into a state of ecstatic reverie in Whitehall by the combined effects of moonlight and a barrel organ. He goes on to describe how he called out to the organ-grinder, had the selection repeated, and resigned himself to his sudden mood of wistful reflection. For a moment of inspiration like this what German would not travel to England?
Among the manuscripts left by Lichtenberg were fragments of an autobiography, or, as it might be called, a autopsychography, in which the author, evidently emulating Rousseau, intended to lay bare his character in the most candid and impartial manner. This, however, was a youthful project, and so of “The Character of a Person of my Acquaintance” we have only a few sketches. In so far as the Person is delineated, he proves to be of a fitful temperament: on one page the hypochondriac, on the next the optimist, now as practical as Franklin, now as whimsical as Lamb, here dwelling devoutly on the sombre music of the Psalms, there as gravely speculating what the mean reading of the barometer may be in Paradise; sceptical, superstitious, cynical and sentimental by turns. But rather than attempt any set estimate of Lichtenberg’s character, it will be more appropriate perhaps to let him describe it in his own words by here introducing a few passages direct from these unfinished revelations of himself.
