As I was taking my leave, Goethe requested me to come the next morning and have myself sketched, for he was in the habit of having drawings made of those of his visitors who interested him.  They were done in black crayon by an artist especially engaged for the work, and the pictures were then put into a frame which hung in the reception-room for this purpose, being changed in regular rotation every week.  This honor was also bestowed upon me.

When I arrived the next morning the artist had not yet appeared; I was therefore directed to Goethe, who was walking up and down in his little garden.  The cause of his stiff bearing before strangers now became clear to me.  The years had not passed without leaving some traces.  As he walked about in the garden, one could see that the upper part of his body, his head and shoulders, were bent slightly forward.  This he wished to hide from strangers, and hence that forced straightening-up which produced an unpleasant impression.  The sight of him in this unaffected carriage, wearing a long dressing-gown, a small skull-cap on his white hair, had something infinitely touching about it.  He looked like a king, and again like a father.  We walked up and down, engaged in conversation.  He mentioned my Sappho and seemed to think well of it, thus in a way praising himself, for I had followed fairly closely in his footsteps.  When I complained of my isolated position in Vienna he remarked what we have since read in his printed works, that man can do efficient work only in the company of likeminded or congenial spirits.  If he and Schiller had attained universal recognition, they owed it largely to this stimulating and supplementing reciprocal influence.

In the meantime the artist had arrived.  We entered the house and I was sketched.  Goethe had gone into his room, whence he emerged from time to time to satisfy himself as to the progress of the picture, which pleased him when completed.  When the artist had departed Goethe had his son bring in some of his choicest treasures.  There was his correspondence with Lord Byron; everything relating to his acquaintance with the Empress and the Emperor of Austria at Karlsbad; and finally the imperial Austrian copyright of his collected works.  This latter he seemed to value very highly, either because he liked the conservative attitude of Austria, or because he regarded it as an oddity in contradistinction to the usual policy pursued in literary matters by this country.  These treasures were wrapped separately in half-oriental fashion in pieces of silk, Goethe handling them with reverence.  At last I was most graciously dismissed.

In the course of the day Chancellor Mueller suggested my visiting Goethe toward evening; he would be alone, and my visit would by no means be unwelcome to him.  Not until later did it occur to me that Mueller could not have made the suggestion without Goethe’s knowledge.