bleman and the
artisan, met together as men, and a strong word or a warm feeling often
broke through the most courtly forms. This, however, changed after the
war. The old feeling of decorum was lost, the egotism of the unbridled
was harsh and wounding; the proper, but often narrow-minded pride of
citizen and nobleman was broken, and the simple patriarchal relation
between prince and subject was lost during thirty years of calamity and
distrust. Men had become more prudent, but weaker, and for the most
part worse.

But the beginning of a new state of society was visible. With all this
ruin Providence had mercifully sent a remedy. By many a roundabout way,
through French and Italian fashions, and after long wanderings in every
foreign nationality, the German mind was to be renewed. It was a
wonderful trial of durability, but it was necessary. Like Prince Tamino
in the magic play, the poor German soul passed through French water and
Italian fire; and from that period a weak flute-like tone sounds only
occasionally in our ears, telling us that the German character has not
yet sunk entirely under foreign phantasies.

It has been customary to consider the intellectual sway of Italy and
France, from Opiz to Lessing, as a great calamity. It is true, it has
given neither beauty nor strength to the German; but we are no longer
in the position of the great man who for a century struggled against
French taste. It was with him a duty to hate whatever caused a
hindrance to the wakening popular vigour. But we should at the same
time remember that this same foreign element protected the German from
the extreme of barbarism. Our imitation was very clumsy, and there was
little worth in the original; but it was to the countless bonds of
international intercourse that the Germans then clung, that they might
not be utterly lost. The moral restraints upon the wilfulness of
individuals had been broken, and the meagre externals gathered from
abroad, of fashion, respect, gallantry, and a taste for foreign
refinements were the first remedy. It was a new kind of discipline.
Whoever wore a large wig, and later, even powder in the hair, was
obliged to hold his head elegantly still, wild movements and violent
running were impossible; if men were not prevented by their own
delicacy of feeling from boldly approaching too near to women, a hoop
and corset were a rampart for them; if the courtesy of the heart was
less, the duty of being gallant in conv