The extreme and almost primitive simplicity of the house in which Goethe had spent some of the happiest days of his life, seemed to astonish Strauss. He made few remarks to that effect, however, but there was no end to his eager questionings. He touched the walls, the doors, the locks--whatever it might be supposed Goethe had touched. He peeped into every corner, scrutinized even the minutest details; and all this with the utmost outward composure, so that, if I had not closely watched him, it might have escaped my notice! In the garden, I showed him Goethe's favorite walk, and some oaks and firs planted by the poet's own hand. He gathered an oak-leaf, and put it in his pocket-book. He did the same by the flower of a hollyhock, the only kind of flower remaining, which plant I knew for certain dated its existence from the time of Goethe. The pocket-book was already full of such relics. From this time forth, therefore, let no man say that Strauss is devoid of veneration! Man was made for adoration. He cannot help it. Pity, only, that he sometimes mistakes the object of it. In the mean while Strauss and I had somehow drawn nearer to each other, and had begun to hold little dialogues apart together. We talked of England, where he had never been,--of English literature, which he knew chiefly through the medium of translation. Shakspeare of course was duly discussed,--for, like all educated Germans, Strauss was an enthusiast about Shakspeare. He asked me if I had read Gervinus's new work, and was evidently pleased with the way in which I spoke of it. By-and-by I ventured to allude to the _Leben Jesu_. It was not without considerable hesitation. He seemed, I think, to enjoy my embarrassment,--and told me he had seen several specimens of an English translation of the _Leben Jesu_, which a young lady, a Miss Brabant, was preparing for publication! There was something _Mephistophelian_ in the smile with which he told me this. Such a work, he continued, was, however, not likely to succeed in England: for there was Hennel, who had published an amazingly clever work of the same kind in London, and yet the British public seemed to have made a point of completely _ignoring_ it. The work had, however, been translated into German, and he (Strauss himself) had written a preface to it. As I now perceived that the subject was any thing but a delicate one with Strauss, I determined upon accepting a proposal he had made me to accompany him on the morrow to Doornburg and Jena. There were inconsistencies in his system, which I had the vanity to think I might convince him of, and a _tête-à-tête_ like the one in prospect was just what I wanted.