But, as conception and perception mutually require each other, I could not long work up these new thoughts without an infinite desire arising within me to see important works of art, once and away, in great number.  I therefore determined to visit Dresden without delay.  I was not in want of the necessary cash:  but there were other difficulties to overcome, which I needlessly increased still further, through my whimsical disposition; for I kept my purpose a secret from every one, because I wished to contemplate the treasures of art there quite after my own way, and, as I thought, to allow no one to perplex me.  Besides this, so simple a matter became more complicated by still another eccentricity.

We have weaknesses, both by birth and by education; and it may be questioned which of the two gives us the most trouble.  Willingly as I made myself familiar with all sorts of conditions, and many as had been my inducements to do so, an excessive aversion from all inns had nevertheless been instilled into me by my father.  This feeling had taken firm root in him on his travels through Italy, France, and Germany.  Although he seldom spoke in images, and only called them to his aid when he was very cheerful, yet he used often to repeat that he always fancied he saw a great cobweb spun across the gate of an inn, so ingeniously that the insects could indeed fly in, but that even the privileged wasps could not fly out again unplucked.  It seemed to him something horrible that one should be obliged to pay immoderately for renouncing one’s habits and all that was dear to one in life, and living after the manner of publicans and waiters.  He praised the hospitality of the olden time; and, reluctantly as he otherwise endured even any thing unusual in the house, he yet practised hospitality, especially towards artists and virtuosi.  Thus gossip Seekatz always had his quarters with us; and Abel, the last musician who handled the viol di gamba with success and applause, was well received and entertained.  With such youthful impressions, which nothing had as yet rubbed off, how could I have resolved to set foot in an inn in a strange city?  Nothing would have been easier than to find quarters with good friends.  Hofrath Krebel, Assessor Hermann, and others, had often spoken to me about it already; but even to these my trip was to remain a secret, and I hit upon a most singular notion.  My next-room neighbor, the industrious theologian, whose eyes unfortunately constantly grew weaker and weaker, had a relation in Dresden, a shoemaker, with whom from time to time he corresponded.  For a long while already this man had been highly remarkable to me on account of his expressions, and the arrival of one of his letters was always celebrated by us as a holiday.  The mode in which he replied to the complaints of his cousin, who feared blindness, was quite peculiar:  for he did not trouble himself about grounds of consolation, which are always hard to find; but the cheerful way