"And will you admit that it is the head of a noble, talented poet, a favorite of the Muses? Say yes, or I will tear it, and you will have terrible pains in your head your life long!""Yes, yes! all that you wish. I am capable of saying the most flattering things of myself to save this beautiful design. Give it to me, you curious fellow!""No," said Chodowiecki, earnestly, "I will not give it to you. Such a portrait is not made to be put in a dusty portfolio, or framed for the boudoir of your lady-love. All Germany, all the world should enjoy it, and centuries later the German women will still see Wolfgang Goethe as he looked in his twenty-ninth year, and hang an engraving on the wall in their parlor, and sighing and palpitating acknowledge--'There never was but one such godlike youth, and there never will be another. I wish that I had known him; I wish he had loved me!' So will they speak centuries later, for I will perpetuate this drawing in a steel engraving of my most beautiful artistic work." [Footnote: This engraving from the artist Chodowiecki still exists, and the author of this work possesses a beautiful copy, which Ottille von Goethe sent her. It is a bust in profile, the most beautiful of his youth.]
"You are a splendid fellow, and I must embrace you, and rejoice to be immortalized by you, for this portrait pleases me exceedingly. Imight well be proud that this head with the rare profile is a counterpart of my own. Now we are good friends. Before I say farewell, let me see the work at which I just disturbed you upon entering."Goethe was about to raise the cloth, when Chodowiecki waved him back. "Do not look at it," said he, quickly; "I dislike to appear as a mechanic before you, as I wish that you should honor only the artist. We poor toilers are badly off, as the old proverb is ever proving true with us, 'Art goes for bread.' We must be mechanics the chief part of our lives, in order to have a few hours free, in which we are allowed to be artists. I have to illustrate the most miserable works with my engravings, to buy the time to pursue works of art.""That is the interest, friend, which you pay the world for the great capital which the gods confided to you. Believe me, the artist Chodowiecki would have but a morsel to eat if the mechanic Chodowiecki did not serve him a tempting meal, paying the bill. Do not be vexed about it; man must have a trade to support him, as art is never remunerated. [Footnote: Goethe's words--See G. H. Lewes's "Goethe's Life and Writings," vol. 1., p. 459.] I hope the mechanic will be well paid, that the artist may create beautiful and rare works for us. This is my farewell visit to-day, friend. If you will hear a welcome from me very soon, come to Weimar, and see how one honors the artists there, and how well appreciated Chodowiecki is."Goethe embraced and kissed the artist, who regarded him, his face radiant with joy, and would not be prevented from accompanying him to the house door, as if he were a prince or a king. "Now to Madame Karschin," said Goethe to himself, as he hastened through the streets in that direction. "The good woman has welcomed me with so many pretty verses that I must make my acknowledgments, in spite of my decision to keep the Berlin authors at a distance."From Wilhelm Street, where Chodowiecki lived, to the tilt-yard, was not far, and Goethe soon reached the old, antiquated house where the poetess lived. After many questionings and inquiries at the lower stories and more splendid apartments of the house, he found the abode of the poetess, and climbed up the steep stairs to the slanting attic-room. The dim light of a small window permitted Goethe to read upon a gray piece of paper, pasted upon the door, 'Anna Louisa Karsch, German poetess.' He knocked modestly at the door at first, then louder, and as the voices within never ceased for a moment their animated conversation, he opened it, and entered the obscure room.
"I will do it, sir," said the little woman sitting in the window-niche near a table to a young man standing near her. "I will do it, though I must tell you album writing is very common. But you must promise me to return here, and let me see what Herr Rammler writes, and tell me what he says about me. These are my conditions.""Frau Karschin, I promise you, upon the word of honor of a German youth, who can never lower himself to break his word.""Very well! then I will write."
There was perfect silence. The youth watched the little, dry hand which guided the pen, with a devotional mien, and Goethe with eager curiosity, who, unobserved, stood like a suppliant at the door of the obscure little room, the shabby furniture of which betrayed the narrow circumstances of the German poetess. It harmonized with the occupant, a little, bony, meagre figure, wearing a tight-fitting blue-flowered chintz dress. Upon the gray hair, which, parted in the middle, encircled the low forehead, was a cap, which had lost its whiteness and was, therefore, more in harmony with the ruff about her yellow, thin neck. Her sharp, angular features were redeemed by large, dark eyes, flashing with marvellous brilliancy from under the thick, gray eyebrows, and with quick, penetrating glances she sometimes turned them to the ceiling thoughtfully as she wrote.
"There, sir, is my poem," said she, laying down the pen. "Listen:
'Govern your will; If it hinders duty, It fetters virtue; Then envy beguiles Into fault-finding.' ""Oh, how beautiful, cried the young man, enraptured. "I thank you a thousand times for those glorious words, and they shall henceforth be the guiding star of my existence.""Go to Professor Rammler, and: then return and show me what he writes, for I am convinced--. Oh, Heavens! there is a stranger," she cried, as she discovered Goethe, who had remained standing by the door.
