more distinct, wanting every thing to be finished and
properly completed. He therefore had them mounted
and surrounded with ruled lines; nay, the painter
Morgenstern, his domestic artist,—the same
who afterwards made himself known, and indeed famous,
by his church-views,— had to insert the
perspective lines of the rooms and chambers, which
then, indeed, stood in pretty harsh contrast with those
cloudy looking figures. In this manner he thought
he would make me gain greater accuracy; and, to please
him, I drew various objects of still life, in which,
since the originals stood as patterns before me, I
could work with more distinctness and precision.
At last I took it into my head to etch once more.
I had composed a tolerably interesting landscape, and
felt myself very happy when I could look out for the
old receipts given me by Stock, and could, at my work,
call to mind those pleasant times. I soon bit
the plate and had a proof taken. Unluckily the
composition was without light and shade, and I now
tormented myself to bring in both; but, as it was
not quite clear to me what was really the essential
point, I could not finish. Up to this time I had
been quite well, after my own fashion; but now a disease
attacked me which had never troubled me before.
My throat, namely, had become completely sore, and
particularly what is called the “uvula”
very much inflamed: I could only swallow with
great pain, and the physicians did not know what to
make of it. They tormented me with gargles and
hair-pencils, but could not free me from my misery.
At last it struck me that I had not been careful enough
in the biting of my plates, and that, by often and
passionately repeating it, I had contracted this disease,
and always revived and increased it. To the physicians
this cause was plausible, and very soon certain on
my leaving my etching and biting, and that so much
the more readily as the attempt had by no means turned
out well, and I had more reason to conceal than to
exhibit my labors; for which I consoled myself the
more easily, as I very soon saw myself free from the
troublesome disease. Upon this I could not refrain
from the reflection, that my similar occupations at
Leipzig might have greatly contributed to those diseases
from which I had suffered so much. It is, indeed,
a tedious, and withal a melancholy, business to take
too much care of ourselves, and of what injures and
benefits us; but there is no question but that, with
the wonderful idiosyncrasy of human nature on the one
side, and the infinite variety in the mode of life
and pleasure on the other, it is a wonder that the
human race has not worn itself out long ago. Human
nature appears to possess a peculiar kind of toughness
and many-sidedness, since it subdues every thing
which approaches it, or which it takes into itself,
and, if it cannot assimilate, at least makes it indifferent.
In case of any great excess, indeed, it must yield
to the elements in spite of all resistance, as the
many endemic diseases and the effects of brandy convince