If, now, it be remembered in this connection that our friend wrote concerning these matters not, as it were, after, but during, events, and that, as the editor of a widely-read periodical he had occasion—and was even compelled—on the spur of the moment to express his views each month, then he who is called to trace chronologically the course of his life will perceive, not without amazement, how attentively he followed the swift events of the day, and how shrewdly he conducted himself throughout as a German and as a thinking, sympathetic man. And here is the place to recall the periodical which was so important for Germany, the Deutscher Merkur. This undertaking was not the first of its kind, yet at that time it was new and significant. The name of its editor immediately created great confidence in it; for the fact that a man who was himself a poet also promised to introduce the poems of others into the world, and that an author to whom such magnificent works were due would himself pass judgment and publicly express his opinion—this aroused the greatest hopes. Moreover, men of worth quickly gathered about him, and this alliance of preëminent litterateurs was so active that the Merkur during a period of several years may be employed as a textbook of our literary history. On the public generally its influence was profound and significant, for if, on the one hand, reading and criticism became the possession of a greater multitude, the desire to give instant expression to his thoughts became active in everyone who had anything to give. More was sent to the editor than he expected and desired; his success awakened imitators; similar periodicals arose which crowded upon the public, first monthly, then weekly and daily, and which finally produced that confusion of Babel of which we were and are witnesses, and which, strictly speaking, springs from the fact that everyone wishes to talk, but no one is willing to listen..
The quality which maintained the value and the dignity of the Deutscher Merkur for many years was its editor's innate liberality. Wieland was not created to be a party leader; he who recognizes moderation as the chief maxim cannot make himself guilty of one-sidedness. Whatever excited his active spirit he sought to equalize within himself through taste and common sense, and thus he also treated his collaborators, for none of whom he felt very much enthusiasm; and as, while translating the ancient authors whom he so highly esteemed, he was accustomed frequently to attack them in his notes, so, by his disapproving annotations, he often vexed, and actually estranged, valued and even favorite contributors.
Even before this, our friend had been forced to endure full many an attack on account of major or minor writings; so much the less as the editor of a periodical could he escape literary controversies. Yet here, too, he shows himself ever the same. Such a paper war can never last long for him, and if it threatens to be in any degree protracted, he gives his opponent the last word and goes his wonted path.
Foreigners have sagaciously observed that German authors regard the public less than the writers of other nations, and that, therefore, one can tell from his writings the man who is developing himself, and the man who seeks to create something to his own satisfaction,—and, consequently, the character of these two types soon becomes obvious. This quality we have already ascribed to Wieland in particular; and it will be so much the more interesting to arrange and to follow his writings and his life in this sense, since, formerly and latterly, the attempt has been made to cast suspicion on our friend's character from these very writings. A large number of men are even yet in error regarding him, since they fancy that the man of many sides must be indifferent, and the versatile man must be wavering; it is forgotten that character is concerned simply and solely with the practical. Only in that which a man does and continues to do, and in that to which he is constant, does he reveal his character, and in this sense there has been no more steadfast man, no man constantly more true to himself, than Wieland. If he surrendered himself to the multiplicity of his emotions, and to the versatility of his thoughts, and if he permitted no single impression to gain dominion over him, in this very way he proved the firmness and the sureness of his mind. This witty man played gladly with his opinions, but—I can summon all contemporaries as witnesses—never with his convictions. And thus he won for himself many friends, and kept them. That he had any decided enemy is not known to me. In the enjoyment of his poetic works he lived for many years in municipal, civic, friendly, and social surroundings, and gained the distinction of a complete edition of his carefully revised works, and even of an édition de luxe of them.
But even in the autumn of his years he was destined to feel the influence of the spirit of the age, and in an unforeseen manner to begin a new life, a new youth. The blessings of sweet peace had long ruled over Germany; general outward safety and repose coincided most happily with the inward, human, cosmopolitan views of existence. The peaceful townsman seemed no longer to require his walls; they were dispensed with; and there was a yearning after rustic life. The security of landed property gave confidence to everyone; the untrammelled life of nature attracted everyone; and as man, born a social being, can often fancy to himself the sweet deceit that he lives better, easier, happier in isolation, so Wieland also, who had already been vouchsafed the highest literary leisure, seemed to look about him for an abode more quiet in which to cultivate the Muses; and when he found opportunity and strength to obtain an estate in the very vicinity of Weimar, he formed the resolution there to pass the remainder of his life. And here they who have often visited him, and who have lived with him, may tell in detail how it was precisely here that he appeared in all his charm as head of the house and of the family, as friend, and as husband, and especially how, since he could indeed withdraw from men but men could not dispense with him, he most delightfully developed his social virtues as a hospitable host.
While inviting younger friends to elaborate this idyllic portrayal, I may merely note, briefly and sympathetically, how this rural joy was troubled by the passing away of a dear woman friend who resided with them, and then by the death of his esteemed and careful consort. He laid these dear remains in his own property, and although he resolved to give up agricultural cares, which had become too intricate for him, and to dispense with the estate which for some years he had enjoyed, he retained for himself the place and the space between his two dear ones that there he, too, might find his resting place. And there, then, the honorable brethren have accompanied him, yea, brought him, and thus have they fulfilled his lovely and pleasant wish that posterity might visit and reverence his tomb within a living grove.
Yet not without a higher reason did our friend return to the city, for his devotion to his great patroness, the Duchess Dowager, had more than once given him sad hours in his rural retirement. He felt only too keenly how much it cost him to be far from her. He could not forego association with her, and yet he could enjoy it only with inconvenience and with discomfort. And thus, after he had seen his household now expanded and now contracted, now augmented and now diminished, now gathered together and now scattered, the exalted princess draws him into her own immediate circle. He returns, occupies a house very close to the princely residence, shares in the summer sojourn in Tiefurt, and now regards himself as a member of the household and of the court.
In very peculiar measure Wieland was born for the higher circles of society, and even the highest would have been his proper element; for since he nowhere wished to stand supreme, but gladly sought to take part in everything, and was inclined to express himself with moderation regarding everything, he must inevitably appear an agreeable companion, and in still higher degree he would have been such in a more light-hearted nation which did not take too seriously every form of recreation.
For his poetic and his literary aspirations were alike addressed immediately to life, and though he did not seek a practical end with absolute invariability, yet he ever had a practical aim before his eyes, whether it was near or far. Therefore his thought was always clear, his phraseology was lucid and readily intelligible, and since, with his extensive knowledge, he continually held to the interest of the day, followed it, and intelligently occupied himself with it, his conversation also was diversified and stimulating throughout; so that I have not readily become acquainted with anyone who more gladly received and more spiritedly responded to whatever happy idea others might bring forward.
Bearing in mind his type of thought, his mode of entertaining himself and others, and his honorable purpose of influencing his generation, he can scarcely be reproached for feeling an antagonism toward the more modern philosophical schools. When, at an earlier period, Kant gave merely the preludes of his greater theories in his minor writings, and in a lighter style seemed to express himself problematically upon the most weighty themes, then he still stood close enough to our friend; but when the huge system was erected, all those who had thus far gone their way poetizing and philosophizing in full freedom, were forced to see in Kant's monumental work a menacing citadel which would limit their serene excursions over the field of experience.