serious case;
he had, indeed, been useful to the family, when it was to his own
profit; on the other hand, again, he had injured it, perhaps, in this
case, also with an eye to his own interests; perhaps, too, because he
found an opportunity. Those who were any ways prudent voted for his
admission; the few who would have excluded him, were out-voted.
But there was a third person, about whom it was still more difficult
to decide; an orderly man in society, no less than others, obliging,
agreeable, useful in many ways; he had the single failing, that he
could not bear his name to be mentioned, and as soon as he heard it,
was instantaneously transported into a heroic fury, like that which the
Northmen call _Berserker-rage_, attempted to kill all right and left,
and in his frenzy hurt others and received hurt himself; indeed the
second act of the piece was brought, through him, to a very perplexed
termination.
Here was an opportunity which 1 could not allow to pass, for chastising
the piratical publisher Macklot. He is introduced going about hawking
his Macklot wares, and when he hears of the preparation for the
wedding, he cannot resist the impulse to go spunging for a dinner,
and to stuff his ravening maw at other people's expense. He announces
himself; Kilian Brustflech inquires into his claims, but is obliged
to refuse him, since it was an understanding that all the guests
should be well known public characters, to which recommendation the
applicant can make no claim. Macklot does his best to show that he is
as renowned as any of them. But when Kilian Brustflech, as a strict
master of ceremonies, shows himself immoveable, the nameless person,
who has recovered from his Berserker-rage at the end of the second act,
espouses the cause of his near relative, the book-pirate, so urgently,
that the latter is finally admitted among the guests.
* * * * *
[Side-note: The Stolbergs.]
About this time the COUNTS STOLBERG arrived at Frankfort; they were on
a journey to Switzerland, and wished to make us a visit. The earliest
productions of my dawning talent, which appeared in the Göttingen
_Musenalmanach_, had led to my forming a friendly relation with them,
and with all those other young men whose characters and labors are
now well known. At that time rather strange ideas were entertained of
friendship and love. They applied themselves to nothing more, properly
speaking, than a certain vivacity of youth, which led to a mutual
association and to an interchange of minds, full indeed of talent but
nevertheless uncultivated. Such a mutual relation, which looked indeed
like confidence, was mistaken for love, for genuine inclination; I
deceived myself in this as well as others, and have, in more than one
way, suffered from it many years. There is still in existence a letter
of Bürger's belonging to that time, from which it may be seen that,
among these companions, there was no question about the moral æsthetic.
Every one felt himself excited, and thought that he might act and
poetize accordingly.
The brothers arrived, bringing Count Haugwitz with them. They were
received by me with open heart, with kindly propriety. They lodged
at the hotel, but were generally with us at dinner. The first joyous
meeting proved highly gratifying; but troublesome eccentricities soon
manifested themselves.
A singular position arose for my mother. In her ready frank way, she
could carry herself back to the middle age at once, and take the part
of Aja with some Lombard or Byzantine princess. They called her nothing
else but Frau Aja, and she was pleased with the joke; entering the more
heartily into the fantasies of youth, as she believed she saw her own
portrait in the lady of Götz von Berlichingen.
But this could not last long. We had dined together but a few times,
when once, after enjoying glass after glass, our poetic hatred for
tyrants showed itself, and we avowed a thirst for the blood of such
villains. My father smiled and shook his head; my mother had scarcely
heard of a tyrant in her life, however she recollected having seen
the copperplate engraving of such a monster in Gottfried's Chronicle,
viz., King Cambyses, whom he describes as having shot with an arrow
the little son of an enemy through the heart, and boasting of his
deed to the father's face; this still stood in her memory. To give a
cheerful turn to the conversation which continually grew more violent,
she betook herself to her cellar, where her oldest wines lay carefully
preserved in large casks. There she had in store no less treasure than
the vintages of 1706, '19, '26, and '48, all under her own especial
watch and ward, which were seldom broached except on solemn festive
occasions.
As she set before us the rich-colored wine in the polished decanter,
she exclaimed: "Here is the true tyrant's blood! Glut yourselves with
this, but let all murderous thoughts go out of my house!"
"Yes, tyrants' blood indeed!" I cried; "there is no greater tyrant than
the one whose heart's blood is here set before you. Regale yourselves
with it; but use moderation! for beware lest he subdue you by his
spirit and agreeable taste. The vine is the universal tyrant who ought
to be rooted up; let us therefore choose and reverence as our patron
Saint the holy Lycurgus, the Thracian; he set about the pious work in
earnest, and though at last blinded and corrupted by the infatuating
demon Bacchus, he yet deserves to stand high in the army of martyrs
above.
"This vine-stock is the very vilest tyrant, at once an oppressor, a
flatterer, and a hypocrite. The first draughts of his blood are sweetly
relishing, but one drop incessantly entices another after it; they
succeed each other like a necklace of pearls, which one fears to pull
apart."
If any should suspect me here of substituting, as the best historians
have done, a fictitious speech for the actual address, I can only
express my regret that no short-hand writer had taken down this
peroration at once and handed it down to us. The thoughts would be
found the same, but the flow of the language perhaps more graceful and
attractive. Above all, however, in the present sketch, as a whole,
there is a want of that diffuse eloquence and fulness of youth, which
feels itself, and knows not whither its strength and faculty will carry
it.
[Side-note: The Stolbergs.]
In a city like Frankfort, one is placed in a strange position;
strangers continually crossing each other, point to every region of
the globe, and awaken a passion for travelling. On many an occasion
before now I had shown an inclination to be moving, and now at the
very moment when the great point was to make an experiment whether I
could renounce Lili--when a certain painful disquiet unfitted me for
all regular business, the proposition of the Stolbergs, that I should
accompany them to Switzerland, was welcome. Stimulated, moreover, by
the exhortations of my father, who looked with pleasure on the idea
of my travelling in that direction, and who advised me not to omit to
pass over into Italy, if a suitable occasion should offer itself, I at
once decided to go, and soon had everything packed for the journey.
With some intimation, but without leave-taking, I separated myself
from Lili; she had so grown into my heart, that I did not believe it
possible to part myself from her.
In a few hours I found myself with my merry fellow-travellers in
Darmstadt. Even at court we should not always act with perfect
propriety; here Count Haugwitz took the lead. He was the youngest of
us all, well formed, of a delicate, but noble appearance, with soft
friendly features, of an equable disposition, sympathizing enough, but
with so much moderation, that, contrasted with us, he appeared quite
impassible. Consequently, he had to put up with all sorts of jibes and
nicknames from them. This was all very well, so long as they believed
that they might act like children of nature; but as soon as occasion
called for propriety, and when one was again obliged, not unwillingly,
to put on the reserve of a Count, then he knew how to introduce and
to smoothe over everything, so that we always came off with tolerable
credit, if not with _éclat_.
I spent my time, meanwhile, with Merck, who in his Mephistophelist
manner looked upon my intended journey with an evil eye, and described
my companions, who had also paid him a visit, with a discrimination
that listened not to any suggestions of mercy. In his way he knew me
thoroughly; the naïve and indomitable good nature of my character was
painful to him; the everlasting purpose to take things as they are,
the live and let live was his detestation. "It is a foolish trick," he
said, "your going with these Burschen;" and then he would describe them
aptly, but not altogether justly. Throughout there was a want of good
feeling, and here I could believe that I could see further than he did,
although I did not in fact do this, but only knew how to appreciate
those ideas of their character, which lay beyond the circle of his
vision.
"You will not stay long with them!" was the close of all his remarks.
On this occasion I remember a remarkable saying of his, which he
repeated to me at a later time, which I had often repeated to myself,
and frequently found confirmed in life. "Thy striving," said he, "thy
unswerving effort is to give a poetic form to the real; others seek
to give reality to the so-called poetic, to the imaginative, and of
that nothing will ever come but stupid stuff." Whoever apprehends the
immense difference between these two modes of action, whoever insists
and acts upon this conviction, has reached the solution of a thousand
other things.
Unhappily, before our party left Darmstadt, an incident happened which
tended to verify beyond dispute the opinion of Merck.
Among the extravaganzas which grew out of the notion that we should
try to transport ourselves into a state of nature, was that of bathing
in public waters, in the open air; and our friends, after violating
every other law of propriety, could not forego this additional
unseemliness. Darmstadt, situated on a sandy plain, without running
water, had, it appeared, a pond in the neighbourhood, of which I
only heard on this occasion. My friends, who were hot by nature, and
moreover kept continually heating themselves, sought refreshment in
this pond. The sight of naked youths in the clear sunshine, might well
seem something strange in this region; at all events scandal arose.
Merck sharpened his conclusions, and I do not deny that I was glad to
hasten our departure.
On the way to Mannheim, in spite of all good and noble feelings which
we entertained in common, a certain difference in sentiment and conduct
already exhibited itself. Leopold Stolberg told us with much of feeling
and passion, that he had been forced to renounce a sincere attachment
to a beautiful English lady, and on that account had undertaken so
long a journey. When he received in return the sympathising confession
that we too were not strangers to such experiences, then he gave vent
without respect to the feelings of youth, declaring that nothing in the
world could be compared with his passion, his sufferings, or with the
beauty and amiability of his beloved. If by moderate observations we
tried, as is proper among good companions, to bring him duly to qualify
his assertion, it only made matters worse; and Count Haugwitz, as well
as I, were inclined at last to let the matter drop. When we had reached
Mannheim, we occupied pleasant chambers in a respectable hotel, and
after our first dinner there during the dessert, at which the wine was
not spared, Leopold challenged us to drink to the health of his fair
one, which was done noisily enough. After the glasses were drained, he
cried out: But now, out of goblets thus consecrated, no more drinking
must be permitted; a second health would be a profanation; therefore,
let us annihilate these vessels! and with these words he dashed the
wine-glass against the wall behind him. The rest of us followed his
example; and I imagined at the moment, that Merck pulled me by the
collar.
But youth still retains this trait of childhood, that it harbors no
malice against good companions; that its unsophisticated good nature
may be brushed somewhat roughly indeed, to be sure, but cannot be
permanently injured.
[Side-note: Klopstock.]
The glasses thus proclaimed angelical had considerably swelled our
reckoning, comforting ourselves, however, and determined to be merry,
we hastened for Carlsruhe, there to enter a new circle, with all
the confidence of youth and its freedom from care. There we found
Klopstock, who still maintained, with dignity, his ancient authority
over disciples who held him in reverence. I also gladly did homage
to him, so that when bidden to his court with the others, I probably
conducted myself tolerably well for a novice. One felt, too, in a
certain manner called upon to be natural and sensible at the same time.
The reigning Margrave, highly honored among the German Sovereigns as
one of their princely seniors, but more especially on account of the
excellent aims of his government, was glad to converse about matters
of political economy. The Margravine, active and well versed in the
arts and various useful branches of knowledge, was also pleased by some
graceful speeches to manifest a certain sympathy for us; for which
we were duly grateful, though when at home we could not refrain from
venting some severe remarks upon her miserable paper-manufactory, and
the favor she showed to the piratical bookseller Macklot.
The circumstance, however, of importance for me, was, that the
young duke of Saxe-Weimar had arrived here to enter into a formal
matrimonial engagement with his noble bride, the princess Louisa
of Hesse-Darmstadt; President von Moser had already arrived on the
same business, in order to settle this important contract with the
court-tutor Count Görtz, and fully to ratify it. My conversations
with both the high personages were most friendly, and at the farewell
audience, they both made me repeated assurances that it would be
pleasant to them to see me at Weimar.
Some private conversations with Klopstock, won me by the friendliness
they showed, and led me to use openness and candour with him. I
communicated to him the latest scenes of Faust, which he seemed to
approve of. Indeed, as I afterwards learned, he had spoken of them
to others with marked commendation, a thing not usual with him, and
expressed a wish to see the conclusion of the piece.
[Side-note: My Sister.]
Our former rudeness, though sometimes as we called it, our genius-like
demeanour, was kept, in something like a chaste restraint in
Carlsruhe, which is decent and almost holy ground. I parted from
my companions, as I had resolved to take a wide round and go to
Emmendingen, where my brother-in-law was high bailiff. I looked upon
this visit to my sister as a real trial. I knew that she had not a
happy existence, while there was no cause to find fault with her, with
her husband, or with circumstances. She was of a peculiar nature, of
which it is difficult to speak; we will endeavour, however, to set down
here whatever admits of being described.
A fine form was in her favor; but not so her features, which, although
expressing clearly enough, goodness, intelligence, and sensibility,
were nevertheless wanting in regularity and grace.