Even the New Testament was not safe from my inquiries; with my passion for dissection, I did not spare it, but with love and affection I chimed in with that wholesome word, "The evangelists may contradict each other, provided only the gospel does not contradict itself." In this region also I thought I should make all sorts of discoveries. That gift of tongues imparted at Pentecost with lustre and clearness, I interpreted for myself in a somewhat abstruse manner, not adapted to procure many adherents.
Into one of the chief Lutheran doctrines, which has been still more sharpened by the Hernhuters,—namely, that of regarding the sinful principle as predominant in man,—I endeavoured to accommodate myself, but without remarkable success. Nevertheless I had made the terminology of this doctrine tolerably my own, and made use of it in a letter, which, in the character of country pastor, I was pleased to send to a new brother in office. However, the chief theme in the paper was that watchword of the time, called "Toleration," which prevailed among the better order of brains and minds.
Such things, which were produced by degrees, I had printed at my own cost in the following year, to try myself with the public,—made presents of them, or sent them to Eichenberg's shop, in order to get rid of them as fast as possible, without deriving any profit myself. Here and there a review mentions them, now favourably, now unfavourably,—but they soon passed away. My father kept them carefully in his archives, otherwise I should not have possessed a copy of them. I shall add these, as well as some things of the kind which I have found, to the new edition of my works.
Hamann.
Since I had really been seduced into the sybilline style of such papers, as well as into the publication of them, by Hamann, this seems to me a proper place to make mention of this worthy and influential man, who was then as great a mystery to us as he has always remained to his native country. His Socratio Memorabilia was more especially liked by those persons who could not adapt themselves to the dazzling spirit of the time. It was suspected that he was a profound, well-grounded man, who, accurately acquainted with the public world and with literature, allowed of something mysterious and unfathomable, and expressed himself on this subject in a manner quite his own. By those who then ruled the literature of the day, he was indeed considered an abstruse mystic, but an aspiring youth suffered themselves to be attracted by him. Even the "Quiet-in-the-lands," as they were called—half in jest, half in earnest—those pious souls, who, without professing themselves members of any society, formed an invisible church, turned their attention to him; while to my friend Fräulein von Klettenberg, and no less to her friend Moser, the "Magus from the North" was a welcome apparition. People put themselves the more in connexion with him, when they had learned that he was tormented by narrow domestic circumstances, but nevertheless understood how to maintain this beautiful and lofty mode of thought. With the great influence of President von Moser, it would have been easy to provide a tolerable and convenient existence for such a frugal man. The matter was set on foot, nay, so good an understanding and mutual approval was attained, that Hamann undertook the long journey from Königsberg to Darmstadt. But as the president happened to be absent, that odd man, no one knows on what account, returned at once, though a friendly correspondence was kept up. I still possess two letters from the Königsberger to his patron, which bear testimony to the wondrous greatness and sincerity of their author.
But so good an understanding was not to last long. These pious men had thought the other one pious in their own fashion; they had treated him with reverence as the "Magus of the North," and thought that he would continue to exhibit himself with a reverend demeanour. But already in the Clouds, an after-piece of Socratic Memorabilia, he had given some offence; and when he now published the Crusades of a Philologist, on the title-page of which was to be seen not only the goat-profile of a horned Pan, but also on one of the first pages, a large cock, cut in wood, and setting time to some young cockerels, who stood before him with notes in their claws, made an exceedingly ridiculous appearance, by which certain church-music, of which the author did not approve, was to be made a laughing-stock,—there arose among well-minded and sensitive people a dissatisfaction, which was exhibited to the author, who, not being edified by it, shunned a closer connexion. Our attention to this man was, however, always kept alive by Herder, who, remaining in correspondence with us and his betrothed, communicated to us at once all that proceeded from that extraordinary man. To these belonged his critiques and notices, inserted in the Königsberg Zeitung, all of which bore a very singular character. I possess an almost complete collection of his works, and a very important essay on Herder's prize paper concerning the origin of language, in which, in the most peculiar manner, he throws flashes of light upon this specimen of Herder.
I do not give up the hope of superintending myself, or at least furthering, an edition of Hamann's works; and then, when these documents are again before the public, it will be time to speak more closely of the author, his nature and character. In the meanwhile, however, I will here adduce something concerning him, especially as eminent men are still living who felt a great regard for him, and whose assent or correction will be very welcome to me. The principle to which all Hamann's expressions may be referred is this: "All that man undertakes to perform, whether by deed, by word, or otherwise, must proceed from all his powers united; everything isolated is worthless." A noble maxim, but hard to follow. To life and art it may indeed be applied, but in every communication by words, that is not exactly poetic, there is, on the contrary, a grand difficulty; for a word must sever itself, isolate itself, to say or signify anything. Man, while he speaks, must, for the moment, become one-sided; there is no communication, no instruction, without severing. Now since Hamann, once for all, opposed this separation, and because he felt, imagined, and thought in unity, chose to speak in unity likewise, and to require the same of others, he came into opposition with his own style, and with all that others produced. To produce the impossible, he therefore grasps at every element; the deepest and most mystical contemplations in which nature and mind meet each other-illuminating flashes of the understanding, which beam forth from such a contact—significant images, which float in these regions—forcible aphorisms from sacred and profane writers—with whatever else of a humorous kind could be added—all this forms the wondrous aggregate of his style and his communications. If, now, one cannot associate oneself with him in his depths—cannot wander with him on his heights—cannot master the forms which float before him—cannot, from an infinitely extended literature, exactly find out the sense of a passage which is only hinted at—we find that the more we study him, the more dim and dark it becomes; and this darkness always increases with years, because his allusions were directed to certain definite peculiarities which prevailed, for the moment, in life and in literature. In my collection there are some of his printed sheets, where he has cited with his own hand, in the margin, the passages to which his hints refer. If one opens them, there is again a sort of equivocal double light, which appears to us highly agreeable; only one must completely renounce what is ordinarily called understanding. Such leaves merit to be called sybilline, for this reason, that one cannot consider them in and for themselves, but must wait for an opportunity to seek refuge with their oracles. Every time that one opens them one fancies one has found something new, because the sense which abides in every passage touches and excites us in a curious manner.
Personally I never saw him; nor did I hold any immediate communication with him by means of letters. It seems to me that he was extremely clear in the relations of life and friendship, and that he had a correct feeling for the positions of persons among each other, and with reference to himself. All the letters which I saw by him were excellent, and much plainer than his works, because here the reference to time, circumstances, and personal affairs, was more clearly prominent. I thought, however, that I could discern this much generally, that he, feeling the superiority of his mental gifts, in the most naïve manner, always considered himself somewhat wiser and more shrewd than his correspondents, whom he treated rather ironically than heartily. If this held good only of single cases, it applied to the majority, as far as my own observation went, and was the cause that I never felt a desire to approach him.
On the other hand, a kindly literary communication between Herder and us was maintained with great vivacity, though it was a pity that he could not keep himself quiet. But Herder never left off his teazing and scolding; and much was not required to irritate Merck, who also contrived to excite me to impatience. Because now Herder, among all authors and men, seems to respect Swift the most, he was among us called the "Dean," and this gave further occasion to all sorts of perplexities and annoyances.
Nevertheless we were highly pleased when we learned that he was to have an appointment at Bückeburg, which would bring him double honour, for his new patron had the highest fame as a clear-headed and brave, though eccentric man. Thomas Abt had been known and celebrated in this service; his country still mourned his death, and was pleased with the monument which his patron had erected for him. Now Herder, in the place of the untimely deceased, was to fulfil all those hopes which his predecessor had so worthily excited.