d education. First a softness of nature
which, about 1750, was called tender and sentimental. The foundation of
this remarkable softness was implanted in the soul by the great war and
its political results, and Pietism had strikingly developed it. Almost
every one had the habit of exciting and stirring up themselves and
others. In the last century, family prayer had been heartless and
formal; now, the edifying contemplations and moral reflections of the
father of a family gave occasion for dramatic scenes within it.
Extemporary prayers especially, accustomed the members of a family to
express openly what was really in their hearts. Vows and promises,
solemn exhortations and pathetic reconciliations betwixt husbands and
wives, parents and children, sentimental scenes, were as much sought
after and enjoyed as they are now avoided. Even in schools the easy
excitability of that generation frequently came to light. When a worthy
teacher was in trouble, he caused the scholars to sing verses which
harmonised with his frame of mind, and it was agreeable to him to feel
that the boys understood him and showed their sympathy in their
devotions. In the same way the preacher in the pulpit loved to make his
congregation the confidants of his own struggles and convictions; his
sorrows and joys, repentance and inward peace, were listened to with
respect and consecrated by prayer.

The generation of 1750 had more especially a craving for excitement and
exaltation of feeling. A feeling, an action, or a man was easily
reckoned great; grand epithets were heaped upon friends; and, again,
your own sorrows and the misfortunes of others were enjoyed with a
certain gloomy satisfaction. Tears flowed readily both over your own
sufferings and those of others; and also from joy, gratitude, devotion,
or admiration; but it was not through foreign literature, not by
Gellert, nor by the literary worshippers of Klopstock, that this
sentimentality was implanted: it lay deep in the national character.
When, in 1749, the young Doctor Semler took leave of the University of
Halle, he was very sorrowful, for he had secretly adored the daughter
of his dear teacher, Professor Baumgarten, notwithstanding he had at
his home, Saalfeld, another love of his youthful days; this sorrow
affected him so powerfully, that with difficulty he took his Doctors
degree. He, however, succeeded, and after having done so, he delivered,
before his model Baumgarten--who was in the