From behind our backs resounded Klopstock’s booming song. But the closer we drew to the two tall structures, the lighter it got and the sound began to fade. One structure towered above a tall, irregular boulder: it stood alone. Many people surrounded the other one. Men with large flags and kettledrums and others with feathers and bows sat around it. Screams came from the crowd. A great many lecterns stood all over the place, from which wildly gesticulating people preached. Some bellowed loudly up to the temple, ‘Our Schiller!’, but nobody came. Here my guide turned a corner. Soon we stood before the solitary temple. Hastily, a wizened little man in a tightly buttoned frock coat came hopping down the tall, broad stairs. ‘Haha, our Eckermann’, he giggled. An authoritative and unfriendly glance from my guide made him wince. He led us upwards.

I felt a quiet tremor in the stone structure under our feet. To my surprise, I simultaneously heard a sound like a distant drone. The farther we climbed up the tall marble steps, the more fiercely the ground shuddered, and the louder the drone echoed. It did not leave us again. As we entered, a dense darkness enveloped us. The mighty noises, which seemed to come not only from the ground but equally from either side of us, shook me. At the same time, I felt a transformation within myself. All my senses seemed to draw new strength from a force located within, which heightened them two- and tenfold. In the dense darkness, I could see; I felt with my eyes. I could feel myself in a large empty room. On every side, there were doors, gates and passages of every conceivable shape and size. Nearest to me was a bulky round doorway. It was tightly boarded up with wooden planks, between which protruded thick iron rods. From inside sounded the muffled ringing of ferocious bells. Further along, an equally wide Gothic gate swung open. Behind it, in the twilight, there appeared to be a room. Bright laughter came from the corridors that led inside.