Schnorr's notes on the Stroll
By Veit Hans Schnorr von Carolsfeld (1839)
"Seume was my friend"
By Veit Hans Schnorr von Carolsfeld (1839)
"Seume was my friend"
Seume was my friend, and I was his, in the true sense of the word: our friendship was founded upon a mutual deep feeling for honesty and uprightness.
I was his companion as far as Vienna, where I had to remain behind, following the counsel of certain men of consequence to whom I had been recommended. Let me then be permitted to follow Seume in spirit further on his way, and here and there to add a word for the readers whom he interests.
My notes concern solely the individuality of the traveller; and that I feel some claim to this task may be justified by the circumstance that for nine years Seume sat at table with me and was daily in my house.
He is no more; and I, and those who belong to me, have lost one faithful friend.
SN1
No one who knew Seume well would deny this: he was never happier than in the domestic circle of an upright family. Nor was he nearly as morose as some imagined; when invited, he would gladly join in little farces—sometimes as writer, sometimes as actor.
Once, he took the role of herald when we performed Don Quixote in full costume in the open fields near Grimma, at Pöhlen, that beautiful romantic spot; and he himself played Cleopatra—complete with moustache—when we staged one of Kotzebue’s comedies in Hohenstädt to give our friend G. a cheerful evening.
For all his stern expression and generally serious manner, even small children would soon come to him, and he would clasp them to his breast with tender, heartfelt warmth.
His deepest sorrow was not to have wife or child of his own. Fate had not favoured him, and in that regard he had suffered bitter disappointments. This is already revealed in his early poem The Farewell to Münchhausen, and he speaks of it more openly in his later poems and especially in the present book. He once said to me: “If it were not against my principles, I should like to have a son by a healthy peasant girl.”
Seume was a man of strictly moral character. When he heard of an act of genuine humanity, he would say simply: “That is reasonable! That is humane! That is fine!”—and his heart would be deeply moved.
He experienced one such uplifting joy in the event he himself recounts here from Messina. He often said, “The good praises and rewards itself.”
But at baseness—at any degradation or violation of human dignity—he would gnash his teeth in inner wrath, though he judged human weakness with tolerance.
The welfare of mankind, grounded in universal justice and freedom—terms which for him were nearly synonymous—lay close to his heart. Yet he was prudent: he never discussed politics or religion with common folk. “That can do no good,” he used to say; “what is reasonable must come from above and become general.” Thus he never even gave his writings to his mother or his relatives: “You wouldn’t understand them,” he said. “Obey the laws, and go to church.”
He was never content with the rash so-called Enlighteners, never disturbed another’s faith, and held honest, conscientious preachers in high esteem.
Beneath his mother’s portrait, which I etched for him some fifteen years ago, he had the following inscription engraved:
Regina Christina Seumin.
Love and respect for parents; fidelity to friends; reverence for religion; obedience to the laws; courage for the fatherland; justice and humanity toward all.
SN2
I often heard him say, “What should I do with an office here—or there—or, heaven forbid, at court?” “It would last four weeks, and—you would see me back again.” It was impossible for him to make compromises in public affairs, so he preferred to avoid conflict altogether. Once he was invited to edit a political and literary journal; though the profit was painted in glowing colours and the prospects seemed brilliant, he politely declined. Seume would have lectured excellently on natural law—he had a strong desire to do so—but it would soon have been forbidden, and any written work of his confiscated.
The most fitting post for him, I think, would have been an inspector of roads; and I am convinced that, though we might not have had Spanish highways, we should at least have had better roads at home—for on their poor condition all travellers are agreed.
The happiness of mankind occupied him above all. His heart was filled with the idea of universal justice. At times great hopes stirred him, even though he placed the dawn of better days far in the future.
Yet he was not idle and accomplished much good. Several young men of heart and intellect, whom he taught and who became honourable, worthy people, have acknowledged that they owed an immense debt to Seume’s upright and steadfast principles. Even young noblemen—whom he never flattered, not for any price—kept returning to him out of genuine respect for the man and his convictions. In short, Seume was universally esteemed as a man of integrity, and I trust with confidence that such esteem will be his forever.
The most fitting post for him, I think, would have been an inspector of roads; and I am convinced that, though we might not have had Spanish highways, we should at least have had better roads at home—for on their poor condition all travellers are agreed.
SN3
When General von Schwerin—the nephew of the famous great Schwerin—was in Leipzig about ten years ago and sat for his portrait, he asked after Seume. I showed him a few of Seume’s letters. “Yes, yes! That is his hand,” he said. “I know it.”
Of the unfriendly treatment he received from old Igelström on his return journey from Russia, Seume himself tells in his Summer (his last journey to Russia). Such, not all too rarely, are the rewards for honest and faithful service!
SN4
That was spoken in a moment of moral indignation, when his imagination and the memory of many affronts to human dignity—especially in the great capitals—came flooding back upon him. He felt it deeply at the time and gives expression to that feeling here. But he never meant thereby to insult an entire city, as should be clear enough.