ved, and I received something for it; but being a
stranger, inexperienced, and young, and having hardly taken the best way
towards my purposed aim, I obtained no appointment.

After I had finished the work I have mentioned the survey of a small
private property was put into my hands to carry out. From this
engagement ensued consequences which were most important for me. I note
only one point here. One of the joint owners of this property was a
young doctor of philosophy, who leaned towards the new school of
Schelling. It could hardly be expected but that we should talk over
things which stirred our mental life, and so it came about that he lent
me Schelling's "Bruno, oder ueber die Welt-seele"[26] to read. What I
read in that book moved me profoundly, and I thought I really understood
it. The friendly young fellow, not much older than myself--we had
already met in Jena,--saw the lively interest I was taking in the book,
and, in fact, I talked it over with him many a time. One day, after we
had been to see an important picture-gallery together, he addressed me
in these words, which from his mouth sounded startlingly strange, and
which at the time seemed to me inexplicable:--

"Guard yourself against philosophy; she leads you towards doubt and
darkness. Devote yourself to art, which gives life, peace, and joy."

It is true I retained the young man's words, but I could not understand
them, for I regarded philosophy as a necessary part of the life of
mankind, and could not grasp the notion that one could be verging
towards darkness and doubt when one calmly investigated the inner life.
Art, on the other hand, lay much further from me than philosophy; for
except a profound enjoyment in works of art (for which I could give no
clear reason), no glimmering of an active aesthetic sense had yet dawned
upon me. This remark of my friend the doctor's called my attention to
myself, however, and to my life and its aim, and made me aware of two
very different and widely separate systems of life.

My friend, the tutor of the Government official under whom I had served
at Bamberg, had in the meantime left his situation. He told me before
leaving that he had it in his mind to go to Frankfurt, and thence into
France. I saw his departure with regret, little dreaming that life would
in a few years bring us together again, and that he would indirectly
decide my future career. But, as it so often happens in life, parting in
this instance bu