once again and I burst into tears. Goethe took great
pains to conceal my foolish emotion. I sat next to him at dinner and he
was more cheerful and talkative than he had been for a long time, as the
guests asserted later. The conversation, enlivened by him, became
general, but Goethe frequently turned to me individually. However, I
cannot recall what he said, except a good joke regarding Muellner's
_Midnight Journal_. Unfortunately I made no notes concerning this
journey, or, rather, I did begin a diary, but as the accident I had in
Berlin made it at first impossible for me to write and later difficult,
a great gap ensued. This deterred me from continuing it, and, besides,
the difficulty of writing remained, even in Weimar. I therefore
determined to fill in what was lacking immediately after my return to
Vienna, while the events were still fresh in my memory. But when I
arrived there some other work demanded immediate attention, and the
matter soon escaped my mind; and therefore I retained in my memory
nothing but general impressions of what I had almost called the most
important moment of my life. Only one occurrence at dinner stands out in
my memory--namely, in the ardor of the conversation I yielded to an old
habit of breaking up the piece of bread beside me into unsightly crumbs.
Goethe lightly touched each individual crumb with his finger and
arranged them in a little symmetrical heap. Only after the lapse of some
time did I notice this, and then I discontinued my handiwork.

As I was taking my leave, Goethe requested me to come the next morning
and have myself sketched, for he was in the habit of having drawings
made of those of his visitors who interested him. They were done in
black crayon by an artist especially engaged for the work, and the
pictures were then put into a frame which hung in the reception-room for
this purpose, being changed in regular rotation every week. This honor
was also bestowed upon me.

When I arrived the next morning the artist had not yet appeared; I was
therefore directed to Goethe, who was walking up and down in his little
garden. The cause of his stiff bearing before strangers now became clear
to me. The years had not passed without leaving some traces. As he
walked about in the garden, one could see that the upper part of his
body, his head and shoulders, were bent slightly forward. This he wished
to hide from strangers, and hence that forced straightening-up which
produced an unpl