were of little importance; and hence their consciences,
for the most part, remained clear, and their minds
commonly cheerful: so there arose no artificial,
but a truly natural, culture, which yet had this advantage
over others, that it was suitable to all ages and ranks,
and was generally social by its nature. For this
reason, too, these persons were, in their own circle,
truly eloquent, and capable of expressing themselves
appropriately and pleasingly on all the tenderest
and best concerns of the heart. Now, good Jung
was in this very case. Among a few persons, who,
if not exactly like-minded with himself, did not declare
themselves averse from his mode of thought, he was
found, not only talkative but eloquent: in particular,
he related the history of his life in the most delightful
manner, and knew how to make all the circumstances
plainly and vividly present to his listeners.
I persuaded him to write them down, and he promised
to do so. But because, in his way of expressing
himself, he was like a somnambulist, who must not be
called by name lest he should fall from his elevation,
or like a gentle stream, to which one dare oppose
nothing lest it should foam, he was often constrained
to feel uncomfortable in a more numerous company.
His faith tolerated no doubt, and his conviction no
jest. “While in friendly communication
he was inexhaustible, every thing came to a standstill
with him when he met with contradiction. I usually
helped him through on such occasions, for which he
repaid me with honest affection. Since his mode
of thought was nothing strange to me, but on the contrary
I had already become accurately acquainted with it
in my very best friends of both sexes; and since,
moreover, it generally interested me with its naturalness
and na vete,—he found himself on
the very best terms with me. The bent of his
intellect was pleasing to me; nor did I meddle with
his faith in miracles, which was so useful to him.
Salzmann likewise behaved towards him with forbearance,—I
say with forbearance, for Salzmann, in conformity
with his character, his natural disposition, his age
arid circumstances, could not but stand and continue
on the side of the rational, or rather the common-sense,
Christians, whose religion properly rested on the
rectitude of their characters, and a manly independence,
and who therefore did not like to meddle or have any
thing to do with feelings which might easily have
led them into gloom, or with mysticism, which might
easily have led them into the dark. This class,
too, was respectable and numerous: all men of
honor and capacity understood each other, and were
of the like persuasion, as well as of the same mode
of life. Lerse, likewise our fellow-boarder, also
belonged to this number: a perfectly upright
young man, and, with limited gifts of fortune, frugal
and exact. His manner of life and housekeeping
was the closest I ever knew among students. He
was, of us all, the most neatly dressed, and yet always


