ng which befel me then
had remained entirely without influence on my inner life.

A demon--I can find no other name--urged me to all sorts of follies,
many of which I still remember with pleasure, and, thank Heaven, not a
single one which a strict teacher--supposing that he had not forgotten
how to put himself into the place of a youth--would seriously censure.
The effervescing spirits which did not find vent in such pranks obtained
expression in a different form.

I had begun to write, and every strong emotion was uttered in verses,
which I showed to the companions from whom I could expect sympathy. My
school-mates were very unlike. Among the young gentlemen who paid a high
price to attend the school not a single one had been really industrious
and accomplished anything. But neither did any one of the few lads whose
fathers were peasants, or who belonged to the lower ranks, stand at
the head of his class. They were very diligent, but success rarely
corresponded with the amount of labour employed. The well-educated
but by no means wealthy middle class supplied the school with its best
material.

The evolution of the human soul is a strange thing. The period during
which, in my overflowing mirth, I played all sorts of wild pranks, and
at school worked earnestly for one teacher only, often found me toiling
late at night for hours with burning head over a profound creation--I
called it The Poem of the World--in which I tried to represent the
origin of cosmic and human life.

Many other verses, from a sonnet to the beautiful ears of a pretty
cousin to the commencement of the tragedy of Panthea and Abradatus, were
written at that time; but I owe The Poem of the World special gratitude,
for it kept me from many a folly, and often held me for weeks at my desk
during the evening hours which many of my comrades spent in the tavern.
Besides, it attracted the new head-master's attention to my poetical
tastes, for a number of verses had been left by mistake in an
exercise-book. He read them, and asked to see the rest. But I could not
fulfil the wish, for they contained many things which could not fail
to offend him; so I gave him only a few of the tamest passages, and can
still see him smile in his peculiar way as he read them in my presence.
He said something about "decided talent," and when preparations for the
celebration of the birthday of King Frederick William IV were made he
gave me the task of composing an original poem