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At the entrance of Rossstrasse to Berlin, not far from the Cologne Town Hall, in a narrow, busy and noisy part of town, where trade and retail reside in low-end shops, lies a dark house, which in the second half of the last century was one of the stately The neighborhood may belong. At that time lived a citizen and craftsman in this house; that was Master Johann Ludwig Tieck, the Seiler. It was a simple but also fresh and strong man, who used to walk his way with straight vision and bright eyes. A life full of work and experience had been his school, and had trained in him that honorary, old-bourgeois ability and ability, which hits the nail without much words, and not infrequently in the times of Frederick the Great among the comrades of the small craft was. His father, too, might have been a craftsman. The family memory did not keep it from where it came from, but at times one did not boast of unsightly kinship, to which one even wanted to count a general.

As dictated by the order of the trade, Master Tieck, in his early years when he had been freed, resorted to the wandering staff, and was considered a craft moved socially into the foreign. He had traveled through Germany, had come to Hungary and then on to the border of Turkey. It was not lacking in adventures. Thus a traveling companion had once joined him in these regions; he found the position of one of those Hungarian fortresses so graceful that he sat down and began to sketch the outlines in his book. From the fortress, one realized his intention, believed to recognize spies in the two wanderers, and took some shots at them, who luckily missed their target. After returning home, Tieck sat down as master, as was the custom, and established a household. He got his wife from Jeserig, a village near Brandenburg. She was the daughter of the blacksmith’s master shell, but educated in the house of the local preacher, named Latzke, who had taken her early as an orphan. Thereupon the master diligently pursued his trade among his fellow-citizens, and took part in everything concerning craft and civilization. Among the members of the guild he was regarded as a man of strict guilt, devoted to his state, and not only having his heart but his tongue in the right place, and at the good of the hour knowing a good word without fear. That’s why they chose him as spokesman and representative in some important matters.

Among the craftsmen themselves, there were already many contradictions with the guilds and their strict rules. Some said that it would only be better for the industry if these old orders were abolished. A quarrel had arisen about it, and the guilds’ advocates included Master Tieck, who expected nothing but disarray from the dissolution of the Union. But he did not want to deny, according to his own experience, that Much different and better. Now the rumor had spread that the king, too, was not inclined to the guilds. Therefore the friends of the same decided to call him directly, to protect them by the old right. A number of masters should give him a petition and Tieck be their spokesman. The shortest path was to set up the business. At a certain hour of the day Frederick used to stand near a window in the Sanssouci Palace, then the supplicants stood under a tree in the garden, on which the king’s gaze had to fall; not infrequently he had them called in and heard their concerns. That’s what happened here too. Frederick saw the masters, and left them modest to himself. Tieck was allowed to hand him the petition and say a few words in favor of the guilds. The King graciously listened to him, dismissing him with the assurance that he too was not an enemy of them and that he would take care of it.

But such experiences and the activity of the day did not suffice for the needs of the gifted man, who was endowed with much knowledge; He also led an introverted life. In ecclesiastical as well as in political matters he was well friederichisch minded. He kept up with the moral change and a fair and efficient action, besides, he was a friend of the Enlightenment, and used to interpret things without much wonder.

But in this point also the peculiar sensibility of the housewife emerged. She was wholeheartedly attached to the old ecclesiastical faith. Here at the first there were irritated conversations, in which each part showed itself how he was. The man sensible, eager, uplifting, often rough and strong, moving out of the rough side in the house; the woman gentle, shy, introverted, the Compassionate and reassuring to men, but persistent. Above all, faith had become by heart and education a matter of the heart, and she did not let herself be confused by the man’s harsh, sometimes mocking, contradiction. If he found her reading Porst’s hymn-book in the hours of her silent collection, it seldom left his side without a counter-comment. Then, with his homely morality, he very seriously campaigned against the old hymns, accused them of lying and untruth, and declared them superfluous or even harmful. He was most annoyed at the songs in which Christ is portrayed as the Bridegroom of the soul, especially when they were poems written by women. Or, with clumsy understanding, he remarked in Paul Gerhard’s song “Now all the forests are resting” against the verse: “The whole world is asleep”: “How can one say such stale stuff! The whole world is not sleeping! In America, the sun shines, and people watch. “To such objections the woman only added her quiet piety to the depths of her mind.

If this kind of enlightenment had passed into the flesh and blood of Master Tieck, he was by no means lacking in meaning and understanding for higher things, only he turned to the secular side. The first happy and daring attempts of German poetry since the beginning of the seventies had made a deep impression on him and soon won his heart. Like a new dawn, Goethe’s poetry had risen above German literature. The simple and open minds all felt it, here spring the Born of a genuine seal. It speaks for the natural feeling of the old Tieck, which finds itself in the hard shell of the working-hardy citizen had survived, when the simple craftsman realized that Goethe was a completely different man than Gellert, Kleist and Gleim. Later, when the controversy over the recognition of the new poetry broke out more violently and came to the ears of the old master, he said with displeasure: “What are the people talking, they do not understand these books!” Or if von Werther or Götz “the speech was:” The others may do as they like, they can not do such a thing! ”

In this lively interest in the new works of poetry, and in the constant urge to teach and teach constantly, many a good and useful book was not only read but also bought, and gradually a small treasury gathered, one justifiably proud of could be. In addition to the Bible, which also honored the Father’s enlightenment as a land register of the house and life, and beside the useful teaching that Guthrie’s and Gray’s “World History” and several other historical books granted, the first edition of “Gotz of Berlichingen “, Goethe’s writings in the Himburg reprint, the first impressions of the daring poems by Lenz, the” Rheinische Most “, some weeklies and many others of the kind.

He also liked the German spectacle, which at the time was trying to become independent. Chance had even brought him together with the actors, whom he saw wearing on the Bretern in the Behrenstrasse of the evening. The work called for rest and relaxation, and so master Tieck was not averse to the bourgeois pleasures. In the afternoon he went out to one of those modest facilities in front of the gates of Berlin, where, with a glass of Kottbus beer, a so-called garden pleasure, such as a bowling alley and a few trusts and tribe guests felt. There was smoked, bowed, laughed, many a tangible fun ran under, and content with his existence, one strolled evening chatting and chatting back home.

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The regulars were joined by some actors, with whom they became known on the bowling alley. Master Tieck was prejudiced enough not to shun traffic with the disreputable caste. Did he enjoy seeing the tragic heroes as ordinary people, or could they exaggerate the cheerfulness of society through their jokes? Enough he was on good terms with them. But he also noticed a great deal of the loose fellows, which offended his strict civic sense, recklessness, bragging rights, lies, debauchery. So he often came home with the comment: “The comedians (otherwise he did not call them) are still bad, immoral journeymen. There is no reliance on her! ”

By contrast, the scholars stood with him the higher in reputation. It was not the dumb astonishment of a mass of strange and incomprehensible knowledge that filled him, but the conviction that the learned profession was not only the guardian of spiritual treasures, but that it should also be used as the teacher of the people. Therefore, it seemed natural to him that the teaching should stand up in public respect and be preserved in it. He even recognized the scholar himself in a distorted image.

One evening he found in his civil society the notorious Magister Kindleben. This man, not without talent and knowledge, had originally been a preacher at a village near Berlin, but had to be appalled for his gross negligence. Since then he lived on scholarly wage work in Leipzig and Halle, and wrote bad poems and novels in which he Partly told his own adventures; for soon he had become a familiar sight in all the taverns and on the streets. Some citizens had brought him that evening; he was to be given to the petty-bourgeois scoff. Always hungry and even more thirsty scholar, farewell pedant, literary tramp, he seemed to challenge it much more than to fear it. His shameless nature, his sleazy begginess, showed the scholar in deepest absorption. The raw fun began when he was drunk. Full of indignation, Master Tieck left his resource. So you should never handle learning, even if it was in such a mean shape as here.

In the meantime a lot had changed in the house. A family was born and began to grow up. The room was narrower, the worries gotten bigger. Over the course of four years, the mother had given birth to three children.

It was a hopeful day when on May 31, 1773, at eleven o’clock in the morning, the eldest child was born in the narrow, dark back room, into which only a scant light shone in from the courtyard. This child, who was born to the master Johann Ludwig Tieck, the Seiler, was master Johann Ludwig Tieck, the poet. As the eldest son, he received the names of his father on June 6 at baptism, to which several of the noblest patrons of the family were invited as witnesses. On February 28, 1775 followed by a daughter, Anna Sophie, and on August 14, 1776, the younger son, Christian Friedrich. So three children grew up in the house, two sons and a daughter between them, and with them many a heavy and weighty care. For soon the father had to suspect that with these children another, new spirit had dwelling in his narrow house . Under the eyes of the father and the mother they spent the first years. They only vaguely remembered their grandmother, who lived quietly in the house of the son as a matron and soon disappeared without having taken part in education.

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In Ludwig the Elder, imagination and sentience were extremely early. The images and impressions which he received soon awakened in him a dark inkling of the sufferings and joys to which the human heart is subjected as long as it strikes. These first shocks of the soul must have caused a deep painful feeling in the child, for in old age the old man told of it with the full liveliness of a present impression. A friend of the house had once brought along a peculiar showpiece. It was a tin with a bright color pattern under a crystal rim. From this colorful picture, the child was attracted with irresistible power. Was it a first idea of ​​the beauty of the world that fulfilled it? The moment of brief joy was followed by the feeling of first loss as the shiny toy was taken out of his hands. It was inconsolable, and the old man Tieck assured that he first felt the pain of life. Another time, the nurse had put the child down on the steps in front of the pier at Schloßplatz. With pleasure it looked across the square at the bridge and the statue of the great Elector. Everything gave him the most serene impression when he suddenly realized that the nurse had disappeared. In badly understood joke, she had stepped behind a pillar. Then, in the midst of these figures, the child was seized by the feeling of deepest solitude. Little did that help speak the protruding guard, and for a long time it could not forget this dark, terrible sensation.

Not less early did the child wish to be employed in a regular manner. On the mother’s lap, she got to know the letters, the faster the more the imagination came to help. Barely four years old, the boy could read, and already the Bible was replaced by the Bible, which soon became his favorite book in its historical and poetic parts. He was overcome with a sense of the sovereignty of the spirit wafting here; the wonderfully sublime yet childlike tone, the understood and the misunderstood, everything captivated him very much. He could not be satisfied with these touching-simple stories of the patriarchs, and already in the first years of his boyhood he had read the Bible more than once. Then, when neighbors and relatives heard him read eagerly in the Bible, sitting on his footstool, they shook their heads so precariously, or some said, “How cleverly the child does, as if it could read!”

In addition to the Bible, the hymnbook of the mother had a great attraction for him. It had a heavily gilded cover decorated with elaborate ivory carvings on the sides. It might be an heirloom of their parents or a gift from the pastor whom he had given to his foster child as a souvenir. How high was it not the mother! And when the child heard them read those old songs, how echoed the hardly anticipated content, the richly detailed language that was so simple, the unison of the rhyme in his soul! So it soon became familiar with the songs of the Lutheran Church.

But for those books that prophetically the first and , he was joined by another, which took the young soul no less powerfully and gave her the deepest impression of life. This was Goethe’s “Götz von Berlichingen”. In the evening, after work, when the children slept, or when the eldest listened crouched in an angle, the father used to draw out a book from his library, or read a loan to his mother. Of course, the choice sometimes fell on quite isolated books, the understanding of which was doubtful in this circle. He read Fontenelle’s writing of the majority of the worlds in Bode’s translation; but more often one of those poetic works of which one now heard so much talk. So Ludwig was introduced to German poetry, and it was not long before he seized his own books, from which he had heard his father read aloud.

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Above all, however, he stopped by one, at the “Götz”. Like the Bible, he believed with all his soul in this poem. It was the first impression of the mysterious magic of poetry that he learned; the world of fantasy became real to him. As the patriarchs, heroes and kings of the Old Testament were alive before him, he thought that these manly knights, Gotz himself, must still be among the living. They were people he lived and worked with, like his father and mother and siblings. He was not so upset when, laughing at his childish simplicity, he later taught him that neither Gotz, nor any of his companions was a living person, that story was a fictitious one; The man who wrote her was Goethe and living in Weimar. For a kind of revelation he had kept the “idol”, and now he heard that it was a book, like all books are. How gladly he would have given this enlightenment to the world, which he lost thereby! For the moment he had no idea of ​​such disappointments, and walking and standing, in every corner of the house, awake and asleep, he carried himself with the figures of these knights and wives, and their hearty speeches sounded incessantly in him. Only through one could they be silenced at times, through the mother’s tales.

When, in the twilight of the evening, the otherwise well-known theaters stared at the children in a strange and mysterious way, and the loud activity gradually subsided, they quietly gathered at the mother’s lap, and many a story that she often heard had to tell them. The memories of her own childhood awakened. Although her youth had run smoothly in the parsonage, she still knew a few things to tell. In her mouth the simple and the natural became for the children a fairy tale and a miracle that deeply impressed their memory. She told of an old, weird woman in her father’s village, who had been a subject of secret shower for the young. Ugly and evil, she sat alone and silent in her room at the end of the worm, only a small dog suffered her. Ungernly, they decided to address her, and when it happened, she replied angrily and in a half-intelligible gibberish, which sounded to the children in horrible, evil spells. Most horrible of all, when her only companion, the dog, had sprung from her. Then she stood at the door and peered down the village, or ran with strange gestures through the streets and cried in a shrill voice to the dog: “Strameh! Strameh! Strameh! ”

So were the people and environments under which Ludwig Tieck, the poet, was born and grew up. It was the narrow circle of petty-bourgeois life. Work, thrift, honesty were the house rules. One lived in a limited way, but therefore not poor or even puny; they had become tightly organized without being cut off from the world; one did not need to fear every little joy to fail. The house was full of the satisfaction of the able craftsman, who knows how to spend with his wits, what his hands have earned him, and how he can provide the means to educate his children, who can open to them broader, sunnier paths. This dark, bourgeois furnished room on the ground floor, this long, narrow hallway, the small courtyard behind it, on which only a sparse sky looked down, the threshold at the front door, these were the rooms that Ludwig first populated with the structures of his young imagination which became the scene of his childish sufferings and joys. But already the mysterious idea had flown beyond it, and dreamed of another wonderful world, which lay beyond the threshold of the father’s house.

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