in
the guards, at Potsdam; indeed, that is nearly all you know of my
younger days, because I never had a special opportunity to talk about
them--and, still more, because the picture of those years has been
represented to my soul in dim outlines, and did not, until I came here,
flame up again in bright colours. My first education, in my father's
house, does not even deserve the name of a bad one. I had, in fact, no
education at all, but was left entirely to my own inclinations, and
these indicated any thing rather than a call to the profession of arms.
I felt manifestly impelled towards a scientific culture, which the old
magister, who was my appointed tutor, and who only liked to be left in
quiet, could not give me. At Potsdam I gained with facility a
knowledge of modern languages, while I zealously and successfully
pursued those studies that are requisite for an officer. I read,
besides, with a kind of mania, all that fell into my hands, without
selection or regard to utility; however, as my memory was excellent, I
had acquired a mass of historical knowledge, I scarcely knew how.
People have since done me the honour to assure me that a poetical
spirit dwelled in me, which I myself would not rightly appreciate.
Certain it is that the _chefs-d'oeuvre_ of the great poets, of that
period, raised me to a state of inspiration of which I had previously
no notion. I appeared to myself as another being, developed for the
first time into active life. I will only name the 'Sorrows of
Werther,' and, more especially, Schiller's 'Robbers.' My fancy
received an impulse quite of a different sort from a book, which, for
the very reason that it is not finished, gives the mind an impetus that
keeps it swinging like a pendulum in constant motion. I mean
Schiller's 'Ghostseer.' It may be that the inclination to the mystical
and marvellous, which is generally deep-rooted in human nature, was
particularly prevalent in me;--whatever was the cause, it is sufficient
for me to say that, when I read that book, which seems to contain the
exorcising formula belonging to the mightiest black art, a magical
kingdom, full of super-terrestrial, or, rather, sub-terrestrial
marvels, was opened to me, in which I moved about as a dreamer. Once
given to this mood, I eagerly swallowed all that would accord with it,
and even works of far less worth did not fail in their effect upon me.
Thus the 'Genius,' by Grosse, made a deep impression upon me, and