© Hessisches Staatsarchiv Marburg, Best. 340 Grimm Nr. Z 38
They both belonged among Bettina’s oldest
friends. I myself, from a child, had looked
upon Bettina as a near relative of a superior
order—a kind of counterpart to my molher, as
my Uncle Jacob, who always lived with us,
seemed my father’s counterpart. Without
Bettina’s energetic assistance we should urob-
ably never have reached Berlin. I considered
her house as a part of ours, and saw her daily
from 1S41 until her death, except wheu jour
neys intervened. I can never express how
much I owe her, or lind id possible to recount
the wealth of things I saw and enjoyed in her
house.
The period from 1840 up to the revolution of
’48, and even then for a seriee of years later,
was the last golden era in which public life in
Berlin depended on personal opinion and in
tercourse. In truth, the ruling censorship was
so scrupulous and sensitive as to make it im
possible to treat of the things which moved
the world in the newspapers with equal dig
nity. Bettina had never had much to do witli
newspapers—what she wrote appeared in
book form. .She might claim the privilege of
being allowed to say many tilings forbidden to
others. Bettina and Alexander von Hum
boldt were the most distinguished representa
tives of this candor and frankness
in the expression of opinion, Men be
lieved they must know more of the truth of
things who had prepared themselves, and the
way, barred to "others, stood open to them.
Who had something to attain, who desired an
unobstructed career, who felt themselves mis
understood, applied to them. Many missives
of such import have I seen, year after year, fall
into her hand. Bettina and Von Humboldt
were aliLj capable of suddenly kindling a
spark in beings Dy no means extraordinary
which raised them far above their ordinary
level. From her youth Bettina looked upon
herself as the natural counsellor and friend of
the unfortunate. Her letters are full of them.
She had a magnetic power over sad, forlorn
people, and gave constantly with liberal hand.
IN POLITICS.
From her efforts to succor and sustain the
oppressed the political ideas took form which
m fatter years became ever more pronounced
in her. She returned to the ideas of her
youth. She had as a child almost participated
In the French revolution, which between '40
and ’50 was again glorified as the epoch when
ideas of our present freedom were evoked
among us. With awe these conflicts were once
more regarded, and men sighed for a German
Mirabean. What is called politics today
interested Bettina very little. The emphasis
of her work, of which the title was also the
dedication, “This book belongs to tho King,”
and whose appearance created the greatest
sensation in Germany, did not lie in anything
which admitted of being bronght into para
graphs. In ihe year 1830, when the cholera
pest appeared in Berlin, Bettina fearlessly
undertook the relief of the sick ana needy.
From this time dates her sympathy with the
“people.” Arguing from her personal knowl
edge of the laboring classes in Berlin, who
had no work and nothing to eat, she came to
look upon the whole nation at
that time as without political will of
its own, and diseased and helpless.
Bettina’s propositions were made from this
point of view. Today this book is simply a
testimony to tier noble intentions, ana shows
what radical confusion the want of a healthy
public life created among us. This was her
last work which caused any sensation, and,
with the year 1848, Bettina’s career in this di
rection closed. Her “Discourse with Demons”
scarcely found a public. Happily for Bettina’s
last years, tho revolution came on neither sud
denly nor in a way to wound her or even to
make her conscious that she was no longer
iudiBpeusabie.
Many energetic natures find themselves in
old age confronted with a now generation and
new circumstances which they do not under
stand. They isolate themselves and turn aside
bitterly to live in recollections of the past.
Bettina was spared this. Her mind was so
rich, ;-or interests so universal, that the do
main *ras still large enough upon which she
could withdraw. To the very last she looked
forward to new events and experiences
eagerly and full of hope. She was always
writing. Next to editing her own works
those of Arniin’s claimed her care and atten
tion.
HER METHOD OF WORK.
When her picture rises vividly before me I
see her seated at her desk. Every letter of
her handwriting was legible, fully formed and
energetic. She continually effaced wliat did
not please her until she attained such grueo
of style as lent to all she wrote the air of hav
ing been easily written. Her hastily-written
letters are often much more labored m style
chan her books. She read uninterruptedly all
the new literature as well as the
classics. Goethe, Shakespeare and the
Greek tragedians were her favorite reading.
The book whose style she most admired was
Hölderlin’s “Hyperion.” She had cherished a
predilection for Hölderlin from her youth,
and when the new edition of his work by-
Schwab appeared it became a yet stronger
feeling. From this moment it was her in
separable companion. One book lay on ner
table, from which she ofeen read, that 1 never
met elsewhere, “Klinger’s Observations and
Thoughts.”
In her early days, Bettina drew and culti
vated such a keen eye for plastic art, that her
criticisms were wholly to be relied on. In
latter years, musical interests became su
preme, together with the writing of music.
Beethoven held the highest place In her esti
mation. Among her compositions, which are
no longer known, that which moved me mo9t
deeply, was on the words of Faust: “O
schau'dre nicht.” One of her motives is to be
found in Joachim’s violin concert.
REMINISCENCES.
It appears strange to me that, ont of Bet-
tma’s manifold experiences, scarcely one pre
sents itself which admits of being completely
told, so as to give any conception of what it
was to live with her. I have found it impos
sible to give to tiiose who never knew Bettina
the least idea of her. How i9 one to describe
the power in a being which renders every
moment spent with them of the richest sig
nificance; the attractive charm which no
orte can resist; the gift above all of
entering into tne feelings of the young, to in
fluence and elevate them? She gave sight to
men and made them haupy and trustful.
Others who knew her confess themselves as
little able as myself to describe wherein lay
this power to inspire, and vet, like myself, are
even today aware of its magic potency. One
might speak of the affluence of imagery that
streamed from her lips—of her skill in detect
ing new phases in things and the like—but
they should be only secondary, after all.
1 have found that, with natures of the high
est order, the actual source of their inspiring-
attractive power lies in their clearer percep
tion of the value of existence, and that, hav
ing ever present to their souls the importance
of the great thoughts revealed to mankind,
they find refreshment in consecrated moments
in the farther interpretation of them for
themselves. One recollection is especially
dear to me. In the beginning of the year 1850,
Bettina, with her family, had reached Weimar
on her return from a long journey. Thither I
went to meet them. It was in October—
I found her in the Elephant, on the market
place, the old, classic inn, in which she had
taken possession of the first it.age. 1 still re
member entering the room in the twilight,
where, as yet, no' lamps had been brought. A
variety of people were assembled, to whom I
was introduced without seeing them. There
was music, and I heard for the first time a
sonata of Beethoven’s for violin and piano. I
sat still in my corner. The delight of seeing
once more those among whom I might be
reckoned; the softly stealing, entrancing mu
sic transported me into a new world.
Weimar was still the residence of Goethe and
hi6 spirit was hovering about us there. The
next morning at 6 o'clock Bettina knocked .
at my door. We went through the park that
borders the Urn. The rustling yellow leaves
of the poplars were glistening in the sun’s
first rays, while all beneath still lay in 1
damp shade. We took the narrow path I
leading to Goethe’s garden house. All j
was solitary. The dark shops under
the houses were closed, the little gar
den gate fast bolted—but near it there
was an aperture in the hedge through
which we pressed into the garden. The earth
was thickly strewn with leaves, yellow-red
and brown, or all the colors intermingled. It
seemed as if no one had been here for an age,
for the branches of tho trees had grown so as
to hang low over the path. Behind the house
stood d half-broken bench. Here we seated
ourselves. The ground under onr feet was
paved with little erect river pebbles, between
which moss had sprung up. Bettina told me
that Goethe once described to her his passing
many a night here in the open air, and wheu
he waked how beautiful the stars appeared
to him twinkling thiough the branches.
We then strolled through the wet
faded grass about the house until the sun be
gan to shine. Roses ana vines on trellises ran
up over the chalk-white walls, and, where the
wooden frames no longer held them fast, the
vines drooped in clusters, and swung down as
if they would detach themselves wholly. We
discovered, close to some withered roses,
bunches of ripe grapes, with lotten berries
among them, as if nobody cared to pick them.
Bettina took some of them in her handkerchief.
I see the vines still trembling in the morning
light as Bettina grasps them and plncks the
fruit.
HER EAST TEARS.
She was at that time not far from 70 years of
age, but in the possession of her full activity
and vigor. She spoke of Goethe without the
least tinge of sadness, as is so often the case
with old people, when reviewing the days that
are gone. The present, which was still hers,
enchanted her.
Bettina confidently believed the time would
come when Steinliäuser’s colossal monument
to Goethe, now so unfavorably placed in the
Weimar Museum, would have a better
position. With Wichmaun’s help she
had herself executed the plaster model
of it, and among the many statues in
tended to glorify Goethe, Bettina’s alone seems
to embody what Goethe was to his age m the
second half of his life. The complete fulfil
ment of the conception, in which the group of
Goethe with the genius who is seizing the
strings of ihe lyre he holds, was to have
formed only the (’crowning point, engrossed
Bettina’s thoughts greatly during tho last
years of her life. Steinhäuser came to Berlin
and stayed at her house, wnere, by their
united eflorts, the whole wa3 erected. A
plaster model of the statue stood in the groat
hall of her house, and she constantly found '
something to improve in it. Ever new plan?
were forged to obtain the means for it. Bet
tina listened to nothing with so much pleasure
as wheu I painted to her our all going to
Home to watch the achievement of the monu
ment. Feeble, and no longer able to walk
alone, Bke was many times led up to the work,
and, supporting herself by resting her hands
on the staging on wiiich the model stood, she
would move round it slowly, scrutinising it
from all sides.
Beside this statue they placed her coffin be
fore it was borne to Wleperdorf. Her own
ones had all gone before to receive it there. I
was alone in the great hall. It lay there a
heap of laurel wreaths and long leafv vines,
which I nailed about the casket. I cannot say
that I have been conscious in thus giving my
recollections of Bettina of intending to write i
her last eulogy. The feeling would have been
natural indeed, but, after the fiight of 20
years since her death, the 'glorifica
tion would come somewhat late. It
would seem that, having long re
mained m a measure uncomprehended,
something like a true appreciation of her in
dividuality has again been awakened, and,
since Loeper’s short life of her in “German
Biographies,” been deeply and unmistakably 1
felt. j
Like all people, Bettina had her weaknesses, 1
and there would exist no reason why we I
should be silent with regard to them, if ]
anything decided in her life had I
been connected with them. But a '
description of her nature does not, j
in rny judgment, require it. All the j
thoughts of her which arise In me are of a !
loving, joyous being. I see her ever before
me, occupied with serious interests. Never
for an instant did I find her exercised about
trifles, or for her own benefit. In this she re
sembled Goethe, in my eyes, whose every act
was determined by that same bright, inward
illumination, which, streaming from his own
soul, irradiated everything around him.
Only of the few great spirits in all ages
could this be said.
