"Now when I had been strengthened in this course, I went back to Giessen, where the change in me was soon perceived; and they began to ridicule me on account of my 'piety.' But I cared little for it."
(Petersen afterwards returned to his home, at Lubeck, and became there professor of poetry, but met with great enmity from the Jesuits. In 1677 he became preacher at Hanover; and was called from thence, in 1678, to Cutin, as the court preacher to the Duke of Holstein.)
"But I had not been long court preacher at Cutin, when it happened that 500 thalers were stolen out of the room of one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber. In order to recover his money he went to a hereditary blacksmith,[82] at the village of Zernikaw, that he might 'knock out the thief's eye;' and in order that the smith might do it better he let him know, through an einspänner,[83] that the bishop desired it, which was not the case. When the smith is to perform a work of this kind he must prepare a nail three successive Sundays, and on the last Sunday strike this nail into a head made for the purpose; whereupon the thief, as they say, will lose his eye. He must, also, at midnight rise up naked, and go backwards to a hut which he has newly built in an open field, and go up to a large new bellows; take it and blow out the fire with it; upon this two large hell-hounds will appear. This performance having taken place in the night of the first Sunday, the villagers of Zernikaw came to me to complain, as the whole village had no rest for this terrible howling, which they had heard in the smithy, and said I ought to make it known to the duke, that he might stop this wicked work. I told them that these were important things which they had related to me; and asked, seriously, whether the affair was really such as they represented it. They answered that the whole village could bear witness of it, and that the einspänner had empowered the smith to do it. Thereupon I went to the bishop[84] (with whom, as it so happened, the gentleman of the bedchamber then was), and I told him I wished to say something to him privately. When I had related all to him he was horrified, sought for further information concerning the matter, and learnt that the einspänner had enjoined the smith to do this in the bishop's name; then he inquired of me what was to be done. I replied that, as his name had been misused for these public wicked proceedings, it was necessary that the hut, which had been built in honour of the devil, should be destroyed in the name of God; this was approved of. Thereupon I proceeded to do it; the boys from the school, noble pages, and many noblemen accompanied me to destroy the work of the devil. The smith had already run away, but his wife came and begged that she might be allowed to keep the new bellows and the iron utensils. But I said she ought to be ashamed of herself to desire to keep among her things what the devil had handled; whereupon she desisted from her petition. But the noble pages set fire to and burnt the hut and bellows, and cast the iron work into deep water. Now there came some merchants, travelling from Hamburgh, who looked on and listened to my discourse. It was just during the period of Christmas, so I took the passage, 'Behold a house of God among men,' and explained it shortly, but said in direct application: 'Behold a house of the devil among the Zernikawers. This is the place where formerly the idol of the Holsteiners, Zernebog, was worshipped, who wishes again to install himself; but has been driven away by the injunction of the bishop.' At the catechising, also, at which the duke, with his court, were in the habit of attending, I made an impressive speech, saying that the thief must be among the court; also that there were conjectures afloat as to who it was, and that if the thief would bring me this money, I called God to witness, I would not betray him. So the thief, at night, would have laid down the stolen money in the churchyard near my house, but could not because the gentleman of the bedchamber had placed his people there to catch the thief. Thus he himself prevented the restoration. The bishop was very angry with the gentleman of the bedchamber, who was obliged to leave the court. But he uttered menaces against me, because I had disgraced him in my sermon, having said that his name, which the smith must have mentioned in his proceedings, would be known by the devils in hell, and that he should take care not to get there himself. But I did not care for his threats, but trusted myself to my God and my office.
"The courtiers, however, leagued themselves against me; they sided almost all with the court mareschal, a Mecklenburger. But the mareschal sought out all kinds of occasions against the duchess and her maid of honour, Naundorf, and made the duke imagine that the duchess followed the advice of Naundorf in everything, and thereby the duke was irritated against the duchess. But, as I was not in their league, the court mareschal asked me in the public saloon, to which party I belonged, the great or the little. By the great party, they meant themselves. I answered that I was on the side of God and justice. The mareschal replied, that they would soon shorten my cloak for me. Now as I perceived that the ill will of the duke to the duchess continued increasing, I went to him, and spoke persuasively to him, that he should not be so alienated from his wife, as those who desired it sought only their own interests. Thereupon the duke went with me to the duchess, and they became reconciled in my presence; and I, as it were, united them again. The bishop told me to keep this secret; but from this time he noted the intrigues of the court mareschal and dismissed him.
"There was also another evil business, for a nobleman of the illustrious court of Plön quarrelled with a nobleman of our court, and they challenged one another. As soon as I discovered this I went to this sheep of my flock, and pointed out to him what an unchristian thing duelling was, as Christ had commanded us to love our enemies. He told me he would take care the quarrel was adjusted, so I was in some measure reassured. But at dawn of day on the morrow, I heard a troop of horses passing by my house, and it occurred to me that the devil was going to have his pastime with this sheep of my flock. I rose, awoke my servant, and as, from my great haste, I could not get a carriage, I went after them on foot. When I had gone a mile I heard some shots at a distance, the signal of the arrival of both parties at their respective places. But I thought that they had already exchanged shots, so I fell down on my knees and prayed God that neither of them might murder the other. Then I ran on, guided by the footprints of the horses, which I could easily see, as many of the Holstein junkers had accompanied my sheep; and as I found them both ready to commence the duel, I went up to my sheep and advised him to abstain from this evil deed. But his opponent thought that he had settled with me to do this, which I denied most solemnly; I also spoke persuasively to the others from the Plönish court. But neither of them would be reconciled. Then said I, 'Now, if you will not, may God make such an example of you both, together with the others that have come here for this duel, as may show his wrath in the eyes of the whole world.' Yet in my heart I wished that they might be preserved from it. Then God so ordained, that the seconds persuaded them and they became reconciled; and I got a carriage which conveyed me back to the house. Who could be more joyful than I, who had deprived the devil of a roast? Nevertheless, the Holstein noblesse were disposed in their hearts to speak evil concerning it, and observed to my lord that in future he would get no honourable cavalier to sit at his table. He, also, in the beginning, was inclined to speak ill of me; and for this reason, because I had followed them on foot. Then one of the equerries came to me and said that my lord had been so offended by my bad conduct that he had taken to his bed. I answered, by the time he rises from his bed he will find that I have done nothing but what was required of me by my duty as a faithful shepherd. Thereupon my lord sent for me, and I showed him that his table could not be adorned by those who opposed themselves to Christ. If I was so watchful and faithful towards a servant, how much more would I be so towards my lord himself. Then was my lord, who truly feared God, quite softened. Soon after, the Duke von Plön visited our court; and my heart feared his reproaches on account of what I had done; but he commended me, and, on the other hand, blamed his court preacher, who had been so near the duellists and had known the affair, yet had not stirred a foot in it. This pleased my lord much, and he thereupon caused a severe edict to be published against duelling.
"Up to this period I remained unmarried, and should have continued so if my dear father had not exhorted me to marry. A patrician lady had already been suggested to me at Lubeck, who met me in her smartest attire, and whom my father would have been glad for me to marry; but she was too fine for me, and I said that she would hardly suit a clergyman. If I was to marry, no one would suit me better than Fräulein von Merlan, who would not be a hindrance to me in my office; but I was shy about paying my addresses to her, lest she should think I had on this account sought her acquaintance at Frankfort. But some one who was going to Frankfort undertook to tell her my wishes; my love, however, would not give an answer to him who wooed her for me; but she wrote to me, that, though she had no engagement, still she was not at liberty to answer yes; and she proposed to me another young docterin in Frankfort, who was more highly gifted, and would suit me well; but I answered, either she or none, and wrote immediately to Herr Doctor Spener, that he might persuade her to consent. I wrote also to her noble father, who knew me, as I had once been at the Philippseck court, where he was high steward, and preached before his duke. He answered me, that though he had never had an idea of giving his daughter to one who was not of noble family, yet, he did not know how it happened, he was so troubled in mind when he wished to refuse his consent, that he thought it must be the will of God that he should entrust his daughter to the Superintendent Petersen; therefore, he sent herewith his fatherly yes. This letter was sent me by my love, Johanna, and Doctor Spener congratulated me. Who could be more joyful than I when I found that my prayer had been heard? for I had knelt in prayer to my God, that he might interpose to prevent the marriage if it were not his will, but if it were, that he would so trouble the father's mind that he could not withstand it. When, therefore, I read in the father's letter that he had been thus troubled, I perceived that this was what God had intended from all eternity. Then did I travel joyfully by Hamburg to Frankfort, where the bans were published, and I was afterwards married by Herr Doctor Spener.
"In 1685, the holy Revelation which God made through his angel in certain visions to the Apostle and Evangelist John was disclosed in a wonderful way to me and my love. Formerly I had always feared to read such a book, because it was generally considered that it was a sealed book, which no one could understand. But on a certain day I was powerfully moved, and led by my God to read this book, and on the same day and at the same hour, without my knowing it, my love felt the same impulse, and began to read the book, equally not knowing that I had felt a like impulse. Now, when I had gone to my study to note down something that I had discovered, from the accordance of the prophet Daniel with the thirteenth chapter of the Book of Revelation--what the beast and the little horn were--behold, my love came there and told me how she had seriously undertaken to read the holy book, and what she had found therein, and this harmonised with mine, which I showed her, as I had written it down, and the ink was not dry. Then were we mutually amazed, and agreed we would confer together at the end of a month, and observe what we had further found; but we could not withhold it, when we discovered anything singular and of undoubted truth; and it so happened that what she and I found was always precisely the same. We rejoiced much thereat, and thanked God in all simplicity that He had so invigorated us both by his enlightening spirit, as to be able to know the future fate of the church, and to bear witness thereof. For a long time we kept it to ourselves, till we made acquaintance with the Fraulein Rosamunda Juliana von der Asseburg, who, in her testimony, had borne witness to the same, yet not from searching the Holy Scriptures, but by extraordinary grace vouchsafed her from above. Herewith I must also note what happened to my love when she was eighteen, which I here set down in her own words:--'I dreamt that the numerals 1685 were written in golden ciphers on the heaven; on my right I saw a man who pointed to the numbers and said to me, "See at that time will great things happen, and somewhat shall be revealed unto you." Now, it was in this year, 1685, that the great persecution took place in France, and in the same year was the blessed millennial kingdom of the Apocalypse revealed to me and my dear husband, at the same hour; and, without one knowing of the other, did both our treatises so coincide, that we were ourselves amazed at it We were therefore, by divine guidance, convinced of the truth of what we had discovered in Holy Scripture concerning the kingdom of our King. And later we imparted to others in all simplicity our discovery, not caring when learned and unlearned alike gainsaid it.'"
Here we end the narrative of Petersen. They passed the first years of their marriage in peace. He had once accidentally placed his thumb on the passage--"Sarah shall bear a son;" the year following he was made happy by Johanna Eleonora bringing a son into the world, who was, indeed, small at his birth, but who shortly afterwards raised his head in a wonderful way out of his little bed and gave other delightful signs that he would become something remarkable and pleasing in the sight of the Lord. He did actually become, later, a Royal Russian Councillor, and was able to protect his dear parents when the millennial kingdom made their life full of cares; for, alas! it was not granted to them to keep the great light which had been kindled at the same time in both, under a bushel. It would have been better for their earthly comfort had they done so.
What the worthy couple learned from the Revelation, combined with numerous passages from the Bible--in reading which they were assisted by earnest prayer, followed by divine inspiration--was remarkable. The Millennium was not already come, but was approaching. It was to begin, at no very distant time, by the return of Christ on earth; when this should take place, a portion of the dead would rise; in great periods of thousands of years, the whole human race, living and dead, were to attain salvation; the Calvinists and Lutherans were to be united, and all Jews and heathen converted; then all even the worst sinners would be redeemed from hell; and, last of all, the devil himself brought out of his miserable condition, and, through repentance and penance, changed again into an angel; but this last would only be at the end of 50,000 years: from that time there would be endless bliss, love and joy. They were inclined to think that the beginning of this glorious time would be from 1739 to 1740.
In the year 1688, Petersen accepted the appointment of Superintendent at Luneburg. They considered it as a special providence that he had been called there, because once, in passing through on a journey, he had preached a beautiful sermon which had given much satisfaction; but in Luneburg he found many orthodox opponents who vexed and irritated him, and some mocked him on account of the opinions which he held concerning the millennial kingdom. They were, besides, injured by the intimacy with the Fraulein Rosamunda von der Asseburg, whose violent excitement and nervous exaltation had created a great sensation. The tender and innocent character of the maiden captivated both the Petersens; they supported the divine nature of her revelations, and defended her in the press, especially as the dear maiden revealed exactly the same concerning the already-mentioned return of the Lamb of God which had been disclosed to them. The private devotions which they held with the sick maiden gave great offence to the worldly-minded, and they were maliciously calumniated. When Petersen once was in great danger of drowning on the Elbe, he thought himself like the prophet Jonas, who was cast by the Lord into the body of a whale because he would not proclaim the secret of the Lord's word; and in this hour of danger he vowed that henceforth he would no longer conceal from the world his great secret. And he honestly kept his word. The millennial kingdom, and the return of the Lamb, were brought forward incessantly in his sermons. His hearers were amazed, his opponents denounced him, and he was removed from his office in 1692. They both bore this misfortune with love and trust in God.
From that time they passed their life in travelling about and writing books, in visits to those who were like-minded, and in constant disputes with the orthodox. They became to the multitude like persons of evil repute, to whom calumny and ill-natured gossip seemed to cling; they were obliged usually to keep their names secret on their journeys; but never were they wanting in warm patrons and friends. In the castles of princes, in the houses of the nobles, among the city authorities, and in the rooms of artisans, they found admirers. More than all others was Kniphausen, the President of the Supreme Court of Justice, their protector. The year Petersen was dismissed, he obtained for them a pension from the court of Berlin, and granted them a house at Magdeburg; other patrons also sent them money, and gave them recommendations, so that they were in a position to buy a small property at Magdeburg. They were, nevertheless, annoyed by the peasants and the clergymen of the place, and by denunciations in Berlin; but the Queen herself maintained intercourse with the proclaimer of a revelation so full of hope, and rejoiced that he promised salvation finally to the wicked. Thus he remained safe, though, indeed, the harmless proclaimer of a coming kingdom of glory was in danger of being deceived by wolves in sheep's clothing for among the pious people travelling about there were many deceivers. Once there came a troop of mendicant students, who maintained that they were Pietists, and demanded donations; then an adventurer desired instruction, having heard that every one who allowed himself to be converted would receive ten thalers. At last there came a false officer, who, in the absence of the husband, under the pretence of being a follower of the Lamb, insinuated himself into the confidence of the Frau Doctorin, who, probably from an indelible recollection of her noble birth, was disposed to bear special goodwill to the distinguished believer; but the husband returned home, just in time to prevent the foreign deceiver persuading his guileless wife to give him a letter of recommendation. On a journey to Nuremberg, they were received into the Pegnitzer Blumen order--he as Petrophilus, she as Phœbe. Such success comforted them amid the flood of flying sheets that surged up against them. The true-hearted Petersen complained that every one rose up in controversy against him, to prove themselves orthodox, and be made doctors of theology; and when even the pious stumbled at his doctrine of the seven trumpets, or if they reproached him, that he had once, when the opportunity offered, reappeared in the character of the old professor of poetry, and had celebrated the coronation of Frederick I. of Prussia and other worldly events in Latin verses which flowed from him like water, he bore it with resignation. The last years of their life they dwelt in the pious district of Zerbst at Thymern, where they had obtained a property, as their former property at Nieder-Dodeleben had been too unquiet for them, and the peasants had become too hostile. In 1718, Petersen succeeded, by victorious disputations, in restoring to the Evangelical communion the Duke Moritz Wilhelm von Sachsen-Zeitz. They died at a great age--she in 1724, he in 1727.
After Spener had been removed to Berlin, the University of Halle became the intellectual centre of Pietism; it was there that the impassioned Franke, with his companions Breithaupt and Anton, led the theological party. Henceforth the youth were systematically trained in the faith of the Pietists; immense was the concourse of students; only Luther had collected a greater number at Wittemberg. At Halle the dangers of the new tendency were evident: the colleges became mere schools for the propagation of their views; industrious, patient labour in the paths of human science appeared almost superfluous; not only the controversial points of the orthodox, but all the dogmas of the Church were treated by many with indifference and contempt. The mind was overstrained by intense prayer and spiritual exercises. Instead of unruly lads who sharpened their backswords on a stone, and drank immense glasses of beer, "fioricos or hausticos," in one draught, pale fellows crept through the streets of the city in a state of inward abstraction, with vehement movements of the hands, and loud outcries. All the believers rejoiced over this wonderful manifestation of divine grace; but their opponents complained of the increasing melancholy, and of distractions of the spirit, and of nefarious proceedings of the worst kind. Vain were the warnings of the moderate Spener.
From Halle, Pietism spread to the other Universities. Wittemberg and Rostock withstood it long, and were for many years the last bulwarks of orthodoxy. Even at the courts this faith gained influence: it forced its way among the governments, and after 1700 filled the country churches of most of the German territories. And its dominion was not confined to Germany: an active intercourse with the pious of Denmark and Sweden, and the Sclavonian East, contributed to maintain the inward communion of these countries with the spiritual life of Germany, which lasted till the end of the century. Even the orthodox opponents were, without knowing it, transformed by this Pietism; the old scholastic disputes were silenced, and they endeavoured to defend their own point of view with greater dignity and learning.
Meanwhile the defects in the faith of the Pietists became greater, the deterioration more striking. Since the process of spiritual regeneration had become the secret act of a man's life, after which the whole soul morbidly strained, all the bliss of salvation depended on his admittance into the community of the pious. He who by a special act of God's grace was brought into the condition of regeneration, lived in a state of grace; his soul was guarded from all sin by the Lord; he breathed a purer and more heavenly atmosphere, secure of the mercy of the Lamb, already redeemed from sin here. But it was difficult for the more cultivated minds to go through this spiritual process: it did not prosper with all conscientious men, as it did with the jurist Johann Jacob Moser. Touching are the accounts delivered to us of the strivings of individuals, of the anguish and self-torture which fruitlessly ground down body and soul. Among the weaker we find every kind of self-delusion and hypocrisy. Very soon it became doubtful whether the regenerate was an enthusiast or a deceiver: occasionally he was both at the same time.
After Pietism had won the favour of persons of distinction and the governing powers, it became a remunerative concern, a fashionable thing, an assistance to very worldly objects. Generally those who received the holiest revelations were tender, weak natures, whom one could not suppose capable of the strenuous work which is necessary for worldly service; they lived at the cost of their patrons. The artisans were received into the society of the upper classes in order to assure their spiritual progress, and whoever desired protection, hastened as penitents to attend the meetings for edification, of some great lord, which they preferred holding in special chambers prepared for the purpose, rather than in the chapels of their castles. Sighs, groans, wringing the hands, and talk about illumination, became now here and now there a lucrative speculation. In the regenerate clergy, who held the souls of weak nobles and gentry in their hands, might be found all the faults peculiar to ambitious favourites, pride and mean selfishness. Soon also the morality of many came into ill repute, and when, after the decease of a devout lord, a society of ambitious Pietists were expelled, a feeling of malicious pleasure was generally excited.
Thus an opposition to Pietism arose on all sides, equally among the orthodox, the worldly, and the learned, and finally in the sound common sense of the people. How the judgment of the thoughtful against it was expressed in the first half of the eighteenth century shall here be shown by a short example.
The worthy Semler, of whom more details will be given later, relates among his youthful reminiscences the sorrowful fate of his brother Ernst Johann, who returned in a distracted state to his parental home, from the regenerate circle of Magister Brumhardt and of Professor Buddeus at the University of Jena. The passage gives such a good insight into the period of decaying Pietism, that it shall be given here with a few abbreviations.
"My brother was so habitually upright that he even mistrusted his own feelings. Easy though it was to many of the brotherhood to declare the day and the hour of their being sealed to redemption, which warranted their living in a state of pure, spiritual, heavenly joyfulness, and raised them to the rank of God's children, yet little could my brother forgive himself this spiritual falsehood; he could not coincide in what was so lightly and so repeatedly spoken of by others. He therefore fell into immoderate grief over the greatness of his sins, which were alone his hindrance; he not only prayed, but he moaned half the night before the Lord, but there was no change in his feelings. He seldom eat meat, no white or wheaten bread; he considered himself quite unworthy even of existence. Every night, when I had gone to sleep, he stole secretly out of bed, crept into the small adjoining library, knelt or lay down on the floor, and gradually lost, in his passionate emotions, all caution as to speaking softly and gently. His moaning and lamenting awoke me. I sought him out, and small confidence as I had in myself to produce any great effect--being as yet little advanced in conversion,--yet I repeated to him at intervals such beautiful lines and verses, both Greek and Hebrew, that he often embraced me and sighed, Haying, 'Ah, if this would but begin in me.' I answered sometimes hastily, that this was perversion instead of conversion, and how impossible it was for that way to be right and true, wherein one acted contrary to the intentions of God, and made one's-self into an utterly useless, helpless creature. 'Yes,' he said, 'that is what I am, and cannot sufficiently acknowledge it.' I talked with my mother, who wept over her son, who might now have been our mainstay, if he had not been spoilt by these false ideas. My father disapproved of all this still more strongly, and expatiated at such length from dogmatic and polemical divinity, that I could well see in what account he held these new spiritual institutions. Meanwhile he was obliged to be on his guard, for the whole Court were in favour of this party; many were undoubtedly very well-meaning Christians, but there were also undeniably many idlers and adventurers, who entered these institutions, and found their good, comfortable life very easy. All the evidence of their life in the flesh--which evidence was not rare nor imperceptible--was of no avail; who could succeed here? Occasionally there was a convert who lived in shame with his maidservant; it was not investigated, it was a calumny, and in case of necessity they placed him elsewhere, if his peasants were too Lutheran. By degrees my brother insinuated that my father also had not yet entered the narrow way, and that he could not be helped to it. They roamed about the woods day and night, so that moonlight devotion, which many now again recommend, is nothing new. They sang the new hymns together; the Duke often indeed gave the conveyances for these meetings, together with refreshments; nay, he often himself was the coachman, when he wished publicly to do honour to some old shoemakers' wives who had much faith, for the Saviour's sake. I am so far from wishing to exaggerate the state of things, that indeed I have not said all. The period for the annual pilgrimage came, for this custom had been retained from the old times and institutions of the monks. In many places the grace of the Saviour was supposed to dwell abundantly, almost visibly, and thither did the brothers and sisters make their pilgrimages, in reality contrary to the principle laid down by Christ, that neither Jerusalem nor Samaria was the special abiding-place of His spirit. Many of them brought their provisions with them. My brother assuredly did not travel to Ebersdorf without money, but brought nothing back, for he had bought this or that little book to give to the brothers as a memento. This enthusiasm had its real views, that aspired to great ends, although directly afterwards they were moderated, because the Philadelphian reckoning did not coincide with them. During these my brother's pious journeys, my mother died, for the remembrance of whom I daily bless my God. My brother found her in her coffin when he returned; he felt all the grief of a son, threw himself upon her, and lay there long, crying aloud, 'Ah, if I, useless creature, had but died in my mother's stead!' Now we obtained an entrance to his heart; this journey on foot had much weakened his hypochondria; the exhortations of the brotherhood called forth some ideas which he could not himself realize; he was to a certain extent calmed, or began to believe himself so. We represented to him that he must make his gifts serviceable to his fellow-men, however small they might be. He first took a situation as preceptor in a small orphan-house, and afterwards with Herr von Dieskau, who dwelt in a castle of that name, in the most beautiful country that one could select for oneself One portion of this old castle stands upon the city wall; under the wall there is a small footpath with a hedge planted as a protection against slipping, but just under this fragment of rock flows the Saale, sometimes very full and broad, but always deep enough to allow the passage of rafts and boats; from the castle the eye falls upon a half circle of wood and hills. Here my brother might perhaps have found rest and refreshment, but he did not live much longer."
Here we close Sender's narrative. He himself became infected later by the prevailing spiritual tendency, and he strove, whilst still a youth, after regeneration, but the powerful tone of his mind enabled him to recover. The state of the times also helped to bring this about.
The year 1740 was fatal to Pietism. The new King of Prussia was as averse to the Pietists, as his father had been favourable to them. Almost at the same time they ceased to prevail in the Saxon courts. The time of enlightenment now began; the nation pursued another path; the "Stillen im lande" only existed as an isolated community. The association of brothers, of Count Zinzendorf, for a longer period developed a praiseworthy missionary activity in foreign countries, but they ceased to influence the stream of German life, which now began to flow on with a deeper and more powerful current.
Pietism had drawn together large numbers of individuals; it had raised them from the narrowness of mere family life, it had increased in the soul the longing after a deeper spiritual aim, it had introduced new forms of intercourse; here and there the strong distinctions of classes had been broken through, and it had called forth greater earnestness and more outward propriety in the whole nation, but it had not strengthened national union. He who gave himself up to it with zeal, was in great danger of withdrawing himself, with those who were like-minded, from the great stream of life, and of looking down from his solitude, like the shipwrecked man from his island, on the great waste of waters around him.
The new scientific development also produced, at first, only individual men of learning; then a free culture; after that a nation, which dared to struggle and to die, and finally to live, for its independence.
CHAPTER VI.
THE DAWNING OF LIGHT.
(1750.)
From the German cities, on the boundaries betwixt guild labour and free invention, did the art of printing come into the world--the greatest acquisition of the human race, after that of the alphabet. The mind of man could now be conveyed, bound up in wood and leather, upon a thousand roads at the same time, all over the earth; the powers of man in church and state, in science and handicraft, were unfolded, not only more powerfully, more variously, and more richly, but in a totally different manner from the quiet plodding of the past. A change was produced in nations in one century which formerly would have taken a thousand years. Every individual was bound together in one great intellectual unity with his contemporaries, and every nation with other civilized nations. For the first time a regular connection in the intellectual development of the human race was secured. The mind of the individual will continue to live upon earth perhaps many thousand years after he has ceased to breathe; but the soul of each individual nation gains a capacity of renovating itself which will, we hope, remove its decease, according to the old laws of nature, to an incalculable distance.
The black art had not been invented many years when a spring-tide arose in the soul. From the study of the Latin writers, the humanitarians proclaimed, with transport, how much there had been of the beautiful and the grand in the ancient world. Eagerly did they maintain the treasure of noble feelings, which had fallen on their souls from the distant past, against the coarse or corrupt life that they beheld around them. With the holy book in their hands, pious ecclesiastics contended for the words of Scripture, against the despotism of Rome and the false traditions of the Church. By thousands of books written by themselves, they raised the consciences of the people, for the greatest spiritual struggle that had ever taken place since the Star of Bethlehem had appeared to the human race; and again through thousands of books, after the first victory, they consecrated anew for their people all earthly relations, the duties and rights of men, of the family, and of the governing powers, as the first educators and teachers of the great multitude.
But it was not the pleasure derived from the ancient poets and statues, nor the mighty struggle which was carried on concerning the teaching of the Church, nor the theologians and the philologists of the sixteenth century, that were the greatest blessings bestowed by the new art; it is not they alone that have given richness to thought, and security to judgment, and made love and hatred greater. This was brought about in yet another way--through the medium of types and woodcuts; slowly, imperceptibly, to contemporaries, but to us wonderfully.
Men learnt gradually a different mode of seeing, observing, and judging. Sharp as was the mental activity of individuals in the middle ages, the impressions which were conveyed to their minds from the outer world were too easily distorted by the activity of their imagination, which united dreams, forebodings, and immature combinations with the object. Now the distinct black upon white was always at work, to give a durable, unvarying report of multitude of new conceptions upon the mutual relations of the State, and the position held in it by the individual man. How various have been the lawgivers who have dominated over the lives of individuals--the Jewish priests, the community of apostles, the Jurist schools of ancient Rome, the Longobard kings and the ambitious popes; and, again, together with laws which had originated in past ages and nations, there were the reminiscences from German antiquity--legal decisions, ordinances, codes of law, regulations and privileges. According to their decisions a man preserved or lost his house and farm, wife and child, and his property, either inherited or acquired. And just after the great war, the despotic will of the ruler, and the tyrannical power of a heartless system, had exalted itself above all law. Amid such a chaos of laws, and the suppression of rights by the power of the State, the minds of men sought a firm support. And as the Pietists demanded of the Church a worthier conception of human rights and duties, the Jurists also began, after the great war, to place the natural law of men in opposition to the injustice of despotic States, and to vindicate the reasonable law of States against intriguing politicians. Together with mathematical discipline and natural philosophy, the science of law became the laboratory in which minds were reared to ideal requirements. From them sprang a new philosophy.
After the Thirty Years' War there began, in the great civilized nations, a systematic exposition of those convictions which Science, from its then standing-point, was able to give concerning God, the creation and the government of the world. The French Descartes, the English Locke, the Dutch Spinoza, and the German Leibnitz, Thomasius and Wolf, were the great exponents of this philosophy.
They all, with the exception of the free-thinker Spinoza, sought to keep their system, concerning the divine rule in nature and in the soul of man, in unison with the doctrines of Christian theology.
After Descartes had put forth his propositions, nothing appeared fair or true to the inquiring spirit of man but what could be proved by unanswerable demonstration,--all belief in authority passed away; science assumed a new dominion. The divines, also, once her severe rulers,--even Luther had placed the words of Holy Scripture above the human reason,--now found that natural theology was the ally of revelation. Young theologians eagerly sought in this philosophy new supports to their faith. The necessity and wisdom of a Creator were demonstrated from the movements of the stars, the volcanic fires, or the convolutions of a snail's shell. On the other hand, there was no lack of men who denied the creating power of a personal God and the immortality of the soul. But against such isolated deists and atheists, most of the philosophers, and the Christian piety of the great mass of the people, rose in arms.
The great German philosophers who, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, were the leaders of this movement, carried a holy fervour into the various circles of German life. Leibnitz, the great creative intellect of his time, a wonderful mixture of elastic pliancy and firm tranquillity, of sovereign certainty and tolerant geniality, worked, by his countless monographs and endless letters, especially on the leaders of the nation and on foreigners, on princes, statesmen, and scholars, opening a path on all sides, and hastening forward to disclose the widest prospects. Besides him, Thomasius, spiritual, emotional, combative, and greedy of approbation, excited even the indifferent and insignificant, by his noisy activity, to take a part in the struggle. As the first German journalist, he contended through the press, both jestingly and in earnest--now in alliance with the Pietists against intolerant orthodoxy, now as opponent of fanatical revivals, for toleration and pure morality against every kind of superstition and fanaticism. Lastly, the younger Christian Wolf, the great professor; he was a methodical, clear, and sober teacher, who, during long years of useful activity, drew up a system and founded a school.
A period such as this, in which the great discoveries of individuals inspired their numerous disciples with enthusiasm, is a happy period for millions who perhaps have no immediate share in the new acquisition. Somewhat of apostolical consecration seems to rest upon the first efforts of a school. What has been progressively formed in the soul of a teacher, painfully amidst inward struggles, works on young souls as something great, firm, and elevating. With enthusiasm and Pietism is united the impulse to work out by self-exertion the new acquisition. Rapid is the spread of theorems among the people; they work not only on the individual sciences, but on all the tendencies of the practical mind, on lawgiving, statesmanship, household regulations, and family training; in the studio and workshop of the artist, and handicraftsman.
This new scientific light was first kindled in 1700. Academies, learned periodicals, and prizes were established. The leaders adjusted the German language to the exigencies of science, and thus placed it victoriously on an equality with Latin; and this glorious deed was the first step towards bringing the mass of the nation into a new relation with the learned.
Thus a new life forced its way, about 1720, with irresistible power into the houses, writing-rooms, and workshops of the citizens. Every sphere of human activity was searchingly investigated. Agriculture, commerce, and the technicalities of trade were made accessible by hand-books of instruction, which are still in the present day the groundwork of our technological literature. Books were written on raw materials, and the method of working them; on minerals, colours, and machines; in many places popular periodicals appeared, which endeavoured to make the new discoveries of science available to the artizan and manufacturer. Even into the hut of the poor peasant did some rays of bright light penetrate; for him, also, arose a small philanthropic literature. The moral working of every earthly vocation was also exhibited; much that was elevating was said concerning the worth and importance of operatives and of officials; the inward connection of the material and spiritual interests of the nation were proclaimed; incessantly was the necessity pointed out of abandoning the beaten track of old customs, of taking interest in the progress of foreign countries, and of learning their character and requirements. Men wrote upon dress and manners in a new style, with humour, irony, and reproof, but always with the wish of remoulding and improving. The spiritual failings of the various classes and professions, the weakness of women, and the roughness and dishonesty of men were incessantly criticised and chastised, undoubtedly in an uncouth style, and sometimes with pedantry and narrow-mindedness, but in an earnest and upright spirit.
The whole private life of Germany was thrown into a state of restless excitement; new ideas struggled everywhere with old prejudices; everywhere the citizen beheld around and within him a change which it was difficult to withstand. The period was still poor in great phenomena, but everywhere in smaller events an impulsive power was perceptible. Only a few years later, the new enlightenment was to bear blossoms of gladness to the whole world. Still is philosophy and popular culture of the people dependent on mathematics and natural science; but since Johann Matthias Gesner, the knowledge of antiquity, the second pole of all scientific culture, has begun to bear upon the historical development of the popular mind. A few years after 1750, Winkelmann travelled to Italy.
And how did the citizens live, from whose homes the greater part of our thinkers and discoverers, our scholars and poets have gone forth, who were to carry out the new culture further and bolder, more freely and more beautifully?
Let us examine a moderate-sized city about 1750. The old brick walls are still standing, with towers, not only over the gates, but here and there upon the walls. A temporary wooden roof is placed on many, the strongest have prisons in them, others that were decayed, having been riddled with shot, are pulled down. The city walls also are repaired; projecting angles and bastions still lie in ruins; blooming elder and garden flowers are planted behind, and trail over the stones; the city moat lies for the most part dry, the cows of some of the citizens pasture within it, or the clothmakers have their frames set up with rows of small iron hooks, and quietly spread their cloths over them. The usual colour since the Pietists, is pepper and salt, as it was then called; the old favourite blue of the Germans is also seen, though no longer made from German woad, but from foreign indigo. The narrow openings in the doors have still wooden planks, often two behind one another, and they are closed at night by the city watchmen, who stand at their post, but have often to be awakened by knocking and ringing, when anyone desires admission. On the inner side of the city wall, fragments of wooden galleries are still to be seen, on which once the archers and arquebuziers stood; but the passage along the wall is no longer free through its whole length, there are already many poor cottages and shops built on it.
In the interior of the city, the houses are unadorned, and not so numerous as in former centuries; there are still some waste spaces between, but most have been bought by people of rank and turned into gardens. Perhaps there is already a coffee garden, laid out after the pattern of the famed one of Leipzig; it contains some rows of trees and benches, and in the coffee-room, near the bar, are arranged the clay pipes of the habitués; but the maple head and the costly meerschaum are just coming into fashion. In the neighbourhood of the chief market-place, the houses are more stately, the old arcades are not preserved; these covered passages, which existed once throughout the greater part of Germany, led through the basement story to the market-places, protecting the foot passengers from rain, and acted as a communication from the house to the street. The old pillars and vaults are attached to the massive edifice of the council-house by coarse rough-cast cement and intermediate walls; in the dim poorly lighted rooms of the interior hang cobwebs, gray piles of records raise their heads amidst layers of dust; in the council-room, in a raised space, the railing of which separates the councillors from the citizens, are stiff-cushioned chairs, covered with green cloth, and fastened with brass nails; everything is unadorned, even the whitewash neglected, and everything poor and tasteless, for in the new State money is deficient, and no pleasure is felt in adorning public edifices, which are considered by the citizens as a necessary evil. Most of the houses in the market-place have pointed gables; they look out on the street, and betwixt the houses broad rushing gutters pour their water on the bad pavement, which is made of rough stones. Among the houses stands an occasional church or abandoned monastic buildings, with buttresses and pointed arches. The people look with indifference on these remains of the past, bound up with which there is scarcely any fond remembrance, for they have lost all appreciation of ancient art; owing to this, the edifices of the ancient times are everywhere ruined, as the castle of Marienburg was by Frederic of Prussia. The magistrates have carefully turned the empty space into a parsonage-house or schoolroom, knocked out the windows, and made a plaster ceiling; and the boys look from their Latin grammar with admiration on the stone rosettes and delicate work of the chisel,--remains of a time when such inutilities were still erected; and in the crumbling cloisters where once trod monks with earnest step, they now spin their humming tops; for the "Circitor susurrans," or "Monk," is still the favourite game of this period, which gentlemen of rank also, in a smaller form, sometimes carry in their pockets.
There is already much order in the city: the streets are swept, the dung-heaps, which fifty years before, even in towns of some calibre, lay in front of the doors--the ancient cleanliness having disappeared in the war--are again removed by an ordinance, which the councillors of the sovereign have sent to the superior officials, and these to the senate. The stock of cattle in the streets is also much diminished; the pigs and cattle, which not long before 1700 enjoyed themselves amidst the children at play, in the dirt of the street, are strictly kept in farmyards and out-houses, for the government does not like that the cities should keep cattle within the walls, for it has introduced the octroi, and a disbanded non-commissioned officer paces backwards and forwards near the gate, with his cane in his hand in order to examine the cans and baskets of the country people. Thus the rearing of cattle is carried on in the needy suburbs and farms: it is only in the small country towns that citizens employ agriculture as a means of support. There is a police also now, that exercises a strict vigilance over beggars and vagabonds, and the passport is indispensable for ordinary travellers. Constables are visible in the streets, and watch the public-houses. At night a fire watchman is posted near the council-house, and the warders of the towers by means of flags and large speaking trumpets, give danger signals. The engine-house is also kept in good order; clumsy fire-barrels stand beside the council-house under open sheds, and above them hang the iron-cased fire-ladders. The night watch are tolerably watchful and discreet; after the great war they here and there sang offensive verses, when they called out the hours, but now the pious parson has insisted upon both words and melody being spiritual.
The artisan continues to work in the old way, each one adheres steadily to his guild; the painters also are incorporated, and execute as a masterpiece a crucifixion with the usual number of prescribed figures. In the Roman Catholic districts they live by very moderate performances of the pictures of the saints; in the Protestant, they paint shields and targets, and the coats of arms of the sovereigns, which are to be seen in numbers on public buildings and over the doors of artisans. Most of the artisans adhere strictly to their old customs, and especially to their guild rights. Any one who enters the guild not according to artisan law, is treated as a bungler, and persecuted with a hatred, the intention of which is to exclude him from their society. Serious business is still transacted in front of the open shops; apprentices are taken, fellows receive the freedom, quarrels are accommodated, and the formula "By your kind permission," which introduces every speech, sounds unceasingly at all the meetings of the masters and the fellows; but the old colloquies and sayings of the middle ages are only half understood, rough jests have been introduced, and the better class already begin not to attach much value to the guild; indeed there are those who consider the old constitution of the guild as a burden, because it stubbornly resists their endeavours to enlarge their manufacturing activity; such was the case with the clothmakers and iron-workers. And the jovial annual feasts which were once the joy and pride of almost every artisan have nearly ceased. The processions in masks, and the old peculiar dances, are incompatible with the culture of a time in which the individual fears nothing so much as to lose his dignity, in which it is preached from the pulpit, that noisy, worldly amusements are sinful, and the learned men of the city find no adequate reason for such disturbance in the streets.
The gentry of the city are separated from the citizens by dress and titles. As much as the nobles look down upon them, so do they upon the citizens, and these again upon the peasants. A merchant has already a place among the gentry, especially if he occupies some city office or has wealth. In the families also of merchants of distinction, as the first wholesale houses are denominated, and in those of traders of consideration, as the possessors of large retail shops are called, a pleasing change may be observed in the mode of life. The coarse luxury of a former generation is restrained, better training at home and greater rectitude in business are everywhere perceptible. It is already a subject of boast that the members of old solid commercial houses are not those who sue for patents of nobility; nay, such vain new nobles are despised by the high commercial class.[85] And the unprejudiced cavalier is brought to confess, that in fact there is no difference between the wife of the landed proprietor, who goes with dignity into the cow-house to overlook the skimming of the cream, and the wife of a merchant of distinction at Frankfort, who during the fair sits in the warehouse; "she is well and handsomely dressed, she gives orders to her people like a princess, she knows how to behave to people of rank, commoners, and those of the lower classes, each according to their class and position; she reads and understands many languages, she judges sensibly, and knows how to live, and bring up her children well." Other circumstances, besides the intellectual energy of the time, contributed to elevate the German merchant. The influx of the expelled Huguenots had not in some respects been favourable to our German character, yet the influence that they exercised on German commerce must be highly estimated. About 1750 their families dwelt in almost all the larger commercial cities; they formed there a small aristocratic community, lived in social seclusion, and maintained carefully their relations with their connections in France, who, up to the present day, form an aristocracy of French wholesale traders, serious and strict, and rather of the old-fashioned aristocratic school. It was among the German Huguenots that the puritanical character of the Genevan and Flemish Separatists found many adherents, their staid demeanour had exercised an influence on other great houses both in Frankfort and along the Rhine. But German commerce had now acquired new vigour, and healthy labour raised the tone of its character. The impoverished country again took an honourable share in the commerce of the world. Already did the Germans export their iron and steel wares from Mark, Solingen and Suhl, cloth from all the provinces, fine cloth also of Portuguese and Spanish wool from Aix-la-Chapelle, damask from Westphalia, linen and lawn from Silesia; to England, Spain, Portugal, and the colonies, whose products in return had a great market in Germany; while the whole of the east of Europe, up to the frontiers of Turkey and the steppes of Asia, were supplied by German merchants. The poverty of the people, that is to say, the low rate of wages, made the outlay of many manufactures light and remunerative. In Hamburg and the cities of the Rhine, from Frankfort to Aix-la-Chapelle, the wholesale trade throve, and equally so in the frontier lands towards Poland, though in a ruder form, as it was one of barter. Goods and travellers were still conveyed down the Danube in rough wooden boats, which were built for a single voyage, and taken to pieces at the end of it, and sold as planks. And at Breslau the bearded traders from Warsaw and Novogorod sold the carts and horses of the steppes, on which they had brought their wares in long caravans to barter them for the costly products of western civilisation.
Already do the Silesian merchants begin to complain that the caravans come less often, and foreigners are dissatisfied on account of the new Prussian red-tapism and customhouse regulations of a strict government. At the same time travelling traders, with their sample cases of knife-blades, and needles, began to find their way from Lennep and Bartscheid to the Seine and the Thames, and the younger sons of great manufacturers met together with Hamburghers in London, Lisbon, Cadiz, and Oporto, and there, as bold and expert speculators, founded numerous firms. As early as 1750, cosmopolitanism had developed itself in the families of great merchants, who looked down with contempt on the limited connections of home. And something of the enterprising and confident character of these men has been communicated to their business friends in the interior. A manly, firm, and independent spirit is to be found about this time pervading all classes.
But most of the gentry in every city belonged to the literary classes--theologians, jurists, and medical men. They represented probably every shade of the culture of the time, and the strongest contrasts of opinion were to be found in every great city. Now, the clergy were either orthodox or Pietist. The first, generally pleasant in social intercourse; not unfrequently bon vivants, able to stand a good bottle of wine, and tolerant of the worldly jokes of their acquaintances. They had lost a good deal of their old pugnacity and inquisitorial character; they condescended sometimes to quote a passage from Horace, occupied themselves with the history of their parish church and school, and already began to regard with secret goodwill the dangerous Wolf, because he was so striking a contrast to their opponents, the Pietists. Where Pietist clergy resided they were probably in better relations with other confessions, and were especially reverenced by the women, Jews, and poor of the city. Their faith, also, had become milder; they were, for the most part, worthy men--pure in morals, faithful shepherds of souls, with a tender, lovable character. Their preaching was very pathetic and flowery; they liked to warn people against cold subtleties, and recommended what they called a juicy, racy style, but which their opponents found fault with as affected tautology. Their endeavours to isolate their parishioners from the bustle of the world was even now regarded with distrust by a great majority of the citizens; and in the taverns it was usual to say, mockingly, that the pious sat groaning over leather aprons, shoemakers' lasts, and tailors' geese, and were on the watch for regeneration.
The teachers of the city schools were still learned theologians, and, for the most part, poor candidates; the Rector, perhaps, had been appointed from the great school of the Halle Orphan Asylum. They were an interesting class, accustomed to self-denial, frequently afflicted with weakly bodies, the result of the hard, necessitous life through which they have had to work upwards. There were original characters among them; many were queer and perverse, and the majority had no comprehensive knowledge. But in very many of them was hid, perhaps, under strange forms, somewhat of the freedom, greatness, and candour of the ancient world; they had been, since the Reformation, the natural opponents of all pious zelots, even those that came from the great orphan asylum, from the training of the two Frankes and of Joachim Lange were generally more moderate than was satisfactory to the Pietist pastors. The leaves of their Cornelius Nepos were from constant use frightfully black; their lot was to rise slowly from the sixth or fifth form to the dignity of conrectors, with a small increase in their scanty salary. The greatest pleasure of their life was to find sometimes a scholar of capacity, in whom they could plant, besides the refinements of Latin syntax and prosody, some of their favourite ideas--a heathenish view of the greatness of man, influences on which the scholar, perhaps, in his manhood, looked back with a smile. But in this thankless and little esteemed occupation they laboured incessantly to form in the Germans a feeling for the beauty of antiquity, and a capacity for comprehending other races of men. And the unceasing influence exercised by thousands of them on the living generation was increased when Gesner naturalised the Greek language in the schools, and established an entirely new foundation for the instruction of scholars, which was spread by the teachers with enthusiasm; the spirit of antiquity, a thorough comprehension of the writers, not the merely grammatical construction, became the main object.
The school of every important town was a Latin one. If it attained to so high a point as to prepare the upper classes for the University, the boys who were to become artisans left when they got to the fourth form. This arrangement contributed to insure a certain amount of education to the citizen, which is now sometimes wanting. It was certainly in itself no great gain for the guild master to have some knowledge of Mavor, and of Cupid and Venus's doves, which were brought forward in all the poems of the learned, and embellished even the almanacks and gingerbread; but, together with these conceptions from antiquity, his mind imbibed also the seed of the new ideas of the time. It is owing to this kind of school culture that enlightenment of mind has so rapidly spread among intelligent citizens.
Strict was the school discipline; the usual words of encouragement which the poor scholars then wrote in one another's albums were--"Patience! joyfully onward!" But strictness was necessary, for in the under classes grown-up youths sat beside the children, and the bad tricks of two generations were in constant conflict. Through a great part of Germany there existed a custom which has been retained up to the present day, that the boys who were on the foundation must, under the lead of a teacher, sing as choristers. If they did not walk in funeral processions behind the cross, in their blue mantles, it was a grievous neglect, which much disturbed the discipline of the school, and as early as 1750 was complained of as an irregularity.
The followers of Wolf were to be found everywhere among the gentry, as the scholars of the new "enlightenment," the watchmen of toleration, and the friends of scientific progress. In the course of this year they were in anxious discussion on some old controversial points, for the Leipziger, Crusius, had just published his "Introduction to the Rational Contemplation of Natural Occurrences;" and, with this work, and a cosmos of the year 1749, in their hands, they were once more taking into consideration whether they were to assume that space was a plenum or a vacuum, and whether the final cause of movement was to be sought in the active force of elastic bodies. Indignantly did these men of progress regard the theological faculty at Rostock, who had, just at this period, compelled a young Herr Kosegarten to make a recantation, because he had dared to maintain that the human nature of the Redeemer on earth had only been to a certain degree supported by his Divine nature; that he had learnt like others, and had not in all things a perfect foreknowledge. On the other hand, they accorded a benignant smile to the physico-theological contemplations of those who proved the possibility of the resurrection, in spite of the continual change of matter--or, to use the language of the time, in spite of the change of particles of the body--or took pains to show wisdom and foresight in the white fur of the hare in Livonia.
They could also prize German poetry and eloquence. Herr Professor Gottsched and his wife were then at Leipzig. Like others, they had their weaknesses; but there was a noble nature in them, decorum of character, dignity, and knowledge. They also belonged to this school, and they wished, through the medium of German poetry, to introduce greater refinement and better taste into the country. They met with much enmity, but their periodical, the "Neuen Büchersaal," could scarcely be dispensed with by those that followed the course of the belles lettres. Beside this elder generation, a younger one was already springing up in the cities, who no longer considered the fine arts merely as agreeable ornaments, but looked to their influence for noble feelings and a freer morality, at which the literary party disapprovingly shook their heads. And thus these disciples--it was only a small number--conducted themselves for two years with an excitement which led them into great exaggerations; they carried books in their pockets, they gave them to the women of their acquaintance, they declaimed loudly, and pressed one another's hands. It was the first dawn of a new life which was hailed with so much joy. In the monthly journal, the "Bremer Beiträge," appeared the first cantos of the "Messiah," by Herr Klopstock; the perplexity which, in the beginning, was excited by its ancient metre, was now followed, in a small circle, by unreserved admiration. In the preceding year another poem, "The Spring," by an unknown writer, had been published; no one knew who had written it, but it was supposed to be the same agreeable poet who, under the armorial bearings of Breitkopf, had contributed, together with Kästner, Gellert, and Mylius, to the monthly journal "Belustigungen des Verstandes und Witzes" ("Diversions of Wit and Intellect"). And just at this time, also, the beginning of another heroic poem, "Noah," by another unknown writer, had been published by Weidmann; it was supposed to be by a Swiss, because the name Sipha appeared in it, which had formerly been used by Bodmer. All these poems were in Roman metre, and this new style caused an excitement of mind such as had never before been known. There appeared to be a regular rebellion among the bels-esprits; and there was shortly to be a still greater uproar.
The cities were still deficient in such theatrical representations as could satisfy a thoughtful mind. But any one who then travelling in northern Germany had met the Schönemannsche troop, would still remember a young man of disadvantageous figure, with a short neck, of the name of Eckhof, who afterwards became the most refined and finished actor of Germany. And just within these weeks a new book had come from the Leipzig fair, "Beiträge zur Historie und Aufnahme des Theaters" ("Contributions to the History and Rise of the Theatre"), which had been written by two young literati of Leipzig; of whom one was called Lessing. In the same batch of books was "Pamela," by Richardson, who, the year before had written "Clarissa."
But what was then read in the houses of the citizens was of quite another quality. As yet there were no circulating libraries; only the small second-hand booksellers sometimes lent books to trustworthy acquaintance. But there sprang up a voluminous literature of novels, which were eagerly bought by unassuming readers. They were narratives, slight and carelessly put together, in which strange events were related.
These adventures were represented in the seventeenth century in various ways: either in dull imitations of the old chivalrous and pastoral novels, with a phantastic background, and without the advantage of detailed description; or a coarse copy of real life, without beauty, often common and vulgar. There was then a concurrence of a decaying style and of the beginning of a new one. After 1700, the realistic tendency became the ruling one. From the Amadis novels, arose loose court and tourist adventures. "Simplicissimus" was followed by a great number of war romances, Robinsonades, and stories of adventurers; the greater part of them are very carelessly composed, and German gossip or newspaper information of extraordinary occurrences abroad, partly diaries, are worked in. "Fassmann's Dialogues from the Kingdom of the Dead," are collected in a similar way from flying-sheets and story-books, which that disorderly character, who then resided in Franconia, had gathered together from the pastor of the place. Those who wrote thus were thoroughly despised by literary men, but they exercised a very great influence--one difficult to estimate--on the mind of the people. They were two separate spheres that revolved together. And this contrast between the reading of the people and that of the educated class, exists but too much, even in the present day.
Among the gentry of the town, however, there were in 1750 still other literati. No town of any importance failed to possess a patriotic man, who examined old chronicles, church documents, and records from the council archives, and could give valuable contributions towards a history of the place and district. As yet little was known of the monuments of antiquity; but they, as well as old inscriptions and the false idols of our primeval ancestors, were copied as curiosities.
Still greater was the interest excited by physical science. It continues the most popular branch of knowledge in the smaller cities. Not inconsiderable is the number of respectable periodicals which give information concerning the new discoveries of science. We also revert to them with respect; the representations and style are sometimes admirable; as, for example, in "Kästner's Hamburg Magazine;" and they are unweariedly occupied in presenting the scientific discoveries of commerce, trade, and agriculture to every circle of practical interests. Their rational influence, however, did not entirely displace all that was untenable. The old inclination for alchemy was not conquered. Still did men, sensible and upright men, continue this kind of work; earnestly was the great secret sought for, and ever did something interpose to hinder final success. This work was carried on secretly, but well did the city know that the councillor or the secretary still used his chemical apparatus to make gold. But a pleasure in chemical processes, distillations in retorts, and cold solvents was prevalent among many; powerful tinctures were distributed to acquaintances, and housewifes loved to distil various artificial waters; in advertisement sheets, medicaments were recommended, pills for the gout, powders for the scrofula, &c., charlatanry was comparatively greater than now, and lies, equally barefaced. A zeal for scientific collections became general; boys also began to pin butterflies and beetles, and to examine dendrites and minerals in their father's microscope; and the more wealthy rejoiced over "Rösel's Insect Recreations," and the first number of "Frischen's Representations of Birds."
The well educated, even in the humblest places, prided themselves on collecting a library. Twice a year, at Easter and Michaelmas, the lover of books made his regular purchases; then the bookseller brought from the Leipzig Fair the "novelties" which he had either bought with money or exchanged for other works published by himself. These new books he laid in his shop for inspection, as a trader now does his drapery. This was an important time for literary amateurs; the shops were the focus of literary intercourse; the chief customers seated themselves there, gave their opinions, chose and rejected books, and received the lists of new works of the great firms,--as, for example, that of Breitkopf,--and obtained information of other novelties from the literary world, such as, that in Göttingen a new scientific society had been founded; that Herr Klopstock had received a pension of 400 thalers from the King of Denmark, without any duties attached to it; and that Herr von Voltaire had been appointed chamberlain at Berlin. About this period many other desirable purchases made their way through the country in the bales of books.
There were many opportunities also of acquiring old as well as new books. An interest had already been excited in the old editions of the classics. Besides those of Aldus, those of Elzivir were sought after with especial curiosity. But the second-hand book trade was as yet inconsiderable, except in Halle and Leipzig; it was not easy, unless by accident or at some auction, for individuals to acquire books which, in the last century, had been collected by the patricians of the Imperial cities whose families had gradually died out, or perhaps from monastic libraries, the books of which had been sold in an underhand way by unscrupulous monks. An ecclesiastic in the neighbourhood of Gräfenthal in Franconia sold, for twenty-five gulden, which were to be paid by instalments, many ells of folios and quartos beautifully bound; the ells of the larger-sized books were somewhat dearer than those of the smaller ones; many works were of course incomplete, because, the measurement being precise, the ell was shorter than the number of volumes. There was no choice allowed. It was generally the backs that were measured. This barbarism, however, was an exception.
Those authors who wrote books, if in high repute, obtained from the booksellers an amount of compensation far from insignificant. Their position, in this respect, had much improved since the beginning of the century. As the predilection for theological and legal treatises still continued, they were sometimes more highly paid than they would be now. He, nevertheless, who did not stand, as university teacher, on the vantage-ground of science, gained but a small income. When the Right Rev. Herr Lesser, in 1737, made an agreement with his publisher for the publication of "the Chronicle of Nordhausen," he was "satisfied" to take as payment for each sheet of that conscientious work, the sum of sixteen gute groschen, which he was to receive in the shape of books, but at the same time to promise that, in case the contents of his work should involve the publisher in any troubles with the authorities, he would indemnify him.
In the latter part of the morning the apothecary's shop became a pleasant rendezvous for the city gentry. There, politics and city news were discussed along with small glasses of eau de vie; and from the ceiling and upper cornice, the old frippery attire of exploded quacks and worm doctors, also skeletons of sharks, stuffed apes, and other horrors, looked down goggle-eyed upon the eager disputes of the society. Besides the city gossip, politics had already become a favourite subject of discourse, which was carried on no longer with the calm of mere wise maxims, but with heartfelt interest. Whether King or Empress, whether Saxony or Prussia, were principally discussed, it could be discovered to which party each individual present belonged. A few years later, these kind of disputes became so vehement that they destroyed family life and the peace of households. Meanwhile the imaginations of the lesser citizens, the servants and children, were filled with other ideas, for the old superstition wove its web round their life. There was scarcely an old house that had not its haunted room; ghosts showed themselves on the graves and within the church doors; even the engine-house was haunted before a fire broke out; still was the mysterious wail of lament heard, a variation of the belief in the wild army which had entered into the souls of the people through the great war; still were old cats considered as witches; and apparitions, presentiments, and significant dreams were discussed with anxious faith. Ever yet was the search after concealed treasures an affair of importance; no city was without a credible story of a treasure trove which had taken place in the neighbourhood, or had been frustrated by untimely words. But the prudent father of a family already tries earnestly to enlighten his children and servants on such points. The enlightened man does not deny unqualifiedly the possibility of a mysterious connexion with the other world, but he regards every single case with distrust; he admits that behind the ruined altar of the old church and in the ruins of the neighbouring castle something curious may be concealed, and that it might well repay a person to dig for it; but he holds in sovereign contempt the flames and the black dog, and he recounts with special pleasure numerous instances where this faith of the "olden time" had been misused by deceivers. Seldom do the months pass without bringing a periodical containing well-written treatises, in which the mountain sprite is entirely put out of the question, fiery meteors are explained, and thunderbolts are considered as petrifactions. In no city are excited people wanting who are tormented by apparitions; the clergy still continue to pray for these poor people; but not only physicians and literary laymen, but also clever citizens, maintain that such kinds of devils are expelled by medicine and fasting, and not by prayer, as they are only produced by the morbid fancies of hypochondria.
Among the daily events is the interesting arrival and departure of the mail-coach. About this time all the promenaders like to move into the vicinity of the post-office. The usual land-post is a very slow, clumsy means of conveyance; its snail pace was notorious even fifty years later. Of made roads there are as yet none in Germany; soon after the Seven Years' War the first chaussees were formed,--still very bad. Whoever wishes to travel comfortably takes the extra post; for greater economy, care is taken that all the places shall be occupied, and in the local papers which have existed for some little time in most of the larger cities, a travelling companion is sometimes advertised for. For long journeys, private carriages are bought, which are sold again at the end of the journey. The badness of the roads gives the postmaster the right to put four horses to a light carriage, and it is a privilege to the traveller if the Government will give him a licence to take only two horses extra post. He who is not sufficiently wealthy for this, looks out for a return carriage, and these opportunities are announced several days beforehand. If there is much intercourse between two places, besides the ordinary post and the more speedy mail, a licensed stagecoach goes on specified days. These more especially facilitate the personal intercourse of the lower orders. In 1750 there was one from Dresden to Berlin every fortnight; to Altenburg, Chemnitz, Freiberg, and Zwickau, once a week; to Bautzen and Görlitz, the number of passengers was not sufficiently certain for the coachman to be able to go on a specified day; the green and the red passage-boats went between Dresden and Meissen, each once a week. Even with the best drivers, travelling was very slow. Five German miles a day, at the rate of a mile in two hours, seems to have been the usual rate of travelling. A distance of twenty miles could not be accomplished by a carriage under three days, and generally four were necessary. When, in the July of the year which is here described, Klopstock travelled with Gleim, in a light carriage drawn by four horses, from Halberstadt to Magdeburg, six miles in six hours, the rapidity appeared to him so extraordinary that he compared it with the races at the Olympic games. But when the country roads were very bad, which was always the case in the rainy season of the spring and autumn, a journey was avoided unless it was inevitable, as it was considered as a risk not to be encountered without grievous adventures. In the year 1764, it was still thought remarkable by the Hanoverians, that their ambassador had succeeded in reaching Frankfort-a-M., for the coronation of the Emperor, in spite of the bad roads, without any other damage than a broken axle. Thus we find that a journey at this period is an undertaking to be well considered, which can hardly be carried through without long preparation; the arrival of travelling strangers in a city is the event of the day, and the curious multitude collect round the carriage during its detention. It is only in the larger commercial towns that the hotels are fashionably arranged; Leipzig is in great repute in this respect. People were glad to be accommodated at the house of an acquaintance, ever taking into consideration the expenditure; for he who travels must make accurate calculations. A person of any pretensions avoids a journey on foot, on account of the bad roads, dirty inns, and rough encounters. Well-dressed pedestrians in search of the picturesque are, as yet, unheard of.