publishers were well satisfied with the second place, and enjoyed a considerable profit. But now opulence again set the rich bookseller above the poor poet, and thus everything stood in the most beautiful equilibrium. Magnanimity and gratitude were not unfrequent on either side. Breitkopf and Gottsched lived, all their lives, as inmates of the same house. Stinginess and meanness, especially that of piracy, were not yet in vogue.
Nevertheless, a general commotion had arisen among the German authors. They compared their own very moderate, if not poor, condition, with the wealth of the eminent booksellers: they considered how great was the fame of a Gellert, of a Rabener, and in what narrow domestic circumstances a universally esteemed German poet must struggle on, if he did not render life easy by some other calling. Even the mediocre and lesser minds felt a strong desire to see their situation improved,—to make themselves free of the publishers.
Now Klopstock came forward, and offered his "Republic of Letters" ("Gelehrten-Republik") for subscription. Although the latter cantos of "The Messiah," partly on account of their subject, partly on account of the treatment, could not produce the same effect as the earlier ones, which, themselves pure and innocent, came into a pure and innocent time, the same respect was always maintained for the poet, who, by the publication of his odes, had drawn to himself the hearts, minds, and feelings of many persons. Many well-thinking men, among whom were several of great influence, offered to secure payment beforehand. This was fixed at a louis d'or, the object being, it was said, not so much to pay for the book, as on this occasion to reward the author for his services to his country. Now every one pressed forward: even youths and young girls, who had not much to expend, opened their
