As the stay of the young princes in Frankfort was necessarily short, they made me promise to follow them to Mayence.  I gave this promise gladly enough, and visited them.  The few days of my stay passed very pleasantly, for when my new patrons, with whom I enjoyed delightful conversations on literature, were abroad on visits and banquets, I remained with their attendants, drew portraits, or went skating.  I returned home full of the kindness I had met with.

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Conversations with Eckermann

The outstanding feature of the remarkable “Conversations with Eckermann” is this, that the compilation furnishes an altogether unique record of the working of Goethe’s mature mind.  For Goethe’s age at the period when the “Conversations” begin is seventy-three, and eighty-two when they end.  John Peter Eckermann published his work in 1836.  In 1848 appeared an additional portion.  Eckermann, born at Winsen, in Hanover, was the son of a woollen draper.  He received an excellent education, and studied art, under Ramber, in Hanover, but soon became enamoured of poetry through the influence of Koerner and of Goethe.  He became the intimate friend of Goethe, and lived with him for several years.  In describing the friendship, Eckermann says, “My relation to him was peculiar, and of a very intimate kind.  It was that of the scholar to the master, of the son to the father, of the poor in culture to the rich in culture.  His conversation was as varied as his works.  Winter and summer, age and youth, seemed with him to be engaged in a perpetual strife and change.”  Goethe was one of the world’s most brilliant conversationalists, ranking in this respect with Coleridge.

I.—­On Poets and Poetry

Weimar, June 10, 1823.  I reached here a few days ago, but have not seen Goethe until to-day.  He gave me a most cordial reception.  I esteem this the most fortunate day of my life.  Goethe was dressed in a blue frock-coat.  He is a sublime figure.  His first words were concerning my manuscript.  “I have just come from you” said he.  He meant that he had been reading it all the morning.  He commented it enthusiastically.  We talked long together.  But I could say little for I could not look at him enough, with his strong, brown face, full of wrinkles, each wrinkle being full of expression.  He spoke like some old monarch.  We parted affectionately, for every word of his breathed kindness.

Jena, September 8, 1823.  Yesterday morning I had the happiness of another interview with Goethe.  What he said to me was quite important, and will have a beneficial influence on all my life.  All the young poets of Germany should have the benefit of it.  “Do not,” said he, “attempt to produce a great work.  It is just this mistake which has done harm to our best minds.  I have myself suffered from this error.  What have I not