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 n.o.ble feelings, which had fallen on their souls from the distant past, against the coa.r.s.e 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 mult.i.tude.

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 mult.i.tude 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 G.o.d, 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 pa.s.sed away; science a.s.sumed 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 sh.e.l.l. On the other hand, there was no lack of men who denied the creating power of a personal G.o.d and the immortality of the soul. But against such isolated deists and atheists, most of the philosophers, and the Christian piety of the great ma.s.s 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 superst.i.tion 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 ma.s.s 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 cla.s.ses 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 pa.s.sage 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 s.p.a.ces 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 habitues; 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 pa.s.sages, which existed once throughout the greater part of Germany, led through the bas.e.m.e.nt story to the market-places, protecting the foot pa.s.sengers from rain, and acted as a communication from the house to the street. The old pillars and vaults are attached to the ma.s.sive edifice of the council-house by coa.r.s.e 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 s.p.a.ce, the railing of which separates the councillors from the citizens, are stiff-cushioned chairs, covered with green cloth, and fastened with bra.s.s 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 b.u.t.tresses 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 s.p.a.ce 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 pa.s.sport 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 cla.s.s already begin not to attach much value to the guild; indeed there are those who consider the old const.i.tution 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 amus.e.m.e.nts 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 t.i.tles. As much as the n.o.bles 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 coa.r.s.e luxury of a former generation is restrained, better training at home and greater rect.i.tude 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 n.o.bility; nay, such vain new n.o.bles are despised by the high commercial cla.s.s.[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 cla.s.ses, each according to their cla.s.s and position; she reads and understands many languages, she judges sensibly, and knows how to live, and bring up her children well." Other circ.u.mstances, 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 cla.s.ses.

But most of the gentry in every city belonged to the literary cla.s.ses--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 pa.s.sage 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 ap.r.o.ns, 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 cla.s.s, 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 cla.s.ses 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 alb.u.ms were--"Patience! joyfully onward!" But strictness was necessary, for in the under cla.s.ses 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 a.s.sume that s.p.a.ce 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 n.o.ble 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 Buchersaal," 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 n.o.ble 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 Beitrage," 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 Kastner, Gellert, and Mylius, to the monthly journal "Bel.u.s.tigungen 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 Schonemannsche 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, "Beitrage 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 una.s.suming 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 coa.r.s.e 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. "Fa.s.smann'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 cla.s.s, 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 doc.u.ments, 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 "Kastner'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 advertis.e.m.e.nt 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 b.u.t.terflies and beetles, and to examine dendrites and minerals in their father's microscope; and the more wealthy rejoiced over "Rosel'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 Gottingen 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 cla.s.sics. 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 Grafenthal 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 gla.s.ses 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 princ.i.p.ally 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 superst.i.tion 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 pa.s.s 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 Gorlitz, the number of pa.s.sengers was not sufficiently certain for the coachman to be able to go on a specified day; the green and the red pa.s.sage-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 amba.s.sador 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 mult.i.tude 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.

The traveller was not only accompanied by the lively sympathy of his friends, he was also employed in their business, as then among acquaintances there was more mutual accommodation than now. He was amply supplied with clothes, letters of recommendation, cold meat, and prudent precepts; but he was also burdened with commissions, purchases of every kind, and delicate business; also with the collecting of debts, the engaging of tutors, nay, even with reconnoitring and mediating in affairs of the heart. If he travelled to some great fair, he must take care of certain special coffers and chests to satisfy the wishes of his acquaintances. This kind of reciprocal service was absolutely needful, for the conveyance of money and packages by the post was still very dear and not always very sure. Betwixt neighbouring cities therefore a regular messenger service was established, as for example in Thuringia, where it continues to the present day. These messengers--frequently women--carried letters and errands on fixed days, alike through snow and under a scorching sun; they had charge of all kinds of purchases, and, as trustworthy persons, enjoyed the confidence of the magistrates, who entrusted them with official letters and public papers, and when they arrived at their destination had an appointed place, where letters and return parcels for their native home were delivered to them. If the intercourse between two places was very active, a goods conveyance, with compartments with drawers in it, of which sometimes two a.s.sociated families had the key, was sent backwards and forwards.

Scanty and spare was the housekeeping of the citizens; few of them were sufficiently wealthy to be able to invest their household arrangements and their life with any polish; and the rich were always in danger of falling into unseemly luxury, such as corrupted the courts and the families of the n.o.bility. Those who had a comfortable competency lived very simply, only showing their wealth by their hospitality and the adornment of their house and table on festive occasions. Therefore feasts were ungenial state affairs, for which the whole household was deranged. Nothing distinguishes the man of the world more than the easy style of his society. Strict were the regulations in the citizen's household: everything was precisely defined, even on the smallest points, as to what one was to render to or receive from another. The interchange of good wishes and compliments, that is to say, the courtesies of conversation, and even the _trinkgeld_, all had their accurately prescribed form and amount. Through these innumerable little regulations, social intercourse acquired a stiff formality which strongly contrasts with the freedom from constraint of the present day.

It was still customary to be bled and take medicine on appointed days, to pay your bills and make visits at stated intervals. Equally fixed were the enjoyments of the year: the cake which was suitable to every day, the roast goose, and, if possible, the sledge-drives. Fixed was the arrangement of the house: the ma.s.sive furniture which had been bought by the bridal couple on their first settling down, the stuffed chair which had perhaps been bought at an auction by the husband as a student, the folding-table for writing, and the cupboards, had been the companions of many generations. But underneath this network of old customs freer views began to germinate: already did the troublesome question arise--wherefore? even with respect to the most trifling usages. Everywhere might individuals be found who set themselves with philosophic independence against these customs, which appeared to them not to be founded on reason; in many more did there work a deep impulse to freedom, self-dependence, and a new purport of life, which they held apart from the mult.i.tude and from society, which had the effect of giving them an appearance of originality. The interiors of the houses were still undecorated; the ground-floor, with its polished boards, had no other ornament than the bright colour of the wood, which was preserved by incessant washing, which made the dwelling at least once a week damp and uncomfortable. The stairs and entrance-hall were still frequently strewn with white sand. But they liked to have their rooms nicely fitted up; the furniture, among which the commode was a new invention, was carefully worked and beautifully inlaid. Painting was still uncommon on the walls; but the distempered plaster walls were in little esteem: papers were preferred. The wealthy liked to have the stamped leather, which gave the room a particularly comfortable aspect; leather was also much liked as covers for furniture. Copper and tin utensils were still the pride of the housewife. They were used on "state" occasions: this new and significant word had penetrated into the kitchen. At Nuremberg, for example, there were in wealthy families state kitchens, which used to be opened to small societies for morning collations, at which cold meats were served. In such kitchens pewter and copper glittered all around like bright mirrors; even the wood for burning, which lay there piled up in great heaps, was covered with bright tin, all only for show and amus.e.m.e.nt, as now the kitchen of a little girl. But porcelain had already begun to be placed alongside the pewter; in refined Saxony, more especially, the wealthy housewife seldom failed to have a table set out with china cups, jugs, and little ornamental figures. And the fashionable pet of the ladies, the pug, might by a wayward movement produce a crash which endangered the peace of the house. Just at that time this curious animal stood at the height of his repute; it had come into the world no one knew from whence, and it pa.s.sed away from it again equally unperceived. But the heart of the housewife was attached to her weaving as well as her pewter and porcelain. The linen damask was very beautifully prepared, with artistic patterns which we still admire; to possess such damask table-covers was a most particular pleasure, and great value was also set upon fine body-linen; the ruffled shirt which Gellert received as a present from Lucius was not forgotten in the description of his audience.

The dress worn in public was still regarded by serious men as a matter of station; the Pietists had accustomed the citizen to wear dark or sober colours; but fine textures, b.u.t.tons, unpretending embroidery and linen, demonstrated not less than perukes and swords the high-bred man. This was the dress to be worn in public, and must especially be put on when going out; and as it was inconvenient and--at least the perukes--difficult to put on and to powder without the help of others, a contrast wan produced by this between home and society which proscribed social intercourse at certain hours in the day, and made it formal and elaborate. At home a dressing-gown was worn, in which literary men received visits, and the "best" dress was carefully spared. Many things which appear to us as common necessaries were still quite unknown, and the absence of many comforts was not felt. In the year 1745 an Austrian non-commissioned officer begged of an imprisoned officer, from whom he had taken a watch, to wind it up for him; he had never had one in his hands. The worthy Semler had become a professor before he obtained by the aid of a bookseller his first silver watch; and he complained, about 1780, that then every master of arts, nay, every student thought he must have a watch; now, in every family of similar station, the third-form boy has a silver, and the student a gold watch.

Besides the landed n.o.bility, only the highest state officials and the richest merchants kept their own carriage and horses, and this more rarely than fifty years before. But literary men were then often advised by physicians not to fear the dangers of riding; schools were established, and riding-horses let out for hire. It did not indeed happen to every one as to the invalid Gellert, to have as a present for the second time, after the death of his renowned Dapple, a horse from the Elector's stables, with velvet saddle and housings embroidered in gold, which the dear professor, much moved after his manner, accepted, though with the greatest distrust as to the good temper of the horse, and was never weary of speaking of it to his acquaintance, whilst his groom showed the prodigy for money to the Leipzigers. As the dress of that day made people very sensitive to damp, sedan-chairs came into fashion; they were as frequently used as now the droschky; the bearers were known by a kind of livery, had their appointed stations, and were to be found wherever the n.o.bility and the public appeared in numbers: at great dances, on Sunday at the church doors, and at the theatres.

Strict was the discipline of the house. In the morning, even in those families that were not Pietists, short prayers were read with the children and servants, a verse was sung, a prayer or exhortation followed, and then a hymn. They rose and retired to bed early. The intercourse at home was formal: extreme respect, with ceremonious forms, was required of both children and servants; and husbands and wives among the gentry still continued generally to speak to each other in the third person plural.

All who appertained to the family, whether friends or distant acquaintance, in their simple and often needy life, were invested with great importance. Still were advancement, interest, and favours sought for and expected, through the friends of the family. To protect and become a partisan was a duty; therefore it was considered great good fortune to have n.o.ble and influential acquaintances; and in order to secure this it was necessary to be mindful of congratulations on birthdays and verses at family festivals. Under such protection people sought their fortunes in the world. Devotion to the great was immense: it was still correct to kiss the hand of a patron. When Count Schwerin, on the 11th of August, 1741, received the oath of allegiance for his sovereign in the royal _salon_ at Breslau, the Protestant church inspector, Burg, on shaking hands with him, wished to kiss his hand.

The Breslauers were not astonished at this obsequiousness, but only that a field-marshal should have embraced and kissed a citizen theologian.

Sponsorship was, among the citizens, the foundation of a still nearer relation: the G.o.dfather was bound to provide for the advancement of his G.o.dchild; and this parental relation lasted to the end of his life. If he was wealthy, the parents gladly allowed him a decisive voice as to the future of their child, but it was also expected that he should show his goodwill by his last testament.

This life of citizens in humble circ.u.mstances developed certain peculiarities of character and education. First a softness of nature which, about 1750, was called tender and sentimental. The foundation of this remarkable softness was implanted in the soul by the great war and its political results, and Pietism had strikingly developed it. Almost every one had the habit of exciting and stirring up themselves and others. In the last century, family prayer had been heartless and formal; now, the edifying contemplations and moral reflections of the father of a family gave occasion for dramatic scenes within it.

Extemporary prayers especially, accustomed the members of a family to express openly what was really in their hearts. Vows and promises, solemn exhortations and pathetic reconciliations betwixt husbands and wives, parents and children, sentimental scenes, were as much sought after and enjoyed as they are now avoided. Even in schools the easy excitability of that generation frequently came to light. When a worthy teacher was in trouble, he caused the scholars to sing verses which harmonised with his frame of mind, and it was agreeable to him to feel that the boys understood him and showed their sympathy in their devotions. In the same way the preacher in the pulpit loved to make his congregation the confidants of his own struggles and convictions; his sorrows and joys, repentance and inward peace, were listened to with respect and consecrated by prayer.