第72章

"No, that I will not. Much more, upon the strength of your word of honor, I desire it. You promised, word for word, to relate it to me.""If it must be, then, let it be. I went at once to Professor Rammler's. He asked me immediately if I had not been here.""Just as I asked you," laughed Karschin.

"I affirmed it, saying that you showed me his house. Upon which he asked, 'Did she say any thing against me? She is accustomed to do it before strangers, like all old women.' He then turned over my album, and as he saw the lines you wrote he reddened, and striking the book--'I see it, she knew she had said something about me. She tells every stranger that I think she is censorious. What she has written is aimed at me.' Upon that he wrote some lines opposite yours, shut the book, and handed it to me. I have not even had the time to read them.""Read them now, quickly."

"'He who slanders and listens to slander, let him be punished. She may be hung by the tongue, and he by the ears.'" [Footnote: This scene took place literally, and may be found in "Celebrated German Authors," vol. II., p. 340.]

"That is shameful--that is mean!" said Frau Karschin, while Goethe re-read the cutting epigram. "That is just like Rammler; his tongue is like a two-edged sword for every one but himself, and he fans his own glories, and does not know that he is a fool. Frederick the Great himself called him so. One of his generals called his attention to him, upon which Frederick turned his horse, riding directly up to him, asking, 'Is this the distinguished Rammler?'

'Yes, your majesty, I am he,' the little professor proudly bowed.

'You are a fool!' called out Frederick, very loud, and rode away, as all around the 'Great Rammler' laughed and sneered. There are many such stories. Shall I tell you how Lessing teased him?""No, dear woman, tell me nothing more. I perceive your Berlin writers and poets are a malicious, contentious set of people. I may well fear you, and shall be glad to escape unharmed. Think kindly of me, and have pity upon me; if the others are too severe, raise your dear hand and hold back the scourge that it may not fall upon poor Wolfgang Goethe. Adieu, dear Frau Karschin."Goethe bowed, and hastened down into the street. "With the authors and poets of Berlin I wish nothing more to do, but with the philosophers I may be more fortunate, and with them find the wisdom and forbearance which fail the poets."Goethe bent his steps to Spandauer Street, in which the merchant and philosopher Moses Mendelssohn lived; hastened up the stairs, and knocked, which was answered by an old servant, to whom Goethe announced himself. The servant disappeared, and the poet stood in the little, narrow corridor, smilingly looking to the study-door, and waiting for the "gates of wisdom" to open and let the worldling enter the temple of philosophy.

The crooked little man, the great philosopher, Moses, son of Mendelssohn, stood behind the door, turning over in his mind whether he would receive Goethe or not. "Why should I? The proud secretary of legation has already been in Berlin eight days, and wishes to prove to me that he cares little for Berlin philosophers. My noble friend, the great Lessing, cannot abide 'Gotz von Berlichingen;' and Nicolai, Rammler, and Engel are the bitter opponents, the very antipodes of the rare genius and secretary of legation from Weimar.

If he wishes to see me, why did he come so late, so--""Herr Goethe is waiting--shall he enter?" asked the servant.

The philosopher raised his head. "No," cried he, loudly. "No! tell him you were mistaken. I am not at home."The old servant looked quite frightened at his master--the first time he had heard an untruth from him. "What shall I say, sir?""Say no," cried Moses, very excited and ill-humored. "Say that I am not at home--that I am out."With a determined, defiant manner the philosopher seated himself to work upon his new book, "Jerusalem," saying to himself, "I am right to send him away; he waited too long, is too late." [Footnote: From Ludwig Tieck I learned this anecdote, and he assured me that Moses Mendelssohn told it to him.--See "Goethe in Berlin, Leaves of Memory," p. 6.--The Authoress.]