As a result of discussions, examples, and my own reflection, I came to see that the first step towards escape from the wishy-washy, long-winded, empty epoch could be taken only by definiteness, precision, and brevity. In the style which had hitherto prevailed, it was impossible to distinguish the commonplace from what was better, since a uniform insipidity prevailed on all hands. Authors had already tried to escape from this widespread disease, with more or less success. Haller and Ramler were inclined to compression by nature; Lessing and Wieland were led to it by reflection. The former became by degrees quite epigrammatic in his poems, terse in _Minna_, laconic in _Emilia Galotti_,--it was not till later that he returned to that serene _naïveté_ which becomes him so well in _Nathan_. Wieland, who had been occasionally prolix in _Agathon_, _Don Sylvio_, and the _Comic Tales_, became wonderfully condensed and precise, as well as exceedingly graceful, in _Musarion_ and _Idris_. Klopstock, in the first cantos of the _Messiah_, is not without diffuseness; in his _Odes_ and other minor poems he appears concise, as also in his tragedies. By his emulation of the ancients, especially Tacitus, he was constantly forced into narrower limits, so that at last he became obscure and unpleasing. Gerstenberg, a rare but eccentric genius, also concentrated his powers; one feels his merit, but on the whole he gives little pleasure. Gleim, by nature diffuse and easy-going, was scarcely once concise in his war-songs. Ramler was properly more of a critic than a poet. He began to collect what the Germans had accomplished in lyric poetry. He discovered that scarcely one poem entirely satisfied him; he was obliged to omit, rearrange, and alter, so that the things might assume some sort of form. By this means he made himself almost as many enemies as there are poets and amateurs, since every one, properly speaking, recognizes himself only in his defects; and the public takes greater interest in a faulty individuality than in what is produced or amended in accordance with a universal law of taste. Rhythm was still in its cradle, and no one knew of a method to shorten its childhood. Poetical prose was gaining ground. Gessner and Klopstock found many imitators; others, again, still put in a plea for metre, and translated this prose into intelligible rhythms. But even these emended versions gave nobody satisfaction; for they were obliged to omit and add, and the prose original always passed for the better of the two. But in all these attempts, the greater the conciseness aimed at, the more possible is it to criticize them, since whatever is significant when presented in a condensed form, in the end admits of definite comparison. Another result was the simultaneous appearance of a number of truly poetical forms; for while attempting to reproduce solely whatever was essential in any one subject, it was necessary to do justice to every subject