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Updated: September 1, 2025
"The world," said Goethe, "remains always the same; situations are repeated; one people lives, loves, and feels like another; why should not one poet write like another? The situations of life are alike; why, then, should those of poems be unlike?" "This very similarity in life and sensation," said Riemer, "makes us all able to appreciate the poetry of other nations.
She has taken Schlegel with her from Berlin; they are together in Coppet; and will probably go to Italy toward winter. Such a visit would doubtless be more delightful to you, dear friend, than many another. My warmest thanks are due you for sending me the Odes of Pindar in translation; they have given a very pleasant hour of recreation to Riemer and myself.
Riemer paid especial attention to the mode of expression; and I had occasion to admire his great dexterity, and his affluence of words and phrases. But in Goethe's mind the epoch of life described was revived; he revelled in recollections, and on the mention of single persons and events, filled out the written narrative by the details he orally gave us. That was a precious evening!
The Captain whipped out his knife, locked it, and gave it to Maurice. "Riemer," he called to one of the cuirassiers, who were rising from the mess table, "bring out your box of instruments; and you, Scharfenstein, a basin of cold water. Quick!" Maurice knelt and deftly cut away the Lieutenant's boot. A pool of blood collected on the floor.
In particular I might perhaps say that I have often been brought more closely to you than you probably know; for conversations with Riemer very often turn on a word, its etymological signification, formation and mutation, relationship, and strangeness.
Little Paul De Riemer was two years old when he was brought to live with Miss Ludington a beautiful child, with loving ways, and deep, dark, thoughtful eyes. When he was first taken into the sitting-room, the picture of the smiling girl over the fireplace instantly attracted his gaze, and, putting out his arms, he cooed to it.
Riemer is, as you doubtless know, absorbed in the same and similar studies, and our evening conversations often lead to the confines of this specialty. Forgive this delayed letter! Despite my retirement, there is seldom an hour when these mysteries of life may be realized. Weimar, July 28, 1803. I have followed you so often in my thoughts that unfortunately I have neglected to do so in writing.
Riemer sends his very best greetings; he is well; our relation is permanent, mutually beneficial, and profitable. Aulic Councillor Meyer has left for Wiesbaden; unfortunately, his health is not of the best. Two new numbers of Ueber Kunst und Alterthum and Zur Naturwissenschaft are about to appear the fruits of my winter's labors.
Riemer was acquainted with the topic, and made the remark that, according to the table of contents given above, not only could poems be made, but that the same motives had been already used by the Germans, without any knowledge that they had been treated in Servia. He mentioned some poems of his own, and I mentioned some poems by Goethe, which had occurred to me during the reading.
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