AND I S C E L L A E O ES SAS.,BY' THOMAS CARLYLE, AUTHOR OF THE HISTORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. A NEW EDITION, COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. PHILADELPHIA: A. HART, LATE CAREY & HART, No. 126 CHESTNUT STREET. 1852. Printed by T. K. & P. G. Collins. ADVERTISEMENT. THE Publishers introduce the present edition of Mr. Carlyle's Essays with the following note from the American Editor of the First Edition. Messrs. CAREY & HART, Gentlemen: —I have to signify to his American readers, Mr. Carlyle's concurrence in this new edition of his Essays, and his expressed satisfaction in the author's share of pecuniary benefit which your justice and liberality have secured to him in anticipation of the sale. With every hope for the success of your enterprise, I am your obedient servant, R. W. EMERSON. Concord, Jane, 1845. S CONTENTS. Page JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH RICHTER - -. e - - 7 Edinburgh Review.-No. XCI. 1827. STATE OF GERMAN LITERATURE - - - -. 15'Edinburgh Review.-No. XCII. 1827. LIFE AND WRITINGS OF WERNER -.- - e - t!3 Foreign Review.-No. I. 1828. GOETHE's HELENA -.. - -- - - 56 Foreign Review.-No. II. 1828. GOETHIE... 73 Foreign Review.-No. III. 1828. BURNS.- - e 95 Edinburgh Review.-No. XCVI. 1828. THE LIFE OF HEEYNE - - -. 115 Foreign Review.-No. IV. 1828. GERMAN PLAYWRIGHTS- -.128 Foreign Review.-No. V, 1829. &VOLTARE 1-.- I 142 Foreign Review.-No. VI. 1829.NOVALIS - -... * ~ -. 167 Foreign Review.-No. VII. 1829..SIGNS OF THE: TIMIES - - - 187 Edinburgh Review.-No. XCVIII. 1829. JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH RICHTER AGAIN.196 Foreign Review.-No. IX. 1830.'ON HISTORY. - 219 Fraser's Magazine.-VoI. II. No X. 1830. LUTHER'S PSALM..224 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. II. No. XII. 1831. SCHILLER - - - ~ - I - 0 225 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. III. No. XIV. 1831. TIHE NIBELTVGEN LIED - - - -243 Westminster Review.-No. XXIX. 1831. GERMAN LITERATURE OF THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES 262 Foreign Quarterly Review.-No. XVI. 1831. TAYLOR'S HISTORIC SURVEY OF GERMAN POETRY - -. 282 Edinburgh Review.-No. CV. 1831. TRAGEDY OF THE NIGHT-MOTH -. 295 Fraser's Magazine. —Vol. IV. No. XIX. 1831. -CHARACTERISTICS - - - 296 EdinburghiReview.-No. CVIII. 1831. GOETHE'S PORTRAIT -.. 310 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. V. No. XXVI. 1832. BIOGRAPHY - 31 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. V. No. XXVII. 1832. BOSWELL'S LIFE OF JOHNSON e.... 317 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. V. No. XXVIII. 1832. 1 5 CONTENTS..Pag' DEATH OF GOETHE.. -.. - 341'New Monthly Magazine.-Vol. XXXIV. No. CXXXVIII. 1832. GOETHE'S WORKS - -. 345 Foreign Quarterly Review.-No. XIX. 1832. CORN-LAW RHYMES - - ~.365 Edinburgh Review.-No. CX. 1832. NOVELLE: Translatedfrom Goethe - - - 375 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. VI. No. XXXIV. 1832. THE TALE: By Goethe - - - 383 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. VI. No. XXXIII. 1832. DIDEROT - 398 Foreign Quarterly Review.-No. XXII. 1833. ~ON HISTORY AGAIN - -.422 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. VII. No. XLI. 1833. — COUNT CAGLIOSTRO: Flight First - 426 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. VIII. No. XLIII. 1833. COUNT CAGLIOSTRO: Flight Last - - - 433 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. VIII. No. XLIV. 1833. DEATH OF THE REV. EDWARD IRVING - - - 451 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. XI. No. LXI. 1835. -THE DIAMOND NECKLACE- - 452 Fraser's Magazine.-Vol. XV. Nos. LXXXV. and LXXXVI. 1837. MEMOIRS OF MIRABEAU -478 London and Westminster Review.-Nos. VIII. and LI. 1837. PARLIAMENTARY HISTORY OF TIIE FRENCH REVOLUTION.. - 504 London and Westminster Review.-Nos. IX. and LII. 1837. MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF SCOTT.. - 511 London and Westminster Review.-Nos. XII. and LV. 1838. VARNHAGEN VTON ENSE'S MEMOIRS - -. - - - 535 London and Westminster Review.-No. LXII. 1838. PETITION ON THE COPY-RIGHT BILL - 546 The Examiner.-April 7, 1839. DR. FRANCIA. 547 Foreign Quarterly Review.-No. LXII. 1843. C A.R'LY:L E'S MI SCE.LLANEOUS WRITI.NGS. JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH RICHTER. [EDINBURGH REVIEW, 1827.] iDn. JOHNSON, it is said, when he first heard monger, whose grandd enterprise, however, is of Boswell's intention to write a life of him, his Gallery of Weinimar.AutIhrs;, a series of announced, with decision enough, that, if he strange littlebiographies,:beginningwitf. Schilthought Boswell really meant to ewrite'his life, ler, and already extending over Wieland and he would prevent it by taking Boswell's! That: Herder,-now comprehending, probably by great authors should actually employ this pre- conquest, Klopstock also, and lastly, by a sort ventive against bad biographers is a'thing we of droit d'aubaine, Jean Paul Friedrich Richter, would by no means recommend; but the truth. neither of whom belonged'to' Weimar. Auis, that, rich as we are in biography, a well- thors; it must' be admitted, are'happier than the written life is almost as rare as a well-spent old painter with his cocks': for'they' write, naone; and there are certainly many more'men turally' and without fear of'ridicule or offence, whose history deserves to be recorded than the name and'description'of their work on the persons willing and able to furnish the record. title-page; and'thenceforth the' purport and But greatr men, like the old Egyptian kings, tendency of each volume remains indi.putable. must all be tried- after death, before- they Doering is:sometimes lucky in this privilege can be embalmed: and what, in truth, are for his manner of composition, being so pecuthese ".Sketches," "Anas," "Conversations," liar,i might now and then.occasion difficulty "Voices," and the like, but the votes and plead- but:for: this precaution. His biographies he ings of the ill-informed advocates, and.jurors, works up simply enough. -He first ascertains, and judges, from whose conflict, however, we from the Leipzig'Con'versationslexicon or Jorshall in the end have a true verdict- The worst den's Poetical zLexicon, Fidgelo, or ndKoch oi other of it is at the first; for weak eyes are precisely such Compendium' or'Handbook, the aate and the fondest'of glittering objects. And, accord- place of the proposed individual's birth, his ingly, no sooner does:a great man depart, and parentage, trade, appointments, and the-titles leave his character as public property, than: a of his. works;:(the: date of his death yr La alcrowd of little men rushes towards it. There' ready know from the newspapers;) this scrves' they are gathered together, blinking up to it with as a foundation for the: edifice. He then goes such vision as they have, scanning it from afar, through::his writings,- and all other writings hovering round it this Way and:that, each cull-'where he: or his pursuits- are treated of,' and ningly endeavouring, by all arts, to catch some'whenever he finds a passage with his name in reflex: of' it in the little mirror of himself; it, he' cuts it out, and carries it away. In this though, many times, this mirror is so twisted manner a mass of materials is collected, and with convexities and: concavities, and, indeed, the building now: proceeds apace. Stone is so extremely small in.size, that to expect any. laid on the top of stone, just as- it comes to true image, or any image whatever from: it, is hand.; a trowel or two of biographic mortar, if out of. the. question.. perfectly convenient, being perhaps spread in Richter was much better-natured than John.-. here' and there, by way'of cement; and so the son; and took-many provoking: things with the strangest pile suddenly arises; amorphous, spirit of a humorist and philosopher; nor'can' pointing every way. but to the zenith,-here a we think that so good a man, even had he fore- block of granite, there a. mass of pipe-clay; seen this work of Doering's, would have gone till the whole finishes, when the materials are the length of assassinating him for -it. Doer-: finished,-and: you: leave it standing to posteing is a person we have known for several rity, like soMne miniature Sfonehenge, a perfect years, as a compiler, and translator, and ballad- architectural enigma. To: speak:without figure, this:mode of life* Jean Paul'Friedrich'Richter's Leben, nebst Charac- writing has its' disadvantages. For one thing,: teristik'seiner Werke; von Heinrich Doering. (.tan Paul- thecomposition cannot well be what the critics Friedrich Richter's Life, with a Sketch of his Works; call harmonious; and,'indeed, Herr Doering's by Heinrich Doering.) Gotha. Hennings, 1826. 12mo. transitions ar e often abrupt enou er pp.. 208.t transitionsare often abrupt enolgh. His hero'7 8 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. changes his object and occupation from page rating (decidedly in bombast) over the grave. to page, often from sentence to sentence, in the Then, it seems, there were meetings held in most unaccountable way; a pleasure journey, various parts of' Germany, to solemnize the and a sickness of fifteen years, are despatched memory of Richter; among the rest, one in the with equal brevity; in a moment you find him Museum of Frankfort on the Maine; where a married, and the father of three fine children. Doctor B6rne speaks another long speech, if He dies no less suddenly;-he is studying as possible in still more decided bombast. Next usual, writing poetry, receiving visits, full of come threnodies from all the four winds, mostly life and business, when instantly some para- on very splay-footed metre. Thewh9le of which graph opens under him, like one of the trap- is here snatched from the kind oblivion of the doors in the Vision of Mirza, and he drops, newspapers, and" lives in Settle's numbers one without note of preparation, into the shades day more." -below. Perhaps, indeed, not for ever: we have We have too much reverence for the name instances of his rising after the funeral, and of Richter to think of laughing over these unwinding up his affairs. The time has been, happy threnodies and panegyrists; some of that when the brains were out the man would whom far exceed any thing we English can exdie;, but Doering orders these matters dif- hibit in the epicedial style. They rather tesferently. - tify, however maladroitly, that the Germans We beg leave to say, however, that we really have felt their loss, —which, indeed, is one to have no private pique against Doering: on the Europe at large; they even affect us with a contrary, we are regular purchasers of his certain melancholy feeling, when we consider ware; and it gives us true'pleasure to see his how a heavenly voice must become mute, and spirits so much improved since we first met nothing be heard in its stead but the whoop of him. In the Life oi Schiller, his state did, seem quite earthly voices, lamenting; or pretending rather unprosperous: he wore a timorous, sub- to lament. Far from us be all remembrance missive, and downcast aspect, as iflike Sterne's of Doering and Company, while we speak of Ass, he were saying, " Don't thrash me;-but Richter! But his own works give us some if you will, you may!" Now, however, com- glimpses into his singular and noble nature; forted by considerable sale, and praise from' and to our readers a few words on this man, this and the other Literatusrblatt, which has certainly one of the most'remarkable of his commended his diligence, his fidelity, and, age, will not seem thrown away. strange to say, his method, he advances with Except by name, Jean Paul Friedrich Richerect countenance and firm hoof, and even re- ter is little known out of Germany.'The only calcitrates contemptuously against such as do thing connected with him, we think, that has him offence. Gliick auf dem Wg! is the worst reached this country, is his saying, imported we wish him. by Madame de Sta6l, and thankfully pocketed Of his Life of Richter, these preliminary' ob- by most newspaper critics: " Providence has servations may be our excuse for saying but given to the French the empire of the land, to little. He brags much, in his preface, that it the English that of the sea, to the Germans that is all true and genuine; for Richter's widow, of-the air!" Of this last element, indeed, his it seems, had, by public -advertisement, cau- own genius might easily seem to have been a tioned the world against it; another biography, denizen: so fantastic, many-coloured, far-grasppartly by the illustrious deceased himself, part- ing, every way perplexed and extraordinary in ly by Otto, his oldest friend and the appointed his mode of writing, that to translatehim is next editor of his works, being actually in prepara- to impossible; nay, a dictionary of his works tion. This rouses the indignant spirit of Doer- has actually been in part published for'the use ing, and he stoutly asseverates, that, his docu- of German readers! These things have rements being altogether authentic, this biogra- stricted his sphere of action, and may long rephy is no pseudo-biography. With greater truth strict it to his own country:: but there, in rehe might have asseverated that it was no bio- turn, he is a favourite of the first class; studied graphy at all. Well are he and Hennings of through all his intricacies with trustful admiGothba aware that this thing of shreds and ration, and a love which tolerates much. Durpatches has been vamped together for sale ing the last forty years, he has been continually only. Except a few letters to Kunz, the Bam- before the. public, in various capacities, and berg bookseller, which turn mainly on the pur- growing generally in esteem with all ranks of chase of spectacles, and the journeyings and critics; till, at length, his gainsayers have freightage of two boxes that used to pass and been either silenced or convinced; and Jean repass between Richter and Kunz's circulating Paul, at first reckoned half-mad, has long ago library; with three or four notes of similar im- vindicated his singularities to nearly universal portance, and chiefly to other booksellers, there satisfaction, and now combines popularity with are no biographical documents here,'which real depth of endowment, in perhaps a greater were not open to all Europe as well as to lHein- degree than any other writer; being second in rich Doering. Indeed, very nearly one-half of- the latter point to scarcely more than one of the Life is occupied with a description of. the his contemporaries, and in the former second funeral'and its appendages,-how the "sixty to none. torches, with a number of lanterns and pitch- The biography of so distinguished a person pans," were arranged; how this patrician or pro- could scarcely fail to be interesting, especialfessor followed that, through Friedrich-street, ly his autobiography; which, accordingly, we Chancery-street, and other streets of Bayreuth; wait for, tnd may in time submit to our readers, and how at last the torches all went out, as if it seem worthy: meanwhile, the history of Doctor Gabler and Doctor Spatzier were pero- his life, so far as outward events characterize JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH RICHTER. 9 it, may be stated in few words. He was born the'streets of Bayreuth, we have heard, he was at Wunsieddl in Bayreuth, in March, 1763. seldom seen without a flower in his breast. A His father was a subaltern teacher in the Gym- man of quiet tastes, and warm, compassionate nlasinum of the. place, and was afterwards pro- affections! His friends he must have loved rooted to be clergyman at Schwarzbach on the as few do. Of his poor and humble mother Saale. Richter's early education was of the he often speaks by allusion, and never without scantiest sort; but his fine faculties and un- reverence and overflowing tenderness. "UIJnwearied diligence supplied every defect. Un- happy is the man," says he, " for'whom his own able to purchase books, he borrowed what he mother has not made all other mothers venercould come at, and transcribed from them, often able!" and elsewhere:-" 0 thou who hast great part of their contents,-a habit of ex- still a father and a mother, thank God for it in cerpting, which continued with him through the day when thy soul is full of joyful tears, life, and influenced, in more than one way, his and needs a bosom wherein to shed them!"' mode of writing and study, To the last, he We quote the following sentences from Do(erwas an insatiable and universal reader; so ing, almost the only memorable thing he has that his extracts accumulated on his hands, written in this volume:"till they. filled whole chests." In 1780, he "Richter's studying or sitting apartment ofwent to the University of Leipzig; with the fered, about this time, (1793,) a true and beauhighest character, in spite of the impediments tiful emblem of his simple and noble way of which he had struggled with, for talent and ac- thought, which comprehended at once the high quirement. Like his father, he was destined and the low. Whilst his mother, who then for Theology; from which, however, his va- lived with him, busily pursued her householc grant genius soon diverged into Poetry and Phi- work, occupying herself about stove and dreslosophy, to the neglect, and, ere long, to the ser, Jean Paul was sitting in a corner(of the final!abandonment, of his appointed profession. same room, at a simple writing-desk, with few Not well knowing what to do, he now accepted or no books about him, but merely with one a tutorship in some family of rank; then he or two drawers containing excerpts and manuhad pupils in his own house,-which, how- scripts. Th%.jingle of the household operations ever, like his'way of life, he often changed; for seemed not at all- to disturb him, any more than by this time he had become an author, and, in did the cooing of the pigeons, which fluttered his, wanderings over Germany, was putting to and fro in the chamber,-a place, indeed, of forth, —now here, now there,-the strangest considerable size." —F. 8. books, with the strangest titles: For instance,- Our venerable Hooker, we remember, ldso Greenland Lawsuits:; —Biographical' Recreations enjoyed "the jingle of household operations,' unclder the Cranium of a Giantess; —Selection from and the more questionable jingle of shrewd the Papers of the Devil;-and the like. In these tongues to boot, while he wrote; but the good indescribable performances, the splendid fa- thrifty mother, and- the cooing pigeons, were culties of the writer,luxuriating as they seemed wanting. Richter came afterwards to live in in utter riot, could not be disputed; nor, with finer mansions, and had the great and learned all its extravagance, the fundamental strength, for associates; but the gentle feelings of, those honesty, and tenderness of his nature. Genius days abode with him: through life he was the will reconcile'men to much. By degrees,.Jan same substantial, determinate, yet meek and Paul began to be considered not a strange,. tolerating man. It is seldom that so much crackbrained mixture of enthusiast and buf-'rugged energy can be so blandly attempered; foon, but a man of infinite humour, sensibility, -that so much vehemence and so much softforce, and penetration. His writings procured ness will go together. him friends and fame; and at length a wife The expected edition of Richter's works is and a settled provision. With Caroline Mayer, to be in sixty volumes: and they are no less his good spouse, and a pension (in 1802) from multifarious than extensive; embracing sub-. the King of Bavaria, he settled in Bayreuth, jects of all sorts, from the highest problems the capital of his native province; where he of transcendental philosophy, and the most. lived thenceforth, diligent and celebrated in passionate poetical delineations, to dolden Rules: many new departments of literature;- and died: for the Weather-Prophet, and instructions in the on the 14th of November, 1825, loved as well'Art of Falling Asleep. His chief productions as admired by all his countrymen, and most by are novels: the Unsichtbare Loge (Invisible those who had known him' most intimately.' Lodge); Flegeljahre (Wild-Oats); Life o.f FixA huge, irregular man, both in mind and'lein; the Jubelsenior (Parson in Jubilee); person, (for his portrait is quite a physiogno- Schnelzle's Jouzrney to Flditz, Katzenberger's mical study,) full of fire, strength, and impe- Journey to the Bath; Life of Fibel; with many tuosity, Richter seems, at the same time, to:lighter pieces; and two works of a higher have been, in the highest degree,'mild, simple- order, Hesperus and Titan, the largest and the hearted, humane. He was fond of conversation, best of his novels. It was the former that first and might well shine in it: he talked, as he (in 1795) introduced him into decisive'and wrote, in a style of his own, full of wild strength universal estimation with his countrymen: the and charms, to which his natural Bayreuth ac- latter he. himself, with the'most judicious of cent often gave additional effect. Yet he loved his critics, regarded as his master-piece. But retirement, the country, and all natural things; the name Novelist, as we in England must from his youth upwards, he himself tells us, understand it, would ill describe so vast and he may almost be said to have lived in' the discursive a genius: for, with allhis grotesque. open air; it was among groves and meadows tumultuous pleasantry, Richter is a man of a that he studied,-often that he wrote. Even in truly earnest, nay, high and solemn character 2 10 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. and seldom writes without a meaning far be- glimpses of which look forth on us from almost yond the sphere of common romancers. Hes- every one of his writings. He died while: en — teres and Titan themselves, though:in form gaged, underrecent and almost.total blindness, nothing more than "novels of real life," as the. in. enlarging and remodelling'this Campaner Minerva Press would say, have solid metal Thal: the unfinished manuscript was borne en'ough in them to furnish whole circulating upon his coffin.to the burial vault; and Klop-' libaries, were it beaten into the usual filigree; stock's hymn, &A ferstehesn wirst&dis, "Thou shalt and much which, attenuate it as we might, no arise, my soul," can seldom. have been sung quarterly subscriber could well carry with him. with more appropriate application than:over Amusement is often, in part almost always, a. the grave of Jean Paul. mean with Richter; rarely-or never his high- We defy the most careless or prejudiced est end. His thoughts, his feelings, the creations reader to peruse these works without an imof his spirit, walk before us imbodied. under pression of something splendid, wonderful, and wondrous shapes, in motley and ever-fluctuat- daring. But they require to be studied as well ing groups; but his essential character, how- as read,: and'this with no ordinary patience, if ever he disguise it, is that of a Philosopher and the'reader, especially the foreign reader, wishes moral Poet, whose study has been human to comprehend rightlyeither their truth or their nature, whose delight and best endeavour are want of-truth., Tried by many. an accepted with all that is beautiful, and tender, and mys- standard, Richter would be- speedily enough teriously sublime, in the fate or history-of man. disposed of; pronounced a mystic, a German This is the purport of his writings, whether dreamer, a rash' and presumptuous innovator; their form be that of fiction or of truth; the spirit and so consigned, with equanimity, perhaps that pervades and ennobles his delineations of with a certain jubilee, to the Limbo. appointed common life, his wild wayward dreamsi allego- for all such wind-bags and deceptions. Oriries, and shadowy imaginings, no less than his ginality is a thing. wev constantly clamour for, disquisitions of a nature directly scientific. and constantly quarrel with; as-.if, observes But in this latter province also, Richter has our author himself, any originality but our accomplished much. His Vorschule der Aesthetik own could be. expected to content us! In fact, (Introduction to XEsthetics*) is: a xrork on po- all strange things are apt, withoutfaultof theirs, etic, art, based on principles of no ordinary to estrange us at first view, and unhappily depth and compass, abounding in noble views, scarcely: any thing is perfectly.plain, but what and, notwithstanding its frolicsome exuberance, is. also perfectly- common.. T-he.:urrent coin in sound.. and subtile criticism; esteemed even of the realm passes into all: hands; and be it in Germany, where criticism has. long: been gold, silver, copper, is acceptable'and of known treated of as a science, and by such persons as value: but with new ingots, with foreign bars, WV'inkelmann, Kant, Herder, and the Schlegels. and medals of Corinthian. brass,. the,- case is Of this work we could speak long, did our limits widely different. allow. We' fear'it might astonish; many an There are few-writers with whom' deliberahonest brother of our craft, were he to read it; tion and careful distrust of'first impressions' and altogether perplex and dash his maturest are more necessary than with Richter. He counsels, if he chanced to understand it.- is a phenomenon from the-very surface; he. Richter has also written on education, a worlk presents himself with a professed and deterentitled Levana; distinguished by keen prac- mined singularity: his language itself is a stone tical sagacity, as well as generous sentiment, of stumbling-to the- critic; to critics of.the and a certain sobermagnificence of speculation; grammarian species, an unpardonable, often the whole presented in that singular style which an insuperable, rock: of offence. Not that he,characterizes the -man. Germany is rich in is ignorant of grammar, or'disdains:the sciences works on Education; richer at present' than, of spelling and parsing;.but he exercises both any other country: it is there only that some. in.a certain latitudinarian spirit;.deals with echo of the Lockes and Miltons,.speaking of astonishing liberality in' parentheses, dashes, this high matter, may still be heard;, and. speak- and subsidiary. clauses; invents hundreds. of ing of it in the language of our own.time,. with. new words, alters old ones, or by hyphen,/ insight into the actual wants, advantages, chains; pairs, and packs:them' together into perils, and prospects of this age. -Among most jarring combination; in short, produces writers on this subject, Richter holds a high sentences of the most heterogeneous, lumberplace; if we look chiefly at his tendency and ing,- interminable kind. Figures without limit aims, perhaps'the highest.-The Clavis _Fichti- indeed the whole is one tissue of metaphors, anna is a ludicrous performance, known to us and similes, and allusions to all the provinces only by report; but Richter is said to possess of Earth, Sea, and- Air,'interlaced with epithe merit, while he laughs at Fichte, of under- grammatict breaks, vehement bursts, or sarstanding him; a merit among Fichte's critics,: donic turns, interjections, quips, puns, and which seems to be one of the rarest. Report even'oaths! A perfect Indian jungle it seems; also, we regret to say, is all that we know of: a boundless, unparalleledd imbroglio; nothing the Campaner: Thal, a Discourse on-the Immor-.on all sides but darkness, dissonance, confusion tality of the Soul; one of Richter's. beloved'worse confounded! -Then- the style of' the topics, or rather the life of his.whole philosophy,:'whole corresponds, in' perplexity and extrava-. From a to feel. word invented bygance, with that of the parts.- Every'workj be it *.From.ailaiavoyat, to feel. A, word-invented. by- fiction or serious-treatise is embaled in some' Baumgarten, (some. eighty years ago,) to express: gener- in fiction or serious treatise, is embaled in some' ally the Science of the Fite Srts; and now in-universal.fantastic wrappage, some mad narrative'acuse among the Germans.'Perhaps we also might as counting for its appearance, and' connecting:it waell adopt it; at least if any such science should everarise among. us.. with the author, who generally bec&mes a per JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH RICHTER. 11 son of the drama himself, before all is over. from its proper centre, his intellectual universe, He has a whole imaginary geography of Europe no longer a distorted, incoherent series of air, in his novels; the cities of Flachsenfingen, landscapes, coalesces into compact expansion; Haarhaar, Scheerau, and so forth, with their a vast, magnificent, and variegated scene; full, princes, and privy-councillors, and serene indeed, of wondrous products, and rude, it highnesses; most of whom, odd enough fel- may be, and irregular; but gorgeous, and logs every way, are Richter's private acquaint- varied, and ample; gay with the richest verances, talk'with him of state matters, (in the dur'e and foliage, and glittering in the brightest purest Tory dialect,) and often incite himn to get and kindest sun. on with his writing. No story proceeds without Richter has been called. an intellectual Iothe' must erratic digressions, and voluminous lossus; and in truth it is' still somewhat in this -tagrags rolling'after it in many a snaky twine. light that we view him. His faculties are all Ever and anon there occurs some " Extra-leaf," of gigantic mould; cumbrous, awkward in their with its satirical petition, programme, or other movements; large and splendid rather than wonderful intercalation, no mortal can foresee harmonious or beautiful; yet joined in living on what. It is, indeed, a mighty maze; and union, and of force and compass altogether often the panting reader toils after him in vain' extraordinary. He has an intellect vehement, or, baffled and spent, indignantly stops short, rugged, irresistible; crushing in pieces the and retires perhaps for ever. hardest problems; piercing into the most hidAll this, we must admit, is true of Richter; den combinations of things, and grasping the but much more is true also. Let us not turn most distant:'an imagination vague, sombre, from him after the first cursory glance, and splendid, or appalling; brooding over the imagine we have settled his account by the abysses of Being-; wandering through Infiniwords Rhapsody and Affectation. They are tude, and summoning before us, in its dim recheap words we allow, and of sovereign po- ligious light, shapes of brilliancy, solemnity, tency; we should see, therefore, that they be or terror: a fancy of exuberance literally unnot rashly applied. Many, things in Richter exampled; for it pours its treasures with a accord ill with such a theory. There are rays lavishness which knows'no limit,'hanging, like of the -keenest truth, nay, steady pillars of the sun, a jewel on. every grass-blade, and scientific light rising through this chaos: Is it sowing the earth at large with orient pearl. But in fact a chaos, or may it be that our eyes are deeper than' all these lies Humour, the ruling not of infinite vision, and have only missed the quality with Richter; as it were the central fire plan? Few rhapsodists are men of science, that pe'rvades and vivifies his whole being. He of solid learning, of rigorous study, and ac- is a humorist from his inmost soul; he thinks curate, extensive, nay, universal knowledge; as'a humorist, he feels, imagines, acts as a as he is. With regard to affectation, also, there humorist: Sport is the element in which his is much to be said. The essence of affecta- nature lives and w6rks; A tumultuous element tion is' that it be assumed: the character is, as for such a nature, and wild work he makes in it were, forcibly crushed into some foreign it! A Titan in his sport as in'his earnestness, mould, in the hope of being thereby reshaped he oversteps all bound, and riots without law and beautified; the unhappy man persuades or measure. He heaps Pelion upon Ossa, and himself that he is in truth a new and'wonder- hurls the universe together and asunder like a fully engaging' creature, and so he moves about case of'playthings. T'he Moon " bombards" with a conscious air, though every movement the Earth, being a rebellious satellite; Mars betrays not symmetry, but dislocation. This it is "preaches" to the'other planets'very singular to be affected, to walk in a vain show. But.the doctrine; nay, we have Time ard Space'themstrangeness alone is no proof of the vanity. selves playing fantastic tricks: it is an infinite Many men that move smoothly in the old es- masquerade; all' Nature'is gone forth- mumtablished railways of custom will be found ming in the strangest guises. to have their affectation; and perhaps here Yet the anarchy is not without its purpose; and there some divergent genius be accused these vizards are not mere hollow masks; but of itunjustly. The show,though common, may there are living faces beneath them, and this not cease to be vain; nor become so for being mumming has its significance. Richter is a man uncommon. Before we censure a man for of mirth, but he seldom or never conucscends to seeming what he is not, we should be sure that be a merry-andrew. Nay, in spite of its extravawe know what he is. As to Richter in parti- gance, we should say that his humour is of all cular, we think it but fair to observe, that his gifts intrinsically the finest and most genustrange and tumultuous as he is, there is a ine. It has such witching turns; there is somecertain benign composure visible in his thing in it so capricious, so quaint, so heartfelt. writings; a mercy, a gladness, a reverence, From his Cyclopean workshop, and its fuligiunited in such harmony, as we cannot but nous limbecs, and huge unwieldy machinery, think bespeaks not a false, but a genuine state the little shrivelled, twisted figure comes forth of mind; not a feverish and morbid, but a at last, so perfect and so living,' to be for ever healthy and robust state. laughed' at and for ever loved! Wayward as The secret of the matter, perhaps; is that he seems, he works not without forethought; Richter requires more study than most readers like Rubens,' by a single stroke,'he can change care to give; for,,as we approach more closely, a laughing face into a sad one. But in his many things grow clearer._ In the man's own smile itself, a touching pathos may lie hidden,' sphere there is consistency; the farther we ad- a pity too deep for tears. He is a man of feelvance into it, we see confusion more and more ing, in the noblest sense of that word; for he unfold itself into order till at last, viewed loved all living with the heart of a brother; his 1.2 CARLYLE'S MISCI LLANEOUS WRITINGS. soul rushes forth, in sympathy with gladness but in still smiles,, which lie far deeper. It and sorrow, with goodness or grandeur, over is a sort of inverse sublimity; exalting, as it all creation. EVery gentle and generous affec- were, into our affections what is below us, tion, every thrill of mercy, every glow of while sublimity draws down into our affections nobleness, awakens in his bosom a response, what is above us. The former is scarcely less nay, strikes his spirit into harmony; a wild precious or heart-affecting than the latter; permusic as of wind-harps, floating round us in haps it is still rarer, and, as a test of genius, still fitful swells, but soft sometimes, and pure and more decisive. It is, in fact, the bloom arlf soul-entrancing as the song of angels.! Aver- perfume, the purest effluence of a deep, fine, sion itself with him is not hatred; he despises and loving nature; a nature in harmony with much, but justly, with tolerance also, with itself, reconciled to the world and its stintedplacidity, and even a sort of love. Love, in ness and contradiction, nay, finding in this fact, is the atmosphere he breathes in, the me- very contradiction new elements of beauty as dium through which he looks. His is the well as goodness. Among our own writers, spirit which gives life and beauty to whatever Shakspeare in this as in all other provinces, it embraces. Inanimate Nature itself is no must have his place: yet not the first; his longer an insensible assemblage of colours humour is heartfelt, exuberant, warm, but seland perfumes, but a mysterious Presence, with dom the tenderest or most subtile. Swift inwhich he communes in unutterable sympathies. clines more to simple irony; yet he had genuWe might call him, as he once called Herder, " a inc humour too, and of no unloving sort, though Priest of Nature, a mild Bramin," wandering cased, like Ben Jonson's, in a most bitter and amid spicy groves, and under benignant skies. caustic rind. Sterne follows next; our last The infinite Night -with her solemn aspects, specimen of humour, and, with all his faults, Day, and the sweet approach of Even and our best; our finest, if not our strongest, for Morn, are full of meaning for him. He loves Yorickc, and Corporal Trim, and Uncle Toby, have the green Earth with her streams and forests, yet no brother but in Don Quixote, far as he lies her flowery leas and eternal skies; loves her above them. Cervantes is indeed the purest with a'sort of passion, in all her vicissitudes of all humourists; so gentle and genial, so full, of light and shade; his spirit revels in her yet so ethereal, is his humour, and in such acgrandeur and charms; expands like the breeze cordance with itself and his whole noble Laover wood and lawn, over glade and dingle, ture. The Italian mind is said to abound in stealing and giving odours. humour; yet their classics seem to give us It has sometimes been made a wonder that no right emblem of it: except, perhaps, in ~things so discordant should go together; that Ariosto, there appears little in their current men of humour are often likewise men of sen- poetry that reaches the region of true hulmour. sibility. But the wonder should rather be to In France, since the days of Montaigne, it seems see them divided; to find true genial humour to be nearly extinct. Voltaire, much as he dealt dwelling in a mind that was coarse or callous. ifh ridicule, never rises into humour; and even The essence of humour is sensibility; warm, with Moliere, it is far more an affair of the untender fellow-feeling with all forms of existence. derstanding than of the character. Nay, we may say that unless seasoned and That in this point, Richter excels all German purified by humour, sensibility is apt to run authors, is saying much for him, and may be wild; will readily corrupt into disease, false- said truly. Lessing has humour,-of a sharp, hood, or, in one word, sentimentality. Wit- rigid, tubstantial, and on the whole, genial sort: ness Rousseau, Zimmermann, in some points yet. the ruling bias of his mind is to logic. So also St. Pierre: to say nothing of living in- likewise has Wieland, though much diluted by stances; or of the Kotzebues, and otherpale the general; loqcaocity of his nature, and impohosts of wobegone mourners, whose wailings, verished still farther by the influences of a like the howl of an Irish wake, from time to cold, meagre, French skepticism. Among the time cleft the general ear. The last perfection Ramlers, Gellerts, Hagedorns, of Frederick the of our faculties, says Schiller with a truth far Second's time, we find abundance, and delicate deeper than it seems,is that their activity, with- in kind too, of that light matter which the outceasing to be sure andearnest,become sport. French call pleasantry; but little or nothing True humour is sensibility, in the mostcatholic that deserves the name of humour. In the and deepest sense; but it is this sport of sensi- present age, however, there is Goethe, Wirith a bility; wholesome and perfect therefore; as it rich true vein; and this sublimated, as it were, were, the playful teasing fondness of a mother to an essence, and blended in still union with to her child. his whole mind. Tieclk also, among his many That faculty of irony, of caricature, which fine susceptibilities, is not without a' Wirmn leen often passes by the name of humour, but con- sense for the ridiculous; and a humour rising, sists chiefly in a certain superficial distortion though by short fits, and from a much lower or reversal of objects, and ends at best in atmosphere, to be poetic. But of all these men, laughter, bears no resemblance to the humour there is none that, in depth, copiousness, and of Richter. A shallow endowment this; and intensity of humour, can be compared with often more a habit than an endowment. It is Jean Paul. He alone exists in humour; lives, but a poor fraction of humour; or rather, it is moves, and has his being in it. With him it the body to which the soul is wanting; any is not so much United to his other qualities, of life it has being false, artificial, and irrational. intellect, fancy, imagination, moral feeling, as True humour springs not more from the head these are united to it; or rather unite them-'han from the heart; it is not contempt, its selves to it, and grow under its warmth, as in essence is love; it issues not in laughter, their proper temperature and climate. Not as, JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH RICHTER. 13 if we meant to assert that his humour is in all in sincerity of heatt, joyfully, and with undicases perfectly natural and pure; nay, that it vided will. Aharmoniousdevelopmentofbeing, is not 6ften extravagant, untrue, or even ab- the first and last object of all true culture, has surd: but still, on the whole, the core and life of therefore been attained; if not completely, at it are genuine, subtile, spiritual. Not without least more completely than in one of a thousand reason have his panegyrists named himn J-ea ordinary men. Nor let us forget, that inl such a Paul der Einzige,-"Jean Paul the Only:" in nature, it was not of easy attainment; that one sense or the other, either as praise or cen- where much was to be developed, some impersure, his critics also must adopt this epithet;'fection. should be forgiven. It is true, the for surely, in the whole circle of literature, beaten paths of literature lead the safeliest to we look in vain for his parallel. Unite the - the goal; and the talent pleases us most, which sportfulness of Rabellais, and the best sensibi- submits to shine with new gracefulness through lity of Sterne, with the earnestness, and, even old forms. Nor'is the noblest and most pecuin slight portions, the sublimity of Milton; and liar mind too noble or peculiar for working by and let the mosaic brain of old Burton give prescribed laws: Sophocles, Shakspeare, Ce'rforth the workings of this strange union, with vantes, and in Richter's own age, Goethe, how the pen of Jeremy Bentham! little did they innovate on the given forms of To say how, with so peculiar a natural en- composition, bow much in the spirit they dowment, Richter should have shaped his breathed into them! All this is true; and mind by culture, is much harder than to say Richter must lose of our esteem in proportion. that, he has shaped it wrong. Of affectation Much, however, will remain; and why should we will neither altogether clear him, nor very we quarrel with the high, because it is not the loudly pronounce him guilty. That his man- highest? Richter's worst faults are nearly alner of writing is singular; nay, in fact, a wild lied to his best merits; being chiefly exubercomplicated Arabesque, no one can deny. But ance of good, irregular squandering of wealth, the true question is,-how nearly does this a dazzling with excess of true light. These manner of writing represent his real manner things may be pardoned the more readily, as of thinking and existing? With what degree they are little likely to be imitated. of freedom does it allow this particular form On the whole, Genius has privileges of its of being to manifest itself; or what fetters and own; it selects an orbit for itself; and be this perversions does it lay on such manifestation? never so eccentric, if it is indeed a celestial For the great law of culture is: Let each be- orbit, we mere star-gazers must at last comcome all that he was created capable of being; pose ourselves; must cease to cavil at it, and expand, if possible, to his full growth; resist- begin to observe it,-and calculate its laws. ing all impediments, casting off all foreign, That Richter is a new planet in the intellecespecially all noxious adhesions; and show tual heavens, we dare not affirm; an atmohimself at length in his own shape and stature, spheric meteor he isi not wholly; perhaps a be these what they may. There is no uniform cornet, that, though with long aberrations, and of exc-llence, either in physical or spiritual shrouded in a nebulous veil, has yet its place nature: all genuine things are what they ought in the empyrean. to he. The reindeer is good and beautiful, so Of Richter's individual works, of his opinions, likewise is the elephant. In literature it is the his general philosophy of life, we have no room same: "every man," says Lessing, "has. his left us to speak. Regarding his novels, we may own style, like his own nose." True, there say, that, except in some few instances, and are noses of wonderful dimensiols; _ but no those chiefly of the shorter class, they are not nose can jutstly be amputated by the public,- what, in strict language, ife can term unities: not even the nose of Slawkenbergius himself: with much callida junctura of parts, it is rare so it be a real nose, and no wooden one, put on that any of them leaves on us the impression for deception's sake and mere show. of a perfect, homogeneous, indivisible whole To speak in grave language, Lessing means, A true work of art requires to be fuised in the and we agree with him, that the outward style mind of its creator, and as it were, poured forth is to be judged of by the inward qualities of (from iis imagination, though not fronm his the spirit which it is employed to body forth; -pen) at -one simultaneous gush. Richter's that, without prejudice to critical propriety, works do not always bear sufficient marks of well understood, the former may vary into having been in fusion; yet neither are they many shapes as the latter varies; that, in merely riveted together: to say the least, they short, the grand point for a writer is not to be have been welded. A similar remark applies of this or that external make and fashion, but, to many of his characters; indeed, ilore or in every fashion, to be genuine, vigorous, alive, lese, to all of them, except such as are entirely -alive with his whole being, consciously, and humourous, or have a large dash of humour. In -for beneficent results. this latter province, certainly he is at home; a Tried by this test, we imagine Richter's wild true poet, a maker: his Siebeenkds, his Schnelczle, mannerwill be foundlessimperfect than many even his Fibel and Fixle'i are living figures. a very tame one. To the man it'may not be But in heroic personages, passionate, massive, unsuitable. In that singular form, there is a overpowering as he is, we have scarcely ever fire, a splendour, a benign energy, which per- a complete ideal; art has not attained to the suades us into tolerance, nay into love, of much concealment of itself. With his heroines again that might otherwise offend. Above all, this he is more successful; they are often true heman, alloyed withlimperfections as he may be, roines, though perhaps with too little variety is consistent and coherent: he is at one with of character; bustling, buxom mothers and himself; he knows his aims; and pursues them housewives, with all the caprices, perversities, B 14 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. and warm, generous helpfulness of women; fearlessness, but also with the martyr reveor white, half-angelic. creatures, meek, still, rence, of men that love Truth, and will not aclong-suffering, high-minded, of tenderest affec- cept a lie. A frank, fearless, honest, yet truly tions, and hearts crushed yet uncomplaining. spiritual faith is of all things the rarest in our Supernatural figures he has not attempted; time. and wisely, for he cannot write without belief. Of writings which, though with many reserYet many times he exhibits an imagination of vations, we have praised so much, our hesitata singularity, nay, on the whole, of a truth and ing readers may demand some specimen. To -grandeur,unexampled elsewhere. In hisdreams unbelievers, unhappily, we have none of a there is a mystic complexity, a gloom, and amid convincing sort to give. Ask us not to reprethe dim, gigantic, half-ghastly shadows, gleam- sent the Peruvian forests by three twigs pluckings of a wizard splendour, which almostrecall ed from them; or the cataracts of the Nile by to us the visions of Ezekiel. By readers who a handful of its water! To those, meanwhile, have studied the Dream in the iVew-year's Eve who will look on twigs as mere dissevered we shall not. be mistaken. twigs, and a handful of water as only so many Richter's Philosophy, a matter of no ordinary drops, we present the following. It is a suminterest, both as it agrees with the conmmon mer Sunday night; Jean Paul is taking leave philosophy of Germany, and disagrees with it, of the Hukelum Parson and -his wife; like him must not be touched on for the present. One we have long laughed at-them or wept for them; only observation we shall make: it is not me- like him, also, we are sad to part from them. chanical, or skeptical; it springs not from the "We were all of us too deeply:moved. We forum or the laboratory, but from the depths at last tore ourselves asunder from repeated of the human spirit; and yields as its fairest embraces; my friend retired with *the soul product a noble system of morality, and the whom he loves. PI remained alone behind firmest conviction of religion. In this latter with the Night. point we reckon him peculiarly worthy of "And I walked without aim through woods, study. To a careless reader he might seem through valleys, and over brooks, and through the wildest of infidels; for nothing can exceed sleeping villages, to enjoy tile great Night, like the freedom with which he bandies to and fro the a Day. I walked, and still looked, like the dogmas of religion, nay, sometimes, the highest magnet, to the region of midnight, to strengthobjects of Christian reverence. There are pas- en my heart at the gleaming twilight, at this sages of this sort, which will occur to every upstretching aurora of a morning beneath our reader of Richter; but which, not to fall into the feet. White night-butterflies flitted, white bloserror we have already blamed in Madame de soms fluttered, white stars fell, and the white Stadl, we shall refrain from quoting. More light snow-powder hung silvery in the high Shadow is in the following: " Or," inquires he, in his of the Earth, which reaches beyond the Moon, usual abrupt way, (Note to Schmelzle's Journey,) and which is our Night. Then began the "Or are all your Mosques, Episcopal Churches, ZEolian Harp of the Creation to tremble and to Pagodas, Chapels of Ease, Tabernacles, and sound, blown on from above; and my immorPantheons, any thing else but the Ethnic Fore- tal Soul was a string in this harp. —The heart court of the Invisible Temple and its Holy of of a brother, everlasting Man, swelled under Holies?" Yet, independently of all dogmas, the everlasting heaven, as the seas swell under nay, perhaps in spite of many, Richter is, in the sun and under the moon.-The distant the highest sense of the word, religious. A village clocks struck midnight, mingling, as it reverence, not a self-interested fear, but a noble were, with the ever-pealing' tone of ancient reverence for the spirit of all goodness, forms Eternity.-The limbs of my buried ones the crown and glory of his culture. The fiery touched cold on my soul, and drove away its elements of his nature have been purified blots, as dead hands heal eruptions ofthe skin. under holy influences, and chastened by a — I walked silently through little hamlets, and principle of mercy and humility into peace close by their outer church-yards, where crumand well-doing. An intense and continual bled upeast coffin-boards were glimmering, faith in man's immortality andnative grandeur while the once bright eyes that had lain in accompanies him; from amid the vortices of them were mouldered into gray ashes. Cold life he looks up to a heavenly loadstar; the thought! clutch not like a cold spectre at my solution of what is visible and transient, he heart: I look up to the starry sky, and an everfinds in what is invisible and eternal. He has lasting chain stretches.thither, and over, and doubted,'he denies, yet he believes. ",When, below; and all is Life and Warmth, and Light, in your last hour," says he, (Levana, p. 251,) and all is Godlike or God... "when, in your last hour, (think of this,) all "Towards morning, I described thy late'faculty in the broken spirit shall fade away -lights, little city of my dwelling, which I beand die into inanity,-imagination, thought, long to on this side the grave; I returned to effort, enjoyment, —then at last will the night- the Earth; and in thy steeples, behind the byflower of Belief alone continue blooming, and advanced great midnight, it struck half-past refresh with its perfumes in the last darkness." two: about this hour, in 1794, Mars went down To reconcile these seeming contradictions, in the west, and the Moon rose in the east; an'd to explain the grounds, the manner, the con- my soul desired, in grief for the noble warlike gruity of Richter's belief, cannot be attempted blood which is still streaming on. the blossoms here. We recommend him to the study, the of spring:'Ah, retire, bloody War, like red tolerance, and even the praise, of all men who Mars: and thou, still Peace, come forth like have inquired into this highest of questions the mild divided Moon!' "'-End of Quini'es with a right spirit; inquired with the martyr Fixlein. STATE OF GERMAN LITERATURE. 15 Such, seen through no uncoloured medium, immortality on writings; that charm. which.but in dim remoteness, and sketched in hurried, still, under every defacement, binds us to the transitory outline, are some -features of Jean pages of our own Hookers, and Taylors, and ~Paul Friedrich Richter and his works. Ger- Brownes, when their way of thought has long many has long loved him; to England also ceased to be ours, and the most valued of their he must one day become known; for a man merely intellectual opinions have passed away, of this magnitude belongs: not to one people, as ours too must do, with the circumstances but to the world. What our countrymen may -and events in which they took their shape or,decide of him, still more what may be:his for-'rise. To men of' a right mind, there may.tune with posterity, we will not try to foretell. long be in Richter much'that'has attraction Time, has a contracting influence on many a and value.'In the moral desert of vulgar Litewide-spread fame; yet of Richter we will say, rature, with its sandy wastes, and parched, ~thathe may survive much. Thereis'inhim'that bitter, and too often'poisonous shrubs, the'which does not die; that Beauty and Earnest- writings of this. man will rise in their irregular:ness of soul, -that spirit of Humanity, of Love luxuriance, like a cluster of date-trees,.with:and mild Wisdom, over which the vicissitudes its greensward and well of water, to refresh of mode have no sway. This is that excellence the pilgrim, in the sultry solitude, with nou-.of the inmost nature which alone confers rishment and shade. STATE OF GERMAN LIT:ERIATURE.* [EDINBURGH REVIEW, 1827.] TIIESE two books, notwithstanding their di- is at home in this province; not only a speakversity of title, are properly parts of one and er. of the word, indeed, but a doer of the work; the same; the "Outlines," though:of.prior date having -written, besides his great variety of in regard to publication, having now assumed tracts and treatises, biographical, philosophi-'the character of sequel and conclusion to the cal, and critical, several very deserving works larger work,-of fourth volume to the other of a poetic sort. He is not, it must be owned, three. It is designed, of course, for the home a very strong man, but he is nimble and ormarket; yet the foreign student also will find derly, anid goes through his work with a cerin it a safe and valuable help, and,;in spite of tain gayety of heart; nay, at times, with a its imperfections, should receive it with thank- frolicsome alacrity which might even require fulness and good-will. Doubtless we might to be pardoned. His character seems full of have wished for a keener discriminative and sjusceptibility; perhaps too much so for its descriptive talent, and perhaps for a somewhat natural vigour. His novels, accordingly, to more catholic spirit, in the writer of such a judge from the- few we have read of them, history: but in their absence we have still verge towards the sentimental. In the present much to praise. Horn's literarycreed would, work, in like manner, he has adopted nearly on the whole, we believe, be acknowledged by all the best ideas of his contemporaries, but his countryman as the true one; and this, with something of an undue vehemence; and though it is chiefly from one immovable station he advocates the cause of. religion,. integrity, that he can survey his subject, he seems and true poetic taste with great heartiness and. heartily anxious to apply with candour and vivacity, were it not that too often his zeal tolerance. Another improvement might have outruns his prudence'and insight. Thus, for been a deeper principle of arrangement, a instance, he declares repeatedly, in so many firmer grouping into periods and schools; for, words, that no mortal can be a poet unless he as it-stands,. the work is more a critical sketch is a Christian. The meaninghere is verygood; of German Poets, than a history of German but why this phraseology? Is it not inviting Poetry. the simple-minded (not to speak of scoffers, Let us not quarrel, however, with our au- whom Horn very justly contemns,) to ask, thor; his merits as a literary.historian areplain, when Homer subscribed the Thirty-nin.e Ar and by no means inconsiderable.'Without ticles. or whether Sadi and Hafiz were really rivalling the almost frightful laboriousness of of the Bishop of Peterborough's opinion? Bouterwek or Eichhorn, he gives creditable Again, he talks too often of " representing the proofs of research andgeneral information, and Infinite in the Finite," of expressing the un possesses a lightness in composition, to which speakable, and such high matters. In fact, neither of these erudite persons can well pre- Horn's style, though extremely readable, has tend. Undoubtedly he has a flowing pen, and one great fault; it is, to speak it in a single -word, an affected style. His stream of mean~ 1. Die.Poesie und Beredsamkeit der Deutschen, volt Luthers Zeit bis zuwr Gefenwart. Dargestellt von Franz Horn. ing, uniformly clear and wholesome in itself,. (The Poetry and Oratory of the Germans, from Luther's will not flow quietly along its channel.; but is' Time tothePresent. Exhibitedby Franz Horn.) Berlin, 1822-1824. 3 vols. 8vo. ever and anon spurting up into epigram and 2. Umrisse zur Geschichte und Kritik der sch6nen antithetic jets. Playful he is, and kindly, ind Literatur Deutschlands qsiihrend der Jahre, 1790-1818. we do believe, honest-hearted; but there is a (Outlines for the History and Criticism of Polite Litera- certain snappishness in, ure in Germany, during the years 1790-1818.) By Franzshness in him Horn. Berlin, 1819, 8vo. ness; and then his sport is morc a perpetua5 16 (CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. giggle, than any dignified smile, or even any of wit, in regard to this and so many other sufficient laugh with gravity succeeding it. subjects! Forsurelythe-pleasureofdespising, This sentence is among the best we recollect at all times and in itself a dangerous luxury,: of him, and-will partly illustrate what we mean. -is much safer after the toil of examining than We -submit it, for the sake of its import before it. likewise, to all superfine speculators on the, We differ from the Pere Bouhours. in this Reformation, in their future contrasts of Luther matter, and. must endeavour to discuss it difand Erasmus. "Erasmus," says Horn, "be- ferently. There is, in fact, much in the present longs to that species of writers who have all *aspect-ofGerman Literature,inotonlydeserving the desire in the world to build God Almighty notice but deep consideration from allthinking a magnificent church,-at the same time, how- men, and far too complex for being handled in ever, not giving the Devil any offence; to whom, the way of epigram, It is always advantageous accordingly, they set up a neat little chapel to think justly of our neighbours; nay, in mere close by, where you can offer him some touch common honesty, it is-a duty; and, like:every of sacrifice at a time, and practise a quiet lother duty, brings its own reward. Perhaps at household devotion for him without disturb- the present era this duty is more essential than ance." In this style of "witty and conceited ever; an era of such promise, and.such threatmirth," considerable part of the book is written. ening,.when so many: elements of good and evil But our chief business at present it not with are everywhere in conflict, and human society Franz Horn, or his book; of whom accordingly, is, as it were, struggling to body itself forth recommending his labours to all inquisitive anew, and so many coloured rays are springing students of German, and himself to good esti- up in this quarter and in that, which only by mation with all good men, we must here take their union can produce:pure light. Happily, leave. We have a word or two to say on that too, though still a difficult, it is no longer an strange litt rature itself; concerning which our impossible duty; for the commerce in material readers piobably feel more curious to learn things has paved roads for commerce in things what it is, than with what skill it has been. spiritual, and a true thought, or a noble creajudged of. tion, passes lightly to -us from. the remotest Above a..entury ago, the Pere Bouhours countries, provided only our minds be open to propounded to himself the pregnant question receive it. This, indeed,'is a rigorous proviso, Si szn.llemand peut avoir de l'esprit? Had the and a great obstacle lies in it; one which to Pere Bouhours bethought him of what country many must be insurmountable, yet which it Kepler and Leibnitz were, or who it was that is the chief glory of social culture to surmnount. gave to mankind the three great elements For if a man who mistakes his own contractof modern civilization, Gunpowder, Printing, ed individuality for the type of human nature, and the Protestant Religion, it might have and deals with whatever contradicts higm, as if thrown light on his inquiry. Had he known it contradicted this, is but a pedant, and withthe Nibelungen Lied; anfd where Reinecke Fuchs, out true wisdom, be he furnished with partial and Faust, and the Ship of Fools, and four-fifths equipments as he may,-what better shall we of all the popular mythology, humour, and think of a nation that, ij. like manner, isolates romance, to be found in Europe in the six- itself from foreign influence, regards its own teenth and seventeenth' centuries, took its modes as so many laws of nature,-and rejects rise; had he read a page or two of Ulrich all that is different as unworthy even of exHutten, Opitz, Paul Flemming, Logau, or even amination' Lohenstein and.Hoffmanns-waldau, all of whom Of this narrow and perverted condition, the had already lived and written in his day; had French, down almost to -our own tihes, have the Pere Bouhours. taken this trouble, who afforded a remarkableand instructive example; knows but he might have found, with what- as indeed of late they have been often enough ever amazement, that a German could actually upbraidingly reminded,: and are now themhave a little esprit, or perhaps even something selves, in a manlier spirit, beginning to admit. better? No such trouble was requisite for the That our countrymen have at any time erred Pdre Bouhours. Motion invacuo is well known much in this point, cannot, we think, truly be to be speedier and surer than through a re- alleged against them. Neither'shall we say, sisting medium, especially to imponderous with some passionate admirers of Germany, bodies; and so the, light Jesuit, unimpeded by that to the Germans in particular they have facts or principles of any kind, failed not to been unjust. It is true, the literature and chareach his conclusion; and, in a comfortable racter of that- country, which, within the last frame of mind, to decide negatively, that a Ger- half century, have been more worthy perhaps man could not have any lite;rary-talent. than any other of our study and regard, are Thus did:the Pdre Bou.hours evince that he still very generally unknown to us, or, uwhat is had "a pleasant wit;" but in the end he has worse, misknown: but for this there are not paid dear for it. The-French, themselves, have wanting less offensive reasons. That theTalse long since begun to know something of the Ger- and tawdry ware, which was in all hands, nans, and something also of theirown critical should reach us before the,chaste and truly Daniel; and now it is by this one.untimely excellent, which it required some excellence joke that the hapless Jesuit is doomed to live;- to recognise; that Kotzebue's insanity should for.the blessing of full oblivion is denied him, have spread faster, by some fifty years, than and so he hangs suspended in his own noose, Lessing's wisdom; that -Kanft's" Philosophy over the dusky pool which he struggles toward,- should stand in. the back-ground as a dreary but foir a great while will not reach-. — Might and abortive dream, and Gall's Craniology be his fate but serve as a warning to kindred men held out to us from every booth as a reality; — STATE OF GERMAN LITERATURE. 17 all this lay in the nature of the case. That countrv has awaked in its old'strength, our atmany readers should draw conclusions from tention to it has certainly awakened also; and imperfect premises, and by the imports judge if we yet know little or nothing of the Gertoo hastily of the stock imported from, was like- mans, it is not because we wilfully do them wise natural. No unfair bias, no unwise in- wrg.n, but, in good part, because they are disposition, that we are aware of, has ever been somewhat difficult to know. at work in the matter; perhaps, at worst, a In fact prepossessions of all sorts naturally degree of indolence, a blamable incuriosity to enough find their place here. A country whici all products of foreign genius: for what mire has no national literature, or literature too indo we know of recent Spanish or Italian lite- significant to force its way abroad, must always rature than of German; of Grossi and Man- be, to its neighbours, atleastin every important zoni, of Campomanes or Jovellanos, than of spiritualrespect, an unknown and misestimated Tieck and Richter? Wherever German art, country. Its towns may figure on our maps; in those forms of it which need no interpreter, its revenues, population, manufactures, polihas addressed us immediately, our recognition tical connections, may berecorded in statistical of it has been prompt and hearty; from Diirer books; but, the character of the people has no to Mengs, from Hiindel to Weber and Beetho- symbol and no voice; we cannot know them ven, we have welcomed the painters and mu- by speech and discourse, but only mere sight sicians of Germany, not only to our praise, but and outward observation of their manners and to our affections and beneficence. Nor, if in procedure. Now, if both sight and speech, if their literature we have been more backward, both travellers and native literature, are found is the literature itself without blame. Two but ineffectual in this respect, how incalcucenturies ago, translations from the German lably more so the former alone! To seize w-ere comparatively frequent in England: a character, even that of one man, in its life Luther's Table-Talk is still a venerable classic and secret mechanism, requires a philospher; in our language; nay Jacob Boehme has found to delineate it with truth and impressiveness, a place among us, and this not as a dead letter, is a work for a poet. How then shall one or but as a living apostle to a still living sect of two sleek clerical tutors, with here and there our religionists. In the next century, indeed, a tedium-stricken esquire, or speculative halftranslation ceased; but then it was, in a great pay captain, give us views on such a subject?' measure, because there was little worth trans- How shall a man, to whom all characters of iating. The horrors of the Thirty Years' War, individual men are like sealed books, of which followed by the conquests and conflagrations of he sees only the title and the covers; decipher Louis the Fourteenth, had desolated the country; from his four-wheeled vehicle, and depict to French influence, extending from the courts us, the character of a nation? He courageof princes to the closets of the learned, lay like ously depicts his own optical delusions; notes a baleful incubus over the far nobler mind of this to be incomprehensible, that other to be Germany; and all true nationality vanished insignificant; much to be good, much to be fiom its literature, or was heard only in faint bad, and most of all indifferent; and so, with tones, which lived in the hearts of the people, a few flowing strokes, completes a picture but could not reach with any effect to the ears which, though it may not even resemble any of foreigners.* And now that the genius of the possible object, his countrymen are to take for ____________________________________ a national portrait. Nor is the fraud so readily * Not that the Germans were idle; or altozether en- detected: for the character of a people has gaged, as we too loosely suppose, in the workl of com- such complexity of aspect, that even the honest mentary and lexicography. On the contrary, they observer knows not always, not perhaps after rhymed and romanced with due vigour as to quantity g inspection, what to determie regardia only the quality was bad. Two facts on this head mayn, what to determine regarding deserve mention: In the year 1749, there were found, in it. From his, only accidental, point of view, the library of one virtuoso, no fewer than 300 volumes the figure stands before him like the tracings of devotional poetry, containing, says Horn, "a treasure of 33,712 German hymns;" and, much about the same on veined marble,-a mass of mere random period, one of Gottsched's scholars had amassed as many lines, and tints, and entangled strokes, out of as 1500 German novels, all of the 17th century. The which a lively fancy may shape almost ary hymns we understand to be much better than the novels, or rather, perhaps, the novels to be much worse than the image. But the image he brings along with hymns. Neither was critical study neglected, nor in- him is always the readiest; this is tried, it deed honest endeavour on all hands to attain improve- answers as well as another; and a second,ment: witness the strange hooks from time to time put forth, and the still stranger institutions established for toucher now testifies its correctness. Thus this purpose. Among the former we have the "Poeti- each, in confident tones, though it may be with cal Funnel," (Poetscihe Trichlter,) manufactured at Nfirnberg in 1650, and.professing, within six hours, to pour il a secret misgiving, repeats his precnrsor; the the whole essence of this difficult art into the most un- hundred times repeated comes in the end to be furnished head. Nitrn-)erg also was the chief seat of the famous J.feistersanger and their Sdingerziinfte, or Singerguilds, in which poetry was taught and practised like ten 6048 poetical pieces, among which were 208 tragedies any other handicraft, and this by sober and well-mean- and comedies; and this, besides having all along kept ing mnien, chiefly artisans, who could not understand.why house, like an honest Nilrnberg burgher, by assiduous lahour, which manufactured so many things, should not and sufficient shoemaling! Hans is not without genius, also manufacture another. Of these tuneful guild- and a shrewd irony; and.above all, the most gay, childbrethren, Hans Sachs, by trade a shoemaker, is greatly like, yet devout and solid character. A man neither to the most noted and most notable. His father was a be.despised nor patronized, but left standing on his own tailor; he himself learned the mystery of song under one basis, as a singular product, and a still legible symbol, Nunnebeck, a weaver. He was an adherent of his great and clear mirror, of the time and country where he lived contemporary Luther, who has even deigned to acknow- His best piece known to us, and many are well worth. ledge his services in the cause of Reformation: how perusing, is the Fastnacshtsspiel (Shrovetide Farce) of the diligent a labourer Sachs must have been, will appear.7Varrenschl.neiden, where the Doctor cures a bloated and from the fact, that, in his 74th year, (1568,) on examin- lethargic patient by cutting out half a dozen Fools firona ing his stock for publication, he found that he had writ- his interior! 3 1 2 18z CARLYLE'S?IICETLLTANEOUS WRIT:INGS. believed; the foreign nation is now once for among shiploads of yellow sand and sulphur. all understood, decided on, and registered ac- GentleDulness too, in this as in all other things, cordingly; and dunce the thousandth writes still loves, her joke. The Germans, though of it like dunce the first. 1 much more attended to, are perhaps not less With the aid of literary and intellectuah,in- mistaken than before. tercourse, much of this falsehood may, no Doubtless, however, there is in this increased doubt, be corrected: yet even here, sound attention a progress towards the truth; which judgment is far from easy; and most national it is only investigation and discussion that can characters are still, as Hume long ago cor- ielp us to find. The study of German literaplained, the product rather of populai- preju- ture has already taken such firm root among dice than of philosophic insight. That the us, and its spreading so visibly, that by and by, Germans, in.particular, have by no means as we believe, the true character of it must and escaped such misrepresentation, nay, perhaps, will become known. A result, which is to have had more than the common share of it, Ibring us into closer and friendlier union with cannot, ill their circumstances, surprise us. forty millions of civilized men, cannot surely From the time of Optiz and Flemming, to those be otherwise than desirable. If they have preof Klopstock and Lessing, —that is, from the cious truth to impart, we shall receive it as the early part of the seventeenth to the middle of highest of all gifts; iferror, we shall not only rethe eighteenth century,-they had scarcely any ject it, but explain it and trace out its origin, literature known abroad, or deserving to be and so help our brethren also to reject it. In known: their political condition, during this either point of vieuw, and for all profitable pursarne period, was oppressive and every way un- poses of national intercourse, correct knowfortunate extertlally; and at home, the nation, ledge is the first and indispensable preliminary. split into so many factions and petty states, Meatwhile, errors of all sorts prevail on this haIl lost all feeling of itself as of a nation; and subject: even among men of sense and liberits energies in arts as in arms were manifested ality we have found so much hallucination, so only in detail, too often in collision,'and always many groundless or half-grounded objections under foreign influence. The French, at once to German literature, that the tone in which a their plunderers and their scoffers, described multitude of other men speak of it cannot apthem to the rest of Europe as a, semi-barbarous pear extraordinary. To much of this, even a people; which coinfortable fact the rest of slight knowledge of the Germans would furnish Europe was willing enough to take on their a sufficient answer. But we have thourht it word. During the greater part of the last cen- might be useful were the chief of these objectury, the Germans, in our ntellectual survey tions marshalled in distinct order, and ex-:f the world, were quietly omitted; a vague amined with what degree of light and fairness Contemptuous ignorance prevailed respecting is at our disposal. In attempting this, we are them; it was a Cisnmmerian land, where, if a vain enough, for reasons already stated, to few sparks did glimmer, it was but so as to fancy ourselves discharging what is in some testify their own existence, too feebly to en- sort a national duty. It4is unworthy of one lighten ns.- The Germans passed for appren- great people to think falsely of another; it is tices in a.ll pro iinces of art; and many foreign unjust, and therefore unworthy. Of the injury craftsimen scarcely allowed them so much. it does to ourselves we do not speak, for that Madame doc StaCl's 1book has'done away with is an inferior consideration: yet surely if the this; all Europe is now aware that the Ger- grand principle of free intercourse is so promans are somnething; something independent fitable in material commerce, much more must and hpart from others; nay, something deep, it be in the commerce of the mind, the proimposing, and, if not admirable, wonderful. ducts of which are thereby not so much transWhat that something is, indeed, is still unde- ported out of one country into another, as mulcided; for this gifted lady's Alleingnze, in doing tiplied over all, for the benefit of all, and much to excite curiosity, has still done little to without loss to any.'If that man is a benesatisfy or even direct it. We can no longer factor to the world who causes two ears of corn make ignorance a boast, but we are yet far to grow, where only one grew before, much from having acquired right knowledge; and more is he a benefactor who causes two truths cavillers, excluded from contemptuous nega- to grow up together in harmony and mutual contion, have found a resource in almost as con- firmation, where before only one stood solitary, lemptuous assertion. Translators are the same and, on that side at least, intolerant and hostile. Caithless and stolid race that, they have ever In dealing with the host of objections which been: the particle of gold they bring us over front us on this subject, we think it may be is hidden from all but the most patient eye, convenient to range them under two principal heads. The first, as respects chiefly unsoundness * So late as the year 1811, we find, from Pinkerton's or imperfection of sentiment; an error which Geographyl, the sole representative of German literature to be Gottshed, (with his name wrong spelt,) "who first may in general be denominated Bad Taste. The introduced a more refined style."-Gottsched has been second, as respects chiefly a wrong condition dead the greater part of the century; and, for the lastf intellect; an error hich maybe designated fifty years, ranks among the Germans somewhat as Prynne or Alexander Ross does among ourselves. A man by the general title of Mysticism. Both of these, of a cold, rigid, perseverant character, who mistook no doubt, are partly connected; and each, in himself for a poet and the perfection of critics, and hadom and returns into the skill to pass current during the greater part of his literary life for such. On the strength of his Boileau and other: yet, for present purposes, the divisions Batteux, he tong reigned supreme: but it was like may be precise enough. Night, in rayless majesty, and over a slumbering people. First, then, of the irst: t is objected that They awoke, before his death, and hurled him, perhaps 1o indignantly, into his native Abyss the Germans have a radically bad taste. Thin STATE OF GERMAN LITERATURE. 19 is a deep-rooted objection, which assumes if he took his extracts from Mr. Egan's ToM many forms, and extends through many rami- and Jerry; and told his readers, as he might fications. Among men of less acquaintance truly do, that cno play had ever enjoyed such with the subject of German taste, or of taste in currency on the English stage as this most general, the spirit of the accusation seems to classic performance? We think not. In liLe be somewhat as follows: That the Germans, manner, till some author of acknowledgedt with much natural susceptibility, are still in a merit shall so write among the Germans, and rather coarse and uncultivated state of mind; be approved of by critics of acknorwledged displaying, with the energy and other virtues merit among them, or at least secure for himof a rude people, many of their vices also; in self some permanency of favour among the particular, a certain wild and headlong temper, million, we can prove nothing by such inwhich seizes on all things t6o hastily and in- stances. That there is so perverse an author;, petuously; weeps, storms, loves, hates. too or so blind a critic, in the whole compass of:nerceiy and vociferously; delighting in coarse German literature, we have no hesitation in excitements, such as flaring contrasts, vulgar denying. horrors, and all sorts of showy exaggeration. But farther: among men of deeper views, Their literature, in particular, is thought to and with regard to works of really standard dwell with peculiar complacency among wiz- character, we find, though not the same, a simiards and'ruined towaers, with mailed knights, lar objection repeated. Goethe's Wilhelns Ieissecret tribunals, monlks, spectres, and banditti; ter, it is said, and Faust, are full of bad taste also. on the other hand, there is an undue love of With respect to the taste in which they are moonlight, and mossy fountains, and the moral written, we shall have occasion to say somesublime: then we have descriptions of things what hereafter: meanwhile, we may be perwhich should not be described; a general want mitted to remark that the objection would have of tact; nay, often hollowness, and want of more force, did it seem to originate from a more sense. In short, the German Muse comports mature consideration of the subject. We have herself, it is said, like a passionate, and rather heard few English criticisms of such works, fascinating, but tumultuous, uninstructed, and in which the first condition of an approach to but half-civilized Muse. A belle sattvage at accuracy was complied with;-a transposition best, we can only love her with a sort of su- of the critic into the author's point of vision, percilious tolerance; often she tears a pas- a survey of the author's means and objects as sion to rags; and, in her tumid vehemence, they lay before himself, and a just trial of these struts without meaning, and to the offence of by rules of universal application. Faust, for all literary decorun. instance, passes with many of us for a mere Now, in all this there is a certain degree of tale of sorcery and art-magic: but it would truth. If any man will insist upon taking scarcely be more unwise to consider Ivinlct Heinse's dirdingchello, and Miller's Siegwart, and as depending for its main interest on the ghost the works of Veit Weber the younger, aid, that walks in it, than to regard Faust as a proabove all, the everlasting Kotzebue, as his duction of this sort. For the present, therefore, specimens of German literature, he may es- this objection may be set aside; or at least tablish many things. Black Forests, and the may be considered not as an assertion, but tan glories of Lubberland; sensuality and horror, inquiry, the answer to which may, turn out. the spectre nun, and the charmed moonshine, rather that the German taste is different front shall not be wanting. Boisterous outlaws, also, ours, than that it is worse. Nay, with regard with huge whiskers, and the most cat-o'-moun- even to difference, we should scarcely reckon tain aspect; tear-stained sentimentalists, the it to be of great moment. Two nations that grimmest man-haters, ghosts, and the like sus- agree in estimating Shakspeare as the highest picious characters, will be found in abundance. of all poets, can differ in no essential principle, We are little read in this bowl-and-dagger de- if they understood one another, that relates to partment; but we do understand it to have poetry. been at one time rather diligently cultivated; Nevertheless, this opinion of our opponents though at present it seems to be mostly. relin- has attained a certain degree of consistency quished as unproductive. Other forms of Un- with itself; one thing is thought to throw light reason have taken its place; which in their on another; nay, a.quiet little theoryhas been. turn must yield to still other forms; for it is propounded to explain the whole phenomenon. the nature of this goddess to descend in frequent The cause of this bad taste, we are assured, avatars among men. Perhaps not less than lies in the condition of the German authors. five hundred volumes of such stuff could still These, it seems, are generally very poor; the be collected from the book-stalls of Germany. ceremonial law of the country excludes thetn By which truly we may learn that there is in from all society with the great; they cannot that country a class of unwise men and unwise acquire the polish of drawing-rooms, but must women; that many readers there labourundera live in mean houses, and therefore write and degree of ignorance and mental vacancy, and think in a mean style. read not actively but passively, not to learn Apart from the truth of these assumptions. but to be amused. But is this fact so very and in respect of the theory itself, we confess new to us? Or what should we think of a there is something in the face of it that afflicts German critic that selected his specimens of us. Is it then so certain that taste and riches British literature from the Castle Spectre, Mr. are dissolubly connected? that truth of feeling Lewis's Monlk, or even the Mliysteries of Udolpho, must ever be preceded by weight of purse, and and Frankenstein or the 3Modern Prometheus? Or the eyes be dim for universal and eternal would he judge rightly of our dramatic taste, Beauty, till they have long rested on gilt walls 20 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. and costly furniture. To the great body of ampton allowed him equal patronage with the mankind this were heavy news; for, of the' zanies, jugglers, and bearwards of the time? thousand, scarcely one is rich, or connected Yet compare his taste; even as it respects the with the rich; nine hundred and ninety-nine negative side of things; for in regard to the have always been poor, and must always be positive, and far higher side, it admits no comso. We take the liberty of questioning the parison with any other mortal's, —compare it, whole postulate. We think that, for acquiring for instance, with the taste of Beaumont and true poetic taste, riches, or association with the Fletcher, his contemporaries, men of rank and rich, are distinctly among the minor requisites; /education, and of fine genius like himself. Tried that, in fact, they have little or no concern with even by the nice, fastidious, and in great part the matter. This we shall now endeavour to false, and artificial delicacy of modern times, mnake probable. how stands it with the two parties: with the Taste, if it mean any thing but a paltry con- gay triumphant men of fashion, and the poor noisseurship, must mean a general susceptibi- vagrant link-boy 1 Does the latter sin against, lity to truth and nobleness; asenseto discern, we shall not say taste, but etiquette, as the and a heart to love and reverence, all beauty, former do? For one line, for one word, which order, goodness, wheresoever, or in whatsoever some Chesterfield might wish blotted from the forms and accompaniments they are to be seen. first, are there not in the others whole pages This surely implies, as its chief condition, not and scenes which, with palpitating heart, he any given external rank or situation, but a finely would hurry into deepest night? This, too, ob- gifted mind, purified into harmony with itself, serve, respects not their genius, but their culinto keenness and justness of vision; above all, ture; not their appropriation of beauties, but kindled into love and generous admiration. Is their rejection of deformities, by supposition, culture of this sort found exclusively among the grand and peculiar result of high breeding! the higher ranks? We believe it proceeds less Surely, in such instances, even that humble from without thana within, in every rank. The supposition is ill borne out. charms of Nature, the majesty of Man, the in- The truth of the matter seems to be, that finite loveliness of Truth and Virtue, are not with the culture of a genuine poet, thinker, or hidden from the eye of the poor; but from the other aspirant to fame, the influence of rank eye of the vain, the corrupted, and self-seeking, has no exclusive or even special concern. For be he poor or i]ich. In all ages, the humble men of action, for senators, public speakers, Minstrel, a mendicant, and lord of nothing but political writers, the case may be different; but his harp and his own free soul, had intimations of such' we speak not at present. -Neither do of those glories, while to the proud Baron in we speak of imitators, and the crowd of menis barbaric halls they were unknown. Nor diocre men, to whom fashionable life sometimes is there still any aristocratic monopoly of judg- gives an external inoffensiveness, often conmment more than of genius: And as to that pensated by a frigid malignity of character. Science of Negation, which is taught peculiarly We speak of men, who, from amid the perby men of professed elegance, we confess plexed and conflicting elements of their everywe hold it rather cheap. It is a necessary,- day existence, are to form themselves into *but decidedly a subordinate accomplishment: harmony and wisdom, and show forth the same nay, if it be rated as the highest, it becomes a wisdom to others that exist along with them. ruinous vide. This is an old truth; yet ever To such a man, high life, as it is called, will needing new application and enforcement. Let be a province of human life certainly, but nous know what to love, and we shall know also thing more..Ie will study to deal lwith it as what to reject; what to affirm, and we shall he deals with all forms of mortal being; to do know also what to deny: but it is dangerous to it justice, and to draw instruction from it: but begia with denial, and fatal to end with it. To his light will come from a loftier region, or he deny is easy; nothing is sooner learnt or more wanders for ever in darkness; dwindles into generally practised: as matters go, we need a man ofvers de Socicte, or attains at best to be no man of polish to teach it; but rather, if a WValpole or a Caylus. Still less can we think possible, a hundred men of wisdom to show us that he is to be viewed as a hireling; that his its limits, and teach us its reverse. excellence will be regulated by his pay. " SufliSuch is our hypothesis of the case: But how ciently provided for'from within, he has need stands it with the facts? Are the fineness and of little from without:" food and raiment, and truth of sense manifested by the artist found, in an unviolated home, will be given him in the most instances, to be proportionate to his wealth rudest land; and with these, while the kind and elevation of acquaintance? Are they found earth is round him, and the everlasting heaven to have any perceptible relation either with the is over him, the world has little more that it one or the other? We imagine not. Whose can give. Is he poor? So also were Homer taste in painting, for instance, is truer and finer and Socrates; so was Samuel Johnson; so was than Claude Lorraine's? And was not he a John Milton. Shall we reproach him with his poor colour-grinder; outwardly, the meanest poverty, and infer that, because he is poor, he of menials? Where, again, we might ask, must likewise be worthless?'God forbid that.lay Shakspeare's rent-roll; and what generous the time should ever come when he too shall peer took him by the hand and unfolded to him esteem riches the synonyme of good! The gte "open secret" of the Universe; teaching spirit of Mammon has a wide enmpire; but it him that this was beautiful, and that not so? cannot, and must not, be worshippe'd in the'Was he not a peasant by birth, and by fortune -Ioly of Holies. Nay, does not the heart of something lower; and was it not thoughtmuch, every genuine disciple of literature, however -ren in the height of his reputation, that South- mean his sphere, instinctively deny this prin STATE OF GERMAN LITERATURE. 21 ciple, as applicable either to himself or ano- tered Baron, who still hovers in our minds, ther? Is it not rather true, as D'Alembert has never did exist in such perfection, and is now said, that for every man of letters, who de- as extinct as our own Squire Western. His serves that name, the motto and the watchword descendant is a man of other culture, other rill be Farn~)oir, TRUTH, and even this same ainis, and other habits. We question whether PovEsrTY? and that if he fear the last, tlie two there is an aristocracy in Europe, which, taken first can never be made sure to him. as a whole, both in a public and private capaWe have stated these things, to bring the city, more honours art and literature, and does question somewhat nearer its real basis; not more both in public and private to encourage for the sake of the Germans, who nowise need them. Excluded from society! What, we the admission of them. The German authors would ask, was WVieland's, Schiller's, Herder's, are not poor; neither are they excluded from Johannes Miiller's society? Has not Goethe, by association with the wealthy and well-born. birth a Franlfortburgher,been, since his twentyOn the contrary, we scruple not to say, that, in sixth year, the companion, not of nobles but of both these respects, they are considerably better princes, and for half his life a minister of state? situated than our own. Their booksellers, it is And is not this man, unrivalled in so many far true, cannot pay as ours do; yet, there as here, deeper qualities, known also and felt to be un-a man lives by his writings; and, to compare rivalled in nobleness of breeding and bearing; Jotden with Johnson and D'Isracli, somewhat fit not to learn of' princes, in this respect, but better there than here. No case like our own by the example of his daily life to teach them 1 noble Otway's has met us in theirsbiographies; We hear much of the munificent spirit disBoyces and Chattertons are much rarer in Ger- played amlong the better classes in England'; man, than in English history. But farther, and their high estimation of the arts, and generous what is far more important: From the num- patronage of the artist. We rejoice to hear it; her of universities, libraries, collections of art, we hope it is true, and will become truer and museums, and other literary or scientific in- truer. We hope that a great change has taken stitutions of a public or private nature, we place among these classes, since the time when question whether the chance, which a merito- Bishop Burnet could write of them,-" They rious man of letters has before him, of obtaining are for the most part the worst instructed, and some permanent appointment, some independ- the least knowing, of any of their rank I ever ent civic existence, is not a hundred to one in went among!" Nevertheless, let us arropgate favour of the German, compared with the to ourselves no exclusive praise in this parEnglishman. This is a weighty item, and ticular. Other nations can appreciate the arts, indeed the weightiest of all; for it will be grant- and cherish their cultivators, as well as we. ed, that, for the votary of literature, the rela- Nay, while learning from us in many other tion of entire dependence on the merchants matters, we suspect the Germans might even of literature, is, at best, and however liberal teach us somewhat in regard to this. At all the terms, a highly questionable one. It tempts events, the pity, which certain of our authors him daily and hourly to sink from an artist into express for the civil condition of their brethren a manufacturer; nay, so precarious, fluctu ating, in that country, is, from such a quarter, a superand every way unsatisfactory must his civic fluous feeling. Nowhere, let us -rest assured, and economic concerns become, that too many is genius more devoutly honoured than there, of his class cannot even attain the praise of by all ranks of men, from peasants and bur-ghcoimmon honestyas manufacturers. There is, ers up to legislators and kings. It was but no doubt, a spirit of martyrdom, as we have last year that the Diet of the Empire passed an asserted, which can sustain this too: but few act in favour of one individual poet: the final indeed have the spirit of martyrs; and that edition of Goethe's works was guarantied to be state of matters is the safest which requires it protected against commercial injury in every least. The German authors, moreover, to their state of Germany; and special assurances to credit be it spoken, seem to set less store by that effect were sent him, in the kindest terns, wealth than many of ours. There have been from all the Authorities there assembled, some prudent, quiet meA among them, who actually of them the highest in his country or in Europe. appeared not to want more wealth,-whom Nay, even while we write, are not the newswealth could not tempt, either to this hand or papers recording a visit from the Sovereign of that, fromn their pre-appointed aims. Neither Bavaria in person, to the same venerable man; must we think so hardly of the German nobi- a mere ceremony, perhaps, but one which a;lity as to believe them insensible to genius, or most recalls to us the era of the antique Sages of opinion that a patent from the Lion King is and the Grecian Kings? so superior to " a patent direct from Almighty This hypothesis, therefore, it would seem, is (God." A fair proportion' of the German au- not supported by facts, and so returns to its thors are themselves men of rank: we mention original elements. The causes it alleges are only, as of our own time, and notable in other impossible: but, what is still more fatal, the respects, the two Stolbergs and Novalis. Let effect it proposes to account for has, in reality, us not be unjust to this class of persons. Itis no existence. We venture to deny that the a poor error to figure them as wrapt up in Germans are defective in taste; ev'en as a ceremonial stateliness, avoiding the most gift- nation, as a public, taking one thing with anoed man of a lower station; and, for their own ther, we imagine they may stand comparison supercilious triviality, themselves avoided by with any of their neighbours; as writers, as all truly gifted men. On the whole, we should critics, they may decidedly court it. True, there. chanDe our notion of the German nobleman: is a mass of dulness, awkwardness, and false that ancient, thirsty, thickheaded, sixteen-quar- I susceptibility in the lower regions of their li:e 22 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. rature: but is not bad taste endemical in such but the battle; as indeed himself admits to us, regions of every literature under the sun? Pure that " it is not the finding of truth, but the honStupidity, indeed, is of a quiet nature, and con- est search for it, that profits." We confess,tent to be merely stupid. But seldom do we we should be entirely at a loss for the literary find it pure; seldom unadulterated with sodme creed of that man who reckoned Lessiug other tincture of ambition, which drives it into new than a thoroughly cultivated writer; nay enand strange metamorphoses. Here it has as- titled to rank, in this particular, with the most sumed a contemptuous trenchant air, intended distinguished writers of any existing nation. to represent superior tact, and a sort of all- As a poet, as a critic, philosopher, or controwisdom; there a truculent atrabilious scowl, versialist, his style will be found precisely which is to stand for passionate strength: now such as we of England are accustomed to we have an outpouring of tumid fervour; now admire most; brief, nervous, vivid; yet quiet, a fruitless, asthmatic hunting after wit and without glitter or antithesis; idiomatic, pure humour. Grave or gay, enthusiastic or de- without purism, transparent, yet full of' charisive, admiring or despising, the dull man racter and reflex hues of meaning. "Every would be something which he is not and can- sentence," says Horn, and justly, "is like a not be. Shall we confess, that, of these too phalanx;" not a word wrong placed, not a common extremes, we reckon the German word that could be spared; and it forms itself error considerably the more harmless, and, in so calmy and lightly, and stands in its comour day, by far the more curable? Of unwise pleteness, so gay, yet so impregnable! As a admiration much maybe hoped; formuchgood poet he contemptuously denied himself all is really in it: but unwise contempt is itself a merit; but his readers have not taken him at negation; nothing comes of it, for it is nothing. his word: here, too, a similar felicity of style To judge of a national taste, however, we attends him; his plays, his iliir'gn von,3eranmust raise our view from its transitory modes helbm, his Ennlilie Galctii, his Nathan der Wffise, to its perennial models; from the mass of vul- have a genuine and graceful poetic life; yet no gar writers, who blaze out and are extinguished works known to us in any language are purer with the popular delusion which they flatter, to from exaggelration, or any appearance of falsethose few who are admitted to shine witli a hood. They are pictures, we might say paintpure and lasting lustre; to whom, by common ed not in colours, but in crayons; yet a strange consent, the eyes of the people are turned, as attraction lies in them; for the figures are to its lodestar and celestial luminaries. Among grouped into the finest attitudes, and true German writers of this stamp, we would ask and spirit-speaking in every line. It is a th any candid reader of them, let him be of what his style chiefly that we have to do here; yet country or what creed he might, whether bad we must add, that the matter of his works is taste struck him as a prevailing characteristic. not less mieritorious. His Criticism and phiWas Wieland's taste uncultivated Taste, we losophic or religious Skepticism tere of a should say, and taste of the very species which higher mood than had vet been heard in Eua disciple of the Negative School would call rope, still more in Germa.ny: his Dritonialturgi''e the highest, formed the great object of his life; first exploded the pretensions of the French the perfection he unweariedly endeavoured theatre, and, with irresistible conviction, made after, and, more than any other perfection, has Shakslpeare knolmn to his countrymen; preattained. The most fastidious Frenchman might paring the nvay for a brighter era in their literead him, with admiration of his merely French rature, the chief men of which still thankfllly qualities. And is not Klopstock, with his clear look back to Lessino as their patriarch. His enthusiasm, his azure pulrity, and heavenly, if Larocon, vwit h its deep glances into the philostill somewhat cold and lunar light, a man of sophy of Art, his Dialogtes of iree-s?soni. s, a taste? His ]Messias reminds us oftener of no wvork of fir higher imnport than its title inother poets than of Virgil and Racine. But it dicates, may yet teach many things to most of is to Lessing that an Englishman would us, vhich aTve know not, and ought to kino-v. turn with the readiest affection. We cannot With Lessina and Klopstock might be joinbut wonder that more ofthis man is not known ed, in this respect, nearly, every one, we do among us; or that the knowledge of him has not say of their distinguished, but even of their not done more to remove such misconceptions. tolerated contemporaries. The two Jacobis, Amnong all the writers of the eighteenth cen- known m:ore or less in all countries, are little tury, we will not except even Diderot and known here, if they are accused of wanting David Hume, there is not one of a more com- literary taste These are men, whether as pact and rigid intellectual structure; who thinkers or poets, to be regarded and admired more distinctly knows what he is aiming gt, for their mild and lofty wisdom, the devoutness, or with more gracefulness, vigour, and pre- the benignity and calm grandeur of-their phicision sets it forth to his readers. He thinks losophical views. In such, it were strange if with the clearness andpiercing sharpness of among so many high merits, this lower one of a the most expert logician: but a genial fire just and elegant style, which is indeed their pervades him, a witi a heartiness, a general natural and even necessary product, had been richness and fineness of nature, to which most wanting. WTe recommend the elder Jacobi no. logicians are strangers. He is a skeptic in less for his clearness than for his depth; of the many things, but the noblest of skeptics; a younger, it may be enough in this point of mild, manly, half-careless enthusiasm strug- view to say, that the chief praisers of his earlier gles through his indignant unbelief: he stands poetry were the French. Neither are Hamann before us like a toilworn, but unwearied and and Mendelsohn, who could meditate deep neroic champion, earning rot the conquest thoughts, defective in the power of uttering I I bxZ STATE OF GERMAN L ITERATURE. 23 them with propriety. The Phcedon of the latter, that their views of it are not only dim and pert in its chaste precision and simplicity of style, plexed, but altogether imaginary and delusive. may almost remindus of Xenophon.: Socrates, It is proposed to School the Germans in the to our mind, has spoken in no modern language Alphabet of taste; and the Germans are also like Socrates, as here, by the lips of this wise ready busied with their Accidence! Far fro) and cultivated Jew.* being behind other nations in the practice or Among the poets and more popular writers science of Criticism, it is a fact, for whmich Ave of the time, the case is the same: Utz, Gellert, fearlessly refer to all competent judges, that Cramer, Ramler, Kleist, Hagedorn, Rabener, they are distinctly, and even considerabiy, in Gleim, and a multitude of lesser men, whatever advance. We state what is already known to excellences they might want, certainly are not a great part of Europe to be true. Criticism chargeable with bad taste. Nay, perhaps of has assumed a new form in Germany; it proall writers they are the least chargeable with ceeds on other principles, and proposes to itself it: a certain clear, light, unaffected elegance, a higher aim. The grand question is not now a of a higher nature than French elegance, question concerning the qualities of diction, the it might be, yet to the exclusion of all very coherence of metaphors, the fitfeess of senti(deep or genial qualities, was the excellence ments, the general logical truth, in a work of they strove after, and, for the most part, in a art, as it was some half century ago among. fair measure attained. They resemble Eng- most critics. Neitheris it a question mainly ol lish wvriters of the same, or perhaps an earlier apsychological sort, to be answeredhby discoverperiod, more than any other foreigners: apart ing aQnd delineating the peculiar nature of the from Pope, whose influence is visible enough, poet from his poetry, as is usual with the best Beattie, Logan, Wilkie, Glover, unknown per- of our own critics at present; but it is, not inhaps to any of them, might otherwise have al- deed exclusively, but inclusively of those two most seemed their models. Goldsmith also other questions, properly and ultimately a would rank among them; perhaps, in regard to 4question on the essence and peculiar life of true poetic genius, at their head, for none of the poetry itsel.'Tlhe first of these questions, theml has left us a Vicari of Tra.kcjield; though, as we see it answered, for instance, in the in regard to judgment, knowledge, general' ta- criticisms of Johnson and Kames, relates, lent, his place Aould scarcely be so high. strictly speaking, to the g(.tarent of poetry; the The same thing holds, in general, and with second, indeed, to its bodzy and material existfewer drawvbacks, of the somewhat later and ence, a nmuch higher point; but only the last more energetic race, denominated the GbStingen, to its sozl and spiritual existence, by which School, in contradistinction from the Saxon, to alone can the body, in its movelments and which Rabener, Cramer, and Gellert directly phases, be iiafonbviied with significance and belonged, and most of those others indirectly. rational life. The problem is not now to Hblty, Biirger, thetwo Stolbergs, are men whom determine by what mechanism Addison comBossu might measure with his scale and coin- posed sentences, and struck out sinilitudes, passes as strictly as he pleased. Of Herder, but by what far finer and more mysterious Schiller, Goethe, we speak not here: they are mechanism Shakspeare organized his dramas, men of another stature and form of movement, and gave life and individuality to his Ariel and whom Bossu's scale and compasses could not his Hamlet. Wherein lies that life; how have measure without difficulty, or rather not at all. they attained that shape and individulality? To say that such men wrote with taste of this Whence comes that emlpyrean fire, wvhich irsort, were saying little; for this forms not the radiates their -whole being, "ad pierces, at apex, but the basis, in their conception of style; least in starry gleams, like a liviner tlhing, a quality not to be paraded as an excellence, into all hearts?I Are these dranmas of his not but to be understood as indispensable, as there verisimilar only, but true; nay, truer than by necessity, and like a thing of course. reality itself, since the essence of unmixed In truth, for it must be spoken out, our op- reality is bodied forth in them under more exponents are so widely astray in this matter, pressive symbolsl Whatis this unityof theirs; and can our deeper inspection discern it to be * The history of Mendelsohn is interesting in itself, and indivisible, and existing by necessity, because fiull of encouragenient to all lovers of self-improvement. each work springs, as it were, from the general At thirteen h ie was a wandering Jewish beggar, witbout elements of all Thought, and grows up therehealth, without home, almost without a language, for the from into jargon of broken Hebrew and provincial German which into form and expansion, by its own he spoke could scarcely be called one. At riddle age, growth? Not only who was the poet, and he could write this Pheddos; was a mlan of wealth and how did he compose; but what and how was breeding, and rankred among the teachers of his the poem, ad h a t a poem and nt Like Pope, he abode by his original creed, though oftenhe poem, and 11hy as it a poem and not solicited to cliange it: indeed, the grand problem of his rhymed eloquence, creation and not figured life was to better the inward and outward condition of passion 1 These ar the questions for the his own ill-fated people; for whom he actually accoimplished much benefit. He was a mild, shrewd, and critic. Criticism stands like an interpreter worthy manll; and might well love Phctdon and Socrates, between the inspired and the uninspired; be for his own character was Socratic. He was a friend tseen the psophet and those who hear the of Lessing's: indeed a pupil; for Lessing having accidentally met him at chess, recognised the spirit that lay mnelody of his words, and catch some glimpse struggling under such incumbrances, and generously un- of their material meaning, b)ut understaand not dertook to help him. By teaching the poor Jew a littlheir deepe Greek he disenchanted him from the Talmud and the their deeper import She pretends open for ltabbins. The two were afterwards co-labourers in lUs this deeper import to clear olr se that Nicolai's Deutsche Bibliothek, the first German Review it may d iscern the pure brightness ol' this eter of any character; which, however, ill the bands of Nicolai himself, it subsequently lost. Mendelsoln's nal Bieautr, acnd mrecnise it a-s heaenily, niiier Wojrks have mostly been translated into French. i ail frms where it looks forth, and reject, as 24 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINNGS. of the earth earthy, all forms, be their mate- urged, between the Classicists and the ~Romanl. rial splendour what it may, where no gleaming ticists, in which the Schlegels are assumed, of that other shines through. much too loosely, on all hands, as the patrons This is the task of Criticism, as the Germans and generalissimos of the latter, shows us understand it. And how do they accomplish sufficiently what spirit is at work in that long this task?. By a vague declamation clothed in stagnant literature. Doubtless this turbid gorgeous mystic phraseilogy 1 By vehement fermentation of the elements will at length tumultuous anthems to the poet and his poetry; settle into clearness, both there, and here, as by epithets and laudatory similitudes drawn in Germany it has already in a great measure from Tartarus and Elysium, and allintermedi- done; and perhaps a more serene and genial ate terrors and glories; whereby, in truth, it is poetic day is everywhere to be expected with rendered clear both that the poet is an ex- some confidence. How much the example of tremely great poet, and also that the critic's the Germans may have to teach us in this allotment of understanding, overflowed by these particular, needs no farther exposition. Pythian raptures, has unhappily melted into de- The authors and first promulgators of this liquinum. Nowise in this manner do the Ger- new critical doctrine, were at one time conmans proceed: but by rigorous scientific in- temptuously named the New School; nor was it quiry; by appeal to principles which, whether till after a war of all the few good heads in the correct or not, have been deduced patiently, nation, with all the many bad ones, had ended and by long investigation, from the highest and as such wars must ever do,f that these critical calmest regions of Philosophy. For this finer principles were generally adopted; and their portion of their Criticism is now also embo- assertors found to be no School or new heretidied in systems; and standing, so far as these cal Sect, but the ancient primitive Catholic reach, coherent, distinct, and methodical, no Communion, of which all sects that had any less than, on their much shallower foundation, living light in them were but members and the systems of Boileau and Blair. That this' subordinate modes. It is, indeed, the most new Criticism is a complete, much more a cer- sacred article of this creed to preach and practain science, we are far from meaning to affirm: tise universal tolerance. Every literature of the esthetic theories of Kant, Herder, Schiller, the world has been cultivated by the Germans; Goethe, Richter, vary in external aspect, ac- and to every literature they have studied to give cording to the varied habits of the individual; due honour. Shakspeare and Homer, no doubt, and can at best only be regarded as approxima- occupy alone the loftiest station in the poetical tions to the truth, or modifications of it; each Olympus; but there is space for all true Singcritic representing it as it harmonizes more'or ers, out of every age and clime. Ferdusi and less perfectly with the other intellectual per- the primeval Mythologists of Hindostan, live suasions of his own mind, and of different in brotherly union with the Tr'oubadours and classes of minds that resemble his. Nor can ancient Story-tellers of the West. The way-we here undertake to inquire what degree of ward mystic gloom of Calderon, the lurid fire such approximation to the truth there is in of Dante, the auroral light of Tasso, the clear each or all of these writers; or in Tieck and icy glitter of Racine, all are acknowledged and the two Schlegels, who, especially the latter, reverenced: nay, in the celestial fore-court an have laboured so meritoriously in reconciling abode has been appointed for the Gressets and these various opinions; and so successfully in Delilles, that no spark of inspiration, no tone impressing and diffusing the best spirit of them, of mental music, might remain un recognised. first in- their own country, and now also in The Germans study foreign nations in a spirit several others. Thus much, however, we will which deserves to be oftener imitated. It is say: That we reckon the mere circumstance their honest endeavour to understand each with of such a science being in existence, a ground its own peculiarities, in its own special manof the highest consideration, and worthy the ner of existing; not that they may praise it, or best attention of all inquiring men. For we censure it, or attempt to alter it, but simply should err widely, if we thought that this new that they may see this manner of existing as tendency of critical science pertains to Ger- the nation itself sees it, and so participate in many alone. It is'a European tendency, and whatever worth or beauty it has brought into springs from the general condition of intellect being. Of all literatures, accordingly, the in Europe.. We ourselves have all, fdi the last German has the best as well as the most transthirly years, more or less distinctly felt the ne- lations; men like Goethe, Schiller, W'ieland, cessity of such a science: witness the neglect Schlegel, Tieck, have not disdained this task. into which our Blairs and Bossus have silently Of Shakspeare there are three entire versions fallen; our increased and increasing admira- admitted to be good; and we know not how tion, not only of Shakspeare, but of all his contemporaries, and of all who breathe any por- * It began in Schiller's JIusenalmasnch for 1793. The tion of his spirit; our controversy whether Xenien, (a series of philosophic epigrams jointly by Schiller and Goethe,) descended there unexpectedly, Pope was a poet; and so much vague effort like a flood ofetherealfire,on the German literary world; on the- part of our best critics, eV'erywzhere, to quickening all that was noble into new life, but visiting the ancient, empire of Dulness with astonishnment and express some still unexpressed idea concerning unknown pangs. The agitation was extreme: scarcely the nature of true poetry; as if they felt in since the age of Luther, has there been such stir and their hearts that a pure glory, nay, a d~ivine- strife in the intellect of Germany; indeed, scarcely since that age, has there been a controversy, if we consider its ness, belonged to it, for which they had a-s yet ultimate bearings on the best and nobiest interests of no name, and no intellectual form. But in mankind, so important as this, which for the timne, taly too, in France itself, the same" thing is seemed only to turn on metaphysical subtilties, and sile. Their grand controversy, so hotly matters of mere elgance. Its farthller applications be-,risibIe. Their grand controversy, so hotly came apparent by degrees. STATE OF GERMAN LITERATURE. 25 many partial, or considered as bad. In their owls esteem and that of others, will be readily critidisms of him we ourselves have long ago inferred. The character of a Poet does, acadmitted, that no such clear judgment or hearty cordingly, stand higher with the Germans than appreciation of his merits had ever been exhi- with most nations. That he' is a man of inbited by any critic of our own. tegrity as a man; of zeal and honest diligence To attempt stating iii separate aphorisms in his art, and of true manly feeling towards the doctrines of this new poetical sysiem, all men, is of course presupposed. Of persons would, in such space as is now allowed us, be that are not so, but employ their gifts, in rhyme to ensure them of misapprehension. The or otherwise, for brutish or malignant purscience of Criticism, as the Germans practise poses, it is understood that such lie without the it, is no study of an hour; for it-springs from limits of Criticism, being subjects not for the the depths of thought, and remotely or imme- judge of Art, but for the judge of Police. But diately connects itself with the subtilest prob- even with regard to the fair tradesman, who lems of all philosophy. One characteristic of offers his talent in open market, to do work it we may state; the obvious parent of many of a harmless and acceptable sort for hire,others. Poetic beauty, in its pure essence, is with regard to this person also, their opinion not, by this theory, as by all our theories, from is very low. The " Bread-artist," as they call Hume's to Alison's, derived from any thing him, can gain no reverence for himself from external, or of merely intellectual origin; not these men. " Unhappy mortal!" says the mild but from association, or any reflex or reminiscence lofty-minded Schiller,'" Unhappy mortal! that, of mere sensations; nor from natural love, with Science and Art, the noblest of all instrueither of imitation, of similarity in dissimi- ments, effectest and attemptest nothing more larity, of excitement by contrast, or of seeing than the day-drudge with the meanest; that in difficulties overcome. On the contrary, itf is the domain of perfect freedom, bearest about assumed as. underived; not borrowing its ex- in thee the spirit of a Slave i" Nay, to the istence from such sources, but as lending to genuine Poet, they deny even the privilege of most of these their significance and principal regarding what so many cherish, under the title charm for the mind. It dwells, and is born in of their "fame," as the best and highest of all. the inmost Spirit of Man, united to all love of Hear Schiller again-: Virtue, to all true belief in God; or rather, it "The Artist, it is true, is the son of his age;. is'one with this love and this belief, another but pity for him if he is its pupil, or even its phase of the same highest principle in the favourite! Let some beneficent divinity snatch mysterious infinitude of the human Soul. To him, when a suckling, from the breast of his apprehend this beauty of poetry, in its full and mother, and nurse him with the milk of a better purest brightness, is not easy, but difficult; time, that he may ripen to his full stature bethousands on thousands eagerly read poems, neath a distant Grecian sky. And having and attain not the smallest taste of it; yet to grown to manhood, let him return a foreign all uncorrupted hearts, some effulgences of this shape, into his century; not, however, to deheavenly glory are here and there revealed; light it by his presence, but dreadful, like the and to apprehend it clearly and wholly, to ac- son of Agamemnon, to purify it. The matter of quire'and maintain a sense and heart that his works he will take from the present, but sees and worships it, is the last perfection of their form he will derive from a nobler time; all humane culture. With mere readers for nay, from beyond all time, from the absola.e amusement, therefore, this Criticism has, and unchanging unity of his own nature. Here, can have, nothing to do; these find their from the pure ather of his spiritual essence, amusement, in less or greater measure, and the flows down the Fountain of Beauty, uncontaminature of Poetry remains for ever hidden firom nated by the pollutions of ages and generations, them in the deepest concealment. On' all hands, which roll to and fro in their turbid vortex far there is no truce given to the' hypothesis, that beneath it. His matter, Caprice can dishonour, the ultimate object of the poet is to please. as she has ennobled it; but the chaste form is Sensation, even of the finest and most rap- withdrawn from her mutations. The Roman turous sort, is not the end but the means. Art of the first century had long bent the knee beis to be loved, not because of its effects, but fore his Camsars, when the statues of Rome because of itself; not because it is useful for were still standing erect; the temples conspiritual pleasure, or even for moral culture, tinued holy to the eye, when their gods had but because it is Art, and the highest in man, long been a laughing-stock; and the aborninaand the soul of all Beauty. To inquire after tions of a Nero and a Commodus were silently its atility, would be like Inquiring after the rebuked by the style of the edifice, which lent uzility of a God, or what to the Germans would them its' concealment. Man has lost his sound stranger than it does to us, the utility of dignity, but Art has saved it, and preserved it Virtue and Religion. On these'particulars, the for him in expressive marbles. Truth still authenticity of which we might verify, not so lives in fiction, and from the copy the original much by citation of individual passages, as by will be restored. reference to the scope and spirit of whole trea- "But how is the Artist to guard himself fromn tises. vwe must'for the present leave our read- the corruptions of his time, which w,u* every side ers to their own reflections. Might we advise assail hir? By despising its decisions. Let them, it would be to inquire farther, and, if pos- him look upwards to his dignity and the la-%w, sible, to see the matter with their own eyes. not dowwxvards to his happiness and his wants. Meanwhile, that all this must tend, among Free alke from the vain activity that longs to the Gerumans, to raise the general standard of impress its traces on the fleeting instant, and Art, and of what an Artist ougbht to be in his I from the querulous spirit of enthusiasm that 4 C 26 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. measures by the scale of perfection the meagre a possession recallable at all times in the same product of reality, let him leave to miere Un- shape to his view, and a component part of derstanding, which ishere athome,theprovince his personality: in that case he is a completed of the actual; while he strives,-by uniting the and equipt Literary Man, a man who has possible with the necessary, to produce the studied. Or else, he is still struggling and ideal. This let him imprint and express in striving to make the Idea in general, or that fiction and truth; imprint it in the sport of his particular portion and point of it, from which imagination and the earnest of his actions; onwards he for his part mea~ns to penetrate the imprint it in all sensible and spiritual forms, iwhole,-entirely clear to himself; detached and cast it silently into everlasting time;."' sparkles of light already spring forth onil him Still higher are Fichte's notions on this,ub- from all sides, and disclose a higher world beject; or rather expressed in higher terms, for fore him; but they do not yet unite themselves the central principle is the same both in the into an indivisible whole; they vanish from his philosopher and the poet. According to Fichte, view as capriciously as they came; he cannot there is a " Divine Idea" pervading the visible yet bring them under obedience to his freedom; Universe; which visible Universe is indeed in that case he is a progressing and self-unfoldbut its symbol and sensible manifestation, hav- ing literary mlan, a Student. That it be acing in itself no meaning, or even true existence tually the Idea, which is possessed or striven independent of it. To the mass of men this after, is common to both. Should the striving Divine Idea of the world lies hidden: yet to aim merely at the outward form, and. the letter discern it, to seize it, and live wholly in it, is of learned culture, there is then produced, the co'ndition of all genuine virtue, knowledge, when the circle is gone round, the completed, freedom; and the end, therefore, of all spiritual when it is not go..e round, the progressing, ecTort in every age. Literary Men are the ap- Bungler (Stibi7per). The latter is more tolerapointed interpreters of this Divine Idea; a ble than the former; for there is still room to perpetual priesthood, we mKight say, standing hope that, in continuing his travel, he may at forth, generation after generation, as the dis- some future point be seized by the Idea; but pensers and living types of God's everlasling of the first all hope is over."* wisdom, to show it and imbody it in their From this bold and lofty principle the duties wvritinlgs and actions, in such particular form of the Literary man are deduced with scientific as their own particular times require it in. For precision; and stated, in all their sacredness each age, by the law of its nature, is different and grandeur, with an austere brevity more from every other age, and demands a different impressive than any rhetoric. Fichte's metarepresentation of this Divine Idea, thep essence physical theory may be called in question, and of which. is the same in all; so that the lite- readily enough misapprehended; but the subrary man of one century is only by mediation lime stoicism of his sentiments will find some and re-:interpretation applicable to the wants response in many a heart. We must add the of another. But in every century, every man conclusion of his first Discourse, as a farther wTho labours, be it in what province he may, illustration of his manner: to teach others, must first have possessed him- "II disquisitions of the sort like ours of toself of this Divine Idea, or, at least, be with day, which all the rest, too, must resemble, the his whole heart and his whole soul striving generality are wont to censure: First, their seafter it. Ift without possessing it or striving verity; very often on the good-natured suppoafter it, he abide di!igently by somne material sition that the speaker is not aware how much practical department of knowledge, he may his rigour must displease us; that we have but indeed stil be (says Fichte, ip his usual rugged frankly to let him know this, and then doubtless way,) a " useful hodman;" but should he at- he will reconsider himself, and soften his statetempt to deal avith the Whole, and. to become mnents. Thus, we said above, that a man who, an archileet, he is, in strictness of language, after literary culture, had not arrived at knovIw"Nothlin;" —," he is an amobiguous mongrel ledge of the Divine Idea, or did not strive tobetiween the possessor of the Idea, and the man wards it, was in strict speech Nothing; and -farho feels himself solidly supported and car- ther down, we saidthathe was aBungler. This reed on by the common Reality of. things; in is in a style of those unmerciful expressions his fruitless endeavour after the Idea, he has by which philosophers give such offence.neglected to acquire the craft of takinig part in Now looking away from the present case, that this Recalty; and so hovers between tiwo we n-lay front the maxim in its general shape, worlds, wilhout pertaining to either." Else- I remind you that this species of character, where he adds: without decisive force to renounce all respect "'lhe-le is still, from another point of view, for Truth, seeks merely to bargain and cheapanother division in our notion of the Literary en something out of her, whereby itself on Man, and one to -us of immediate application. easier terms may attain to some consideration. Namely, either the Literary Man has already But truth, which once for all is as she is, and laid hold iof the whole Divine Idea, in so far cannot alter aught of her nature, goes on her as it can be comiprehended by man, or perhaps way; and there remains for her, in regard to of a special portion of this its comprehensible those who desire her not simply because she part, —which truly is not possible without at is true, nothing else but to leave them standleast a clear oversight of the whole,-he has ing as if they had never addressed her. alreadl lavt hold of it, penetrated, and made it "Then farther, discourses of this sort are wont entirely clear to himself, so that it has become _* Ueber die-s Wlesen des Geleheten; (On the Nature of * Uebter die peesthetische E'rziehlaot des.lMeschen. (On the Literary Mlan;) a Course of Lectures delivered at th1e 1T:,.tic, Education of ilan.) Jena, in 1805. STATE OF GERMAN LITERATURE. 27 to be censured as unintelligible. Thus I figure from'watered hollows and river valleys mounts to myself,-nowise you, Gentlemen, but some up grayer and mistier, and indicates their windcompleted Literary Man of the second species, ings. No less is the master's art to be praised who.se eye the disquisition here entered upon in views from valleys lying nearer the high chanced to meet, as coming forward, doubting Alpine ranges, where declivities slope down, this way and that, and at last reflectively ex- luxuriantly overgrown, and fresh streams roll claiming:'The Idea, the Divine Idea, that hastily along by the foot of rocks. which lies at the bottom of Appearance: what "With exquisite skill, in the deep shady trees pray may this mean V' Of such a questioner I of the foreground, he gives the distinctive chawould inquire in turn:' What pray may this racter of the several species, satisfying us in question mean?'-Investigate it strictly, it the form of the whole, as in the structure of means in most cases nothing more than this, the branches, and the details of the leaves; no' Under what other names and in what other less so in the fresh green with its manifold formulas, do I already know this same thing, shadings, where soft airs appear as if fanning awhich thou expressest by so strange and to me us with benignant breath, and the lights as if so unknown a symbol' And to this again in thereby put in motion. most cases the only suitable reply were,' Thou " In tile middle-ground, his lively green tone knowest this thing not at all, neither under this, grows fainter by degrees; and at last, on the nor under any other name; and wouldst thou more distant mountain-tops, passing into weak arrive at the knowledge of it, thou must even violet, weds itself with the blue of the sky. But now begin at the beginning to make study our artist is above all happy in his paintings thereof; and then, most fitly, under that name of high Alpine regions; in seizing the simple by which it is first presented to thee!'" greatness and stillness of their character; the'With such a notion of the Artist, it were a wide pastures on the slopes, where dark solistrange inconsistency did Criticism show it- tary firs stand forth from the grassy carpet; self unscientific orlax in estimating the products and f-rom high cliffs, foamin g brooks rush down. of his Art. For light on this point, we might Whether he relieves his pasturages with grazrefer to the writings of almost any individual ing cattle, or the narrow winding rocky path among the German critics: take, for instance, with mules and laden pack-horses, he paints all the Charatlcristiken of the two Schlegels, a work with equal truth and richness; still, introduced too of their younger years; and say whether in in the proper place, and not in too great codepth, clearness, minute and patient fidelity, piousness, they decorate and enliven these these Characters have often been surpassed, or scenes, without interrupting, without lessening the import and poetic worth of so many poets their peaceful solitude. The execution testifies and poems more vividly and accurately brought a master's hand; easy, with a few sure strokes, to view. As an instance of a much higher and yet complete. In his later pieces, he eilmkind, we might refer to Goethe's criticism of ployed glittering English permanent-colours Raeinlet in his Wilhelm Afeiser. This truly is on paper: these pictures, accoxdingly, are of what may be called the poetry of criticism; preeminently blooming tone; cheerful, yet, at for it is in some sort also a creative art; aim- the same time, strong and sated. ing, at least, to reproduce under a different "His views of deep mountain chasms, where, shape the existing product of the poet; paint- round and round, nothing fronts us but dead ing to the intellect what already lay painted to rock, where, in the abyss, overspanned by its the heart and the imagination. Nor is it over bold arch, the wild stream rages, are, indeed, poetry alone that criticism.watches with such of less attraction than the former: yet their loving strictness: the mimic, the pictorial, the truth excites us; we admire the great effect of musical arts, all modes of representing or ad- the whole, produced at so little cost, by a few dressing the highest nature of man, are ac- expressive strokes, and masses of local colours. knowledged as younger sisters of Poetry, and " With no less accuracy of character can he fostered with the like care. Winkelmann's represent the regions of the topmost Alpine IHistory of Plastic Ar't is known by repute to all ranges, where neither tree nor shrub any more readers: and of those who know it by inspec- appears; but only amid the rocky teeth and tion, many may have wondered why such a snow summits, a few sunny spots clothe themwork has not been added to our own literature, selves with a soft sward. Beautiful, and balnmy to instruct our own statuaries and painters. and inviting as he colours these spots, he has On this subject of the plastic arts, we cannot here wisely forborne to introduce grazing withhold the following little sketch of Goethe's, herds; for these regions give food only to the as a specimen of pictorial criticism in what we chamois, and a perilous employment to the consider a superior style. Itis of an imaginary wild-hay-men."* landscape-painter, and his views of Swiss We have extracted this passage from In flscenery; it will bear to be studied minutely, hem Hcister's Teandejyahre, Goethe's last Novel. for there is no word without its meaning: The perusal of his whole Works would show, "He succeeds in representing the cheerful among many other more important facts, that repose of lake' prospects, where houses in Criticism also is a science of which he is rnasfriendly approximation, imaging themselves ter; that if ever any man had studied Art in all in the clear wave, seem as if bathing in its its branches and bearings, from its origin in depths; shores encircled with green hills; behind which rise forest mountains, and icy peaks * The poor wild-hay-man of the Rigibier, of glaciers. The tone of colouring in such Whose trade is, on the brow of the abyss, scenes is gay, mirthfully clear; the distances TO wOwc the common grass from nooks and shelves, To which the cattle dare not clhlnb. ifas overflowed with softening vapour, which SctILhe;t's daeil tett 7't~f. as c a t SCuI/YIct 7'. b 28 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. thle depths of the creative spirit, to its minutest characters as men, something of that sterling finish on the canvas of the painter, on the lips nobleness, that union of majesty with meekof the poet, or under the finger of the musician, ness, which we must ever venerate in those our he was thlat man. A nation which appreciates spiritual fathers? And do their works, in the such studies, nay, requires and rewards them, new form of this century, show forth that old cannot, wherever its defects may lie, be defec- nobleness, not consistent only, with the science, tive in judgment of the arts. the precision, the skepticism of these days, but But a weightier question still remains. wedded to them, incorporated with them, and What has been the fruit of this its high and shining through them like their life and soul? just judgment on these matters? What'has Might it in truth almost seem to us, in reading criticism profited it, to the bringing forth of the prose of Goethe, as if we were reading that good Works? How do its poems and its poets of Milton; and of Milton writing with the culcorrespond with so lofty a standard? We an- ture of this time; combining French clearness swer, that on this point also, Germany may with old English depth? And of his poetry rather court investigation than fear it. There may it indeed be said that it is poetry, and yet are poets in that country who belong to a no- the poetry of our own generation.; an ideal bler class than most nations have to show in world, and yet the world we even now live in? these days; a class entirely unknown to some -These questions we must leave candid and nations; and, for the last two centuries, rare studious inquirers to answer for themselves; in all. We have no hesitation in stating, that premising only, that the secret is not to be we see in certain of the best German poets, found on the surface; that the first reply is and those too of our own time, something likely to be in the negative, but with inquirers which associates them, remotely or nearly we of this sort, by no means likely to be the say not, but which does associate them with final one. the Masters of Art, the Saints of Poetry, long To ourselves, we confess, it has long so apsince departed, and, as we thought, without peared. The poetry of Goethe, for instance, successors, from the earth; but canonized in we reckon to be Poetry, sometimes in the-very the hearts of all generations, and yet living to highest sense of that-word; yet it is no remiall by the memory of what they did and were. niscence, but something actually present and Glances we do seem to find of that ethereal before us; no looking back into an antique glory, which looks on us in its full brightness Fairy-land, divided by impassable abysses from from the Tran,efiguraiioen of Rafaelle, from the the real world as it lies about us and within us; Tenpest of Shakspeare; and in broken, but but a looking round upon that real world itself, purest and still heart-piercing beams, strug- now rendered holier to our eyes, and once gling through the gloom of long ages, from the more become a solemn temple, where the tragedies of Sophocles and the weather-worn spirit of Beauty still dwells, and, under new sculptures of the Parthenon. This is that emblems, to be worshipped as of old. With heavenly spirit,wsvhich, best seen in the aerial Goethe, the mythologies of bygone days pass embodiment of poetry, but spreading likewise only for what they are; we have no witchcraft over all the thoughts and actions of an age, has or magic in the common acceptation; and given us Surreys, Sydneys, Raleighs in court spirits no longer bring with them airs from and camp, Cecils in policy, Hookers in divinity, heaven or blasts from hell; for Pandemonium Bacons in philosophy, and Shakspeares and and the steadfast Empyrean have faded away, Spensers in song. All hearts that know this, since the opinions which they symbolized no know it to be the highest; and that, in poetry longer are. Neither does he bring his heroes or elsewhere, it alone is true and imperishable. from remote Oriental climates, or periods of In affirming that any vestige, however feeble, Chivalry, or any section either of Atlantis or of this divine spirit, is discernible in German the Age of Gold? feeling that thie reflex of poetry, we are aware that we place it above these things is cold and faint, and only hangs thle existing poetry of any other nation. like a cloud-picture in the distance, beautiful To prove this bold assertion, logical argu- but delusive, and which even the simplest nents were at all times unavailing; and, in know to be delusion. The end of Poetry is the present circumstances of the case, more higher; she must dwell in Reality, and become than usually so. Neither will any extract or manifest to men in the forms among which specimen help us; for it is not in parts, but in they live and move. And this is what we prize whole poems, that the spirit of a true poet is in Goethe, and more or less in Schiller and to be seen. We can, therefore, only name the rest; all of whom, each in his own way, such men as Tieck, Richter, Herder, Schiller, are writers of a similar aim. The coldest and, above all, Goethe; and ask any reader skeptic, the most callous worldling, sees not who has learned to admire wisely. our own the actual aspects of life more sharply than literature of Queen Elizabeth's age, to peruse they are here delineated: the nineteenth centhese writers also; to study them till he feels tury stands before us, in all its contradiction that he has understood them, and justly esti- and perplexity; barren, mean, and baleful, as mated both their light and darkness; and then we have all known it; yet here no longer mean to pronounce whether itis not, in some degree, or barren, but enamelled into beauty in the as we have said. Are there not tones here of poet's spirit; for its secret significance is laid that old melody? Are there not glimpses of opeir, and thus, as it were, the life-giving fire thatserene soul, thatcalmharmonious strength,. that slumbers in it is called forth, and flowers -hat smiling earnestness, that Love and Faith and foliage, as of old, are springing on its and Humanity of nature. Do these foreign bleakest wildernesses, and overmantling its contemporaries of ours still exhibit, in their sternest cliffs. For these men have not only STATE OF GER2T'AN LITERATURE. 29 the clear eye, but the loving heart. They have with what might be called the Scotch: Cra penetrated into the mystery of Nature; after rner was not unlike our Blair; Von Cronegk long trial they have been initiated: and, to might be compared with Michael Bruce; and unwearied endeavour, Art has at last yielded Rabener and Gellert with Beattie and Logan. her secret; and thus can the Spirit of our Age, To this. mild and cultivated period, there suce imbodied in fair irmginations, look forth on ceeded, as with us, a partial abandonment of us, earnest and -full of meaning, from their poetry, in favour of political and philosophical works. As the first and indispensable condi- Illumination. Then was the time, when hot tion of good poets, they are wise and good men: war was declared against Prejudice of all much they have seen and suffered, and they sorts; Utility was set up for the universal have conquered all this, and made it all their measure of mental as well as material value; own; they have known life in its heights and poetry, except of an economical and precepdepths, and mastered it in both, and can teach torial character, was found to be the product others what it is, and how to lead it rightly. of a rude age; and religious enthusiasm was Their minds are as a mirror to us, where the but derangement in the biliary organs. Then perplexed image of our own being is reflected did the Prices and Condorcets of Germany back in soft and clear interpretation. Here indulge in day-dreams of perfectibility; a new mirth and gravity are blended together; wit social order was to bring back the Saturnian.rests. on deep devout wisdom, as the green- era to the world; and philosophers sat on;sward with its flowers must rest on the rock, their sunny Pisgah, looking back over dark — whose foundations reach downward to the savage deserts, and forward into a land flowcentre. In a word, they are believers; but ing with milk and honey. their faith is no sallow plant of darkness; it is This period also passed away, with its good green and flowery, for it grows in the sunlight. and its evil; of which chiefly the latter seems -And this faith is the doctrine they have to to be remembered; for we scarcely ever find teach us, the sense which, under- every noble the affair alluded to, except in terms of conand graceful form, it is their endeavour- to set tempt, by the title.2/ltftleirerey (Illuminationforth: ism); and its partisans, in subsequent saAs all nature's thoousand changes tirical controversies, received the nickname But one changeless God proclaim, of Philistern (Philistines), which the few scatSo in Art's wide kingdoms ranges tere (Phlmsties), which the few scatOne so!a meaning, still the same; tered remnants of them still bear, both in writThis is Truth, eternal Reason, ing and speech. Poetry arose again, and in a Which from Beauty takes its dress, ne an i And, serene through timne and season, ne and singular shape. The Soros of - Stands for aye in loveliness. ter, Goetz von Berlichingen, and The Robbers, may Such indeed is the end of Poetry at all times; stand as patriarchs and representatives of yet in no recent literature known to us, except three separate classes, Which, commingled in the German, has it been so far attained; nay, various proportions, or separately coexisting, perhaps, so much as consciously and stead- now with the preponderance of this, now of fastly attempted. that, occupied the whole popular literature of The reander feels that if this our opinion be Germany, till near the end of the last century. in any measure true, it is a truth of no ordinary These were the Sentimentalists, the Chivalrymoment. It concerns not this writer or that; play-writers, and other gorgeous and outragebut it opens to us new views on the fortune ous persons; as a whole, now pleasantly deof spiritual culture with ourselves and all na- nominated the Kraftmfdizncr, literally, Powerftions. Have we not heard gifted men com- men. They dealt in skeptical lamentation, plaining that Poetry had passed away without mysterious enthusiasm, frenzy and suicide: return; that creative imagination consorted they recurred with fondness to the Feudal not with vigour of intellect, and that in the Ages, delineating many a battlemented keep, -cold light of science there was no longer room and swart buff-belted man-at-arms; for in refor faith in things unseen? The old simplicity flection as in action, they studied to be strong, of heart was gone; earnest emotions must no vehement, rapidly effective;. of battle-tumult, -longuer be expressed in earnest symbols;'beauty love-madness, heroism, and despair, there was must recede into elegance, devoutness of cha- no end. This literary period is called the raeter be replaced by clearness of thought, and Sturm-und-Dranl-Zeit, the Storm-and-Stress Pe-:grave wisdom by shrewdness and persiflage. riod; for great indeed was the wo and fury Such things we have heard, but hesitated to of these Power-men. Beauty, to their- mind,:believe them. If the' poetry of the Germans, seemed synonymous with Strength. All pasand this not by theory but by example, have sion was poetical, so it were but fierce enough. proved, or even begun to prove, the contrary, Their head moral virtue was Pride: their bceau it will deserve far higher encomiums than any ideal of manhood was some transcript of Milwe have passed upon A. ton's Devil. Often they inverted Bolingbroke's In fact, the past and present aspect of Ger- plan, and instead of "patronizing Providence," man literature illustrates the literature of Eng- did directly the opposite; raging with extreme land in more than one way. Its history keeps animation against Fate in general, because it pace with that of ours; for so closely are all enthralled free virtue; and with clenched European communities' connected, that the hands, or sounding shields, hurling defiance phases of mind in any one country, so far as towards the vault of heaven. these represent its general circumstances and These Power-men are gone too; and, with -intellectual position, are but modified repeti- few exceptions, save the three originals above tions of its phases in every other. We hinted named, their worlrs have already followed above, that the Saxon School corresponded them. The application of all this to our own c 2 30 CARLYLE'S.MISCELLANEOUS ~WRITINGS. literature is too obvious to require much ex- or within it. If any man shall here turn upon position. Have we not also had our Power- us, and assert that there are no such invisible men? And will not, as in Germany, to us objects; that whatever cannot be so pictured likewise a milder, a clearer, and a truer time or imagined (meaning imaged) is nothing, and come round? Our Byron was, in hiq youth, the science that relates to it nothing; we shall but what Schiller and Goethe had been in regret the circumstance, We shall request theirs: yet the author of Werter wrote Iphi- him, however, to consider seriously and deeply genie and Torqluato Tasso; and he who began within himself what he means simply,by these with The Robbers ended with TWilhelm Tell. With two words, GOD and his own SowJ; and longer life, all things were to have been hoped whether he finds that visible shape and true for from ByroDn: for he loved truth in his in- existence are here also one and the same? most heart, an.d would have discovered at last If he still persist in denial, we have nothing that his Corsairs and Harolds were not true. for it, but to wish him good speed on his own It was otherwise appointed: but with one man separate path of inquiry; and he and we will all hope does not die. If this way is the right agree to differ on this subject of mysticism, one, we too shall find it.: The poetry of Ger- as on so many more Important ones. many, meanwhile, we cannot but regard as Now, whoever has a material and visible well deserving to be studied, in this as in other object to treat, be it of natural Science, Politipoints of view: it is distinctly an advance cal Philosophy, or any such externally and beyond any other known to us; whether on sensibly existing department, mayrepresent it the right path or' not, may be still uncertain; to his own mind, and convey it to the minds but a path selected by Schillers and Goethes, of others, as it were, by a direct diagram, more and vindicated by Schlegels and Tiecks, is complex indeed than a geometrical diagram, surely worth serious examination. For the but still with the same sort of precision; and rest, need we add that it is study for, self-in- provided his diagram be comnlete, and the siomne struction, nowise for purposes of imitation, both to himself and his reader, he may reason that we recommend? Among the deadliest of it, and discuss it, with the clearness, and, in of poetical sins is imitation; for if every man some sort, the certainty of geometry itself. If must have his own way of expressing it, much he do not so reason of it, this must be for want more every nation. But of danger on that of comprehension to image out the swihole of it, side, in the country of Shakspeare and Milton, or of distinctness to convey the sanme whole to there seems little to be feared. his reader: the diagrams of the two are differWe come now to the second grand objection ent; the conclusions of the one diverge from against German literature, its mnysticismn. In those of the other, and the obscurity here, protreating of a subject itself so vague and dim, vided the reader be a mtan of sound judgonent it were well if we tried, in the first place, to and due attentiveness, results fromn incapacity,settle, with -more accuracy, what each of the on the part of the writer. In such a case, the two contending parties really means to say or latter is justly regarded as a man of imperfect to contradict regarding it. Mysticism is a intellect; he grasps more than he canl carry; -word in the mouths of all: yet, of the hun- he confuses what, with,ordinary faculty, might dred, perhaps not one has ever asked himself be rendered clear; he is not a mystic, but, what what this opprobrious epithet properly signi- is much worse, a dunce. - Another matter it is, fled in his mind; or where the boundary be- however, when the object to be treated of between true Science and this Land of Chimeras longs to the invisible and immaterial class;. was to be laid down. Examined strictly, m.rys- cannot be pictured out even by the writer himnticactl, in most cases, will turn out to be merely self, much less, in ordinary symbols, set before synonymous with aot undlerstood. Yet surely the reader. In this case, it is evident, the diffithere may be haste and oversight here; for it culties of comprehension are increased an is well known, thlat, to the understanding of hundred-fold. Here it will require long, paany thing, two conditions are equally required; tient, and skilful effort, both from the writer intelligibility in the thing itself being no whit and the reader, before the two can so much as more indispensable than inlelligence in the speak together; before the former can,make examiner of it. "I am bound to find you in known to the latter, not how the matter stands, reasons, Sir," said Johnson, "l but not in but even what the mbatter is, which they have to brains;" a speech of the most shocking un- investigate in concert. He must devise new politeness, yet truly enough expressing the means of explanation, describe conditions of state of the case. mind in which this invisible idea arises, ihe It may throw some light on this question, false persuasions that eclipse it, the false shows if we remind our readers of the following fact. that may be mistaken for it, the glimpses of it In the field of human investigation, there that appear elsewhere; in short, strive by a are objects of two sorts: First, the visible, in- thousand well-devised& methods, to guide his cluding not only such as are material, and readerup to the perception of it; in all which, may be seen by the bodily eye; but all such, moreover, the reader must faithfully and toillilkewise, as may be represented in a shape, somely co-operate with him, if any fruit is to before the mind's eye, or in any way pictured come of their mutual endeavour. Should the there: And, secondly, the invisible, or such as latter take up his ground too early, and affirm are not only unseen by human eyes, but as to himself that now he has seized what he still cannot be seen by any eye; not objects of has not seized; that this and nothing else is sense at all; not capable, in short, of being the thing aimed at by his teacher, the consepJictured or imaged in the mind, or in any way quences are plain enough: disunion, darkness, represented by a shape either without the mind and contradiction between the. two; the writer STATE OF GERMAN LITERATURE. 31 has written for another man, and this reader, thinkers, does a frantic exaggeration in senfi after long provocation, quarrels with him ment, a crude fever-drealn in opinion, any fihally, and quits him as a mystic. where break forth, it is directly labelled as Nevertheless, after all these limitations, we Kantism; and the moon-struck speculator is, shall not hesitate to admit, that there is in the for the time, silenced and put to shame by this German mind a tendency to mysticism, pro- epithet. For often, in such circles, Kant's perly so called; as perhaps there is, unless Philosophy is not only an absurdity, but, a carefully guarded against, in all minds tem- wickedness and a horror; the pious and peacepered like theirs. It is a fault; but one hardly ful sage of Kdnigsberg passes for a sort of Reparable from the excellencies we admire Necromancer and Blackartist in Metaphysics; most in them. A simple, tender, and devout his doctrine is a region of boundless baleful nature, seized by some touch of divine Truth, gloom, too cunningly broken here' and there by and of this perhaps under some rude enough splendours of unholy fire; spectres and temptsymbol, is wrapt with it into a whirlwind of ing demons people it; and, hovering over unutterable thoughts; wild gleams of splendour fathomless abysses, hang gay and gorgeous dart to and fro in the eye of the seer, but the air-castles, into which the hapless traveller is'vision will not abide with him, and yet he feels seduced to enter, and so sinks to rise no more. that its light is light from heaven, and precious If any thing in the history of Philosophy to him beyond all price. A simple nature, a could surprise us, it might well be this. PerGeorge Fox, or a Jacob Boehme, ignorant of haps among all the metaphysical writers of all the ways of men, of the dialect in which the eighteenth century, including Hume and they speak, or the forms by which they think, Hartley themselves, there is not one that so is labouring with- a poetic, a religious idea, ill meets the conditions of a mystic as this which, like all such ideas, must express itself same Immanuel Kant. A quit, vigilant, clearby -word and act, or consume the heart it dwells sighted man, who had become distinguished to in. Yet how shall he speak, how shall he pour. the world in mathematics before he attempted forth infto other souls, that of which his own philosophy; who, in his writings generally, on soul is full even to bursting. He cannot this and other subjects, is perhaps characterspeak to us; he knows not our state, and can- ized by no quality so much as precisely by the not make known to us his own. His words distinctness of his conceptions, and the seare an inexplicable, rhapsody, a speech in an quence and iron strictness with whichl he unknown.tongue. Whether there is meaning reasons. To our own minds, in the little thflt A7we in it to the speaker himself, and how much or know of him, he has more than once recalled how true, we shall never ascertain; for it is Father Boscovich in Natural Philosoph y; so not in the language of men, but of one man piercing;yet so sure; so concise, so still, so who had not learned the language of men; and, simple; with such clearness and composure with himself, thekeyto its fullinterpretation was does he mould the complicacy of his subject lost from amongst us. These are mystics; men'and so firm, sharp, and definite are the results who either know not clearly their own mean- he evolves from it. Right or wrong as his ing, or at least cannot put it forth in formulas hypothesis may be, no one that knows him will of thought, whereby others, with whatever diffi- suspect that he himself had not seen it, and culty, may apprehend it. Was their meaning seen over it; had not meditated it with calmclear to themselves, gleams of it will yet ness and deep thought, and studied throughout shine through, how ignorantly and unconsci- to expound it with scientific rigor. Neither, as ously soever it may have been delivered; was we often hear, is there any superhuman faculty it still wavering and obscure, no science could required to follow him. We venture to assure have delivered it wisely. In either case, much such of our readers as are in any measure more in the last, they merit and obtain the used to metaphysical study, that the K'riiik der name of mystics. To scoffers they are a ready reinend Ve nunsft is by no means the hardest task and cheap prey; but sober persons understand they have tried. It is true, there is an unknown that pure evil is as unknown in this lower and forbiddingterminology to be mastered; but Universe as pure good; and that even in mys- is not this the case also with Chemistry, and tics, of an honest and deep-feeling heart, there Astronomy, and all other sciences that deserve may be much to reverence, and of the rest the name of science It is true, a careless or more to pity than to mock. unprepared reader will find Kant's writing a But it is not to apologize for Boehme, or riddle; but will a reader of this sort make Novalis, or the school of Theosophus and much of Newton's Principia, or D'Alembert's Flood, that we have here undertaken. Neither Calculus qf VFtriaiions? HIe will make nothing is it on such persons that the charge of mays- of them; perhaps less than nothing; for if he ticism brought against the Germans mainly trust to his own judgment, he will pronounce rests. Boehme is little known among us; them madness. Yet if the Philosophy of Mind Novalis, much as he deserves knowing, not at is any philosophy at all, Physics and Matheall; nor is it understood, that, in their own matics must be plain subjects compared with country, these men rank higher than they do, it. But these latter are happy, not only in the or might do, with ourselves. The chief mys- fixedness and simplicity of their methods, but ties in Germany; it would appear, are the also in the universal acknowledgment of their Transcendental Philosophers, Kant, Fichte, - and Schelling! With these is the chosen seat * We haive heard that thie Latin Translation of his of mysticism, these are its " tenebrific constel- works is unintelligible, the Translator himnself not havlationv"e firomn which it " doth ray out darkness" ing understood it; also that Villers is no safe giide in the estudy of haeinl. Neither Villers nor those Latin worli4 over the earth. Among a certain class of are known:to us. 32' oCARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. claim to that prior and continual intensity of men: fit to have been the teacher of the Stoa, application, without which all progress in any and to have discoursed of Beauty and Virtue science is impossible; though more than one in the groves of Academe! Our reader has may be attempted without it; and blamed, be- seen some words of Fichte's: are these like cause without it they will yield no result. words of a mystic? We state Fichte's chaThe truth is, German Philosophy differs not racter, as it is known and admitted by men of more widely from ours in the substance of its all parties among the Germans, when we say doctrines, than in its manner of communicat- that so robust an intellect, a soul so calm, so ing them. The class of disquisitions, named lofty, massive, and immovable, has not mingled Ka-nin-Philosophie (Parlor-fire Philosophy) in in philosophical discussion since the time of Germany, is there held in little estimation. No Luther. We figure his motionless look, had right treatise on any thing, it is believed, least he heard this charge of mysticism! For the of all on the nature of the human mind, can man rises before us, amid contradiction and be profitably read, unless the reader himself debate, like a granite mountain amid clouds co-operates: the blessing of half-sleep in such and wind.'Ridicule, of the best that could be cases is denied him; he must be alert, and commanded, has been already tried against strain every faculty, or it profits nothing. him; but it could not avail. Whatwas the Philosophy, with these men, pretends to be a witof a thousand wits to him? The cry of a Science, nay, the living principle and soul of thousand choughs assaulting that old cliff of all Sciences, and must be treated and studied granite: seen from the summit, these, as they scientifically, or not studied and treated at all. winged the midway air, showed scarce so Its doctrines should be present with.every cul- gross as beetles, and their cry was seldom tivated writer; its spirit should pervade every even audible. Fichte's -opinions may be true piece of composition, how slight or'popular or false; but his character, as a thinker, can soever; but to treat itself popularly would be be slightly valued only by such as know it ill; a degradation and an impossibility. Philoso- and as a man, approved by action and sufferphy dwells aloft in the Temple of Science, the ing, in his life and in his death, he ranks with divinity of its inmost shrine: her dictates des- a class of men who were common only in cend among men, but she herself descends not; better ages than ours. whoso would behold her, must climb with long The Critical Philosophy has been regarded and laborious effort; nay, still linger in the by persons of approved judgment, and nowise forecourt, till manifold trial have proved him directly implicated in the furthering of it, as worthy of. admission into the interior solem- distinctly the greatest intellectual achievement nities. of the century in which it came to light. AuIt is the false notion prevalent respecting the gust Wilhelm Schlegel has stated in plain terms objects aimed at, and the purposed manner of his belief, that, in respect of its probable inattaining them, in German Philosophy, that fluence on the moral culture of Europe,it stands causes, in great part, this disappointment of on a line with the Reformation. We mention our attempts to study it, and the evil report Schlegel as a man whose opinion has a known which the disappointed naturally enough bring value among ourselves. But the worth of back with them.. Let the reader believe us, Kant's philosophy is not to be gathered from the Critical Philosophers, whatever they may votes alone. The noble system of morality, be, are no mystics, and have no fellowship the purer theology, the lofty views of man's nawith mystics. What a mystic is, we have said ture derived from it; nay, perhaps, the very above. But Kant, Fichte, and Schelling, are discussion of such matters, to which it gave so men of cool judgment, and determinate ener- strong an impetus, have told with remarkable getic character; men of science and profound and beneficial influence on the whole spiritual and universal investigation; nowhere does the character of Germany. No writer of any imworld, in all its bearings, spiritual or material, portance in that country, be he acquainted or theoretic or practical, lie pictured in clearer or not with the Critical Philosophy, but breathes truer c-olours, than in such heads as these. a spirit of devoutness and elevation more or less We have heard Kant estimated as a spiritual directly drawn from it. Such men as Goethe brother of Boehme; as justly might we take and Schiller cannot exist without effect in any Sir Isaac Newton for a spiritual brother of literature or in any century: but if one circumCount Swedenborg, and Laplace's Mechaelnism stance more than another has contributed to of the ileavens for a peristyle to the Vision of the forward their endeavours, and introduce that 1v J'erusalemn. That this is no extravagant higher tone into the literature of Germany, it comparison, we appeal to any man acquainted *has been this philosopical system; to which, with any single volume of Kant's writings. in wisely believing its results, or even in wisely Neither, though Schelling's system/differs still denying them, all that was lofty and pure in more widely from ours, can we reckon Schell- the genius of poetry, or the reason of man, so ing a mystic. He is a man evidently of deep readily allied itself. insight into individual things; speaks wisely, That such a system must in the end become and reasons with the nicest accuracy, on all known among ourselves, as it is already bematters where we understand his data. Fairer coming known in France and Italy, and over might if be in us to say that we had not yet all Europe, no one acquainted in any measure appreciated his truth, and therefore could not with the character of this matter, and the chaappreciate his error. But above all, the mysti- racter of England, will hesitate to predict. cism of Fichte might astonish us. The cold, Doubtless it will be studied here, and by heads colossal, adamantine spirit, standing erect and adequate to do it justice:it will be investigated,'ear, like a Cato Major among- degenerate duly and thoroughly, and settled in our minds STATE OF GERMAN LITERATURE. 33 on the footing which belongs to it, and where or that any Philosophy whatever can be built thenceforth it must continue. Respecting the on such a basis; nay, they go the length degrees of trqth and error which will then be -of asserting, that such an appeal even to the found to exist in Kant's system, or in the mo- universal persuasions of mankind, gather them difications it has since received, and is still re- with what precautions you may, amounts to a ceiving, we desire to be understood as making total abdication of Philosophy, strictly so called, no estimate, and little qualified to make any. and renders not only its further progress, but'We would have it studied and known, on ge- its very existence, impossible. What, they neral grounds; because even the errors of such would say, have the persuasions, ior instincmen are instructive; and because, without a tive beliefs, or whatever they are called, of men, large admixture of truth, no error carn exist un- to do in this matter? Is it not the object of der such combifations, and become diffused so Philosophy to enlighten, and rectify, and many widely. To judge -of it we pretend not: weare times directly contradict these very beliefs. still inquirers in the mere outskirts of the mat- Take, for instance, the voice of all generations ter; and it is but inquiry that we wish to see of men on the subject of Astronomy. Will promoted. there, out of any age or climate, be one dissenMeanwhile, as an advance or first step to- tient against thefact of the Sun's going round wards this, we may state something of what the Earth? Can any evidence be clearer, is has most struck'ourselves as characterizing there any persuasion more universal, any beKant's system; as distinguishing it froin every lief more instinctive? And yet the sun moves other known to us; and chiefly from the Me- no hairsbreadth; but stands in the centre of his taphysical philosophy which is taught in Bri- Planets, let us vote as we please. So is it liketain, or rather which was taught,; for, on look- wise with our evidence for an external indeing round, we see not that there is any such pendent existence of Matter, and, in general, Philosophy in existence at the present day.* with our whole argument against Hume; The Kantist, in direct contradiction to. Locke whose reasonings, from the premises admitted and all his followers, both of the French, and both by him and us, the Germans affirm to be English or Scotch school, commences from rigorously consistent and legitimate, and, on within, and proceeds outwards; instead *of these premises, altogether uncontroverted and commencing from without, and, with various incontrovertible. British Philosophy, since the precautions and hesitations, endeavouring to time of Hume, appears to them nothing more proceed inwards. The ultimate aim of all Phi- than a "laborious and unsuccessful striving losophy must be to interpret appearances,- to build dike after dike in front of our Churches from the given symbol to ascertain the thing. and Judgment-halls, and so turn back from Now the first step towards this, the aim of what them the deluge of Skepticism, with which that may be called Primary or Critical Philosophy, extraordinary writer overflowed us, and still must be to find'some indubitable principle; to threatens to destroy whatever we value most." fix ourselves on. some unchangeable basis: to This is Schlegel's meaning: his words are not discover what the Germans call the Urwahr, before us. the Primitive Truth, the necessarily, absolute- The Germans take up the matter differently, ly, and eternally True. This necessarily True, and would assail Hume, not in his outworks, this absolute basis of Truth, Locke silently, but in the centre of his citadel. They deny and Reid and his. followers with more tumult, his first principle, that Sense is the only inletfind in a certain modified Experience, and evi- of Knowledge, that Experience is the primary dence of Sense, in the universal and natural ground of Belief. Their Primitive Truth, persuasions of all men. Not so the Germans: however, they seek, not historically and by they deny that thereis here any absolute Truth, experiment, in the universal persuasions of men, but by intuition, in the deepest and purest * The name of Dugald Stewart is a name venerable nature of Man. Instead of attempting, which to all Europselves. Neved rthee moe dear tiand venerable than they consider vain, to prove the existence of to ourselves. Nevertheless his writings are not a philosophy, but a making ready for one. He does not enter God, Virtue, an immaterial Soul, by inferences on the field to till it, he only encompasses it with fences, drawn, as the conclusion of all Philosophy, invites cultivators, and drives away intruders; often from the world of sense, they find these things (fallen on evil days) he is reduced to long arguments with passers by, to prove that it is a field, that this so. written as the beginning of all Philosophy, in highly prized domain of his is, in truth, soil and sub- obscured but ineffaceable characters, within stance, not clouds and shadow. We regard his discus- inmost being; and themselves t affordsions on the nature of philosophic Language, and his un-our inmost being; and themselves firt affordwearied efforts to set forth and guard against its fallacies, ing any certainty and clear meaning to that as worthy of all acknowledgment; as indeed formingr very world of sense, by which we endeavour the greatest, perhaps the only true improvement, which Philosophy has received among us in our age. It is only to demonstrate them. God is, nay, alone is, to a superficial observer that the import of these discus- for with like emphasis we cannot say that any sions can seem trivial: rightly understood they give suf-hi else is filtent and final answer to Hartley's and Darwin's and g. all other possible forms of Materialism, the grand Idola- tively True, which, the' philosopher seeks try, as we may rightly call it, by which, in: all times, the Endeavouring, by logical argument, to prove true Worship, that of the invisible, has been polluted the existence of God, a Kantist might say, and withstood. Mr. Stewart has written warmly against iKant; but it would surprise him to find how much of a would be like taking out a candle to look for Kantist he himself essentially is. Has not the whole the sun; nay, gaze steadily into your candlescope of his labours been to reconcile what a Kantist light, and the sun himself may be invisibl:e would call his Understanding with his Reason; a noble, the e but still too fruitless effort to overarch the chasm To open the inward eye to the sight of thin. which, for all mihds but his own, separates his Science Primitively True; or, rather, we might call it, fromhis Religion/3 We regard the assiduousnestudy of to clear f the Obscurations of sense, whch l!ib Works, as the best preparation of studying those of hiollt. eclipse this truth within us, so that we nmay 5 :34 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS: WRITINGS. bee it, and believe it not only to be true, but meore certain that I myself exist, than that God the foundation and essence of all other truth, exists, infinite, eternal, invisible, the same may, in such language as we are here using, yesterday, to-day, and for — ever. To discern be said to be the problem of Critical Phi- these truths is the province of Reason, which losophy. therefore is to be cultivated as the highest In this point of view, Kant's system may faculty in man. Not by logic and argument be thought to have a remote affinity to those does it work;.yet surely and clearly may it of Malebranche and Descartes. But if they be taught to work: and its domain lies in that.in some measure agree as to their aim, there higher region whither logic and argument is the widest difference as to the means. cannot reach; in that holier region, where WVe state what to ourselves has long appeared Poetry, and Virtue, and Divinity abide, in the grand characteristic of Kant's Philosophy, whose presence Understanding wavers and when we mention his distinction, seldom per- recoils, dazzled into utter darkness by that haps expressed so broadly, but uniformly im- " sea of light," at once the fountain and the plied, between Understanding and Reason termination of all true knowledge. (Verstand and Vernustft). To most of our Will the Kantists forgive us for the loose readers this may seem a distinction without a and popular manner in which we must here difference; nevertheless, to the Kantists it is speak of these things, to bring them in any by no means' such. They believe that both measure before the eyes of our readers?-It Understanding and Reason are organs, or may illustrate this distinction:.still farther, if rather, we should say, modes of op.eration, by we say, that, in the opinion of a Kantist, the which the mind discovers truth; but they French are of all European nations the most think that their manner of proceeding is es- gifted with Understanding, and the most desti sentially different: that their provinces are tute of Re'ason;* that David Hume had no separable and distinguishable, nay, that it is forecast of this latter, and that Shakspeare of the last importance to separate and distin- and Luther dwelt perennially in its purest guish them. Reason, the Kantists say, is of a sphere. hligher nature than Understanding; it works Of the vast, nay, in these days boundless, by ntore subtle,methods, on higher objects, importance of this distinction, could it be and requires a far finer culture for its de- scientifically established,.we need remind no velcpment, indeed in many men it is never thinking man. For the rest, far be it from the developed at all; but its results are no less reader to suppose that this same Reason is certain, nay, rather,, they uare much more so; but a new appearance, under another name, for Reason discerns Truth itself, the absolutely of our own old "Wholesome Prejudice," so and primitively True; while UiAderstanding well known to most of us! Prejudice, wholediscerns only relations, and cannot'decide with- some or unwholesome, is a personage for out if. The. proper province of Understand- whom the German Philosophers disclaim all ing is all, strictly spealing, real, practical, and shadow of respect; nor do: the vehenment material knowledge, Mathematics, Physics, among them hide their deep disdain for all Political Economy, the" adaptation of means and sundry who fight under her flag. Truth to ends in the whole business of life. In this is to be loved purely and solely because it is province it is the strength and universal im- true. With moral, political, religious conplement of the mind: an indispensable ser- siderations, high and dear as they may othervant, without which, indeed, existence itself wise be, the Philosopher, as such, has no conwould be impossible. Let it not step beyond cern. To look at them would but perplex him, this province, however, not usurp the province and distract his vision from the task in his of Reason, which it is appointed to obey, and hands. Calmly he constructs his theorem, as cannot rule over without ruin to the whole the Geometer does his, without hope or fear, spiritual man. Should Understanding attempt save that he may or may not find the solution; to prove the existence of God,. it ends, if and stands in the middle, by the one, it maybe, thorough-going and consistent with itself, in accused as an Infidel, by the other as an EnthuAtheism, or a faint possible Theism, which siast and a Mystic, till the tumult ceases, and scarcely differs from this: should it speculate what was true is and continues true to the end of Virtue, it ends in Utility, mlaking Prudence of all time. and a sufficiently cunning love of Self the -Such are some of the high and momentous highest good. Consult Understanding about questions treated of, by c;alm, earnest, and -the Beauty of Poetry, -and it asks, where is deeply meditative men, in this system of Phithis Beauty! or discovers it at length in losophy, which to the wiser minds amnong us rhythms and fitnesses, and male and female is still unknown, and by the unwiser is spoken rhymes. Witness also its everlasting para- of and regarded as their nature requires. The doxes on Necessity.and the Freedom of the profoundness, subtilty, extent of investigation, Will; its ominous' silence. on the end and which the answer:.of these questions presupmeaning of man; and the enigma which, poses, need not be farther pointed out. VWith under such inspection the whole purport of the truth or falsehood of the systemi; we have existence becomes. here, as already stated, no concern; our aim Nevertheless, say the Kantists, there is a has been, so far as might be done, to show it as.truth in these things. Virtue is Virtue, and it appeared to us; and to ask such of our read-.not prudence; not-less surely than; the angle ers as pursue these studies, whether this also in a semicircle is a right angle, and no trapeShakspeare is a Poet and Boilea is Schelling has said as much'or more, (JIethode des.ium: Shakspeare is a Poet, and Boileau.. is.daidenmisehen Studitnm, pp. 105-111,): in'terms which we,:tone think of it as you may: Neither is it could wish we had space/to transcribe. LIFE AND WRITINGS OF WERNER. 35 is not worthy of some study. The replyowe old Saxon speech, which. is also our mothermust now leave to,themselves. tongue. As an appendage to the charge of Mysticism We confess the present aspect of spiritual brought against the Germans, there is often Europe might fill a melancholic observer with added the seemingly incongruous one of Irre- doubt and foreboding. It is mournful to see so lifgion. On this point also we had much to many noble, tender, and high-aspiring minds say; but must for the present declineit. Mean- deserted of that religious light which once while, let the reader be assured, that to the guided all such: standing sorrowful on the charge of Irreligion, as to so many others, the scene of past convulsions and controversies, as Germans will plead not guilty. On the contra- on a scene blackened and burnt lp with fire; ry, they will not scruple to assert that their lite- mourning in the darkness, because there is derature is, in a positive sense, religious; nay, solation, and no home for the soul; or what is perhaps to maintain, that if ever neighbouring worse, pitching tents among the ashes, and nations are to recover that pure and high spirit kindling weak earthly lamps which we are to of devotion, the loss of which, however we may take for stars. This darkness is but transitory disguise it or pretend to qverlook it, can be obscuration: these ashes are the soil of future hidden from no observant mind, it must be by herbage and richer harvests. Religioh, Poetry, travelling, if not on the same path, at least in is not dead; it will never die. Its dwvelling the same direction, in which the Germans have. and birthplace is in the soul of man, and it is already begun to travel. We shall add, that eternal as the being of man. In any, point of the Religion of Germany is a subject not for Space, in any section of Time, let there be a slight but for deep study, and, if we mistake- living Man: and there is an Infinitude above not, may in some degree reward the deepest. him and beneath him, and an eternity encomHere, however, we must close our examina.- passes him on this hand and on that; and tones tion or defence. We have spoken freely, be- of,Sphere-music, and tidings from loftier cause we felt distinctly, and thought thenmatter worlds, will flit round him, if he can but listen, worthy of being stated, and more fully inquired and visit him with holy influences, even in the into. Farther than this, we have no quarrel thickest press of trivialities,or the din of busiest for the Germans; we would have justice done life. Happy the man, happy the nation that them, as to all mren and all things; b ut for their can hear these tidings; that has them written in literature or character we profess no sectarian fit characters, legible to every eye, and the soor exclusive preference.. XWe think their re-' lemn import of them present at all moments to cent Poetry, indeed, superior to the recent every heart! That there is, in these days, no Poetry of any other nation; but taken as a nation so happy, is too clear; but that all nawhole, inferior to that of several; inferior not tions, and ourselves in the van, are, with more tM our own only, but to that of: Italy, nay, per- or less discernment of its nature, struggling haps to that of Spain. Their Philosophy, too, towards this happiness, is the hope and the must still be regarded as uncertain; at best glory of our time. To us, as to others, success, only the beginning of better things. But surely at a distant or a nearer day, cannot be uncereven this is not to be neglected. A little light tain. Meanwhile, the first condition of success is pirecious in great darkness: nor, amid the is, that, in striving honestly ourselves, we homyriads of Poetasters and Philosophes, are Poets' nestly ackno.wledge the striving of our neighand Philosophers so numerous that we should bour; that with a Will unwearied in seeking reject, such, when they speak to us in the hard, Truth, we have a Sense open for it, wheresobut manly, deep, and expressive tones of that ever and howsoever it may arise. LIFE AND WRITIN GS 0F WERlNER. [FOREIGN REVIEw, 1828.] IF the charm of fame consisted, as Horace with the finger, and having it said, This is he!" has mistakenly declared, "in being pointed at: few writers of the present age.could boast o~ more fame than Werner. It has been the unk 1. Lebens-sAbriss Friedrich Ludwizoi ZachariasWerners. happy fortune of this man to stand for a long Von den Heratus'eber von Hoffseanns Leban und'AJV'ach- period incessantly before the world, in a far lass.):Sketch of the Life of Frederic Ludwig Zacharias stronr liht V'erner. fly the Editor of "Hoffinann's Life and Re- stroner light than naturally belonged to him, mains."') Berlin, 1823. or could exhibit him to advantage. Twenty 2. Die Shlne des e Thals. (The Sons of the Valley) years ao he was a man of considerable years ago he was a man of considerable note, A Dramatic Poem. Part I. Die Tentplter an-f CJypern. (TheTemlplars in Cyprus.) Part II. Die ri'euzesbriider. which has ever since been degenerating into (The Brethren of the Cross.) Berlin, 1801; 1802. notoriety. The mystic dramatist, the skepti3. Das Kreuz an der Ostsee. (The Cross on the Baltic.) cal enthsiast, was known and A Tragedy. Berlin, 1806. al enthusiast, was known andpartlyesteemed 4. iMartin Lu.ther, ode, Die Weihe der Kraft. (Martinh by all students of poetry; Madame de Stal, Luther, or the Consecration of Strength.) A Tragedy. we recollect, allows him an entire chapter in Berlin, 1807. her "Allemagne." It was a much coarser cu5. Die JMhutter der Jaklkabier. - (The Mother of the Maccabees A Tragedy. Vienna, 1820. riosity, and in a much wider circte, which the 36 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. dissipated man, by successive indecorums, oc- sePvice. His "Life of -offmann," pretending casioned; till at last the convert to Popery, the to no artfulness of arrangement, is redundant, preaching zealot, came to figure in all news- rather than defective, in minuteness; but there, papers; and some picture of him was required at least, the means of a correct judgment are for all heads that would not sit blank and mute brought within our reach, and the work, as in the topic of every coffeehouse and aesthetic usual with Hitzig, bears marks of the utmost tea. In dim heads, that is, in the great majo- fairness; and of an accuracy which we might rity, the picture was, of course, perverted into, almost call professional: for the author, it a strange bugbear, and the original decisively would seem, is a legal functionary of long enough condemned; but even the few, who standing,, and now of respectable rank; and might see him in his true shape, felt too well he examines and records, with a certain notarial that nothing loud could be said in his behalf; strictness too rare in compilations of this sort. that, with so' many mournful' blemishes, if ex- So far as Hoffmann is concerned, therefore, tenuation could not avail, go complete defence we' have reason to be satisfied. In regard to was to be attempted. Werner, however, we cannot say so much: At the same time, it is not the history of a here we should certainly.have wished for more mere literary profligate that we have here to do facts, though it had been with fewer consewith. Of men whom fine talents cannot teach quences drawn from them; were these somethe humblest prudence, whose high feeling, what chaotic expositions of Werner's characunexpressed in noble action, must lie smould- ter exchanged for simple particulars of his walk ering with baser admixtures in their own and conversation, the result would be much bosom, till their existence, assaulted from surer, and, especially to foreigners, much more without and from within, becomes a burnt and complete and luminous. As it is, from repeated blackened ruin, to be sighed over by the few, perusals of this biography, we have failed and stared at, or trampled on, by the many,- to gather any very clear notion of the man; there is unhappily no want in any country; nor with, perhaps, more- study of his writings nor can the unnatural union of genius with than, on other grounds, they might have merdepravity and degradation have such charms. ited, does his manner of existence still stand for our readers, that we should go abroad in out to us with that distinct cohesion which quest of it, or in any case to dwell on it, other- puts an end to doubt. Our view of him the wise than with reluctance. Werner is'some- reader will accept as an approximation, and be thing more than this: a gifted spirit, struggling content to wonder with us, and charitably pause earnestly amid the new, complex, tumultuous where we cannot altogether interpret. influences of his time and country, but without Werner was born at Kinigsberg, in East force to body himself forth from amongst them; Prussia, on the 18th of November, 1768. His a keen adventurous swimmer, aiming towards father was Professor of History and Eloquence high and distant landmarks, but too weakly in in the University there; and further, in virtue so rough a sea, for the currents drive him far of this office, Dramatic Censor, which latter astray, and he sinks at last in the waves, at- circumstance procured young Werner almost taining little fdr himself, and leaving little, daily opportunity of visiting the theatre, and save the memory of his failure, to others. A so gave him, as he says, a greater acquaintglance over his history may not be unprofita- ance with the mechanism of the stage than ble; if the man himself can less interest us, even most players are possessed of. A strong the ocealn of German, of European Opinion, taste for the drama it probably enough gave still rolls in wild eddies to and fro; and with him; but this skill in stage mechanism may its movemerits and refluxes, indicated in the be questioned, for often in his own plays no history of such men, every one of us is con- such skill, but rather the want of it, is evinced. cerned. The Professor and Censor, of whom we hear Our materials for this survey are deficient, nothing in blame or praise, died in the fournot so much in quantity as quality. The "Life," teenth year of his son, and the boy now fell to now known to be by Hitzig of Berlin, seems a the sole charge of his mother, a woman whom very honest, unpresuming performance; but, he seems to have loved warmly, but whose on the other hand, it is much too fragmentary guardianship could scarcely be the best'for and discursive for our wants; the features of him. Werner himself speaks of her in earnest the man are nowhere united into a portrait, commendation, as of a pure, high-minded, and but left for the reader to unite as he may; a heavily-afflicted being. Hoffinann, however, task which, to most readers, will be hard adds, that she was hypochondriacal, and genenough: for the work, short in compass, is erally quite delirious, imagining herself to be more than proportionally short in details of the Virgin Mary, and her son to be the promised facts; and VWerner's history, much as an in- Shiloh! Hoffmann had opportunity enough,.timate friend must have known of it, still lies of knowing; for it is a curious fact that these before us, in great part, dark and unintelligible. two singular persons were brought up under For what he -has done we should doubtless the same roof, though, at this time, by reason thank our Author; yet it seems a pity, that, in of their difference of age, Werner being eight this'instance, he had not done more and bqtter. years older, they had little or no acquaintance. A singular chance made him, at the same time, What a nervous and melancholic parent was, companion of both Hoffmann and Werner, Hoffmann, by another unhappy coincidence perhaps the two most showy, heterogeneous, had also full occasion to know: his own mothet and misinterpretable writers of his day; nor parted from her husband, lay helpless and shall we deny, that, in performing a friend's broken-hearted for the last seventeen years of lduty t( their memory, he has done truth also a her life, and the first seventeen of his; a source LIFE AND WRITINGS OF WERNER. 37 of painful. influences, which he used to trace brief provincial life, into merited oblivion; in through the whole of his own character; as to fact, he had then only been a rhymer, and was the like cause he imputed the primary perver- now, for the first time, beginning to be a poet. sion of Werner's. How far his views on this We have one of those youthful pieces tranDoint were accurate or exaggerated, we have scribed in this volufte, and certainly it exhibits no means of judging. a curious contrast with his subsequent writOf Werner's early years the biographer says, ings, both in form anrd spirit. In form, because, little or nothing. We learn only that, about unlike the first fruits of a genius, it is cold and the usual age, he matriculated in the K6nigs- correct: while his later works, without excepberg University, intending to qualify himself tion, are fervid, extravagant, and full of gross for the business.of a lawyer; and with his"'pro- blemishes. In spirit no less, because, treating fessional studies united, or attempted to unite, of his favourite theme, Religion, it treats of it the study of philosophy under Kant. His harshly and skeptically; being, indeed, little college-life is characterized by a single, but too more than a metrical version of common Utilexpressive word: "It is said," observes Hitzig, itarian Freethinking, as it may be found "to have been very dissolute." His progress (without metre) in most taverns and debatingin metaphysics, as in all branches of learning, societies. Werner's intermediate secret history might thus'be expected to be small; indeed, might form a strange chapter in psychology: at no period of his life can he, even in the for now, it is clear, his French skepticism had:anguage of panegyric, be called a man of cul- got overlaid with wondrous theosophic garniture or solid information on any subject. Never- ture; his mind was full of visions and cloudy theless, he contrived, in his twenty-first year, glories, and no occupation pleased him better to publish a little volume of i Poems," apparent- than to controvert, in generous inquiring minds, ly in very tolerable magazine metre, and after that very unbelief which he appears to have some " roarnings"over Germany, having loiter- once entertained in his own.. From Hitzig's ed for a while at Berlin, and longer at Dresden, account of the matter, this seems to have he betook himself to more serious business, formed the strongest link of his intercourse applied for admittance and promotion as a with Werner. The latter was his senior byten Prussian man of law; the employment which years of. time, and by more than ten years of young jurists look for in that country being unhappy experience; the grand questions of chiefly in the hands of government: consist- Immortality, of Fate, Free-will, Fore-knowledge ing, indeed, of appointments in the various absolute, were in continual agitation between judicial or administrative Boards by which the them; and Hitzig still remembers with gratiProvinces are managed. In 1793, Werner ac- tude these earnest warnings against irregularcordinglywas made Klamnmersecretdir (Exchequer ity of life, and so many ardent and not in effecSecretary;) a subaltern office, which he held tual endeavours to awaken in the passionate successively in several stations, and last and temperament of youth a glow of purer and enLuongest in Warsaw, where Hitzig, a young man lightening fire. following the same profession, first became ac- "Some leaaues fromn Warsaw," says the cuainted with him in 1799. Biographer, " enchantingly embosomed in a What the purport or result of Werner's thick wood, close by the high banks of the ".roamings" may have been, or how he had de- Vistula, lies the Cameldulensian Abbey of meaned himself in office or out of it, we are Bielany, inhabited by a class of monks, who in nowhere informed; but it is an ominous cir- strictness of discipline yield only to those of cumstance that, even at this period, in his La Trappe. To this cloistral solitude Werner thirtieth year, he had divorced two wives, the was wont to repair with his friend, every fine last at least by mutual consent, and was look- Saturday of the summer of 1800, so soon as ing out for a third! Hitzig, with whom he their occupations in the city were over. In seems to have formed a prompt and close in- defect of any formal inn, the two used to timacy, gives us no full picture of him under bivouac in the forest, or at best to sleep under any of his aspects: yet we can see, that his a temporary tent. The Sunday was then spent life, as naturally it might, already wore some- in the open air; in roving about the woods; what of a shattered appearance in his own sailing on the river, and the like; till late night eyes, that he was broken in character, in spirit, recalled them to the city. On such occasions, perhaps in bodily constitution; and, content- the younger of the party had ample room to ing himself with the transient gratifications of unfold his whole heart before his more mature so gay a city, and so tolerable an appointment, *and settled companion; to advance his doubts had renounced all steady and rational hope and objections against many theories, which either of being happy or of deserving to be so. Werner was already cherishing: and so, by Of unsteady and irrational hopes, however, he exciting him with contradiction, to cause him had still abundance. The fine enthusiasm of to make them clearer to himself." his nature, undestroyed by so many external Week after week, these discussions were perplexities, nay, to.which, perhaps, these very carefully resumed from the point where they perplexities had given fresh and undue excite- had been left: indeed, to Werner, it would ment, glowed forth in strange many-coloured seem, this controversy had unusual attractions; brightness, from amid the wreck of his fortunes, for he was now busy composing a Poem, inand led him into wild worlds of speculation, tended principally to convince the world of the more vehemently, that the real world of those very truths which he was' striving to imaction, and. duty had become so unmanageable press on his friend; and to which the world, as in his hands. might be expected, was likely to give a similar Werner'.s early publication had sunk, after a Ireception. The character, or at least the way D *28 - CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS -WRITINGS. of thiought, attributed to Robert d'Heredon, the spiration is not wanting:: Werner evidently Scottish Templar, in the Sons of the Valley, was thinks that in these his ultramundane excur-? borrowed, it appears, as if by regular instal- sions he has found truth; he has somethin"g ments, from these conferences with Hitzig; the positive to set forth, and he feels himself as if result of the one Sunday being duly entered in bound on a high and holy mission in preachdramatic form during the week; then' audited ing it to his fellow-nmen. on the Sunday following; and so formin:g the To explain with any minuteness the articles text for further disquisition. "Blissful days," of Werner's creed, as it was now fashioned, adds Hitzi g, " pure and innocent, which doubt- and is here exhibited, would be a task perhaps less Werner also ever held in pleased renemn- too hard for us, and, at all events, unprofitable brance!" in proportion to its difficulty. We havefound The Sdhre des Thals, composed in this rather some separable passages, in which, under dark questionable fashion, was in due time forth- symbolical figures, he has himself shadowed coming; the First Part in 1801, the Second forth a vague likeness of it: these we shall about a year afterwards. It is a drama, or now submit to the reader, with such exposirather two dramas, unrivalled at leastlin one tions as we gather from the context, or as Gerparticular, in length; each Part being a-play man readers, from the usual tone of speculaof six acts, and the whole amounting to some- tion in that country, are naturally enabled to what more than eight hundred small octavo supply. This may, at the same time, convey pages-! To attempt any analysis of such a as fair a notion of' the work itself, with its work would but fatigue our readers to little tawdry sp]endours, and tumid grandiloquence, purpose: it is, as might be anticipated, of a and mere playhouse thunder and lightning, as most loose and formless structure: expanding by any other plan our limits would admit. on all sides into vague boundlessness, and, on Let the reader fancy himself in the' island the whole, resembling not so much a poem as of Cyprus, where the Order of the Templars the rude materials of one. The subject is the still subsists, thoulgh the heads of it are already destruction of the Templar Order; an event- summonedc before the French King -and Pope which has been dramatized more than once, Clement; which summons they are now, not but on which, notwithstanding, Werner, we without dreary enough forebodings, preparing suppose, may boast of being entirely original. to obey. The purport of this First Part, so far The fate of Jacques Molay, and his brethren, as it has any dramatic purport, is to paint the acts here but like a little leaven; and lucky situation, outward and inward, of that once were we, could it leaven' the lump; but it lies pious and heroic, and still magnificent and buried under such a mass of Mystical theology, powerful body. It is entitled The Temnplars in Masonic mummery, Cabalistic tradition, and Cyprus: but why it should also be called The Rosicrucian' philosophy, as no power could Sons of the Valley does not so well appear; for work into dramatic union. The incidents are the Brotherhood of the Valley has yet scarcely few, and of little interest; interrupted contin- come into activity, and only hovers before us ually by flaring shows and long-winded specu- in glimpses, of so enigmatic a sort., that we lations; for WVerner's besetting sin, that of know not fully so much as whether these its loquacity, is here in decided action; and so we Sons are of flesh and blood like ourselves, or of wander, in aimless windings, through scene some spiritual nature, or of something interafter scene of gorgeousness or gloom; till at mediate, and altogether nondescript. For the last the whole rises before us like a wild phan- rest, it is a series of spectacles and dissertatasmagoria; cloud heaped on' cloud, painted tions; the action cannot so much be said to indeed. here and there with prismatic hues, but advance as to revolve. On this occasion the representing nothing, or at least not the subject, Templars are admitting two new members; but the author. the acolytes have already passed their prelimIn this last point of view, however, as a pic- inary trials; this is the chief and final one:ture of himself, independently of other considerations, this play of WVerner's may still have ACT FIFTH.-sczoex FIRST. acertain value for us. The strange chaotic Midnight. Interior of the Temple Church.'' iBackwards, a deep perspecIntature of the man is displayed in it: s ive of Altars and Gothic Pillars. On the right-hand side of the foreground, a little Chapel; and in this an Altar with the figure of St. Sebastian. The ticism an d theosophy; his audacity, yet in- scene is lighted very dinmly by a single Lansp which hangs before the Altar. trinsic weakness of character; his baffled.:. longings, but still'ardent endeavours'after.&DALx3RT (dressed in wOhite, without mantle or doublet; Truth and Good'; his search for them in far -gropAiffhi s i ay in t aee d orue journeyings, not on the beaten highways, but not t through the pathless infinitude of Thought. That I was Aitar of Sebasi That I was bid to wait for the unknown'To call it a work of art would be a misappli- re shold it beut daknes wth her veti p e a. Here should it be; but darkness with her veil cation of names: it is little more than a rhap- Inwraps the figures. sodic effusion; the outpouring of a passionate, (ASdvancing to the /iltaxs.).and mystic soul, only half knowing what it Here is the'fifth pillar! utters, and not ruling its own movements, but Yes, this is he, tlhe Sainted. —low the glimmier ruled by them. It is fair to add that such also, Of that faint lamp falls onl his filding eye -- in a great measure, was Werner's own view Al, it is tiot the, spears o' th Saracens, of the, niatter: most likely the utterance oft is the pangs of hopeless love that burnisg Transfix thy heart, poor Comrade!-O my Agnes, these: things gave him such relief, that, crude Transfix thy hesirt, in tis omraest hour, --.,, ~May not thy spirit, in this eariest hour, as they were, he could not suppress them. For Be looking on Art hovering in that moon-beam -5 ought to be remembered, that in this per- Whiceh struggles thliough the painted window, and dies formance one condition, at least, of genuine in- Anlid the cloister's:gloonm Or linger'st thou LIFE AND WRITINGS OF. WERERNER. 39 Behind these pillars, which, ominous and black, I ARlIED M1AiN. Look down on me, like horrors of the Past Pray, Uponi the Present; and hidest thy gentle form, Lest with thy paleness thou too mnuch affright me. (ADALBERT kneels.) Hide not thyself, pale shadow of my Agnes, Thou affrightest not thy lover. —Hush!- Hark! Was there not a rustling? —Father i You. (He strips him to the girdle and raises him.) PHILIP (rushing in with wild loosks.) Lookon the ground, and follo w! Yes, Adalbert!-But time is precious!-Come, (He leads hiomr into the baclc-grround to a trap door, on tie My son, my one sole Adalbert, come with me! right. HIe descends first himself; and when ADALBELrr has followed him, it closes.) ADALBERkT. What would you, father, in this solemn hour. SCENE SECOND. PHILIP. Cemetery of the Templars, under the Church. The scene is lighted only by a Lamp which hangs down from the vault. Around are Tonbstones of This hour, or never I X deceased Knights, marked with Crosses and sculptured Bones. In the bactr(Leading ADALBERT to the.Jltar.) ground, two colossal Skeletons holding between them a large white Book, marked wsith a red Cross; froem the under end of the Book hangs a long Hither!-Know'st thbuq7 him ~ Hither!-Know'st thD his? black curtain. The Book, of which only the cover is visible, has an inscription in black ciphers. The Skeleton on the right holds in its right hand ia nakied drawn sword; that on the left holds in its left hand a Palm turned'T is Saint Sebastican. down wards. On the right side of the foreground, stands a black Coffin open; on the left, a simeilar one wilth the body of a Templar in full dress of his PHILIP. Order; on both Coffins are inscriptions in white ciphers. On each side, nearer the back-ground, are seen the lowest steps of the stairs, which lead Becallse he would not up into the Temnple Church above the vault. Renounce his faith, a tyrant had him murder'd, (Points to his head.) ARMED) IXAN (enot yet visible; above on the rigrht-hand These furrows, too, the rage of tyrants ploughed stairs.) In thy old father's face. My son, my first-born child, Dreaded! Is the grave laid open X In this great hour I do-conjure thee! -Wilt thou, Wilt thous obey me? CONCEALED VOICES. ADALB-ERT. - Yea! Be it just, I will! AtarsED IMAN (who after a paucse shows hirmsef eon the stairs.) PHILIP. Shall he behold the Tombs o' tit' fathers. Then swear, in this great hour, in this dread presence, Here by thy father's head made early gray, - CONCEALED VOICES. By the remembrance of thy mother's agony, And by the ravished blossom of thy Agnes, Yea! Against the Tyranny which sacrificed us, (AreD MAN orrith drawn ssord leads ADALBERT carefully Inexpiable, bloody, everlasting hate! down the steps! on the ri0 Lt hand.) AIDALB ERT. ~~~ADAe~LB~ ElT. IARMED ItAN (t ADA1LTB ErT.) Ha! This the All-avenger spoke through thee!- Yes! Bloody shall my Agnes' death-torch burn In Philip's heart; I swear it! (Leads him to the open oqin.) WVrhat seest thou? PHILIP (with ilncreasing vehemence.) AIIALBEI~T. And if thou break This oath, and if thou reconcile thee to him, An open empty Coffin. Or let his golden chains, his gifts, his prayers, His dying-moan itself, avert thy dagger When th' hour of vengeance comes,-shall this gray head,'T is the house e Thy mother's wail, the last sigh of thy Agnes, Where thou one ay altdwell. Canst read th' inscrip Accuse thee at the bar of the Eternal - tion. ADALBEILT.. AIDALBERT. So be it, if I break my oath! No.'RED MAl. PIIILIP. Then~man thee!: I Hear it, then;' Thy rvages, Sin, is Deatlh." (Lends him to the opposite Coffit whers the Body is lyin7r.) (Looking asp, then shrinking together as with dazzled eyes.) Ha! was not that his lightning — Fare thee vel! Look dowe! IT is on thy life-!-What seest thou I hear the footstep of the Dreaded!-Firm!- (Shows the.Coffl.) Remembet nie, remenber this stern midnight! (Retires hastily.) ADALBERT. ADALBEItT (alone.) A Coffin with a Corpse. Yes, trayhead, whom the beckoning of the Lord AlRMED ~1 AN. Sent hither to awake me out of craven sleep, H B Ie is thy? Brother, I will remember thee and this stern midnight, One day thou art as he.-Canst read the inscriptiol? And my Agnes' spirit shall have vengeance! Enter an ARMED MIAN. (He is mailed froze head to foot in ADALBE.R T black harness; his visor is closed.) No. 40 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. AR:2ED MAN. And shook the gold into a melting-pot, And set the melting-pot upon the Sun, bHear: " Corruption is the name of Life." So that the metal fused into a fluid mass. Now look around; go forward,-move, and act!- Ad then he dipt a finger i And then he dipt a finger in the same, (He pushes him towards the back-ground of the stage.) And. straightway touching Baffometus, ADAL'EBRT (observing the Book.) AAnoints him on the chinl and brow and cheeks. Then'was the face of Baffonmetus changed: Ha! Here the Book of Ordination!-Seems EIis'eye-balls rolled like fire-flames, (Atpproachingn.) His nose became a crooked vulture's bill, As if th' inscription on it might be read. The tongue hung bloody fromn his throat; the flesh (He reads it.) Went from his hollow cheeks; and of his hair "Knock four times on the ground, Grew snakes, and of the snakes grew Devil's-horns. Thou shalt behold thy loved one." Again the Lord put forth his finger with the gold O Heavens I And may I see thee, sainted Agnes. And pressed it upon Baffometus' heart; (Hastenisng close to tile Boo.) Whereby the heart did bleed and wither up, Arid all his members bled and withered up, And fell away, the one and then the other. (With the following words, he stamps four times on the At last his back itself sunk into ashes: ground.) The head alone continued gilt and living; One,-Two,-Three,-Four!- And instead of back, grew dragon's-talons, (T/he Curtain haslging from the Book rolls rapidly ip, Which destroyed'all life from off the Earth. and covers it. A colossal Devil's-head appears between the Then from the ground the Lord took up the heart, two Skeletons: its form is horrible; it is gilt; has a Which, as lihe touched it, also grew of gold, huge golden Crown, a Heart of the saeie in its Brow; roll- And placed it on the brow of Baffometus; ing flanming Eyes: Serpents instead of Hair: golden And of the other metal in the pot Chains round its neck, which is visible to the breast: and a He made for hmns a burning crown of gold, golden Cross, yet not a Crucifix, which rises over its right And crushed it on his serpent-hair, so that shoulder, as if crushitng it down. The whole Bust rests Ev'n to the bone apd brain, the circlet scorched higp. on four gilt Dragonh's feet. Adt sight of it, ADALBERT And round the neck he twisted golden chains, starts back iso horrosr, and exclaims:) Which strangled hini and pressed his breath together. Defeeod us! What in the pot remained he poured upon the ground.' Athwart, along, and there it formed a cross; ~AUED rAN. The which he lifted and laid upon his neck, Dreaded, may he hear it! And bent him that he could not raise his head. Two Deaths moreover he appointed warders CONCEALED VOICES. To guard him: Death of Life, and Death of Hope. - Yea! The sword of the first he sees not but it smites him; AnxIED MAN (touches t whe Curtain oitlh his sword: it The other's Palm he sees, but it escapes-him. So languishes the outcast Baffometus rolls down over the Devil's-head, concealing it again; and So languishes the outcast Baffometo s above, as before, appears the Book, but now opened, with or thousand ears arid four-and-forty moons, white colossal leaves and red characters. The An MAN, Till once a Saviour rise from his own seed, pointting constantly to the Book with his Sword, and therewith tu-srning the leaves, addr-esses ADALBERT, who stands on the other side of the Book, and slearer the foreground.) (To ADALBERT.) List to the Story of the Fallen Master. This is the Story of the Fallen Master. (lie- reads the, fotlosing fsrone the Book: yet not stand- (With his sword he toutches the Curtain, which now as ing before it bout on osne siJe, at some paces distance, and before rolls up over the book: so that the HEAD under it again becomes visible, in its former shape.) whilst he reads, turrnign the leaves with hots swo-rd.) " So now when the foundation-stone was laid, ADALBdRT (looking at the READ.) The Lord called forth the Master, Baffometus, And said to him: Go and complete my Temple' Hah, what a hideous shape! But in his heart the Master thought: What boots it Building thee a temple' and took the stones, HEAD (with a hollow voice.) And built himself a dwelling, and what stones Deliver me! Were left he gave for filthy gold and silver. NTo after forty moons the Lord returned, ARBIED MiAN. And spake: Where is my temple, Baffometus D The Master said: I had to build myself Dreaded! Shall the work begin 1 A dwelling: grant me other forty weeks. CONCEALED VOICES. And after forty weeks, the Lord returns, And asks: where is my temple, Baffomnetus? Yea! He said: There were no stones (but he had sold them For filthy gold;) so wait yet forty days. In forty days thereafter came the Lord, Take the Neckband And cried: Where is my temple, Baffometus? Thei. like a mill-stone fell it on his soul (Poin HIow he for lucre had betrayed his Lord; ADALBERT. But yet to other sin the Fiend did tempt him, I dare not! Anld he answered, saying: Give me forty hours!dare not And when the forty hours were gone, the Lord HEAD (with a still more piteous tone.) Came down in wrath: My Temple, Baffometus?. O, deliver me! Then fell he quaking on his face, and cried ADAL~BERT (taking off the chains.) For Inercy; but the Lord was wroth, and said:'tince thou hast cozened me with enfpty lies, Poor fallen one! And those the stones I lent thee for my Temple A1ED NIAN. Hast sold thlem for a purse of filthy gold, Lo, I will cast thee forth, and with the Manmmon Now lift the Crown from's head'Will chastise thee, until a Saviour rise Of thy own seed, who shall redeem thy trespass. ADAIlBET,on did the Lord lift up the purse of Gold; It seems so heavy! LIFE AND WRITINGS OF WERNER. 41 ARMIED iAN. vellous "Story of the Fallen Master," to shaToulch it, it grows light. dow forth. At first view, one might take it for ADALBERT (tFaing off the Crown, and casting it, as he an allegory, couched in masonic language,did the chains, on the ground.) and truly no flattering allegory, —of the Catholic Church; and this trampling on the Cros's, LARMIED MAN. which is said to have been actually enjoined -Now take the golden heart from off his brow! -on every Templar at his initiation, to be a type of his secret behest to undermine that InstituADALBERT. tion, and redeem the spirit of Religion from the It seems to hburn! state of thraldom and distortion under which it ARMED:wMAN. was there held. It is known at least, and was Thou errest; ice is warmer. well known to Werner, that the heads of the Templars entertained views, both on religion ADALBERT (taking the Heart from the Brow.) and politics, which they did not think meet for Hah! shivering frost! communicating to their age, and only imparted ARMED MAN. by degrees, and under mysterious adumbraTake from his back the Cross, tions, to the wiser of their own Order. They And tProw it from thee!- had even publicly resisted, and succeeded in ADALBELRT. thwarting, some iniquitous measures of Philippe Auguste, the French King, in regard to his coinage; and this, while it secured them the HEAD. love of the people, was one great cause, perDeliver, 0 deliver me! haps second only to their wealth, of the hatred ARMED MArN..which that sovereign bore, them, and of the savage doom which he at last executed on the ~This Cross whole body. Is not thy Mlaster's, not that bloody one: Its counterfeit is this: throw't from thee But on these secret principles of theirs, a on Werner's manner of conceiving them, we ADALBEILT (taking it front the Bust, and layingit softly are only enabled to guess; for Werner, too, on the ground.) has an esoteric doctrine, which he does not The Cross of the Good Lord that died for me 1 promulgate, except in dark Sybilline enigmas, ARMED MAN. to the unitiated. As we are here seeking chiefThout shalt lo more betieve in oe that died; ly for his religious creed, which forms, in Thou shalt henceforth believe in one that liveth truth, with its changes, the main thread whereAnd never dies I-Obey, and question not,- by his wayward, desultory existence attains any Step over it! unity or even coherence in our thoughts, we ADAlB:RERT. may quote another passage from the same First Part of this rhapsody; which, at the same time, will afford us a glimpse of his ARMEi D MAN (threatening him woith his sword.) favourite hero, Robert d'Heredon, lately the darStep! ling of the Templars, but now,.for some moADALBERLT.'mentary infraction of their rules, cast into prison, and expecting death, or, at best, excluI do't with shuddering — sion from the Order. Gottfried, is another (Steps over, and then looks up to the HEAD which raises Tes Templar, in all points the reverse oI Robert. itself, as if freed from a load.) How the figure rises And looks in gladness! ACT FOURTH. SCENE FIRST. ARMED MAR. (Prison; at the wall a Table. ROBERT, without sword, Him whom thou hast served cap, or vmantle, sits dowoncast on one side of it: GOTTTill now, deny! snFRIED, who keeps watch by him, sittisg at the other.) ADALBERT (horror-struck.) GOTTFRIED. Deny the Lord my God But how could'st thou so far forget thyself? Thou wert our pride, the Master's friend and favourite I ARMED BAN. ROBERT. Thy God'tis not: the Idol of this world! ROBERT. Deny him, or- I did it, thou perceivest! (Pressinl on him with the Sword in a threatening pos- GOTTFRIED. ture.) How could a word — thou diest! Of the old surly Hugo so provoke thee? ADALBERT. ROBERT. I deny! Ask not!-Man's being is -a spider-web: ARMED MAN (pointing to the Head with his Sword.) The passionate flash o' th' soul-comes not of him; Go to the Fallen!-Kiss his lips!- It is the breath of that dark Genius, Which whirls invisible along the threads: -And so on through manya other sulphurous A servant of eternal Destiny, pages! How much of this mummery is copied It purifies them from the vulgar dust, phehich earthward strives to prees the net: from the actual practice of the Templars we Whichearthwardstrivestopresthenet: But Fate gives sign; the breath becomes a whirlwind know not with certainty; nor what precisely And in a moment rends to shreds the thing either they or Werner intended, by this mar- lwe thought was woven for Eternity. 6 D 2 42 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. GOTTFRIED. moned forth; and the whole surprising secret Yet each man shapes his destiny himself. of his mission, and of the Valley which appoints it for him, is disclosed. This FriedenROBER{T. -that (Valley of Peace), it now appears, is an Small soul! Dost thou too know it? Hasthe story immense secret association, which has its Of Force and free Volition, that, defying chief seat somewhere about the roots of lount The corporal Atoms and Annilhilation, ethodic guides the crl ar of DesAatiny, Carmel, if we mistake not; but, comprehending Methodic guides the car of Destiny, Come down to thee.? Dream'st thou, poor Nothingness, in its ramifications the best heads and hearts That thou, and like of thee, and ten times better of every country, extends over the whole civiThan thou or I, can lead the wheel of Fate lized world; and has, in particular, a strong One hair's-breadth from its everlasting track. body of adherents in Paris, and indeed a subI too have had such dreams: but fearfully terraneous, but seemingly very commodious Have I been shook from sleep; and they are fled!- suite of rooms under the Carmelite Monastery Look at our Order: has it spared its thousands. Of noblest lives, the victims of its Purpose; And has it gained this Purpose; can it gain it? heads of the Establishment; directing from Look at our noble Molay's silvered hair: their lodge, in deepest concealment, the princiThe fruit of watchful nights and stormful days, pal movements of the kingdom: for William And of the broken yet still burning heart' of Paris, Archbishop of Sens, being of their That nigithy heart!-Through sixty battling years, number, the.king and his other ministers, fan-'T has beat in pain for nothing: his creation eying within -theselves the utmost freedom Remains the vision of his own great soul; - It dies'with him; and one day shall the pilgrim action, are thing more than puppets iu Ask where his dust is lying, and not learn the hands of this all-powerful Brotherhood, XWhich watches, lilke a sort of Fate, over the inGOTTFRIED (yawning.).terests of mankind, and by mysterious agenBut then- the Christian has the joy of Heaven cies, forwards, we suppose, " the cause of civil For recompense: in his flesh he shall see God. and religious liberty over all the world." It is tROSBET. they that have doomed, the Templars; and, InI his fleshy -Noxv fair befal the journey! without malice or pity, are sending their leaders to the dungeon and the stake. That knightWhen the Angel comes to coach thee into Glory ly Order, once a favourite minister of good, has Alind also that the memory of those fair hours now degenerated from its purity, and come to ~ When dinner smoked before theej or thou usedst mistake its purpose, having taken up politics To dress thy nag, or scour thy rusty harness,, and a sort of radical reform; and so must now And such like noble business be not left behind _be broken ad reshaped, lile a worn impleHa! self-deceivingf bipeds, is it not enough. Ha c self-eceiving bipeds, is it not enough ment, which can no longer do its appointed The carcass should at every step oppress, wor. Imrprison you; that toothache, headache, Gout,-who knows what all,-at every moment, Such a magnificent " Society for the SupDegrades the god of Earth into a beast; pression of Vice" may well be supposed to But you would take this villanous mingle, walk by the most philosophical principles. The coarser dross of all the elements, These Friedenthalers, in fact, profess to be a Which, by the Light-beam from on high that visits sort of Invisible Church; preserving in vestal And dwells in it, but baser shows its basehessq,- s And dwells in it, but baser shows its baseness,- purity the sacred fire of religion, which burns Take this, and all the freaks which, bubble-like, Spring forth o' th' blood, and nwhich by such fair na ith more or less fuliginous admixture in the You call,-al qg with you into your Heaven -- worship of every people, but only with its clear WVell, be it so! much good may't- sidereal lustre in the recesses of the Valley. (.Is his eye, by chance, li'ghts on Gottfsried, swho slea — They are Bramins on the Ganges, Bonzes on while has fallen asleep) the Hoangho, Monks on the Seine. They ad-Sound already. dict themselves to contemplation, and the subThere is a race for whom all serves as —pillow, tilest study; have penetrated far into the mysEven rattling chains are but a lullaby. teries of spiritual and: physical nature; they command the deep-hidden virtues of plant and This Robert d'Heredon, whose preaching mineral; and their sages can discriminate the has here such a narcotic virtue, is destined ul- eye of the mind from its sensual instruments, timately for a higher office than to rattle his and behold, without type or material embodychains by way of lullaby. He Is ejected from ment, the essence of Being. Their activity is the Order; not, however, with disgrace and in all-comprehending and unerringly calculated: anger, but in sad feeling of necessity, and with they rule over the world by the authority of tears and blessings from his brethren; and the wisdom over ignorance. messenger of the Valley, a strange, ambigu- In the Fifth Act of the Second Part, we are ous, little sylph-like: maiden, gives him obscure at length, after many a hint and significant encouragement, before his departure, to pos- note of preparation, introduced to the privacies sess his soul in patience; seeing, if he can of this philosophical Sainte Hermsandad. A learn the grand secret of Renunciation, his strange Delphic cave this of theirs, under the course is not ended, but only opening on. a very pavements of Paris! There are brazen fairer scene. Robert knows not well what to folding doors, and concealed voices, and make of this; but sails for his native Hebrides, sphinxes, and naptha-lamps, and all manner in darkness and contrition, as one who can do of wondrous furniture. It seems, moreover, to no other. be a sort of gala evening with them; for the In the end of the Second Part, which is re- "' Old Man of Carmel, in erem ite garb, with a presented as divided from the First by an long beard reaching to his girdle," is for a mointerval of seven years, Robert is again sum- ment discovered " reading in a deep monoto LIFE AND WRITINGS OF WERNER, 43:ious'voice." The "Strong Ones," meanwhile, ADAM. are out in quest of Robert d'Heredon; who, by so cunning practices, has been enticed from his That tale of theirs was but some poor distortion, Hebridean solitude, in the hope of saving Mo- of th' outmost image of our sanctuary.lay, and is even now to be initiated, and equip- Keep silence here; and see.thou interrupt not, ped for his task. After a due allowance of By too bold cavilling, this mystery. pompous ceremonial, Robert is at last ushered OLD iAd (sreading'.) in, or rather dragged in; for it appears that he "And when the Lord Saw Phosphoros his pride, has made a stout debate, not submitting to the cast him forth Being wroth thereat, he cast him forth, customary form of being duckced,-an essential And sllt himrin. a pri.oa called mLm;:; preliminary, it would seem,-till cobmpelled by And gave hiin for a Garment, earth and water, the direst necessity. He is in a truly Highland And bound him straitlv in four-Azure Chains, anger, as is natural: but by various manipula- And pour'd for him the bitter Cup of Fire. tionls and solacenmzents, he is reduced to reason IThe Lord moreover s'pake: Because thou hast forgotten again, finding, indeed, the fruitlessness of any My Will I yield thee to the Element, a eAnd thou shalt be his slave, and have no longer thing else; for when lance and, sword and free Remembrance of thy birthplace or my name. space are given him, and he makes a thrust at And sithence thou hast sinn'd against me by Adam of Valincourt, the master of the cere- Thy prideful Thought of beizng One, and Somewhat, monies, it is to no purpose: the old'man has a. leave with thee -that thought to be thy whiptorpedo quality in -him, which benumbs the And this thy wealiness for a Bit and Bridle; stoutest arm; and lno death issues from the Till once a Saviour from the waters rise, baed wor-pntbut only a small spark of Who shall again baptize thee in my bosom, baffled.sword-pdint. That so thou may'st be Nought and All. electric fire. With his Scottish prudence, "And when the Lord had spoken, he drew baclc Robert, under these circumstances, cannot but As in a mighty rushing; and the.Elemtent.perceive that quietness is'best. The people Rose up round Phosphoros, and tower'd itself hand him, in succession, the " Cup of Strength," Aloft to Heavn; anld le lay stunil'd beneath it. the " Cup of Beauty," and the (' Cup of. Wis- " 1But when his first-born Sister saw his pain, Her heart was full of sorrow, and she turn'd her dom;" liquors brewed, if we may judge from Her heart was fall of sorrow, and she tud her em;" liquors breed, if wte maystretch of Rosim To the Lord; and with veil'd face, thus spake Mylitta:* their effect, with the'highest stretch y Bother, and let me console him! crucian art; and'which must have gone far to " Then did the Lord in pity rend asunder disgust Robert d'Heredon with his natural us- A little chink in Phosphoros his dungeon, qusebu.gh, however excellent, had that fierce That so he might behold his Sister's face: drink been in use then. He rages in a fine And when she silent peep'd into his Prison, frenzy; dies away in raptures; and then, at She left with lirn a Iirrr forhis solace, last " considers what he'wanted and what he And when he ]oolk'd therein, his earthly Garment latst, s1 Now is the time for Adam of Valin- Pressed him less; and, like the gleam of morning, wants." Now is the time for Adam of Valin- Some faint remelmbrance of his Birthplace dawn'd court'to strike in. with an interminable exposi- "But yet the Azure Chains she could not break, tion of the " objects of the society." To not The bitter Cup ofFire notvtake from him. unwilling, but still cautious ears, he,unbosoms Therefore she pray'd to Mythras, to her Father,: himself, in mystic wise, with extreme copious- To save his younger-horn: and'Mythras went ness; turning aside objections like a veteran Up to the footstool of the ord, and said: his apt an couTake pity on my Son — Then said the Lord; disputant, and leading his apt and courageous Have I not sent Mylittathat he ay pupil, by signs and wonders, as well as by Behold his Birthplace?-Wherefore Mythras answer'd& logic, deeper and deeper into the secrets of What profits it? The chains she cannot break, theosophic and thaumaturgic science. A little The bitter Cup of Fire not take from him. glimpse of thlis our readers may share with us; So will 1, said the Lord, the Salt be given him. though we fear the allegory will seem to most That so the bitter GCp of Fire be softened; of them but a hollow nuit. Nevertheless, it is But yet the Azure hains mist lie on him Till once a Saviour rise from out the Waters. — an a~llegory —of its sort; and we can profess to And when the Salt was laid on Phosphor's tongue have translated with entire fidelity. The Fire's piercing ceased; but th' Element *, i;', * 5 ~, Congeal'd the Salt to Ice, and Phosphoros Lay there benumh'd, and had not power to move. ADAM.' But Isis saw him, and thus spake the mother: Thty riddle by a second will be solved, ""Thou who art Fathet, Strength and Word and (He leads him to the Sphinx.) Light.: Behold this Sphinx! Half-beast, half-angel, both Shall he my last-born grandchild lie for ever Coinbimed in one, it is an emblem to thee In pain, the down-press'd thrall of his. rude Brother a Of th' ancient Mother, Nature, herself a riddle, Then had the Lord compassion, and he sent him Anmd only by a deeper to lie nlaster'd. The Herald of the Saviour from the Waters; Eternal. clearness in th' eternal Ferment: The cup of Fluidness, and in the Cup This is the riddle of Existence:-read it,- The drops of Sadness and the drops of Longing. Protiose that other to her, and she serves thee And then the Ice was thawed, the Fire grew cool, Ante had opens, d, in t ace Ad Phosphoros again had room to breathe.'The door on the rigrht' hand opens, and, in the space But yet the earthy Garment cumber'd hin, behind it appeads' as before, the OLD MWAN OF CARIELY, ei. it ppees, as befre, the OLD IA OF CiEL, The Azure chains still gall'd, and the Remembrance: sitting at a Table, and reading in a larg.e Volume. The ct~~~~~~~~, ~~Of the Name, the Lord's, which- he had lost, was wan:. deep strokes of a Bell are hearcd.) in OLD AIA NX Or CARMEL (rcadin2g with a loed but still mo- "Then the Mother's heart was moved with pity, nottonous voice.) She beckoned the So-n to her, and said:: And wlhen the Lord saw Phosphoros "- Thou who art more than I, and yet my nursling, ROBERT (interrlupticng himn.) Ha! Again 5Jkylitta, in the old Persian mysteries, was the' nsarrA story as of Baffonometus' of the Moon; Jtht.roas that of the Sun. -44 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. Put on this Robe of Earth, and show thyself | on such extravagances, we have fancied we To fallen Phosphoros bhound in the dungeon, could discern in this apologue some glimmerAnd open him that dungeon's narrow cover. ings of meaning scattered here and there like Then said tile Word: It shall be so! and sent His messenger DI)ISASE; she brokethe roof weak lamps in the darkness; not enough to Of Phosphor's Prison, so that once again interpret the riddle, but to show that by possiThe Fount of Light he saw:, the Element bility it might have an interpretafion, —was a Was dazzled blind; but Phosphor knew his Father. typical vision, with a certain degree of signifiAnd wthen the Word, in Earth, came to the Prison, cance in the wild mind of the poet, not an inThe Eletnent address'd him as his like; ane fever-dream. Might not Phosphoros, for MBut Phosphoros look'd up to him, and said: example, indicate generally the spiritual esThou art sent hither to redeem from Sin, Yet art thou not the Saviour from the Waters.- sence of a man, and this story he an emblem Then spake the Word: The Saviour from the Waters of his history? He longs to be "One and I surely am not; yet when thou hast drunk Somewhat;" that is, he labours under the The Cup of Fluidness, I will Redeem thee. very common complaint of egotism; cannot, in Then Phosphor drank the Cup of Fluidness, the grandeur of Beauty and Virtue, forget his Of Longing, and of Sadness;' and his Garment own so beautiful and virtuous Self; but amid Did drop sweet drops; wherewith the Messenger the glories of the majestic All, is still haunted Of the Word wash'd all his Garment, till its folds And stiffness vanish'd, and it;'gan grow light. and blinded by some shadow of his own little And when the Prison LiFE she touch'd, straightway Me. For this reason he is punished; impriIt wax'd thin and lucid like to crystal. soned in the "Element" (of a material body,) But yet the Azure Chains she could not break.- and has the " four Azure Chains " (the four Then did the Word vouchsafe him the Cup Of Faith, principles of matter) bound round him; so And having drunk it, Phosphoros-look'd up, that he can neither think nor act' except in a And saw the Saviour standing in the Waters. Both hands the Captive stretch'd to grasp that Saviour foreign med, and under conditions that But he fled. confuse him. The "Cup of Fire" is given "So Phosphoros was grieved in heart: him; perhaps, the rude, barbarous passion and But yet the Word spake comfort, giving him! cruelty hatural to all uncultivated tribes? But, The Pillow Patience, there to lay, his head. I;' at length, he beholds the "Moon;" begins to And having rested, he rais'd his head,'andsaidd:: have some sight and love of material Nature; Wilt thou redeem nme fromthe Prison 1o6'?'and, looking into her "Mirror," forms to himThen said the Word: Wait yet in peace seven moons, It may he nine, until thy hour shall come.' self, under gross emblems, a theogony and sort And Phosphor answer'd, Lord, thy will be done of mythologic poetry; in which, if he cannot "Which when the mother Isis saw, it grieved her; behold the " Name," and has forgotten his own She called the Rainbow up, and said to him:'' Birthplace," both of which are blotted out Go thou and tell the Word that he forgive and hidden by the "Element," he finds some The Captive these seven moons! And Rainbow flew spiritual solace, and breathes more freely. Where he was sent; and as he shooi k his wings Still, however, the " Cup of Fire " tortures him; There dropt from them.the Oil of Purity: And this the Word did gather in a Cup, till the "Salt" (intellectual culture?) is vouchAnd cleansed with it'the Sinner's head and bosom. safed; which, indeed, calms the raging of that Thesn passing forth into his Father's Garden, furious bloodthirstiness and warlike strife, but Ile breathed upon the ground, and there arose leaves him, as mere culture of the understandA flow'ret out of it, like milk and rose-bloom; ing may be supposed to do, frozen into irreliW'hich having wetted with the dew of Rapture, gion and moral inactivity, and farther from He crown'd therewith the Captive's brow; then grasp'dthe "Name" and his "own Originaa'd than him ever. t he "Name" and his "Own Original" than With his right hand, the Rainbow with the left; ever. Then is the " Cup of Fluidness" a more Mylitta likewise with the Mirror came, merciful disposition? and intended, with "the And Phosphoros looked into it, and saw Drops of Sadness and the Drops of Longing," Wrote on the Azure of Infinity to shadow forth that wo-struck, desolate, yet The long-forgotten NAME, and the-REMEMBRANCE softer and devouter state in which mankind OF HIS BIRTHPLACE, gleaming as in light of gold. displayed itself at the coming of the " Word," "Then fell there as if scales from Phosphor's eyes, at the first promulgation of the Chr He left the Thought of being One and Somewhat, at the first promulgationof the Christia reliHis nature melted in the mighty All; gion. Is the "Rainbow" the modern poetry Like sighings from above came balmy healing, of Europe, the Chivalry, the new form of StoSo that his heart for very bliss was bursting. icism, the whole romantic feeling of these later For Chains and Garment cumber'd him no more: days? But who or what the "Heiland aus den The Garment he had changed to royal purple, Wasserse" (Saviour from the Waters) may De, And of his Chains were fashion'd glancingjewels. e need not hide our entire ignorance; this we need not hide our entire ignorance; this "True, still the Saviour from the Waters tarried; Yet came the Spirit over him; the Lord Yet came the Spirit over hifm;thhe L\Verd trbeing apparently a secret'of the Valley, which Turn'd towards him a gracious countenance, Robert d'Heredon, and Werner, and men of And Isis held him in her mother-arms. like gifts, are in due time to show the world, " This is.the last Evangile. but unhappily have not yet succeeded in bring-'The door closes, and again conceals thie oLD ItAI OF ing to light. Perhaps, indeed, our whole inCARMELd i ) terpretation may be thought little better than lost labour; a reading of what was only The purport of this enigma Robert confesses scrawled and flourished, not written; a- shapthat he does not "'wholly" understand; an ad- ing of gay castles and metallic palaces from mission in which, we suspect, most of our the sunset clouds, which, though mountainreaders, and the Old Man-of Carmel himself, like, and purple and golden of hueand towwere he candid, might be inclined to agree ered together as if by Cyclopean arms, are but with him. Sometimes, in the deeper consider- dyed vapour.; ation which translators are bound to bestow Adam of Valincourt continues his exposi LIFE AND WRITINGS OF WERNER. 45 tion in the most liberal way; but, through our readers may be disposed to hold his revemany pages of metrical lecturing, -he does lations on this subject rather cheap. Neverlittle to satisfy us. What was more to his theless, taking up the character of Votes in its purpose, he partly succeeds in satisfying Ro- widest sense, Werner earnestly desires not bert d'Heredon; who, after due preparation, — only to be a poet, but a prophet; and, indeed, Molay being burnt like a martyr, under'the looks upon his merits in the former province most promising omens, and the Pope and the as altogether subservient to his higher purKing of France struck dead, or nearly so,- poses in the latter. We have a series of the sets out to found the order, of St. Andrews in most confused and long-winded letters to Hithis own country, that of Calatrava in Spain, zig, who had now removed to Berlin; setting and other knightly Missions of the Heiland aus forth, with a singular- simplicity, the mighty den Wassern elsewhere; and thus, to the great projects Werner was cherishing on this head. satisfaction of all'parties, the Sons of the Valley He thinks that there ought to be a new Creed terminates, "positively for the last time." promulgated, a new Body- of Religionists esOur reader may have already* convinced tablished; and that, for this purpose, not writhimself that in this strange phantasmagoria ing, but actual preaching, can avail. He there are not wanting indications of very high detests common Protestantism, under which poetic talent. We see a mind of great depth, he seems to mean a sort of Socinianism, or if not of'sufficient strength; struggling with diluted French Infidelity; he talks of Jacob objects which, though it cannot master them, Bcehbme, and Luther, and Schleiermacher, and are essentially of richest significance. Had a new Trinity of "Art, Religion, and Love." the writer only kept his piece till the ninth All this should be sounded in the ears of men, year; meditating it with true diligence and un- and in a loud voice, that so their torpid slumwearied will! But the weak Werner was not ber, the harbinger of spiritual death, may be a man for such things: he must reap the har- driven away. With the utmost gravity he vest on the morrow after seed-day, and so commissions his correspondent to wait upon stands before us at last, as a man capable of Schlegel, Tieck, and others of a like spirit, much, only not of bringing aught to perfec- and see whether they will not join him'n. For tiont. his own share in the matter, he is totally inOf his natural dramatic genius, this work, different; will serve in the'meanest capacity, ill-concocted as it is, affords no unfavourable and rejoice with his whole -heart, if, in zeal specimen; and may, indeed, have justified ex- and ability as poets and preachers, not some pectations which were never realized. It is only, but every one, should infinitely outstrip true, he cannot yet give form and animation to him. We suppose, he had droppecithe thought a character, in the genuine poetic sense; we of being "One and Somewhat;" and now do not see any of his dramatis persoree, but only wished, rapt away by this divine purpose, to hear of them: yet, in some cases his endea- be "Nought and All." vour, though imperfect, is by no means abor- On the Heiland aous den WTfassern this corretive; and here, for' instance, Jacques Molay, spondence throws no further light: what the Philip Adalbert, Hugo, and the like, though new Creed specially was, which Werner felt not living men, have still as much life as many so eager to plant and propagate, we nowhere a buff-and-scarlet Sebastian or Barbarossa, learn with any distinctness.'Probably, he whom we find swaggering, for years, with ac- might himself have been rather at a loss to ceptance, on the boards. Of his spiritual explain it in brief compass. His theogony, we beings, whom in most of his plays he intro- suspect, was still very much in posse; and duces too profusely, we cannot speak in com-' perhaps only the moral part of this system mendation: they are of a mongrel nature, could stand before him with some degree of neither rightly dead nor alive; in fact, they clearness. On this latter point, indeed, he is sometimes glide about like real, though rather determined enough; well' assured of his dogsingular mortals, through the whole piece; mas,. and'apparently waiting but for some and only vanish as ghosts in the fifth act. proper vehicle il which to convey them to But, on the other hand, in contriving theatrical the:minds of men. His fundamental princiincidents and sentiments; in scenic shows, ple of morals we have seen in part already: and all manner of gorgeous, frightful, or as- it does not exclusively or primarily belong tonishing machinery, Werner exhibits a copi- to himself; being little more than that high ous invention, and strong though untutored tenet of entire Self-forgetfulness, that ":mergfeeling. Doubtless, it is all crude enough; all ing of the Me in the Idea;" a principle which illuminated by an impure, barbaric splendour; reigns both in Stoical and Christian ethics, not the soft, peaceful brightness of sunlight, and is at this day cosimon, in theory, among but the red, resinous glare of playhouse torches. all German philosophers, especially of the VWferner, however, was still young; and had he Transcendental class. Werner has adopted been of a right spirit, all!that was impure and this principle' with his whole' heart and his crude'might in time have become ripe and whole soul, as.the indispensable condition of clear; and a poet of no ordinary excellence all Virtue. He believes it, we should say, inwould have been moulded out of him. tensely, and without compromise, exaggerating But as matters stood, this was by no means rather than softening or concealing its peculithe thing Werner had most at heart. It is not a'rities. He- will not have Happiness, under the degree of poetic talent manifested in the any form, tobe the real or chief end of man; Sons of the Valley that he prizes, but the reli- this is but love of enjoyment, disguise it as gious truth shadowed forth in it. To judge from we like; a more complex and sometimes more the parables of Baffometus and Phosphoros, respectable species of hunger, he would say 46 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. to be admitted as an indestructible element in long, to play fantastic tricks in abundance; human nature, but nowise to be recognised as and, at least, in his religious history, to set the the highest; on the contrary, to be resisted and world a-wondering. Conversioli, not to Pope-: incessantly warred with, till it become obedi- ry, but, if it so chanced, to Braminism, was 4 ent to love 6f God, which is only, in the truest thing nowise to be thought impossible.' sense, love of GCeodness, and the germ of which Nevertheless, let his missionary zeal have lies deep in the inmdst nature of man,; of au- justice from us! It does seem to have been thority superior to all sensitive impulses; grounded on no wicked or even illaudable forming, in fact; the grand law of his being, as motive: to all appearance, he not only believed subjection to it forms the first and last condi- what he' professed, but thought it of the hightion of spiritual health. He thinks that to pro- est moment ithat others should believe it. And pose a reward for virtue is to render virtue im- if the proselytizing spirit, which dwells in all possible. I-e warmly seconds Schleiermacher men, be allowed exercise even' when it only in declaring that even the hope oflmmortalityis assaults what it reckons Errors, still more a consideration unfit to be introduced into re- should this be so, when it prociaims what it ligion, and tending ondly to pervert it, and im- reckons Truth; and fancies itself not taking pair its sacredness. Strange as this may seem, from us what in our eyes may be good, but.Werner is firmly convinced of its importance; adding thereto what is better. and has even enforced it specifically in a pas- Meanwhile, Werner was not so absorbed in sage of his S6ohe des Thals, which he is at the spiritual schem'es, that he altogether overpains to cite and expound in his correspond- looked his own merely temporal comfort. In ence with Ritzig. Here is another fraction of contempt of former failures, he was now courtthat wondrous dialogue between Robert d'Here- ing for himself a third wife, "a young Poless don and Adam of'Valincourt, in the cavern of of the highest personal attractions;" and this the Voalley: under difficulties which would have appalled,r, ~,: * sk K.,k *an ordinary wooer: for the two had no lanaRoaiaT. guage in common; he not understanding three words of Polish, she not. one of GerAnd Death, —so dawns it on me, —Death perhaps, The doom that leaves nlugiht of this j.1e remaining, man. Nevertheless, nothing daunted by. this May be perhaps the Symbol of that Self-denial, — circumstance, nay, perhaps discerning in it Perhaps still nore, perhaps,-I have it, friend an assurance against many a sorrowful cur-That cripplish Immortality,-thin!k'st not'? — taiin lecture, he prosecuted his suit, we supWhich but spins forth our paltry,fe, so thin pose by signs and dumb-show, with such And pitiful, into Infianitude, -ardour, that he quite gained the fair mute; That too must d(ie?-This shallow Self'of ours, ne too tnet die?-This stallov Selfof ours,' wedded her in 1801; and soon after, in her We are not nail'd to it eternally We can, we nmust'be free of it, and then company quitted Warsaw for Kinigsber-, Uncumber'd wanton in the Force of All! where the helpless state of his mother re' ADIAM (callingjoyfully into the interior of the Cavern.) quired immediate attention. It is from. KWnigsBrethren, le has renlonced! iinlself has foundit' berg that most of his missionary epistles to Oh!praised be Light! iHe sees The North is saved': Hitzig are written; the latter, as we have hintCNo ALED VOiCES of 1/e old mesn of ethe FVuley. ed above, being now stationed, by his official appointment, in Berlin. The sad duty of H1ail and joy to thee, thou Strong One; alcl and joy to thee, thaove, Strong One; watching over his crazed, forsaken, and dying Force to thee from above, and Light! Copl ipete,-cotnplete the wvork'! mother, Werner appears to have discharged with true filial assiduity: for three years she lingered in the most painful state, under his Coine to my heart!-&c. I&c. nursing: and her. death, in 1804, seems notSuch was the spirit of that new Faith, which, withstanding to have filled him with the deepsymbolized under mythuses of Baffometus and est sorrow. This is an extract of his letter to Phosphoros, and " Saviours from the Waters," Hitzig on that mournful occasion: and "'Trinities of Art, Religion, and Love," "I know not whether thou hast heard that on and to be preached abroad by-the aid of Schlei- the 24th of February, (the same day when our ermacher, and what was then called the Ntet excellent Mnioch died in Warsaw,) my mother Poetical Shool, Werner seriously purposed, like departed here, in my arms. My Friend! God another Luther, to cast forth, as good Seed, knocks with an: iron hammer at our hearts; among the ruins of decayed and down-trodden and we are duller than stone, if we' do not feel Protestantism! WVhether Ritzig was still young it; -and madder than mad, if we think it shame enough to attempt executing his commission, to cast ourselves'into the dust before the Alland applying to Schlegel and Tieck for help; powerfiul, and let our whole so highly miseraand if so, in what gestures of speechless asto- ble Self be annihilated in the sentiment'of His nishment, or what peals of inextinguishable infinite greatness and long-suffering. I wish I laughter; they answered him, we are not in- had words to paint how inexpressibly pitiful'formed. One thing;, however, is clear: that a my Sihne des Thals appeared to me in that hour, -man with so unbridled an im agination, joined to when, after eighteen. years of neglect, I again so weak an understanding, and so broken a voli- wvent to partake in the Communion! This tion; -who had plunged so deep into Theoso- death of. my nmother, —the pure, royal poet-andphy, and still hovered so near the surface in martyr spirit, who for eight years had lain conall practical knowledge of men and their af- tinually on a sick-bed, and suffered unspeakafairs;;who, shattered and degraded in his own ble things,-affected me, (much as, for her sake private character, could meditate sulch apos- and my own, I could not but wish it with altoitlic enterprises, was a man likely, if he lived gether agIonizing feelings.) Ah, Friend, how LIFE AND WRITINGS OF WERNER. 47 heavy do rmy youthful faults lie on me! I-ow charm of his conversation: for Werner many much would I give to have my mother-(though times could be frank and simple; -and. the true both I and my wife have of late times lived humour'and. abandonment with which he often wholly for her, and had much to endure on her launched forth into bland satire on his friends, account)-how much would I give to have her and still oftener on himself, atoned for many of back to me but one week, that I might dis- his whims and weaknesses. Probably the two burden my heavy-laden heart with tears of re- could not have lived together by themselves: pentance! My beloved Friend, give thou no but in a circle of common men, where these grief to thy parents! ah, no earthly voice can touchy elements were attempered by a fair adawaken the dead! God and Parents, that is dition of wholesome insensibilities and forthe first concern; all else is secondary." malities, they even relished one another; and, This affection for his mother forms, as it indeed,, the whole social union seems to have were, a little island of light and verdure in stood.on no undesirable footing. For the rest, Waerner's history, where, amid so much that is Warsaw itself was, at this time, a gay, picdark and desolate, one feels it pleasant to lin- turesque, and stirring city; full of resourcees ger. Here was at least one duty, perhaps, in- for spending life in pleasant occupation, either deed, the only one, which, in a wayward, wisely or unwisely.? wasted life, he discharged with fidelity: from It was here, that, in 1805, W, erner's KIrezz.his conduct towards this one hapless being, we azn der (Ostsee (Cross on the Baltic) was writmay, perhaps, still learn that his heart, how- ten: a sort of half-operatic performance, fo.r ever perverted by circumstances, was not in- which Hoffmaiin, who to his gifts as a writer capable of t rue, disinterested love. A rich heart added perhaps still higher attainments, both as byNature; but unwisely squandering its riches, a musician and a painter, composed the acand attaining to a pure union only with this one companiment. He complains that, in this matneart; for it seems doubtful whether he ever ter, Werner was very ill to please. A ridiculoved another! His poor mother, while alive, lous scene, at the first reading of the piece, the was the haven of all his earthlyvoyagings; and, same shrewd wag has recorded in his 8e-ain after years, from amid far scenes, and crush- pions-.Bruder; Hitzig assures- us that it is liteing perplexities, he often looks back to her rally true, and that Hoffmann himself was the grave with a feeling to which all bosoms must main actor in the business. respond.* The date of her decease became a "Our Poet had invited a few friends, to read Ynemorable era in his mind; as may appear. to them, in manuscript, his Kr-ctz cander Ostsee, from the title which he gave, long afterwards, of which they already knew some fragments to one of his most popular and tragical pro- that had raised their expectations to the highductions, Die Vic-r-tnd-zwteanzigste Fcebuzar (The:est stretch. Planted, as usual, in the middle Twenty-fourth of February.) of the circle, at a little miniature table, oil which After this event, which left him in posses- two clear lights, stuck in high candlesticks, sion of: a small but competent fortune, Werner were burning, sat the poet: he had drawn the returned with his wife to his post at Warsaw. manuscript from his breast; the huge snuff-box, By this time, Hitzig, too, had been sent back,;the blue-checked handkerchief, aptly reminding and to a higher post: he was now married you of Baltic muslin, as.in use for petticoats and likewise; and the two wives, he says, soon be- other indispensable things, lay arranged in came as intimate as their husbands. In a lit- order before him.-Deep silence on all sides!tle while Hoffmann joined themrn; a colleague Not a breath heard!-The poet cuts one of in Hitzig's offife, and by him ere long intro- those unparalleled, ever-memorable, altogether duced to Werner, and the other circle of Prus- indescribable faces you have seen in him, and sian men of law, who, in this foreign capital, begins.-Now you recollect, at the rising of the formed each other's chief society; and, -of curtain, the Prussians are assembled on the course, cleave to one another more closely coast of the Baltic, fishing amber, and comthan they might have done elsewhere. Hoff- -, mann does not seem to have loved Werner; - * itzig has thus described the-first aspect it presented as, indeed, he was at all times -rather shy in to Hoffmann: "Streets of stately breadthb, formed of pahis attachments; and, to his quick eye, and laces in the finest Italian style, and wooden huts which his attachments; and, to his quick eye, and threatened every moment to rush down over the heads more rigid, fastidious feeling,.the lofty theory of their inmates; in these etiifices, Asiatic pomp cornand low selfish practice, the general diffuse- bined in strange union with Greenland squalor. An nessny, incoherence of character, the p ever-moving population, forming the sharpest contrasts, ness, nay, incoherence of character, the pe-e'etu al masqurade.long-bearded Jews; as. in a perpetual masquerade: tong bearded Jews; dantry and solemn affectation, too visible in molks in the garb of every order; here veiled and deepthe man, could nowise be hidden. Neverthe — ly-shrouded nuns of strictest discipline, walking, selfless, he feels and acknowledges -the frqutsecluded-and apart: there flights of young Polesses, in less, he feels and ac k.nowledges ~ the frequent silk mantles of the brightest colours, talking and promenading over broad squares. The venerable ancient Polish noble, with moustaches, caftan, girdle, sabre, and see, for example, the Prefce to is.tte riak- red or yellow boots: the new eneration equipt to the kaile'er, written at Vienna, in 1819. The tone of still, but redtm.ost pitch as arisian.c neoabIes, l with Turks, deep and heartfelt sadness, which runs through the utinost pitch as Parisian Incro?1ables deep ianod hecartfelt sadness, whichruns thiough the Greeks, Russians, Italians, Frenchmen, in ever-changwhole of this piece, cannot be communicated in extracts tron. Add a police of inconce to-We quote only a half stanza, which, except in prose, we t, disturbing no popular sport so that little puppetshall not venture to translate::aice, disturbing no popular sport; so that little puppettheatre.s, apes, camels, dancing bears, pracsised inces Ich, dem der Liebe Kosen santly in open spaces and streets;.while the most el}garnt Und alle Freudenroses, equipages, and the poorest pedestrian bearers of burden, Begyns erstens Schaufeltosen stood gazing at them. Further, a theatre in the national.rnm Jluttesrgrab' entflohn. — language; a good. French company-; an Italian opera; - - - -; Gerniman players of at least a very passable sort; mask"1, for whom the caresses of love and all roses of joy ed-balls on a quite original but highly entertaining plan; withe-ed away, as the first shovel with its mould sound- places for pleasure-excursions all round the city," &c, ed on the coffin of my mother." &c. —Ioffmarann's Leben uxnd Aachslass b. i. p. 28,. 48 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. moence by calling on the god who presides over gerations are softened into something which this vocation.-So-begins: at least resembles poetic harmony. W- e give Bangputtis! Bangputtis! Bangputtis! this drama a high praise, when we say that -Brief pause! —Incipient stare in the audi- than once it has reminded us of Calence!-and from a fellow in the corner comes The"tr a small clear voice:'My dearest, most valued oss on the Baltic" had been bespoke friend! my best of poets! If thy whole dear by Iffland for the Berlin theatre; but the cornplex machinery of the piece, the "little flames" opera is written in that cursed language, no springig, machinery of the fromece the little flames" soul of us knows a syllable of it; and I beg, springing, at intervals, from the heads of cerin the Devil's name, thou wouldst rather have tain characters, and the other supernatural ware with which it is replenished, were found the goodness to translate it first!' "* Of this K'euz an der Ostsee our limits will to transcend the capabilities of any merely permit us to say but little. It -is still a frag-terrestrial stage. Iffland, the best actor in ment; the: Second Part, which was often pro- Germany, was himself a dramatist, and a man misednd, whe believeP, pay wriat ten, havg of talent, but in all points differing from Wermised, and, we believe, partly written, having her, as a stage-machinist may differ from a never yet been published. In some respects, ner, as a stage-machinist may difer fron a never yet beenblished. In some respectsman with the second-sight. Hoffmann chuckles it appears to us the best of Werner's dramas: in secret over the ch there is a decisive coherence in the plot, such perplexities in which the.as we seldom find with him; and a firmness, a shrewd prosaic manager and playwright must rugged nervous brevity in the dialogue,which have found himself, when he came to the is equally rare. Heie, too, the mystic dream, " little flames." Nothing remained but to write is equally rare. Here, too,,the mystic dreamy agencies, which, as in most of his pieces, he back a refusal, fulLof admiration and expostuhas interwoven with the action, harmonize lation: and Iffland wrote one which, says Hoffmore than usually with the spirit of the whole. mann, " passes for a master-piece of theatrical It is a wild subject, and this helps to give it a diplomacy."' corresponding wildness of locality. The first In this one respect, at least, Werner's next planting of Christianity among the Prussians, play was happier, for it actually crossed the by. the Teutonic Knights, leads us back of "Stygian marsh" of green-room hesitations,.. and reached, though in a maimed state, the itself into dim ages of antiquity, of supersti- and reache, though in a maimed state, the tious barbarism, and stern apostolic zeal: it ise boards; and this to the great a scene hanging,'as it were, in half-ghastly joy, as it proved, both of Iffland and all other chiaroscuro, on a ground of primeval Night: parties interested. We allude to the Martin where the Cross and St. Adalbert come in con- Luther, oder die Weihe der Kraft, (AMartin Luther, tact with the Sacred Oak and the Idols of Consecration of Strength,) Werner's Romova;'we are not surprised that spectral most popular performance, which came out at shapes peer forth on us from the gloom. Berlin in 1807, and soon spread over all'GerIn the constructing and depicting of charac- many, Catholic as well as protestant, being ters, Werner, indeed, is still little better than a acted, it wuld seem, even in Vienna, to overmannerist: his persons, differing in external flowing and delighted audiences. figure, differ too slightly in inward nature; and If instant acceptance, therefore, were a no one of the coes forward on us with a'measure of dramatic merit, this play should no one of them comes forward on us with a rank high among that class of works. Neverrightly visible or living air. Yet, in scenes rank high among that class of worrs. Neverand incidents, in what may be called the gene- theless, to judge from ou wn impressions, the sober reader of Martin Luther will be far ral costume of his subject, he has here attained from finding in it such excellence. It cannot a really superior excellence. The savage be named aiong the b e Prussians, with their amber-fishing, their bear- the best dramas:t is not hunting, their bloody idolatry, and stormful un- even the best of Werner's. There is, indeed, much scenic exhibition, many a "1 fervid sentitutored energy, are brought vividly into view; much scenic exhibition, many a "fervid sentino less so the Polish Court of Plozk, and the ment," as the newspapers have it; nay, with German Crusaders, in their bridal-feasts and all its mixture of coarseness, here and there battles, as they live and move, here placed on a glimpse of genuine dramatic inspiration; the verge of Heathendom, as it were, the van- but, as a whole, the wor sorely disappoints guardg of L ight in conflict w rith the kingdoms us; it is of so loose and mixed a structure and guard of Light in conflict with the kingdoms falls asunder in our thoughts, lilme the iron and of Darkness. The nocturnal assault on Plozk falls asunder in our thoughts, like the iron and by the Prussians, where the handful of Teuto- clay in the Chaldean's Dream. There is an hie Knights is overpowered, but the city saved interest, perhaps of no trivial sort, awakened from ruin'by the mi raculous interposition of in the First Act; but, unhappily, it goes on declining, till, in the Fifth, an ill-natured critic the ".Harper," who now proves to be the spirit ig t, in t he story is too of St. Adalbert; this, with the scene which ight almost say, it expires. The story is too follows it, on the Island of the Vistula, where wide for Werner's dramatic lens to gather into follows it, on the I.5land of the Vistula, where the dawn slowly breaks over doings of wo and a focus; besides, the reader brings with him horrid cruelty, but of wo and cruelty atoned an image of it, too fixed for being so boldly foir by immortal. hope,-belongs undoubtedly metamorphosed, and too high and august for to Werner's most successfuil efforts. With being ornamented with tinsel and gilt pastemuch that is questionable, much that is merely board. Accordingly, the Diet of Worms, commdn, there are intermingled touches from plentifully furnished as it is with sceptres and the true Land of Wonders; indeed, the whole armorial shields, continues a much grander scene in History, than it is here in Fiction. is overspread with a certain dim religious Neither, with' regard to the persons of the play, light, in which its many pettinesses and exagexcepting those of Luther and Catharine, the * toffmann's Serapions-Bri5der, b. iv. S. 240. Nun whom he weds, can we find much scope LIFE AND WRITINGS OF WERNER. 49 for praise. Nay, our praise even of these two half-ghosts and one whole ghost,-a littletwo must have many limitations. Catharine, fairy girl, Catharine's servant, who imperthough carefully enough depicted, is, in fact, sonates Faith; a little fairy youth, Luther's little more than a common tragedy-queen, with servant, who represents Art; and the " Spirit the storminess, the love, and other stage-hero- of Cotta's wife," an honest housekeeper, but ism, which belong prescriptively to that class defunct many years before, who stands for of dignitaries. VWith regard to Luther himself, Purity. These three supernaturals hover about it is evident that Werner has put forth his in very whimsical wise, cultivating flowers, whole strength in this delineation; and, trying playing on flutes, and singing dirge-like epithahim by common standards, we are far from lamiums over unsound sleepers: we cannot see saying that he has failed. Doubtless it is, in how aught of this is to " consecrate strength;" some respects, a significant and even sublime or, indeed, what such jack-o'-lantern persondelineation: yet must we ask whether it is ages have in the least to do with so grave a Luther, the Luther of History, or even the business. If the author intended by such Luther proper for this drama; and not rather machinery to elevate his subject fromn the some ideal portraiture of Zacharias Werner Common, and unite it with the higher region himself? Is not this Luther, with his too as- of the Infinite and the Invisible, we cannot siduous flute-playing, his trances of three days, think that his contrivance has succeeded, or his visions of the Devil, (at whom, to the sor- was worthy to succeed. These half-allegorical, row of the housemaid, he resolutely throws his half-corporeal beings yield no contentrient huge ink-bottle,) by much too spasmodic and anywhere: Abstract Ideas, however they may brainsick a personage 1 We cannot but ques- put on fleshly garments, are a class of charaction the dramatic beauty, whatever it may be ters whom we cannot sympathize with or dein history, of that three days' trance; the hero light in. Besides, how can this mere imbodymust before this have been in want, of mere ment of an allegory be supposed to act on the victuals; and there, as he sits deaf aitd dumb, rugged materials of life, and elevate into ideal with his eyes sightless, yet fixed and staring, grandeur the doings of real men, that live and are we not tempted less to admire, than to send move amid the actual pressure bf worldly in all haste for some officer of the Humane things? At best, it can stand but like a ha'nd Society?-Seriously, we cannot but regret in the mnargin: it is not performing the task prothat these and other such blemishes had not posed, but only telling us that it was meant to been avoided, and the character, worked into be performed. To our feelings, this entire chasteness and purity, been presented to us in episode runs like straggling bindweed through the simple grandeur which essentially belongs the whole growth of the piece, not so much to it. For, censure as we may, it were blind- uniting as encumbering and choking up what ness to deny that this figure of Luther has in it meets with; in itself, perhaps, a green and it features of an austere' loveliness, a mild, yet rather pretty weed; yet here superfluous, and, awful beauty: undoubtedly a figure rising from like any other weed, deserving only to be altothe depths of the poet's soul; and, marred as it gether cut away. is with such adhesions, piercing at times into Our general opinion of " Martin Luther," it the depths of ours! Among so many poetical would seem, therefore, corresponds ill with that sins, it forms the chief redeeming virtue, and of the "overflowing and delighted audiences" truly were almost in itself a sort of atone- over all Germany. We believe, however, that ment. now, in its twentieth year, the worlk may be As for the other characters, they need not somewhat more calmly judged of even there. detain us long. Of Charles the Fifth, by far As a classical drama it could never pass with the most ambitious,-meant, indeed, as the any critic; nor, on the other hand, shall we counterpoise of Luther,-we may say, without ourselves deny that, in the lower sphere of a hesitation, that he is a failure. An empty Gas- popular spectacle, its attractions are manifold. con this; bragging of his power, and honour, We find it, what, more or less,' we find all and the like, in a style which Charles, even in'Werner's pieces to be, a splendid, sparkling his nineteenth year, could never have used. mass; yet not of pure metal, but of many"One God, one Charles," is no sp'eech for an coloured scoria, not unmingled with metal; and emperor; and, besides, is borrowed from some must regret, as ever, that it had not',been repanegyrist of a Spanish opera-singer. Neither fined in a stronger furnace, and kept in the can we fall in with Charles, when he tells us, crucible till the true silver-glcanm, glancing from that "he fears nothing,-not even God." We it, had shown that the process was complete. humbly think he must be mistaken. With the Werner's dramatic popularity could not reold Miners, again, with Hans Luther and his main without influence on him, more espeWife, the Reformer's parents, there is more cially as he was now in the very centre of its reason to be satisfied;: yet in Werner's hands brilliancy, having changed his residence from simplicity is always apt, in such cases, to be- Warsaw to Berlin, some time before his Weihe come too simple, and these honest peasants, der Kraft was acted, or indeed written. Von like the honest Hugo in the "Sons of the Val- Schr6tter, one of the state-ministers, a man ley," are very garrulous. harmonizing with Werner in his " zeal both for This drama of "Martin Luther" is named religion and freemasonry," had been persuaded' likewise the " Consecration of Strength;" that by:some friends to appoint him his secretary. is, we suppose, the purifying of this great Werner naturally:rejoice'd in such promotion; theologian. from all remnants of earthly pas- yet, combined with his theatrical' success, it sion, into a clear heavenly zeal; an operation' perhaps, in the long run, did him more harni which is brought about, strangely enough, by than good. He might now, for the first time; 7 El1 50 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. be said to see the busy and influential world Rigi, at sunrise, he became acquainted with with his own eyes: but to draw future instruc- the Crown-Prince, King of Bavaria; was by tion from it, or even to guide himself in its him Introduced to the Swiss festival at Inpresent complexities, he was little qualified. terlacken, and to the most "intellectual lady He took a shorter method: "he plunged into of our time, the Baroness de Stal;"nand must the vortex of society," says Hitzig, with brief ex- beg to be credited when, after sufficient inpressiveness; became acquainted, indeed, with dividual experience, he can declare, that the Fichte, Johannes Miiller and other excellent heart of this high and noble woman was at men, but, united himself also, and with closer least as great as her genius. Coppet, for a partiality, to players, play-lovers, and a long while, was his head quarters, but he went to list of jovial, admiring, but highly unprofitable Paris' to Weimar,* again to Switzerland; in companions.'His religious schemes, perhaps, short, trudged and hurried hither and thither, rebutted by collision with actual life, lay dor- inconstant as an ignis faittus, and restless as mant for the time, or mingled in strange union the Wandering Jew. with wine-vapours, and the "feast of reason, On his mood of mind during all this period, and the flow of soul." The result of all this Werner gives us no direct information; but so might, in some measure, be foreseen. In eight unquiet an outward life betokens of itself no weeks, for example, Werner had parted with inward repose; and when we, from other lights, his wife. It was not to be expected, he writes, gain a transient glimpse into the wayfarer's that she should be happy with him. "I am thoughts, they seem still more fluctuating than no bad man," continues he, with considerable his footsteps. His project of a New Religion candour; "yet a weakling in many respects, was by this time abandoned: Hitzig thinks (for God strengthens me also in several,) firet- his closer survey of life at Berlin had taught ful, capricious, greedy, impure. Thou knowest him the impracticability of such chimeras. me! Still, immersed in my fantasies, in' my Nevertheless, the subject of Religion, in one occupation: so that here, what with playhouses,:shape or another, nay, of propagating it in new what with social parties, she had no manner purity by teaching and preaching, had nowise of enjoyment with me. She is innocent. I, vanished from his meditations. On the contoo, perhaps, for can I pledge myself that I aum trary, we can perceive that- it still formed the so3"-. These repeated divorces of Werner's at master-principle of his soul, " the pillar of length convinced him that he had no talent for cloud by day, and the pillar of fire by night," managing wives; indeed, we subsequently find which guided him, so far as he had any guidhim, more than once, arguing in dissuasion of ance, in the pathless desert of his now solitary, imnarriage altogether. To our readers one other barren, and cheerless existence. What his consideration may occur: astonishment at special opinions or prospects on the matter the state of marriage-law, and the strange foot- had, at this period, become, we nowhere learn;.ing this " sacrament" must stand on throughout except, indeed, negatively,-for if he has not Protestant Germany. For a Christian man, at yet found the new, he still cordially enough least not a Mohammedan, to leave three widows detests the old. All his admiration of Luther behind him, certainly wears a peculiar aspect. cannot reconcile him to modern Lutheranism. Perhaps itis saying much forGerman morality, This he regards but as another and more hidethat so absurd a system has not, by the dis- ous impersonation oftheUtilitarian spiritof the orders resulting from it, already brought about age, nay, as the last triumph of Infidelity, which its own abrogation. has now dressed itself in priestly garb, and: Of Werner's further proceedings in Berlin, even mounted the pulpit, to preach, in heavenKacept by implication, we have little notice. ly symbols, a doctrine which is altogether of After the arrival of the French armies, his the earth. A curious passage from -his presecretaryship ceased; and now wifeless and face to the "Cross on the Baltic" we may.placeless, in the summer of 1807, " he felt him- quote, by way of Illustration. After speaking -self," he says, "authorized by Fate to indulge ofSt. Adalbert's miracles, and how his body, his taste for pilgriming." Indulge it accord- when purchased from the heathen for its in0lgly he did; for he wandered to and fro many weight in gold, became light as gossamer, he years, nay, we may almost say to the end of proceeds: his life, like a perfect Bedouin. The various "Though these things may be justly doubted; stages'and occurrences of his travels, he has yet one miracle cannot be denied him, the mihimself recorded in a paper, furnished by him racle, namely, that after his death he has exfor his own Name, in some Biographical Dic- torted from this Spirit of Protestantism against tionary. Hitzig quotes great part of it, but it Strength in general,-which now replaced the is too long and too meagre for being quoted old heathen and catholic Spirit of Persecution, here. Werner was at Prague, Vienna, Munich, and weighs almost as much as Adalbert's body, -everywhere received with open arms; "saw -the admission, that he knew what he wanted; at Jena, in December, 1807, for the first time, was what he wished to be; was so wholly; and the most universal and the clearest man of his therefore must have been a man, at all points 7 age, (the man whose like no one that has seen diametrically opposite both to that Protestanthim will ever see again,) the great, nay, only ism, and to the culture of our day." In a Note, GOETHE; and, under his introduction, the pat- he adds: "There is another Protestantism, tern of German princes, * It was here that Hitzig saw him, for the last time, Weimar;) and then, " after three ever-memora- in 1809, found admittance, through his means, to a court ble months in this society, beheld at Berlin the festival in honour of Bernadotte; and he still recollects, triumplhant entry of the pattern of European with gratification, "the lordly spectacle of Goethe and,vraizts" On the summit f thethat sovereign standing front to front, engaged- in the rats (Napoleon.) On the summit of the liveliest conversation." LIFE AND WRITINGS OF WERNER. however, which constitutes in Conduct, what assisted at certain "Spiritual Exercitations" Art is in Speculation, and which I reverence (Geistliche Uebungen;) a new invention set on so highly, that I even place it above Art, as foot at Rome for quickening the devotion of Conduct is above Speculation at all times. But the faithful, consisting, so far as we can gather, in this, St. Adalbert and St. Luther are-col- in a sort of fasting-and-prayer meetings, conleagues: and if God, which I daily pray for, ducted on the most rigorous principles, the should awaken Luther to us before the Last considerable band of devotees being bound Day, the first task he would find, in respect of over to strict silence, and secluded for several that degenerate and spurious Protestantism, days, with conventual care, from every sort of would be, in his somewhat rugged manner, to intercourse with the world. The effect of these -protest against it." Exercitations, Werner elsewhere declares, was A similar, Qr pePhaps still more reckless edifying to an extreme degree; at parting on temper, is to be traced elsewhere, in passages the threshold of their holy tabernacle, all the of a gay, as well as grave character. This is brethren " embraced each other, as if intoxithe conclusion of a letter from Vienna, in cated with divine joy; and each confessed to 1807 the other, that throughout these precious days "We have Tragedies here which contain so he had been, as it were, in heaven; and now, many edifying maxims, that you might use strengthened as by a soul-purifying bath, was them instead of fesus Sirtach, and have them but loath to venture back into the cold weekread from beginning to end in the Berlin Sun- day world." The next step from these Taborday-schools. Comedies, likewise, absolutely feasts, if, indeed, it had not preceded them, was bursting with household felicity and nobleness a decisive one: "On the 19th of April, 1811, of mind. The genuine Kasperl is dead, and Werner had grace given him to return to the Schikander gone his ways; but here, too, Bigotry Faith of his fathers, the Catholic!" and Superstition are attacked in enlightened Here, then, the "crowning mercy" had at Journ'als with such profit, that the people care length arrived! This passing of the Rubicon less for Popery than even you in Berlin do; determined the whole remainder of Werner's and prize, for instance, the 1Teihe der Kraft, life, which had henceforth the merit, at least, which has also been declaimed in Regensburg of entire consistency. He forthwith set about and Munich to thronging audiences, —chiefly the professional study of Theology; then being for the multitude of liberal Protestant opinions perfected in this, he left Italy in 1813, taking therein brought to light; and regard the author, care, however, by the road, " to supplicate, and all his struggling to the contrary unheeded, as certainly not in vain, the help of the Gracious a secret Ilhlminatus, or at worst an amiable Mother at Loretto; and after due preparation, Enthusiast. In a word, Vienna is determined, under the superintendence of his patron, the without loss of time, to overtake Berlin in the Prince Archbishop vyou Dalberg, had himself career of improvement; and when I recollect ordained a Priest at Aschaffenburg, in June, that Berlin, on her side, carries Porsten's 1814. Next, from Aschaffenburg he hastened Hlymr,-book with her, in her'reticule, to the to Vienna; and there, with all his might, began shows in the Thiicgarten; and that the ray preaching; his first auditory being the Conof Christiano-catholico-platonic Faith pierces gress of the Holy Alliance, which had then deeper and deeper into your (already by nature justbegun its venerable sessions. "The novelty very deep) Privy-councillor Mamsell, —I al- and strangeness," he says, "nay, originality most fancy that Germany is one great mad- of his appearance, secured him an extraorhouse; and could find in my heart to pack up dinary concourse of hearers." He was, indeed, my goods, and set off for Italy to-morrow morn- a man worth hearing and seeing; for his name, ing;- not, indeed, that I might work theie, noised abroad in many-sounding peals, was where follies enough are to be had too; but filling all Germany from the hut to the palace. that, amid ruins and -flowers, I might forget all This, he thinks, might have affected his head; things, and myself in the first place."-Lebens- but he " had a trust in God, which bore him./briss, s. 70. through." Neither did he seem anywise anxTo Italy accordingly he went, though with ious to still this clamour of his judges, least of rather different objects, and not quite so soon all to propitiate his detractors: for already, as on the morrow. In the course of his wander- before arriving at Vienna, he had published, ings, a munificent ecclesiastical Prince, the as a pendant to his "Martin Luther, or the Fiirst Primas von Dalberg, had settled a year- Consecration of Strength," a pamphlet, in dogly pension on him; so that now he felt still grel metre, entitled the "Consecration of more at liberty to go whither he listed. In Weakness," wherein he proclaims himself to the course of a second visit to Coppet, and the whole world as an honest seeker and finder which lasted four months, Madame de Stail of truth, and takes occasion to revoke his cld encouraged and assisted him to execute his "Trinity," of art, religion, and love; love havfavourite project; he set out, through Turin ing now turned out to be a dangerous ingrediand Florence, and "on the 9th of December, ent in such mixtures. The writing of this 1809, saw,'for the first time, the capital of the Weihe der Unkraft was reckoned by many a world!" Of his proceedings here, much as bold but injudicious measure,-a throwing we should desire to have minute details, no down of the gauntlet when the lists were full information is given in this narrative; and of tumultuous foes, and the knight was bui Hitzig seems to} know, by a letter, merely, that Nweak, and his cause, at best, of the most ques "he'knelt with streaming eyes over the graves tionable sort. To reports, and calumnies, and of St. Peter and St. Paul." This little phrase criticisms, and vituperations, there was n( says much. Werner appears likewise to have limit. 562. iCARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRIT-IGS. What remains of this strange eventful his- the household, and it was found that Werner tory may be summed up in few words. Wer- had already passed away." uer accepted no special charge in the Church; In imitation, it is'thought, of Lipsius, he but continued a private and secular Priest; bequeathed his Pen to the treasury of the Virpreaching. diligently, but only where he him- gin at Mariazell, " as a chief instrument of his self saw good; oftenest at Vienna, but in sum- aberrations, his sins, and his repentance." He mer over all parts of Austria, in Styria, Carin- was honourably interred at Enzersdorf on the thia, and even Venice. Everywhere, he says, Hill, where a simple inscription, composed by the opinions of his hearers were "violently himself, begs the wanderer to "pray charitably divided." At one time, he thought of becom- for his poor soul;" and expresses a trembling ing Monk, and had actually entered on a sort hope that, as to Mary Magdalen, "because she of noviciate; but he quitted the establishment loved much," so to him also, "much may be rather suddenly, and, as he is reported to have forgiven." said, "for reasons known only to God and We have thus, in hurried movement, travelled himself." By degrees, his health grew very over Zacharias Werner's Life and Works; weak;- yet he still laboured hard both in public noting down from the former such particulars and private; writing or revising poems, devo- as seemed most characteristic; and gleaning tional or dramatic; preaching, and officiating frbm the latter some more curious passages, as father-confessor, in which last capacity he less indeed with, a'view to their intrinsic exis said to have been in great request. Of his cellence, than to their fitness for illustrating the poetical productions during this period, there man.'I'hese scattered'indications we must. is none of any moment known to us, except the now leave our readers to interpret each for M.irother of the laccabees (1819); a tragedy of himself: each will adjust them into that com-'areful structure, and apparently in high favour bination which shall best harmonize with his vith the author, but which, notwithstanding, own way of thought. As a writer, Werner's Aeed not detain us long. In our view, it is the character will occasion little -difficulty. A worst of all his pieces; a pale, bloodless, in- richly gifted nature; but never wisely guided, deed quite ghost-like affair; for a cold breath or resolutely applied: a loving heart; an inas from a sepulchre chills the heart in perus- tellect subtile and inquisitive; if not always ing it: there is po passion or interest, but a clear and strong; a gorgeous, deep, and bold certain wo-struck martyr zeal, or rather frenzy, imagination; a true, nay, keen and burning and this not so much storming as shrieking; sympathy with all high, all tender and holy not loud and resolute, but shrill, hysterical, and things;-,here lay the main elements of no bleared with ineffectual tears. To read it may common poet; -save only that one was still well sadden us: it is a convulsive fit, whose wanting,-the force to cultivate them, and uncontrollable writhings indicate) not strength, mould them into pure union. But they havel but the last decay of it.'* remained uncultivated, disunited, too often Werner was, in fact, drawing to his latter struggling in wild disorder: his poetry, like his,, end: his health had long been ruined; espe- life, is still not so much an edifice as a quarry. cially of later years, he had suffered much Werner had cast a look into perhaps the very from disorders of the lungs. In 1817, he was deepest region of the Wonderful; but he had thought to be dangerously ill; and afterwards, not learned to live there: he was yet no deniin 1822, when a journey to the Baths partly zen of that mysterious land: and, in his visions, restored him; though he himself still felt that its splendour is strangely mingled and overhlis term was near, and spoke and acted like a clouded with the flame or smoke of mere man that-was shortly to depart. In January, earthly fire. Of his dramas we have already 1823, he was evidently dying: his affairs he spoken; and with much to praise, found always had already settled; much of his time he spent more to censure. In his rhymed pieces, his in prayer; was constantly cheerful, at inter- shorter, more didactic poems, we are better vals even gay. "His death," says Hitzig," was satisfied: here, in the rude, jolting vehicle of a especially mild. On the eleventh day of,,his certain Sternhold-and-Hopkins metre, we often disorder,. he felt himself, particularly towards find a strain of true pathos, and a deep, though evening, as if altogether light and well; so quaint significance. His prose, again, is among that he would hardly consent to have any one the worst known to us: degraded with silliness; to watch'with him. The servant whose turn diffuse, nay, tattological, yet obscure and it was did watch, however; he had sat down vague; contorted into endless'iivcolutions; a by the bedside between two and -three next misshapen, lumbering, complected coil, well morning, (the 17th,) and continued there a con- nigh inexplicable in its entanglements, and siderable while, in the belief that his patient seldom worth the trouble of unravelling. He was asleep. Surprised,. however, that no does not move through his subject, and arrange breathing was to be heard, he hastily aroused it, and rule over it; for the most part, he but _ welters in it, and laboriously tumbles it, and at * Of his.ttila, (1808,) his Vier-und-iwalzigstee Februar, last sinks under it. (1809,) his CGinegunde, (1814,) and various other pieces As a man, the ill-fated Werner can still less written in his wanderings, we have not room to speak. It is the less necessary, as the.Sttila and Tsoenty-fourth content us. His feverishi inconstant, and of February, by much the best of these, have already been wasted life we have'already looked at. Hitzig, forcibly, aiid, on the whole, fairly characterized by Ma his determined well-wisher, admits that in' diame de Stael. Of the last-named little work we might say, with double emphasis, 3vec pueros coraem populo JIe- practice he was selfish, wearying out his-best dea trrucidet: it has a deep and genuine tragic-interest, friends by the most barefaced importunities; a were it not so painfilly protracted into the regions of man of no dignity; avaricious, greedy, sensua pure horror. Werner's Sermons, his eyv7 ns, his Preface te ThonmI(as? [fespis, ~-c., are entirely unknown to uls. at times obscene; in discourse, with all his LIFE AND WRITINGS OF WERNER. 53 humour and heartiness, apt to be intolerably He became a mark for calumny; the defencelong-winded; and of a maladroitness, a blank less butt at which every callow witling made ineptitude, which exposed him to incessant his proof-shot; his character was more deridicule and manifold mystifications from peo- formed and mangled than that of any 6ther pie of the world. Nevertheless, under all this man. What had he to gain? Insult and perrubbish, contends the friendly Biographer, secution; and with these, as candour bids us there dwelt, for those who could look more believe, the approving voice of his own connarrowly, a spirit, marred indeed in its beauty, science. To judge from his writings, he was and languishing in painful conscious oppres- far from repenting of the change he had made; sion, yet never wholly forgetful of its original his Catholic faith evidently stands in his own nobleness. Werner's soul was made for affec- mind as the first blessing of his life; and he tion; and often as,,under his too rude colli- clings to itas to the anchor of his soul. Scarcesions with external things, it was struck into ly more than once (in the Preface to his Jfuttcharshness and dissonance, there was a tone der lafkkcabbder) does he allude to the legions of which spoke of melody, even in its jarrings. falsehoods that were in- circulation against A kind, a sad, and heartfelt remembrance of him; and it is in a spirit which, without enhis friends seems never to have quitted him: tirely concealing the querulousness of nature, to the last he ceased not from warm love to nowise fails in the meekness and endurance men at,arge; nay, to awaken in them, with which became him as a Christian. Here is a such knowledge as he had, a sense for what fragment of another Paper, published since was best and highest, may be said to have his death, as it was meant to be; which ex-formed the earnest, though weak and unstable hibits him in a still clearer light. The reader aim of his whole existence. The truth is, his may condemn, or what will be better, pity and defects as a writer were also his defects as a sympathize with him; but the structure of this man: he was feeble, and without volition; in strange piece surely bespeaks any thing but inlife, as in poetry, his endowments fell into con- sincerity. We translate it with all its breaks *fusion; his character relaxed itself on all sides and fantastic crotchets, as it stands before us:.into incoherent expansion; his activity became from gigantic endeavour, followed by most dwarfish rich Ludwig Zacharias Werner, a son, &cperformance. rich Ludwig Zacharias Werner, a son," &C.~~~performance. t ~(here follows a statement of his parentage and The grand incident of his life, his adoption ofhe Roand incident of his life, is adoton birth, with vacant spaces for the date of his of thihe oman Catholic religion, is one -on death,)- "of the following lines, submitted to which we need not heap frther censure; r all such as have more or less felt any friendly already, as appears to us, it is rather liable to interest in his unworthy person, with the rebe too harshly than too leniently dealt with. quest to tare warning by his example, and There is a feeling to the w arnin b y pu s mind, which,and There is a feeling in the popular mind, which, charitably to remember the poor soul of the in well-meant hatred of inconsistency, perhaps writer before God, in prayer and good deeds. in general too sweepingly condemns such ehanges. Werner, it should be recollected, had at all periods of his life a religion; nay, he "Begun at Florence, on the 24th of Septemhungered and thirsted after truth in this matter, ber, about eight in the evening, amid the still as after the highest good of man; a fact which distant sound of approaching thunder. Conof itself must, in this respect, set him far above eluded, when and where God will! the most consistent of mere unbelievers,-in vwhose barren and callous soul consistency, "Motto, Device, and Watchword in Death: perhaps, is no such brilliant virtue. We par- Renittusntur ei peccata multa, quoniamn dilexit middon genial weather for its changes; but the turn!!-Lucas, CGaput vii. v. 47. steadiest of all climates is that of Greenland. Further, we must say that, -strange as it may B. Most humbly and earnestly, and in seem, in Werner's whole conduct, both before thN. B. Most humbly and earnestly, and in and after his conversion, there is not visible the name of God, does the AuthorOf this Writthe slightest trace of insincerity. On the whole, ing beg, of such honest persons as may fid it, there are fewer gdnuine renegades than men to submit the same in any suitable way to Lre apt to imagine. Surely, indeed, that must public examination. be a nature of extreme baseness, who feels that, in worldly good, he can gain by such a "Fecisti nos, Donine, ad Te, et irequtietm est step. Is the contempt, the execration of all cor sostrsn, donec requciescat in Te.-S..dugusti'nus. that have known and loved us, and of millions "Per nulta di.spergitir, et hic illucqve qmerit that have never known us, to be weighed (cor) ubi requiescere possit, et nilil invenit qutod ei against a mess of pottage, or a piece of money? suc ciat, donec ad ipsiun (sc. Deum) redeat.-S. We hope there are not many, even in the rank Bernaerdets. of sharpers, that would think so. But for WVerner there was no gain in any way; nay, rather "In the name of God the Father, Son, and certainty of loss. He enjoyed or sought no Holy Ghost, Amen! patronage; with his own,resources he was "The thunder -came hither, and is still roll.. already independent though poor, and on a ing, though now at a distance.-The name of footing of good esteem with all that was most the Lord be praised! Hallelujah!-I BEF:GN estimable'in his country. His little pension, "This Paper must needs be brief; because conferred on him, at a prior date, by a'Catholic the appointed term for my life itself may alPrince, was not continued after his conversion, eady be near at hand. There are not wahiting except by the Duke of Weimar, a Protestant..mnr'.e- f reportant and unimportant mlen, f54 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. who have left behind them in writing the de- join myself to Judaism, or to the Bramnins on fence, or even sometimes the accusation, of the Ganges: but to that shallowest, driest, their earthly life. Without estimating such most contradictory, inanest Inanity of Protestprocedure, I am not minded to imitate it. With antism, never, never, nevcr!" trembling I reflect that I myself shall first learn Here, perhaps, there is a touch of priestly, in its whole terrific compass what properly I of almost feminine vehemence; for it is to a was, when these lines shall be read by men; Protestant and an old friend that he writes: that is to say, in a point of Time which for me but the conclusion of his Preface shows him in will be no Time; in a condition wherein all a better light. Speaking of Second Parts, and experience will for me be too late! regretting that so many of his works were unfinished, he adds:. Rex tremende majestatis, " But what specially comforts me is the prosQui salvandos salvn s gratis pect of-our general Second Part; where, even lva e fos ietatis I in the first Scene, this consolation, that there But if I do, till that day when All shall be laid all our works will be known, may not indeed open, draw a veil over my past life, it is not prove solacing for us all: but where, through merely out of false shame that I so order it; the strength of Him that alone completes all for though not fiee from this vice also, I would works, it will be granted to those whom He willingly make known my guilt to all and has saved, not only to know each Ether, but every one whom my voice might reach, could even to know Him, as by Him they are known! I hope, by such confession, to atone for what I -With my trust in Christ, whom I have have done; or thereby to save a single soul not yet won, I regard, with the'Teacher of from perdition. There are two motives, how- the Gentiles, all things but dross that I ever, which forbid me to make such an open may win Him; and to him, cordially and personal revelation after death: the one, because lovingly do I, in life or at death, commit you the unclosing of a pestilential grave may be all, my beloved Friends and my beloved Enedangerous to the health of the uninfected looker- mies!" on; the ot/ier, because in my writings, (which On the whole, we cannot think it doubtful may God forgive me!) amid a wilderness of that Werner's belief was real and heartfelt. poisonous weeds and garbage, there may also But how then, our wondering readers may inbe here and there a medicinal herb lying scat- quire, if his belief was real and not pretended, tered, from which poor patients, to whom it hots then did he believe? He, who scoffs in might be useful, would start back with shud- infidel style at the truths of Protestantism, by dering, did they know the pestiferous soil on what alchemy did he succeed in tempering which it grew. into credibility the harder and bullkier dogmas " So much, however, in regard to those good of Popery? Of Popery, too, the frauds and creatures as they call themselves, naimely, to gross corruptions of which he has so fiercely those feeble weaklings who brag of what they exposed in his Martin Luther! and this, more designate their good hearts,-so much must I over, without cancelling, or even softening his say before God, that such a heart alone, when vituperations, long after his conversion, in the it is not checked and regulated by forethought very last edition of that drama? To this and steadfastness, is not only incapable of question, we are far from pretending to have saving its possessor from destruction, but it is any answer that altogether satisfies,ourselves. rather certain to hurry him, full speed, into much ess that shall altogether satisfy others. that abyss, where I have been, whence I-per- Meanwhile, there are two considerations which haps!!! —by God's grace am snatched, and throw light on. the difficulty for us: these, as from which may God mercifully preserve every some. step, or at least, attempt towards a solu reader of these lines."-Wer ner's Letzte Leben- tion of it, we shall not withhold. The first lies stagen, (quoted by Hitzig, p. 80.) in Werner's individu'al character and mode of "All this is melancholy enough; but it is not life. Not only was he born a mystic, not only like the writing of a hypocrite or repentant had he lived from of old amid freemasonry, and apostate. To Protestantism, above all things, all manner of cabalistic and other traditionarj Werner shows no thought of returning. In al- chimeras; he was also, and had long betsn lusion to a rumour, which had spread, of his what is emphatically called dissolute;,a C.ord having given up Catholicism, he says (in the which has now lost somewhat of it. dorigina Preface already quoted): force; but which, as applied here.'. sQil mosr I A stupid falsehood I must reckon it; since, just and significant in its etyr;.lcgical, thaw according to my deepest conviction, it is as in its common acception. H-f wts a man dis impossible that a soul in Bliss should return soluie;f that is, by a long course of vicious inback into the Grave, as that a man, who, like dulgences, enervated and loosened asundler. me, after a life of error and search has found Everywhere in Werr:_r'. life and actions, we the priceless jewel of Truth, should, I will not discern a mind re),xccd from its proper tensay, give up the same, but hesitate to sacrifice sion; no longer capable of effort and toilsome for it blood and life, nay, many things perhaps resolute vigilat:ce; but floating almost pasfar dearer, with joyful heart, when the one good sively with t0'l current of its impulses, in lancause is concerned." guid, imagiative, Asiatic reverie. That such And elsewhere in a private letter: a man s),-)uld discriminate, with sharp, fear"' I not only assure thee, but I beg of thee to less logic, between beloved errors and unwelassure all men, if God should ever so withdraw come truths, was not to be expected. His belief:he light of his grace from me, that I ceased to is 1'.ely to have been persuasion rather than conbe a Catholic,I would a thousand times sooner v:Ktion, both as it related to Religion, and io LIFE AND WRITINGS OF WERNER. 5. other subjects. WVhat, or how much a man in they are men of earnest hearts, and seem to this way may'bring himself to belevec, with such have a deep feeling of devotion: but it should force and distinctness as he honestly and be remembered, that what forms the groundusually calls etlief, there is no piredicting. work of their religion, is professedly not DeBut aioi.'icr consideration, which we think monstration but Faith; and so pliant a theory should nowise be omitted, is the general state of could not but help to soften the transition from religious opinion in Germany, especially among the former to the latter. That some such prinsuch minds as Werner was most apt to take ciple, in one shape or another, lurked ia for his examplars. To this complex and high- Werner's mind, we think we can perceive ly interesting subject, we can for the present from several indications; among others, from do nothing more than allude. So much, how- the Prologue to his last tragedy, where, mysever, we may say: It is a common theory teriously enough, under the emblem of a Phceamong the Germans, that every Creed, every nix, he seems to be shadowing forth the histoForm of worship, is a form merely; the mortal ry of his own Faith; and represents himself and everchanging body, inwhich the immortal even then as merely 1" climbing the tree, where and unchanging spirit of Religion is, with more the pinions of his Phenix last vanished;" but or less completeness, expressed to the mate- not hoping to regain that blissful vision, till his rial eye, and made manifest and influen- eyes shall have been opened by death. tial among the doings of men. It is thus, for On the whole, we must not pretend. to underinstance, that Johannes Miiller, in his Univer- stand Werner, or expound him with scientific' sal History, professes to consider the Mosaic rigour: acting many times with only half conLaw, the creed of Mahomet, nay, Luther's Re- sciousness, he was always, in some degree, an formation; and, in short, all other systems of enigma to himself, and may well be obscure to Faith; which he scruples not to designate, us. Above all, there are mysteries and unwithout special praise or censure, simply as sounded abysses in every human heart; and VorstellUngsarten, "modes of Representation." that is but a questionable philosophy which We could report equally singular things of undertakes so readily to explain them. ReliSchelling and others, belonging to the philoso- gious belief especially, at least when it seems phic class; nay of Herder, a Protestant clergy- heartfelt and well-intentioned, is no subject man, and even bearing high authority in the for hatsh or even irreverent investigation. Church. Now, it is'clear, in a country where He is a wise man that, having such a belief, such opinions are openly and generally pro- knows and sees clearly the grounds of it in. fessed, a change of religious creed must be himself: and those, we imagine, who have comparatively a slight matter. Conversions explored with strictest scrutiny the secret of to Catholicism are accordingly by no means their own bosoms, will be least apt to rush unknown among- the Germans: Friedrich with intolerant violence into that of other Schlegel, and the younger Count von Stolberg, men's. men, as we should think, of vigorous intellect, "The good WTerner," says Jean Paul, "fell, and of character above suspicion, were col- like our more vigorous Hoffmann, into the poleagues, or rather precursors, of Werner in etical fermenting vat (Giihrbottich) of our time, this adventure; and, indeed, formed part of where all Literatures, Freedoms, Tastes, and his acquaintance at Vienna. It is but, they Untastes are foaming through each.other: and would pay perhaps, as if a melodist, inspired where all is to be found, excepting truth, dili-' with harmony of inward music, should choose gence, and the polish of the file. Both would this instrument in preference to that, for giving have come forth clearer had they'studied in voice to it: the inward inspiration. is the grand Lessing's day."* We cannot justify Werner: concern; and to express it, the "deep majestic yet let him be condemned with pity! Atld solemn organ" of the Unchangeable Church well were it could each of us apply. to himmay be better fitted than the "scrannel pipe" self those words, which Hitzig, in his friendly of a withered, trivial, Arian Protestantism. indignation, would "thunder in the ears" of That VWerner, still more that Schlegel and Stol- many a German gainsayer: Take thous the beam berg, could, on the strength of such hypotheses, o06t qf th.ine owois eye; then shalt thozs see clearly lo put- off or put on their religious creed, like a take the nmote oet of thy brother's. new suit of apparel, we -are far from asserting; * Letter to Hitzig, in Jean Paul's Leben, by Doering. 66 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. GOETUE'S HELENA.* [FOREIGN REVIEw, 1828.] NOVXLIS has rather tauntingly asserted of seems moderate; so that, on every account, Goethe, that the grand law of his being is to we doubt not but that these tasteful volumes conclude whatsoever he undertakes; that, let, will spread far and wide in their own country, him engage in any task, no matter what its and by and by, we may hope, be met with here difficulties or how small its worth, he cannot in many a British library. quit it till he has mastered its whole secret, Hitherto, in the First Portion, we have found finished it, and amade the result of it his own. little or no alteration of what w'as already This,,surely, whatever Novalis might think, is known; but, in return, some changes of are a quality of which it is far safer to have too rangement; and, what is more important, much than too little; and if, in a friendlier some additions of heretofore unpublished spirit, we admit that it does strikingly belong poems; in particular, a piece entitled " Helena, to Goethe, these his present occupations will a classico-romazntic Phantasmacgoria," which ocnot seem out of harmony with the rest of his cupies some eighty pages of Volume Fourth. life; but rather it may be regarded as a sin- It is to this piece that we now propose directgular constancy of fortune, which now allows ing the attention of our readers. Such of him, after completing so many single enter- these, as have studied Helena for themselves, prizes, to adjust deliberately the details and must have felt how little calculated it is, either combination of the whole; and thus, in per- intrinsically or by its extrinsic relations and fecting his individual works, to put She last allusions, to be rendered very interesting or hand to the highest of all his works, his own even very intelligible to the English public, literary character, and leave the impress of it and may incline to augur ill of our enterprise. to posterity in that form and accompaniment Indeed, to our own eyes it already looks dubiwhich he himself reckons fittest. For the last ous enough. But the dainty little "Phantastwo years, as many of our readers may know, magoria," it would appear, has become a the venerable Poet has been employed in a pa- subject of diligent and truly wonderful specntient and thorough revisal of all his Writings; lation to our German neighbours; of which, an edition of which, designated as the " complete. also, some vague rumours -seem now to have and final" one, was commenced in 1827, under reached this country, and these likely enough external encouragements of the most flattering to awaken on all hands a curiosity,' which, sort, and with arrangements for private co-ope- whether intelligent or idle, it were a kind of ration, which, as we learn,'have secured the good deed to allay. In a Journal of this sort, constant progress of the work " against every what little light on such a matter is at our accident." The first Lieferung, of five vo- disposal may naturally be,loolIed for. lumps, is now in our hands;' a second of like Helena, like many of Goethe's works, by no extent, we understand to be already on its way means carries its significance written on its hither; and thus by regular " Deliveries," forehead, so that he who runs may read;. but, from half-year to half-year, the whole Forty on the contrary, it is enveloped' in, a certain Volumes are to be completed in 1831. mystery, under coy disguises-, which, to hasty To the lover of German literature, or of readers, may not be only offensively obscure, literature in general, this undertaking will not but altogether provoking and impenetrable. be indifferent:, considering, as he must do, the Neither is this any new thing with Goethke: works of Goethe to be among the most import- Often has he produced compositions, both in ant which Germany for some centuries has prose and verse, which bring critic and comsent forth, he will value their correctness and mentator into straits, or even to a total noncompleteness for its own sake; and not the plus. Some we have, wholly parabolic; some less, as forming the conclusion of a long pro- half-literal, half-parabolic; these latter are occess to which the last step was still wanting; casionally studied, by dull heads, in the literal whereby he may not only enjoy the result, but sense alone; and not only studied, but coninstruct himself by following so great a mas- demned: for,~in truth, the outward meaning ter through the changes which led to it. We seems unsatisfactory enough, were it not that can now add, that, to the mere book-collector ever and anon we are reminded of a cunning, also, the business promises to be satisfactory. manifold meaning which lies hidden under This Edition, avoiding any attempt at splen- it; and incited by capricious beckonings to dour or unnecessary decoration, ranks, never- evolve this, more and more completely, from theless, in regard to accuracy, convenience, its quaint concealment. and true, simple elegance, among the best spe- Did we believe that Goethe adopted this cimens'of German typography. The cost, too, mode of writing as a vulgar lure, to confer on his poems the interest which might belong to G Goe!.he's Sitnmtliche Ve-rke. VollstandiBge Alusgabe letzter inard. (Goethe's Collective Works. Complete Edition, with his final Corrections.) First Portion, vols. * See, for instance, the " Athenwum," No. vii., where im-v. 16lo and 8vo. Cotta: Stnttgaril & T'iibingcn. an article stands headed with these words: FAUST, 1827. IHELEN OF TnoY, AND LornD BYROIN. GOETHE'S HELENA. 57 so many charades, we should hold. it a very interpretation; or they remain, as in all prosaic. poor proceeding. Of this most readers of minds the words of poetry ever do, a dead Goethe will know that he is incapable. Such letter: indications they are, barren in themjuggleries, and uncertain anglings for distinc- selves, but by following which, we also may tion, are a class of accomplishments to which reach, or approach, that Hill of Vision where he has never made any pretension. The truth the poet stood, beholding the glorious scene is, this style has, in many cases, its own ap- which it is the purport of his poem to show propriateness. Certainly, in all matters of others. A reposing state, in which the Hill were Business and Science, in all expositions of brought under us, not we obliged to mount it, fact or argument, clearness and ready compre- might, indeed, for the present be more. convehensibility are a great, often an.indispensable, nient; but, in the end, it could not be equally object. Nor is thlere any man better aware of satisfying. Continuance of passive pleasure, this principle than Goethe, or who more rigo- it should never be forgotten, is here, as under rously adheres-to it, or more happily exempli- all conditions of mortal existence, an impossi; fies it, wherever it seems applicable. But in bility. Everywhere in life, the true question is, this, as in many other respects, Science and not what we gain, but what we do: so also in Poetry, having separate purposes, may have intellectual matters, in conversation, in read-: each its several law. If an artist has con- ing, which is more precise anjd careful conceived his subject in the secret shrine of his versation, it is not what we receive, but what we own mind, and knows, with a knowledge be- are made to give, that chiefly contents and profits yond all power of cavil, that it is true and pure, us. True, the mass of readers will object; behe may choose his own' manner of exhibiting cause, like the mlass of men, they are too indoit, and will generally be the fittest to choose it lent. But if any one affect, not the active and well. One degree of light, he may find, will watchful, but the passive and somnolent line beseem one delineation; quite a different de- of study, are there not writers, expressly gree of light another. The Face of Agamem- fashioned for him, enough and to spare'! It is non was not:painted but hidden in the old Pic- but the smaller number of books that become ture: the Veiled Figure at Sais was the most more'instructive by a second perusal: the,expressive in the Temple. In fact, the grand great majority are as perfectly plain as perfect'point is to have a meaning, a genuine, deep, triteness can malke them. Yet, if time is preand noble one; the proper form for embodying cious, no book that will not improve by rethis, theform best suited to the subject and to peated readings deserves to be read at all. the author, will gather round it almost of its And were there an artist of a right spirit; a own accord.. We profess ourselves unfriendly man of wisdom, conscious of his high voca"to no-mode c.f communicating Truth; which tion, of whom we could know beforehand that we rejoice to- meet with in all shapes, from that he had not written without purpose and earnest ~of the child's Catechism to the deepest poetical meditation, that he knew what he had written, Allegory. Nay, the Allegory itself may some- and had imbodied in it, more or less, the creatimes be the truest part of the matter. John tions of a deep and noble soul,-should we not.Bunyan, we hope, is nowise our best theolo- draw near to him reverently, as disciples to a gian; neither, unhappily, is theology our most master; and what task could'there be more attractive science; yet, which of our compends profitable than to read him as we have deand treatises, nay, which of our romances and scribed, to study him even to his minutest poems, lives in sdch mild sunshine as the good meanings For,' were not this to think as he old Pilgrinm's Progress, in the memory of so many had thought, to see with his gifted eyes,'to men? make the very mood and feeling of his great Under Goethe's management, this style of and rich mind the mood also of our poor and composition has often a singular charm. The- little one 3 It is under the consciousness of reader is kept on the alert, ever conscious of some such mutual relation that Goethe writes, his own active co-operation; light breaks on and his countrymen now reckon themselves him, and clearer and clearer vision, by degrees; bound to read him; a relation singular, we till at last the whole lovely Shape comes forth, might say solitary, in the'present time; but definite, it may be, and bright. with heavenly which it is ever necessary to bear in mind in radiance, or fading, on this side and that, into estimating his literary procedure. vague expressive mystery; but true in both To justify it in this particular, much more cases, and beautiful with nameless enchant- might be said, were it our chief business at rments, as the poet's own eye may have beheld present. But what mainly concerns us here, it. We love, it the more for the labour it has is, to know that such, justified or not, is the given us; we almost feel as if we ourselves poet's manner of'writing; which also must hadassisted in its creation. And herein lies prescribe for us a correspondent manner of the highest merit of a piece, and the proper art studying him, if we study him at all. For the -:of reading it. WVe. have not'read an author-till rest, on this latter point he nowhere expresses we have seen' his object, whatever it may be, any undue anxiety. His Works have invaril as he saw it. It is a matter of reasoning, and bly been sent forth without preface, without has he:reasoned. stupidly and falsely. We note or comment of any kind;' but left, some should understand the circumstances which to times plain and direct, sometimes dim anti his mind made it seem true, or persuaded him typical, in what decree of clearness or obscu to' write it, knowing that it was not so. In any rity he himself may have judged best, to be other way we (do him injustice'if we judge him. scanned, and glossed, and censured, and diis Is it of poetry? His words are so many'sym- torted, as might please the innumerable multi bols, to which we ourselves; must furnish the tude of critics; to whose verdict he has been, 8 58 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. for a great part of his life, accused of listening by that stupendous All, of which it forms an with unwarrantable composure. IHfelena is no indissoluble though so mean a fraction. He exception to that practice, but rather among who would study all this must for a long time, the strong instances of it. This Interlude to we are afraid, be Content to study it in the Faust presents itself abruptly, under a charac- original. ter not a little enigmatic; so that, at first view, But our English criticisms of Faust have we know not well what to make of it; and only been of a still more unedifying sort. Let any after repeated perusals, will the scattered man fancy the (Edipbus Tyrannus discovered for glimmerings of significance begin to coalesce the first time, translated froin an unknown into continuous light, and the whole, in any Greek:manuscript, by some ready-writing measure, rise before us with that greater or less manufacturer, and "brought out" at Drury degree of coherence which it may have had in Lane,.with new music, made as " apothecaries the mind of the poet. Nay, after all, no perfect make new mixtures, by pouring out of one clearness may. be attained, but only various vessel into another!" Then read the theatrical approximations to it; hints and half glances report in the morning Papers, and the Magaof a meaning, which is still shrouded in vague- zines of next month. Was not the whole affair ness; nay, to the just picturing of which this rather "heavy." How indifferent did the very vagueness was essen:tial. For the whole audience sit; how little use was made of the piece has a dream-like character; and, in these handkerchief, except by such as took snuff! cases, no prudent soothsayer will be altogether Did not CEdipus somewhat remind us of a confident. To our readers we must now en- blubbering schoolbo y, and Jocasta of a decayed deavour, so far as possible, to show both the millinerl Confess that the plot was mondream and its interpretation: the former as it strous; nay, considering the marriage-law of stands written before us; the latter from our England, highly immoral. On the whole, what own private conjecture alone; for of those a singular deficiency of taste must this Sophostrange German comments we yet know no- cles have laboured under! But probably he thing, except by the faintest hearsay. was excluded from the;' society of the influrlelena forms partof.a continuation to Faust; ential classes:" for, after all, the man is not but, happily for our present undertaking, its without indications of genius: had we had the connection with the latter work is much looser training of him,-And so on, through all the than might have been expected. We say, variations of the critical cornpipe. happily; because Falest, though considerably So might it have faled with the-ancient Gretalked of in England, appears still to be nowise cian; for so has it fared with the only modern known. We have made it our duty to inspect that writes in a Grecian spirit. This. treatthe English translation of Faust, as well as the ment of Faust may deserve to be mentioned, Extracts which accompany Retzsch's Outlines; for various reasons; not to be lamented over, and various disquisitions and animadversions, because, as in much more important instances, vituperative or laudatory, grounded on these it is inevitable, and lies in the nature of the two works; but, unfortunately, have found case. Besides, a better state of things is evithere no cause to alter the above persuasion. dently enough coming round. By and by, the Faust is emphatically a work of Art; a work labours, poetical and intellectual, of the Germatured in the mysterious depths of a vast and mans, as of other nations, will appear before wonderful mind; and bodied forth with that us in their true shape; and Faust, among the truth and curious felicity of composition, in rest, will have justice done it. For ourselves, which this man is generally admitted to have it were unwise presumption, at any time, to no living rival. To reconstruct.such a work pretend opening the full poetical significance in another language; to show it in its hard yet of Fazust; nor is this the place for making such graceful strength; with those slight witching an attempt. Present purposes will be answertraits of pathos or of sarcasm, those glimpses ed if we can point out some general features of solemnity or terror, and so many reflexes and bearings of the piece; such as to exhibit and evanescent echoes of meaning, which con- its relation with Helena; by what contrivances nect it in strange union with the whole Infinite this latter has been intercalated into it, and of thought, —were business for a man of differ- how far the strange picture and the strange ent powers than has yet attempted German frarning it is inclosed in correspond. translation among us. In fact, Fatust is to be The story of Fauvst forms one of the most read not once but many times, if we would un- remarkable productions of the Middle Apes; derstand it: every line, every word has its pur- or rather, it is the most striking embodiment port; -and only in such minute inspection will of a highly remarkable belief, which originated the essential significance of the poem display or prevailed in those ages. Considered strictly, itself. Perhaps it is even chiefly by following it may take the rank of a Christian mythus, in these fainter traces and tokens, that the true the same sense as the story of Prometheus, of point of vision for the whole is discovered to Titan, and the like, are Pagan ones; and to us; and we stand at last in the proper scene our keener inspection, it will disclose a no less of Faust; a wild and wondrous region, where, impressive or characteristic aspect of the same irn pale light, the primeval Shapes of- Chaos, human nature,-here bright, joyful, self-confi-as it were, the Foundations of Being itself,- dent, smiling even in its sternness; there deep,. seem to loom forth, dim and huge, in the vague meditative, awe-struck, austere,-in which both Immensity around us; and the life and nature they and it took their rise. To us, in these of man, with its brief interests, its misery and days, it is not easy to estimate how this story sin, its mad passion and poor frivolity, struts of Faust, invested-with its magic and infernal!::d frets its hour, encompassed and overlooked i horrors, must have harrowed up the souls of a GOETHE'S HELENA. 59 rude and earnest people, in an age when itg article, suited for immediate use, and immedidialect was not yet obsolete, and such contracts ate oblivion. with the principle of Evil were thought not Goethe, we believe, was the first who triea only credible in general, but possible to every this subject; and is, on all hands, considered individual auditor who here shuddered at the as by far the most successful. His manner of mention of them. The day of Magic has gone treating it appears to us, so far as we can unby; Witchcraft has been put a stop to by act derstand it, peculiarly just and happy. IHe of parliament. But the mysterious xelations retains the supernatural vesture of the story, which it emblemed still continue; the Soul of but retains it with the consciousness, on his Man still fights with the dark influences of and our part, that it is a chimera. His artIgnorance, Misery, and Sin; still lacerates magic'comes forth in doubtful twilight; vague itself, like a captive bird, against the iron in its outline; interwoven. everywhere with limits which Necessity has drawn round it; light sarcasm; nowise as a real Object, but as still follows False Shows, seeking peace and a real Shadow of an Object, which is also good on paths where no peace or good is to be real, yet lies beyond our horizon, and, except found. In this sense, Faust may still be con- in its shadows, cannot itsqlf be seen. Nothing sidered'as true; nay, as a truth of the most were simp-ler than to look into this poem'for a impressive sort, and one which will always new "Sa'tan's Invisible World displayed," or remain true. To body forth, in modern sym- any effort to excite the skeptical minds of these bols, a feeling so old and deep-rooted in our days by goblins, wizards, and other infernal whole European way of thought, were a task ware. Such enterprises belong to artists of a not unworthy of the highest poetical genius. different species: Goethe's Devil is a cultiIn Germany, accordingly, it has several times vated personage, and acquainted with the been attempted, andwith very various success. modern sciences; sneers at witchcraft and Klinger has produced a Romance of Finust, full the black-art, even while employing them, as of rugged sense, and here and there not with- heartily as any member of the French Instiout considerable strength of delineation; yet, tute; for he is a philosophe, and doubts most on the whole, of an essentially unpoetical cha- things, nay, half disbelieves even his own exracter; dead, or living with only a mechanical istence. It is notwithout a cunning effort that life; coarse, almost gross, and, to our minds, all this is managed; but managed, in a consifar too redolent of pitch and bitumen. Maler derable degree, it is; for a world of magic is Miiller's Faust, which is a Drama, must be re- opened to us which, we might almost say, we garded as a much more genial performance, so feel to be at once true and not true. far as it goes; the secondary characters, the In fact, Mephistopheles comes before us, Jews.and rakish Students, often remind us of not arrayed in the terrors of Cocytus and Phleour own Fords and Marlowes. His main per- gethon, but in the natural indelible deformity sons, however, Faust and the Devil, are but of Wickedness; he is the Devil, not of Superinadequately conceived; Faust is little more stition, but of Knowledge. Here is no cloven than self-willed, supercilious, and, alas, insol- foot, or horns and tail: he himself informs us vent; the Devils, above all, are savage, long- that, during the late march of intellect, the winded, and insufferably noisy. Besides, the very Devil has participated in the spirit of the piece has been left in a fragmentary state; it age, and laid these appendages aside. (Doubtcan nowise pass as the best work of MUiller's.* less, Mephistopheles "has the manners of a Klingernann's Faust, which also is (or lately gentleman;" he "knows the world;" nothing seas) a Drama, we have never seen; and have can exceed the easy tact with which he maonly heard of it as of a tawdry and hollow nages himself; his wit and sarcasm are unlimited; the cool heartfelt contempt with which *Frederic Miiller (more commonly called Jllaler, or he despises all things, human and divine, Painter Miiller) is here, so far as we know, named for might make the fortune of half a dozen " felthe first time to English readers. Nevertheless, in any lows about town." Yet, withal, he is a devil solid study of German literature, this author must take precedence of many hundreds whose reputation has tra- in very deed; a genuine Son of Night. He velled faster. But Miller has been unfortunate in his calls himself the Denier, and this truly is his own country, as well ashere. Atanearly age,meeting name; for, as Voltaire did with hisorical with no success as a poet, he quitted that art for painting; and retired, perhaps in disgust, into Italy; where doubt, so does he with all moral appearances; also but little preferment seems to have awaited hio settles them with a N'e. cyez iel. The His writings, after almost halfa century of neglect, were at length brought into sight and general estimation bysrewd, all-informed intellect he hass an atLudwig Tieck; at a time when the author might indeed torney intellect; it can contradict, but it cannot say, that he was "old and could not enjoy it, solitary affirm. With lynx vision, he descries at a and could not impart it," but not, unhappily, that he was glance the ridiculous, the unsuitable, the bad;'known —and did not want it," for his fine genius gla nce the ridiculous, the unsuitable, the bad; yet imade for itself no free way amid so many obstruc- but for the solemn, the noble, the worthy, he is tions, and still continued unrewarded and unrecognised. blind as his ancient Mother. Thus does he go His paintings, chiefly of still-life and animals, are said te'possess a true though no very extraordinary merit: along, qualifying, confuting, despising; on ail buit of his poetry we will venture to assert that it be- hands detecting the false, but without force to speaks a genuine feeling and talent, nay, rises at times bring forth, or even to discern, any glimpse even into the higher regions of Art. His da's ak- ing forth, or even to discern, any glimpse.eaiTf, his Sateyr Jlopsus, his Jussksernea. (Nutshelling), of the true. -Poor Devil! what truth should informed as they are with simple kindly strength; with there be for him? To see Falsehood is his clear vision, and love of nature, are incomparably the only truth: falsehood arLu evil ar'the rule, best German or, indeed, modern Idyls; his "Genoveva" will still stand reading, even with that of Tiecl. These truth and gr-. the exception which confirms things are now acknowledged among the Germans; but it. He car- believe in nothing, but in his own to Miiller the acknowledgmient is of no avail. lie died to Mlher thle acknowledgmlent is of no avail. lie died self-conceit, and in the indestructible baseness, some ttwo years ago at Rome, where he seems to have subsisted latterly as a sort of picture-cicerone. folly, and hypocrisy of men. For him, virtue 60. CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS is some bubble of the blood: "it stands written trutus, reproaches as a shadow, what he once onr his face that he never loved a living soul." worshipped as a substance. Whither shall.Nay,,he cannot even hate: at Faust himself he now tend? For his loadstars have gone he has no grudge; he merely tempts him by out one by one; and as the darkness fell, the gway of experiment, to pass the time scientifi- strong arid steady: wind has changed into a cally. Such a combination of perfect Under- fierce and aimless tornado. Faust calls himstanding with perfect Selfishness, Iof logical self a monster, "without object, yet without Life with moral Death; so universal a denier, rest." The vehement, keen, and stormful naboth in heart and head,-is undoubtedly a ture of the man is stung in'to fury, as he thinks child. of Darkness, an emissary of the pri- of all he has endured and lost'; he broods in meval Nothing: and coming forward,'as he gloomy meditation, and, like Bellerophon, does, like a person of breeding, and without wanders apart, "eating his own heart;" or any flavour of Brimstone, may stand here, in bursting into fiery paroxysms, curses man's his merely spiritual deformity, atonce potent, whole existence as a mockery; curses hope, dangerous, and contemptible, as the best and and faith, and joy, and care, and what is worst, only genuine Devil of these latter times. /. Crses. patience more than.all the rest." HIad In strong contrast with this impersonation his weak arm the pow'er, he could smite the of modern worldly-mindedness, stands Faust Universe asunder, as at the crack of Doom, himself, by nature the antagonist of it, but des- and hurl his own vexed being along with it tined also' to be its victim. If Mephistopheles into the silence of Annihilation. represent the spirit of Denial, Faust may re-' Thus Faust is a man who has quitted the present that'of Inquiry and Endeavour: the ways of vulgar men, without light to guide him. two are, by necessity, in conflict; the light on a better way. No longer restricted by the and the darkness of man's life'and mind. In- sympathies, the common interests and common trinsically, Faust is a noble being; though no persuasions by which the mass of mortals, each wise one. His desires -are towards the high individually ignorant, nay, it may be, stolid, and true; nay, with a whirlwind impetuosity and altogether blind as to the proper aim of he rushes forth over the Universe to grasp all life, are yet held together, and like stones in excellence; his heart' yearns towards the infi- the channel of a torrent, by their very multinite and the invisible: only. that he knows not tude and mutal collision, are made to move wvith the conditions under which alone this is to be some regularity,-he is still but a slave; the attained. Confiding in his feeling of himself,'slave of impulses, which are stronger, not truer he has started with the tacit persuasions, so orbetter, and the moreunsafe that they are soiinatural to all men, that he at least, however it tary. He sees the vulgar of mankind happy-; mayr fare with others, shall and must.be happy; but happy only in their baseness. Himself he a deep-seated, though only half-conscious con- feels to be peculiar; the victim of a strange, viction lurks in him, that wherever- he is not an unexampled destiny; not as other men, he successful, fortune has dealt with him Unjustly. is " with them, not of them." There is misery His purposes are fair, nay, generous: why here; nay, as Goethe:has -elsewhere wisely should he not prosper in them? For in all remarked, the beginning of madness itself. It his lofty aspirings, his strivings after truth is only in the sentiment of companionship that and more than human greatness of mind, it men feel safe and assured: to all doubts and has never struck him to inquire how he, the mysterious " questionings of destiny," their sole striver, was warranted for such enterprises; satisfying answer is, Others do and sf/.er the like. with what faculty Nature had equipped him; Were it not for this, the dullest day-drudge of within what limits she had hemmed him in; Mammon might think himself into unspeakby what right he pretended to be happy, or able abysses of despair; for he, too, is "fearcould, some short space ago, have pretended fully and wonderfully made;` Infinitude and to be at all. Experience, indeed,' will teach Incomprehensibility surround him on this hand him, for "Experience is the best of school- and that; and the vague spectre Death, silent masters; only the school-fees are heavy." As and sure as Time, is advancing at all moments yet, too, disappointment, which fronts him on to sweep him away for'ever. But he answers, every hand, rather maddens than instructs. Others do and sngTer the like; and plods along Faust has spent his youth and manhood, not without misgivings. WVere there but One Man as others do in the sunny crowded paths of in the world, he would be a terror to himself; profit, or among the rosy bowers of pleasure, and the highest man not less so than the lowbut darkly and alone in the search of Truth: est. Now it is as this One Man that Faust reis it fit that Truth should now hide herself, gards himself; he is divided from his fellows.; and his sleepless -pilgrimage towards Know- cannot answer with them,Others do tlhe lice; and ledge and Vision end in the pale shadow of yet, why or how he specially is to do or saffer Doubt? To his dream of a glorious higher will nowhere reveal itself. For he is still "in happiness, all earthly happiness has been sa- the gall of bitterness;" Pride and an entire crificed; friendship, love, the social'rewards uncompromising, though secret love of Self, of ambition were cheerfully cast aside, for his are still the mainsprings of his conduct. eye and his heart were bent on a region of Knowledge with him is precious only beclear and supreme good; and now, in its stead, cause it is power; even..virtue.he would love he finds isolation, silence, and despair.'What chiefly as a finer sort. of sensuality, and be' solace remains Virtue once promised to be cause it was his virtue. A ravenous hunger ner own reward; but because she does not for enjoyment haunts him everywhere; the nay him in the current coin of worldly enjoy- stinted allotments of earthly life are as a.nent, he reckons her too a delusion; and, like mockery to him: to the iron law of Force h -GOETHE'S HELENA. 61 will not yield, for his heart, though torn, is yet with orient beauty, as a Land of Wonders, and unweakened, and till Humility. shall open his new Poetic Heaven. eyes, the soft law of Wisdoxi will be hidden With regard to that part of the work already from him. finished, we must here say little more. Faust, To invest a man of this character with su- as it yet stands, is, indeed, only a stating of pernatural powers is but enabling him to re- the difficulty; but a stating of it wisely, truly, peat his error on a larger scale, to play the and with deepest poetic emphasis. For how same false game with a deeper and more many living hearts, even now imprisoned in ruinous stake. Go where he may, he will " find the perplexities of Doubt, do these wild pierchimself again in a conditional world;" widen ing tones of Faust, his withering agonies and his sphere as he pleases, he will find it again fiery desperation, " speak the word they have encircled by the empire of Necessity; the gay long been waiting to hear!" A nameless pain island of Existence is again but a fraction of had long brooded over the soul: here, by some the ancient realm- of Night. Were he all-wise light touch, it starts into form and voice; we and all-powerful, perhaps he might be content- see it and know it, an'd see that another also ed and virtuous; scarcely otherwise. (The knew it. This Faust is as a mystic Oracle for.poorest human soul is infinite in wishes, and the mind; a Dodona grove, where the oaks:the infinite Universe was not made for one, and fountains prophesy to us of our destiny, hbut for all. ) Vain were it for Faust, by heap- and murmur unearthly secrets.!ing height on height, to struggle towards infi- i-ow all this is managed, and the poem so nitude; while to that law of Self-denial,, by curiously fashioned; how the clearest insight which alone man's narrow destiny may become is combined with the. keenest feeling, and the an infinitude within itself, he is still a stran- noblest and wildest imagination; by what soft ger. Such, however, is his attempt: not in- and skilful finishing these so heterogeneous deed incited by hope, but goaded on by des- elements are blended in fine harmony, and the pair, he unites himself with the Fiend, as dark world of spirits, with its merely metawith a stronger though a wicked agency; teck- physical entities, plays like a chequering of less of all issues, if so were that by these means strange mysterious shadows among the palpathe craving of his heart might be stayed, and ble objects of nmaterial life; and the whole, firm the dark secret of Destiny unravelled or for- in its details, and sharp and solid as reality, gotten. yet hangs before us melting on all sides into It is this conflicting union of the higher air, and free, and light, as the baseless fabric nature of the soul with the lower elements of of a vision; all this the reader can learn fully'human life; of Faust,. the son' of Light and nowhere but, by long study, in the' work itself. Free-will, with the influences of Doubt, Denial, The general scope and spirit of it we have and Obstruction, or Mephistopheles, who is now endeavoured to sketch: the few incidents the symbol and spokesman of these, that the on which, with the aid of much dialogue and poet has here proposed to delineate. A high exposition, these have been brought out, are problem; and of which the solution is yet far perhaps already known to most readers, and, fronm'completed; nay, perhaps, in a poetical at all events, need not be minutely recapitusense, is not, strictly speaking, capable of com- lated here. Mephistopheles has promised to pletion. For it is to be remarked that, in this himself that he will lead Faust "through the contract with the Prince of Darkness, little or bustling inanity of life," but that its pleasures no mention or allusion is made to a Future shall tempt and not satisfy him; "food shall Life; whereby it might seem as if the action hover before his eager lips, but he shall beg uw'aS not intended, in the manner of the old for nourishment in vain." Hitherto they have Legend, to terminate in Faust's perdition; but travelled but a short way together; yet, so far, rather as if an altogether different end must the Denier has kept his engagement well. be provided for him. Faust, indeed, wild and Faust, endowed with all earthly, and many wilful as he is, cannot be regarded as a wicked, more than earthly advantages, is still no nearer much less as an utterly reprobate man: we do contentment;, nay, after a brief season. of not reckon him ill-intentioned, but misguided marred and uncertain joy, he finds himself sunk and miserable; he falls into crime, not by into deeper wretchedness than ever. Margapurpose, but by accident and blindness. To ret, an innocent girl whom he loves, but has send him to'the Pit of W'o, to render such a ~betrayed, is doomed to die, and already crazed character the eternal slave of Mephistopheles, in brain, less for her own errors than for his: would look like making darkness triumphant in a scene of true pathos, he would fain perover light, blind force over erring reason; or, suade her to escape with him, by the aid of at best, were cutting the Gordian knot, not Mephistopheles, from prison; but in the inloosing it. If we mistake not, Goethe's Fauzst stinct of her heart she finds an invincible will have a finer moral than the old nursery- aversion to the Fiend; she chooses death and tale, or the other plays and tales that have been ignominy, rather than life and love, if of his founded on it. Our seared and blighted, yet giving. At her final refusal, Mephistopheles still noble Faust, will not end in the madness proclaims that " she is judged," a " voice front of horror, but in Peace grounded on better Above" that "she is saved;" the action termiKn.owledge. Whence that Knowledge is to nates; Faust and Mephistopheles vanish from com-e, what higher and freer world of Art or our sight, as into boundless Space. Religion may be hovering in the mind of the poet, we will not try to surmise: perhaps in And now, after so long a preface, we arrive, bright aerial emblematic glimpses, he may yet at Helena, the " Classico-romantic Phantasmashow it lus, transient'and afar off, yet clear goria," v here these Adventurers, strangely F 62 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. altered by travel, and in altogether different must necessarily elevate itself altogether awa., costume, have again risen into sight. Our long from the hampered sphere of the First, and preface was not needless, fomrFaust and Hclena, conduct a man of such a nature into higher though separated by some *vide and marvel- regions, under worthier circumstances. lous interval, are nowise disconnected. The " How I, for my part, had determined to essay characters may have changed by absence; this, lay silently before my own mind, from Faust is no longer the same bitter and tem- time to time exciting me to some progress; pestuous man, but appears in chivalrous corn- while, from all and each, I carefully guarded posure, with a silent energy, a grave, and, as my secret, still in hope of bringing the work it were, commanding ardour. Mephistopheles to the wished-for issue. Now, however, I must alone may retain somewhat of his old spiteful no longer keep back; or, in publishing my shrewdness: but still the past state of these collective Endeavours, conceal any further sepersonages must illustrate the present; and cret from the world; to which, on the cononly by what we remember of them, can we trary, I feel myself bound to submit my whole try to interpret what we see. In fact, the style labours, even though in a fragmentary state. of Helena is altogether new - quiet, simple, joy- " Accordingly I have resolved that the aboveful; passing by a short gradation from Classic named Piece, a smaller drama, complete within dignity into Romantic pomp; it has every- itself, but pertaining to the Second Part of where a full and sunny tone of colouring; re- Faust, shall be forthwith presented in the First sembles not a tragedy, but a gay gorgeous Portion of my Works. mask. Neither is Faust's former history al- "The wide chasm between that well-known luded to, or any explanation given us of oc- dolorous conclusion of the first part, and the currences that may have intervened. It is a entrance of an antique Grecian Heroine, is not light scene, divided by chasms and unknown yet'overarched; meanwhile, as a preamble, my distance from that other country of gloom. readers will accept what follows: Nevertheless, the latter still frowns in the "The old Legend tells us, and the Puppetback-ground; nay, rises aloft, shutting out fur- play fails not to introduce the sgcene, that Faust, ther view, and our gay vision attains a new in his imperious pride of heart, required from significance as it is painted on that canvas of Mephistopheles the love of the fair Helena of storm. Greece; in which demand the other, after some We question whether it ever occurred-to any reluctance, gratified him. Not to overlook so English reader of Faust, that the work needed important a concern in our work, was a duty a continuation, or even admitted one. To the for us; and how we have endeavoured to disGermans, however, in their deeper study of a charge it, will be seen in this Interlude. But favourite poem, which also they have full what may have furnished the proximate occameans of studying, this has long been no se- sion of such an occurrence, and how, after cret; and such as have seen with what zeal manifold hindrances, our old magical Craftsmost German readers cherish Faust, and how man can have found means to bring back the the younger of them will recite whole scenes individual Helena, in person, out of Orcus into of it, with a vehemence resembling that of Life, must, in this stage of.the business, remain Gil Blas and his Figures Hibernoises, in the undiscovered. For the present, it is enough if streets of Oviedo, may estimate the interest our reader will admit that the real Helena may excited in that country by the following Notice step forth, on-antique tragedy-cothurnus, before from the Author, published last year in'his her primitive abode in Sparta. We then re"Kunst u1nd /lJterthum. quest him to observe in what way and manner'Faust will presume to court favour from this " Helena. Inaterllsde in. Fautst. royal all-famous Beauty of the world." To manage so unexampled a courtship will "Faust's character, in the elevation to be admitted to be no easy task; for the mad which latter refinement, working on the old hero's prayer must here be fulfilled to its rude Tradition, has raised it, represents a man largest extent, before the business can proceed who, feeling impatient and imprisoned within a step; and the gods, it is certain, are not in the limits of mere earthly existence, regards the habit of annihilating time and space, even the possession of the highest knowledge, the to "make two lovers happy." Our Marlowe enjoyment of the fairest blessings, as insuffi- was not ignorant of this mysterious liaison of cient even in the slightest degree to satisfy his Faust's: however, he slurs it over briefly, and longing: a spirit, accordingly, which, strug- without fronting the difficulty; Helena merelygling out on all sides, ever returns the more flits across the scene as an airy pageant, withunhappy. out speech or personality, and makes the love-:"This form of mind is so accordant with sick philosopher "immortal by a kiss." Proour modern, disposition, that various persons bably there are not many that would grudge of ability have been induced to. undertake the Faust such immortality; we at least nowise treatment of such a subject. My manner of envy him: for who does not see that this, in attempting it obtained approval: distinguished all human probability, is no real Helena, but men considered the matter, and commented only some hollow phantasm attired in her on my performance; all which I thankfully shape, while the true Daughter of Leda still observed. At the same time I could not but dwells afar off in the inane kingdoms of Dis, wonder that none of those who undertook a and heeds not and hears not the most poten: continuation and completion of my Fragment, invocations of black-art? Another matter it is had lighted on the thought, which seemed so to call forth the frail fair one in very deed; not in obvious, that the composition of a 9econd Part form only, but in soul and life, the same Helena GOETHE'S HELENA. 63 whom the Son of Atreus wedded, and for whose deep embarrassmfient about its concerns. From salke Ilion ceased to be. FoitFaust must be- the dialogue, in long Alexandrines, or choral hold this Wonder, not as she seemed, but as Recitative, we soon gather that matters wear a she was; and at his unearthly desire, the Past threatening aspect. Helena salutes her pater shall become Present; and the antique Time'nal and nuptial mansion in such style as may must be new-created, and give back its per- beseem an erring wife, returned from so eventsons and circumstances, though so long since ful an elopement; alludes with charitable lereingulphed in the silence of the blank by-gone nience to her frailty; which, indeed, it would Eternity! However, Mephistopheles is a cun- seem, was nothing but the merest accident, for ning genius; and will not start at common she had simply gone to pay her vows, "accordobstacles. Perhaps, indeed, he is Metaphysi- ing to sacred wont," in the temple of Cytherea, cian enough to know that Time and Space are when the "Phrygian robber" seized her; and but quiddities, not entities; foinis of the human further informs us that the Immortals still soul, Laws of Thought, which to us appear in- foreshow to her a dubious future: dependent existences, but, out of our brains, For seldom, in our swift ship, did my husband deign have no existence whatever; in which case the To look on me; and word of comfort spake he none. whole nodus may be more of a logical cobweb, As if a-brooding mischief, there he silent sat; than any actual material perplexity. Let us Until, when steered into Eurotas' bending bay, see how he unravels it, or cuts it. The first ships with their prows but kissed the land, The scene is Greece; not our poor oppressed tie rose, and said, as by the voice of gods inspired: Ottc'nmnan Morea, but the old heroic Hellas* for Here will I that mly warriors, troop by troop, disbark; a., but the od heoicHllasforI muster them, in battle-order, on the ocean strand. the sun again shines on Sparta, and " Tynda- But thou, go forward, up Eurotas' sacred bank, rus' high House" stands here bright, massive, Guiding the steeds along the flower-besprinkled space, and entire, among its mountains, as when Till thou arrive on the fair plain where Lacedremon, Menelaus revisited it, wearied with his \ten Erewhile'a broad fruit-bearing field, has piled its roofs yTears of warfare, and eight of sea-roving. He-_ Amid the mountains, and sends up the snloke of hearths..ena appears in front of the Palace, with a Then enter thou the high-towered Palace; call the Mtaid;U (horus of captive Trojan maidens. These are I left at parting, and the wise old Stewardess: chrso cpieT da. These are l\yWith her inspect the Treasures which thy father left, *but Shades, we know, summoned from the deep And I, il war or peace still adding, have heaped up. realms of Hades, and imnbodied for the nonce: Thou findest all in order standing; for it is but the Conjurer has so managed it, that they The prince's prlvilege to see, at his return, themselves have no consciousness of this their Each household item as it was, and where it was; true and highly precarious state of -existence: For of himself the slave hath power to alter nouglt. the intermediate three thousand years have It appears, moreover, that Manelaus has been obliterated, or compressed into a point; given her directions to prepare for a solermn and these fair figures, on revisiting the upper Sacrifice: the ewers, the pateras, the altar, the air, entertain not the slightest suspicion that axe, dry wood, are all to be in readiness, only they had ever left it, or, indeed, that any thing of the victim there was no mention; a circurn special had happened; save only that they had stance from which Helena fails not' to dra-n just disembarked from the Spartan ships, and some rather alarming surmises. However, re been sent forward by Menelaus to provide for hecting that all issues rest with:the higher his reception, which is shortly to follow. All Powers, and that, in any case, irresolution and these indispensable preliminaries, it would ap- procrastination will avail her nothing, she at pear, Mephistopheles has arranged with con- length determines on this grand enterprise of siderable success. Of the poor Shades, and entering the palace, to malke a general review their entire ignorance, he is so sure that he and enters accordingly. But long before any would not scruple to cross-question them on such business could have been finished, she this very point, so ticklish for his whole enter- hastily returns with a frustrated, nay, terrified prise; nay, cannot forbear, now and then, aspect; much to the astonishment of her Chothrowing out malicious hints to mystify Hele- rus, who pressingly inquire the cause. na herself, and raise the strangest doubts as to hELENA (Wiho has left thte door-leaves opes, aeritated) her personal identity. Thus on one occasion, H as we shall see, he reminds her of a scandal Beseems not that Jove's daughter shrink with common which had gone abroad of her being a diouble fight, personage, of her living with King Proteus in Nor by the brief cold touch of Fear be chill'd and stunned. Egypt the very time when Yet the Htorror, which ascending, in the womb of Night, Egypt at the very time when she lived with From deeps of Chaos, rolls itself together many-shapel, Beau Paris in Troy; and, what is more extra- Like glowing Clouds froml oult the mountain's fire-throat, ordinary still, of her having been dead, and In thlreatening ghastliness, may shake even heroes' married to Achilles afterwards in the Island of hearts. Leuce! Hele'na admits that it is the most in- So have the Stygian here to-day appointed me explicable thing on earth; can only co-A welcome to my native Mansion, such that fain From the oft-trod, long-wished-for threshold, like a guest that "she a Vision was joined to him v n That has took leave, I would withdraw my steps, for ay and then sinks into a reverie, or swoon, in the But no! Retreated have I to the light, nor shall arms of the Chorus. In this way, can the Ye farther firce me, angry Powers, be who ye may, nether-world Scapin sportmwith the perplexed New expiations will I use; then purified, Beauty; and by sly practice, make her show us The blaze of the Hearth may greet the Mistress as the the secret. which is unlnowrn to herself! t/,orul. For the present, however, there is no thought PNTIAT.IS the Coa1IoGE,. of such scruples. Helena and her maidens, Discover, noble queen, to us thy handmaidens, far from doubting thdat they are real authentic That wait by thee in love, what misery h:as befalle denizens of this world, feel themselves in a...... Leader of tlhleChorus. 64 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. ~HELERA. Darest thou, Haggard, What I have seen, ye too with your own eyes shall see, Close by such beauty, If Night have not already sucked her Phantoms back'Fore the divine glance of To the abysses of her wonder-bearing breast. Pbeus, display thee Yet, would ye know this thing, I tell it you in words. ut display as it pleases thee; When bent on present duty, yet with anxious thought, For the ugly he heedeth not, I solemnly set foot in these high royal Halls, As his bright eye yet never did The silent, vacant passages astounded me; Look on a shadow. For tread of hasty footsteps nowhere met the ear, But as mortals, alas for it! ]or bustle as of busy menial-work the eye. Ilaw of destiny burdens us'No maid comes forth.to me, no Stewardess, such as With the unspeakable eye-sorrow Still wont with friendly welcome to salute all guests, Which such a sight, unblessed, detestable, But as, alone advancing, I approach the Hearth, Both in lovers of beauty awaken. There, by the ashy remnant of dim outbiirnt coals, Sits, crouching on the ground, up-muffled, some huge Nay then; hear, since thou shamelessly Crone; Com'st forth fronting us, hear only Not as in sleep she sat, but as in drowsy muse. Curses, hear all manner of, threatenings, With ordering voice I bid her rise;'nought doubting't was Out of the scornful lips of the happier The Stewardess the King, at parting hence, had left. That were made by the Deities. But, heedless, shrunk together, sits she motionless; And as I chid, at last outstretched her lean right arm, As if she beckoned me from hall and hearth away. Old is the saw, but high and true remailis its sense, I turn indignant from her, and hasten out forthwith That Shame and Beauty ne'er, together hand in hand, Towards the steps whereon aloft the Tbalamos Were seen pursue their journey over the earth's green Adorned rises; and near by it the Treasure-room; path. When lo! the Wonder starts abruptly from the floor; Deep rooted dwells an ancient hatred in these two; Imperious, barring my advance, displays herself So that wherever, on their way, one haps to meet In haggard stature, hollow bloodshot eyes; a shape The other, each on its adversary turns his back: Of hideous strangeness, to perplex all sight and thought. Then hastens forth the faster on its separate road; Put I discourse to the air: for words in vain attempt Shame all in sorrow, Beauty pert and light of mood; To body forth to sight the form that dwells in us. Till the llow night of Orcus catches it at length, There see herself! She ventures forward to the light! If age and wrinkles have not tamed it long before. Here we are masters till our Lord and King shall come. So you, ye wantons, wafted hitlier from strange lands,, The ghastly births of Night, Apollo, beauty's friend, I find in tumult, like the cranes' hoarse jingling flight, Disperses back to their abysses, or subdues. That over our heads, in long-drawn cloud, sends down Its creaking gabble, and tempts the silent wanderer that IPHOIRCYAS enters onE the threshold, between the door- he lookl pests.) Aloft at them a moment: but they go their way, CHORUS. And he goes his; so also will it be with us. Much have I seenr, and strange, though the ringlets Who then are ye? that here in Bacchanalian-wise, Youthful and thick still wave round my temples: Like drunk ones ye dare uproar at this Palace-gate? Terrors a many, war and its horrors Who then are ye that at the Stewardess of the King's Witnessed I once in Ilion's night, House When it fell Ye howl, as at the moon the crabbed brood of dogs! Thorough the clanging, cloud-covered din of Think ye'tis hid from ime what mnanner of thing ye are X Onrushing warriors, heard I th' Immortals Ye war-begotten, fight-bred, feather-headed crew! Shouting in anger, heard I Bellona's Lascivious crew, seducing as seduced, that waste, Iron-toned voice resound from without In rioting, alike the soldier's and the burgher's strength! City-wards. Here seeing you gathered, seems as a cicada-swarm Ah! the city yet stood; with its HI-ad lighted, covering the herbage of the fields. Bulwarks, Illion safely yet Consumers ye of other's thrift, ye greedy-mnouthed Tolwaered Qbut spreadi from house overQuick squanderers of fruits men gain by tedious toil; Toweed; butlsrea dingfr huse or Cracked market-ware, stol'n, bought, and bartered troop House, the flame did begirdle us; of slaves Sea-like, red, loud, and billowy slaves Hither, thither, as tempest-floods, We have thought it right to give so much Over the death-circled city. of these singular expositions and altercations, Flying, saw I, through heat and through in the words, as far as might be, of the parties Gloom and glare of that fire-ocean,' themselves; happy, could we, in any measure, Shapes of Gods in their wrathfulness, have'transfused the broad, yet rich and chaste Staliking grin!, fierce, and terrible, simplicity of these long iambics; or imitated Giant-high, through the luridly Giant-high, through the luridly the tone as we have done the metre, of that Flame-dyed dusk of-that vapour. choral song; its rude earnestness, and tortuous, Did I see it, or tas it bit awkward-looking, artless strength, as we have Terror of heart that fasliioned done its dactyls and anapoests. The task was Forms so affiighting. Know can I Never: hut here that I view this no easy one; and we remain, as might have Horrible Thing with my own eyes, been expected, little contented with our efforts; This of.a surety believe I: having, indeed, nothing to boast of, except a Yea, I could clutch't in my fingers sincere fidelity to the original. If the reader, Did not, from Shape so dangerous, through such distortion, canll obtain any glimpse Fear at a distance kIeep me. of Heleaa itself,, he will not only pardon us, Which of old Phorcys' but thank us. /To our own minds, at least, Daughters then art thou 1 there is everywhere a strange, piquant, quite For I compare thee to peculiar, charm in these imitations of the old That generation. Grecian style; a dash of theridiculous, if we Art thou belike, of the Graia, Gray-born, one eye, and one tGath might say so, is blended, with the sublime, yet Trsingalternate, blended with it softly, and' only to temper its C('hld or descendant T. austerity: for often, so graphic is the delinea GOETHE'S HELENA. 65 tion, we could almost feel as if a vista were PIIORCYAS. opened through the long gloomy distance of But I have heard thou livest on earth a double life; ages, and we with our modern eyes and modern In Ilion seen, and seen the while in Egypt too. levity,-beheld afar off, in clear light, the very rEENA. figures of that old grave time; saw them again living in their old antiquarian cost'ume and Confound not so the weakness of my weary sense; environmen t, and heard them audibly dis- Here even, who or what I am, I know it not. course in a dialect which had long been dead. PrORCYAS. Of all this no man is more master than Goethe;. Then I have heard how, from the hollow Realm of as a moderns-antique, his Iphigcenie must be con-'Shades, sidered unrivalled in poetry. A similar, tho- Achilles, too, did fervently unite himself tothee; roughly classical spirit will be found in this Thy earlier love reclaiming, spite of all Fate's laws. First Part:of Helena; yet the manner of the HELENA. two pieces is essentially different. Here, we To him the Vision, I a Vision joined myself: should say, we are more reminded of Sophocles, It was a dream, the very words may teach us this. perhaps of AEschylus, than of Euripides: it is'nut I am faint; and to umyself'a Vision grow. more rugged, copious, energetic, inartificial; (Sinks into thle arms of one division of the Choruls.) a still more ancient style. How very primi- cHoaRUs. tive, for instance, are Helena and Phorcyas in Silence! silence! their whole deportment here! How frank and Evil-eyed, evil-tongued, thou! downright in speech;: above all, how minute Thro' so shrivelled-up, one-tooth'd a and specific; no glimpse of "philosophical Mouth, what good cani cdme from that culture;" no such thing as a "general idea';" Throat of-horrorsdetestablethlus, every different object seems a new un- — In which style they continue musically rating known one, and requires to be separately her, till "Helena has recovered, and again stated. In like manner, what can be more stands in the middle of the Chorus;" when honest and edifying than the chant of the Phorcyas, with the most wheedling air, hastens Chorus l With what inimitable naivete' they to greet her, in a new sort of verse, as if norecur to the sack of Troy, and endeavour to thing whatever had happened: convince themselves that they do actually see this "horrible Thing;" then lament the law of PHORCYAS. Destiny which dooms them to such " unspeaka- Issues forth from passing cloud the sun of this bright day; ble eye-sorrow;" and, finally, break forth into If when veil'd she so could charm us, now her beams in sheer cursing; to all which, Phorcyas answers splendour blind As the world doth look before thee, in such gentle wise in the like free and.plain-spoken fashion. thou look'st. But to our story. This hard-tempered and Letthem call me so unlovely, what is lovely know I well. so dreadfully ugly old lady, the reader cannot help suspecting, at first sight, to be some cousin-ger~man of Mephistopheles, 0o1, indeed, Come so wavering from the Void which in that faintness that great Actor of all Work himself; which circled me, Glad. I were to rest again, a space: so weary are my latter suspicion the devilish nature of the bel- limbs. dame, by degrees, confirms into a moral cer- Yet it well becometh queens, all mortals it becometh well, tainty. There is a sarcastic malice in the To possess their hearts in patience, and await what can " wise old Stewardess" which cannot be mis- betide. taken. Meanwhile the Chorus and the beldame PHOItCYAS. indulge still further in mutual abuse-; she upindulge still further in mutual abuse; she up- Whilst-thou standest in thy greatness, in thy beauty here, braiding them With theifr giddiness and ~wanton Says thy look that thou commandest: what commnand'st disposition; they chanting unabatedly her ex- thou? Speak it out. treme deficiency in personalcharms.' Helena,however, interposes; and-the old Gorgon, pretending that she has' not till now recognised To conclude your quarrel's idle loitering be prepared: the stranger to be her nmistress, smooths her- Haste, arrange the Sacrifice, the King commanded me. self into gentleness, aftects the greatest hu- PHORCYAS. manity, and even appealsto her for protection All is ready in the Palace, bowl and tripod, sharp-ground against the insolence of these young ones. axe; But wicked Phorcyas is only waiting her op- For besprinkling, for befuming: now the Victim let us see. portunity; still neither unwilling to wound, HELENA. nor afraid to strike. Helena, to expel some i This the King appointed hot. unpleasant vapours of doubt, is reviewing her past history, in concert with Phorcyas; and PEORCYAS. observes that the latter had been appointed Spokenot ofthis I O word of wo! Stewardess by Menelaus, on his return from his Cretan expedition to Sparta. No sooner is ZELENA. Sparta mentioned, than the cronei with an offi- What strange sorrow overpoweis thee cious air of helping out the story, adds: PHoncYAs. Queen,'is- thou he meant. Which thou forsookest, Ilion's tower-encircled town Preferring, and'the unexhausted joys of Love. HEILENA. H-ELENA. PHORC]AS, Remind me not of joys; an all too heavy wo's Infinitude soon follow'd, crushing breast and heart. And these. 9 ~$ 66 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. CHORUS. Descended on all ports and isles, a plundering foe, 0 o O wo we! And still came back with booty, which yet moulders here Then by the walls of Ilion spent he ten long years; PHORCYAS How many in his homewaard voyage were hard to know. Thou fallest by the axe's stroke. But all this while how stands it here with Tyndarus' High house. How stands it with his own domains HELENA. around? Horrible, yet look'd for: hapless I! HELENA. PHORCYAS. Is love of railing, then, so interwoven with thee, Inevitable seems it me. lThat thus, except to chide, thou canst not move thy lips a PHORCYAS. CHORUS. So many years forsaken stood the mountain glen;, and us What will become of ushich, north from Sparta, towards the higher land asPHORCYAS. cends She dies a noble death: Behind Taygetus; where, as yet a merry brook, Ye: on the high Beam within that bears the rafters and Eurotas gurgles on, and then, along our Vale, In sep'rate streams abroad outflowing feeds your Swans. As in birding-time so many woodlarks, in a row, shall There, backwards in the rocky hills, a daring race ~sprawl.-.stassd~ astdeHave fix'd themselves, forth issuing from Cimmerian sprawl.;. (HELENA and CHORUS stand astounded and terror-struck; An inepgnable stronht;d have piled aloft An inexpugnable stronghold have piled aloft, From which they harry land and people as they please. PHORCYAS. HELENA. Poor spectres!-All like frozen statues there ye stand, Iow could they P All impossible it seems to me. tne fright to leave the\Day which not belongs to you. No man or spectre, more than you, is find to quit PHOnCYAS. The Upper Light; yet rescue,,respite finds not one: Enosigh of time they had!'tis haply twenty years. All know it, all believe it, few delight in it. Enough,'t is over with you! And so let's to work. HELENA. o theursed old beldame enjoys the Is One the Masters? Are there Robbers many? leagued*. How the cursed old beldamne enjoys the agony of these p9or Shades: nay, we suspect, PHORCYAs. she is laughing in her sleeve at the very clas- Not Robbers these:' yet many, and the Master One. s;cism of this drama, which she herself has Of him I say no ill, though hither too he came. contrived, and is even nDow helping to. enact! What might not he have took? yet did content himself Observe, she has quitted her octameter tro- With some small Present, so he called it, Tribute, not. ch1aics again, and taken to plain blahk verse; HELENA. a sign, perhaps, that she is getting weary of Iyow looks he? lhe whole classical concern! But however this may be, she now claps her hands; whereupon certain distorted dwarf figures appear at 1i me he certan storte dwar ures appear A jocund, gallant, hardy, handsome man it is, the door, and with great speed and agility, at And rational in speech, as of the Greeks are few. her order, bring forth the sacrificial apparatus; We call the folk Barbarian; yet I question much on which she fails not to descant demonstra- If one there be so cruel,,s at Ilion tively, explaining the purpose of the several Full many of our best heroes man-devouring were. articles as they are successively fitted up before I do respect his greatness, and confide in him. her. Here is the'"gold-horned" altar, the And for his Tower! This with your own eyes ye should axe glittering over its silver edge:" then there " axe glitteri~g over its silver edge:" then there Another thing it is than clumsy boulder-work, must be "water-urns to wash the black blood's Such as our Fathers, nothing scrupling, huddled up, defilement," and a "precious mat," to kneel on, Cyclopean, and like Cyclops-builders, one rude crag for the victim is to be beheaded queenlike. On On other rude crags tumbling: in that Tow'r of theirs all hands, mortal horror! But Phorcyas hints'T is plumb and level all, and done by square and rule. darkly that there is still a way of escape left; Look on it from without! Heav'nward it soars on high, this, of course, every one is in deepest eager- So strait, so tight of joint, and mirror-smooth as steel: To clamber there-Nay, even your very Thought slides ness to learn. Here, one would think, she down might for once come to the point without di- And then, within, such courts, broad spaces, all around, gression; but Phorcyas has her own way of With masonry encompass'd of every sort and use stating a fact. She thus commences: There have ye arches, archlets, pillars, pillarlets, Balconies, galleries, for looking out and in, PHORCTAS. And coats of arms. Whoso, collecting store of wealth, at home abides ro parget in due season his high dwelling's walls, CHORUS. And prudent guard his roof from inroad of the rain, Of arms - What mean'st thou? WVith him, through long still years of life, it shall be well.HORCTAS But he who lightly, in his folly, bent to rove, O'ersteps with wand'ring foot his threshold's sacred line, Ajax bore Will find, at his return, the ancient place, indeed A twisted Snake on his shield, as ye yourselves have Still there, but else all alter'd, if not overthrown. seen. The Seven also before Thebes bore carved work HELENA.. Each on his Shield; devices rich and full of Sense: Why these trite saws? Thou wert to teach us, not re- There saw ye moon and stars of the nightly heaven's prove. vault, And goddesses, and heroes, ladders, torches, swords, PHORCYAS. And dangerous tools, such as in storm o'erfall good Historical it is, is nowise a reproof. towns. Sea-roving, steer'd King Menelaus, brisk from bay.to bay; Escutcheons of like sort our heroes also bear: GOETHE'S HELENA. 67 There see ye lions, eagles, claws besides and bills, much altered man since we last met him. The buffllo-horns, and wings, and roses, peacock's tails; Nay, sometimes we could fancy he were only And bandelets, gold and black and silver, blue and red. ing a part on this occasion; were a mere Such like are there uphung in Halls, row after row; In halls, so large, so lofty, boundless as the World; There might ye dantce! natural personality, as some shadow and im-:personation of his history; not so uch his CHB[ORUS. own Faustship, as the tradition of Faust's adHa! Tell us, are there dancers there? ventures, and the Genius of the People among aPHOctOYAS. whom this toolk its rise. For, indeed, he has strange gifts of flying through -the aft, and The best on earth! A golden-haired, fresh, younker ane gifts f ying through the air an band, younker living, in apparent friendship and contentThey breathe of youth; Paris alone so breathed when to mrent, with mnere Eidolons; and, being excesOur Queen he came too near. sively reserved iwithal, he becomes not a little HELEN:s. - enigmatic. In fact, our whole "Interlude" changes its character at this point: the Greek Thou quite dost lose - Thou uite dot lose style passes abruptly into the Spanish; at.one The tenor of thy story: say me thy last word. bound we have left the Seven.before Thebes, and PHORCYAS. got into the Vida-es Sueio. The action, too, beThyself wilt say it: say in earnest audibly, Yes! comes more and more typical; or rather, we Next moment,.I surround thee with that Tow'r. should say;half-typical; for it will neither hold rightly together as allegory nor as matter of The step is questionable: for is not this fact. Phorcyas a person of the most suspicious cha- Thus do we see ourselves hesitating on the racter; or rather, is it not certain that she is a verge of a wondrous region, "neither sea nor Turk in grain, and will almost, of a surety, good dry land;" full of shapes and musical go how it may, turn good into bad. And yet, tones, but all dim, fluctuating, unsubstantial, what is to be donie? A trumpet, said to be chaotic. Danger there is that the critic may that of Menelaus, sounds in the distance; at require "both oar and sail;" nay, it will be which the Chorus shrink together in increased well if, like that other great Traveller, he meet terror. Phorcyas coldly reminds them of Dei- not some vast vacuity, where, all unawares, phobus, with his slit nose, as a small token of turn of thinking on these matters Fluttering his pennons vain, plumb down he drop Menelaus' turn of thinking on these matters; Ten thousand fathom deep supposes, however, that there is now nothing for it but to wait the issue, and die with pro- and so keep falling till priety. Helena has no wish to die either with propriety or impropriety; she pronounces, Thstrong ref of some tuultuous l though' with a faltering resolve, the definitive As many miles and nitre hrry him Yes. A burst of joy breaks from the Chorus; thick, fog rises all round; in the midst of -Meaning, probably, that he is to be "blown wvhich, as we learn from their wild tremulous up" by nonplused and justly exasperated Rechant, they feel themselves hurried through view-reviewers!-Nevertheless, unappalledby the air: Earotas is swept from sight, and the these possibilities, we venture forward into cry of its Swans fades ominously away in the this impalpable Limbo; and must endeavour distance; for -now, as we suppose, "Tyndarus' to render such account of the "sensible spehigh House," with all its appenidages, is rush- cies," and' ghosts of defunct bodies," we may ing back into the depths of the Past; old Lace- meet there, as shall be moderately satisfactory demon has again -become new Ml/isetra;; only to the reader. Taygetus, with another name, remains un- In the little notice from the Author, quoted changed; and the King of Rivers feeds among above, we were bid specially to observe in his sedges quite a different race of Swans than what way and manner Faust would presume those of Leda! The mist is passing away, but to court this World's-beauty. -We must say, yet, to the horror of the Chorus, no clear day- his style -of gallantry seems to us of the most light returns. Dim masses rise round them: chivalrous and high-flown description, if, Phorcyas has vanished. Is it a castle? Is it indeed, it is not a little euphuistic.; In their a cavern? They find themselves in the "In- own eyes, Helena and her Chorus, encircled terior Court of the Tower, surrounded with in this Gothic Court, appear, for some minutes, rich fantastic buildings of the middle ages!" no better than captives; but, suddenly issuing from galleries and portals, and descendIf, hitherto, we have moved along, with con- ing the stairs in stately procession, are seen a siderable convenience, over ground singular numerous suite of Pages,.whose gay habilienough, indeed, yet, the nature of it once un- ments and red downy cheeks are greatly adderstood, affording firm footing and no unplea- mired by the Chorus: these bear with them a sant scenery, we come now to a strange mixed. throne and canopy, with footstools and cushelement, in which it seems as if neither wall- ions, and every other necessary apparatus,f ing, swimming, nor even flying, could rightly royalty; the portable machine, as we gather avail us. We have cheerfully admitted, and from the Chorus, is soon put together, and honestly believed, that Helena and her Chorus Helena, being reverently beckoned into the were Shades; but now they appear to be same, is thus forthwith constituted Sovereign changing into mere Ideas, mere Metaphors, or of the whole Establishment. To herself such poetic Thoughts! Faust, too, for he, as every royalty still seems a little dubious; but no one sees, must be lord of this Fortress, is' a sooner have the Pages, in long train, faiyly 68 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. descended, than "Faust appears above, on the Lynceus with a chest, and men carrying other stairs, in knightly court-dress of the middle chests behind him." ages, and with deliberate dignity comes down," astonishing the poor " feather-headed" Chorus with the gracefulness of his deportment and Thousee'stme, Queenagain advance, The wealthy begs of thee one glance; his more than human beauty. He leads with He look'd at thee, and feels e'er since him a culprit in fetters; and, by way of intro- As beggar poor, and rich as prince. duction, explains to Helena that this man, Lynceus, has deserved death by his miscon- hat was l erst Wht am I growtl duct i of the Castle, What have I meant, or done, or known duct; but that to her, as Queen What boots the sharpest force of eyes? must appertain the right of dooming or of par- Back from thy throne it baffled flies. doning him. The crime of Lynceus is, indeed, of an extraordinary nature: he was Anom Eastward marching came: we on; And soon the West was lost and won; Warder of the Towei; but now, though gifted, A long broad army forth ve pass'd, as his name imports,.with the keenest vision, he The foremost knew not of the last. has failed in warning Faust that so august a visitor was approaching, and thus occasioned The first did fall, the second stood, the most dreadful breach of politeness. Lyn- The third hew'd in with falchion good; the most.,And still the next had,prowess more, ceus pleads guilty: quick-sighted as a lynx, Forgot the thousands slain before. in usual cases, he has been blinded with excess of light; in this instance. While looking We stormed along, we rushed apace, towards the orient at the " course of morning," The masters we from place to place. he noticed "a sun rise wonderfully in the And where I lordly rlled to-day, To-morrow another did rob and slay. south," and, all his senses taken captive by such surpassing beauty, he no longer knew We look; our choice was quickly made; his right hand from his left, or could move a This snatch'd with him the fairest Maid,'I-b, or lutter a wvord -to announce her arrival. That seized the Steer for burden bent, limb,'~~ arrival. - * The horses all and sundry went. Under these peculiar circumstances, Helena sees room for extending the royal prerogative; But I did love apart to spy and, after expressing unfeigned regret at this The rarest things could nieet the eye: Whate'er in others' hands I saw, so fatal influence of her charms over the 50so~~ n u e e ~~~~~~That was for me but chaff and straw. whole male sex, dismisses the Warder with a reprieve. We must beg our readers to keep For treasures did I keep a look, an eye on this Innamorato; for there may be My keen eyes pierced to every nook; meaning in him. Here is the pleading, which Into all pockets I could see, produced so fine an effect given in his own Transparenteachstrong-boxtome. words:. And heaps of gold I gained this way, I~et me kneel and let me view her, And precious Stones of clearest ray: Let me live, or let me die, Now where's the Dianmond meet to shine 1 Slave to this high woman, truer'Tis meet alone for breast like thine. Than; a bondsman born, am I. So let the Pearl from depths of seai, Watching o'er the course of morning, In curious stringlets wave on thee: Eastward, as I markr it run, The Ruby for some covert seeks, Rose there, all the sky adorning,'Tis paled by redness of thy cheeks. Strangely in the South a sun. And so the richest treasure's brought Draws my look towards those places, Before thy throne, as best it ought; Not the valley, not the height, Beneath thy feet here let me -lay Not the earth's or heaven's spaces; The fruit of many a bloody fray. She alone the queen of light. So many chests we now do bear; Eyesight truly hath been lent me, More chests I have, and finer ware: Like the lynx on highest tree; Think me but to be near thee worth Boots not; for amaze bath shent me: Whole treasure-vaults I empty forth. Do:I dream, or do I see? For scarcely art thou hither, sent, Knew I aught-? or could I ever All hearts and wills to thee are bent; Think of tow'r or bolted gate? Our riches, reason, strength, we must Vapours waver, vapours sever, Before the loveliest lay as dust. Such a goddess comes in state! All this I reckon'd great, and mine, Eye and heart I'must surrender Now small I reckon it, and thine. iDrown'd as in a radiant sea; I thought it worthy, high, and good; That high creature with her splendour'Tis naught, poor, and misunderstood. Blinding-all hath blinded me. So dwindles what my glory was, A heap of mown and wither'd grass: I feorarot the warder'sd uty.. 11, What worth it had, and now does lack, Trumpet, challenge, word of call: Chain me, threaten: sure this beauty O, with one kind look, give it back! Chain me, threaten: Sure this beauty Stills thy anger, saves her thrall. FAUST. Save' him'accordingly she'did; but. no soon- Away away: take hack the bold-earn'd load, er is he dismissed, and Faust has made a re- blaned indeed, but also not rewarded. m.iark on the,multitude of"' afrio~ ws" which she -.,Her's is already whatsoever our Tower is'dartk on th'e multi tue of,' arrows" which she Of costliness conceals. Go heap me tireasures is darting forth on' all sides, than Lynceus re- On treasures, yet with Order.; let the blaze turns in a: still madder humour. "Re-enter Of Pomp unspeakable appear; the ceilings GOETHE'S HELENA. G9 Gem-fretted, shine like skies; a Paradise hands of Faust; his pardon by the fair Greek; Of lifeless life create. Before her feet his subsequent magnanimous offer to her,.and Unfolding quick, let flow'rycarpet roll discourse with his master on the subject,Itself from flow'ry rarpet, that her step yItself from flofn'ry capet, that her estep might give rise to various considerations. But MIay light on softness, and her eye meetno'ught But splendour blinding only not the Gods. we must not loiter, questioning the strange Shadows of that strange country, who, besides, LYNCEIU. are apt to mystify one. Our nearest business Small is what our Lord doth say; is, to get across it: we again proceed. Servants do it;'tis but play: Whoever or whatever Faust and Helena For o'er all we do or drlealm s may be, they are evidently fast rising into Will this Beauty reign supreme. Dill this Beauty reign suprens. high favour With each other; as, indeed, fiom Is not all our host grown tame. Every sword is blunt alnd lame. so generous a gallant, and so fair a dame, was To a form of such a mould to be anticipated. She invites him to sit with Sun himself is dull and cold: her on the throne, so instantaneously acquired To the richness of that face, by force of her charms;T to which graceful What is beauty,,.what is grace, proposal he, after kissing her hand in knightly Loveliness.we saw or thought? wise, fails not to accede. The courtship now All is empty, all is nought. advances apace. Helena admires the dialect And herewith exit Lynceus, and we see no more of Lynceus, and how " one word seemed to kiss of him! We have said that we thought there the other," for the Warder, as wre saw, speaks might be method in this madness. In fact, the in doggerel; and she cannot but wish that she allegorical, or at least fantastical and figura- also had some such talent. Faust assures her tive, character of the whole action is growing. that nothing is more easy than this same pracmore and more decided every moment. He- tice of rhyme: it is but speaking right from lena, we must conjecture, is, in the course of the heart, and the rest follows of course. this her real historical intrigue with Faust, to Withal, he proposes that they should make a present, at the same time, some dim adumbra- trial of it themselves. The experiment suction of Grecian Art, and its flight to the North- reeds to mutual satisfaction: for not only can era Nations, when driven by stress of War they two build the lofty rhyme, in concert, with from its own country. Faust's T'ower will, in all convenience, but, in the course of a page this case, afford not only a convenient station. or two of such crambo, many love-tokens comle: for lifti6g black-mail over the neighbouring dis'- to light'; nay, we find by the Chorus, that the trict, but a cunning, though vague and fluctu- wooing'has well nigh reached a happy end: ating, emblem of the Product of Teutonic Mind' at least, the two are " sitting near and nearer the Science, Art, Institutions of the Northmen, each other,-shoulder on shoulder, knee by of whose Spirit and Genius he himself may in knee, hand in hand, they are swaying over some degree become the representative. In this the throne's upcushioned lordliness;" which, way, the extravagant homage and admiration surely, are promising symptoms. paid to Helena are not without their meaning. Such ill-timed dalliance is'abruptly disturtThe mannerof her arrival, enveloped as she was ed by the entrance of Phorcyas, now, as ever, in thick -clouds, and frightened onwards by hos- a messenger of evil, with malignant tidings tile trumpets, may also have more or less pro- that Menelaus is at hand, with his whole force, priety. And who is Lynceus, the mad Watch- to Storm the Castle, and ferociously avenge man? We cannot but suspect him of being a his new injuries. An immense "explosion Schoolman Philosopher, or School Philosophy of signals from the towers, of trumpets, claitself, in disguise; and that this wonderful rions, military music, and the march of nume"march" of his has a covert allusion to the rous armies," confirms the.news. Faust howgreat "march of intellect," which did march ever, treats the matter coolly; chides the in those old ages, though only at "ordinary unceremonious trepidation of Phorcyas, and time." We observe, the military, one after the summons his men of war; who accordingly other, all fell; for discoverers, like other men, enter, steel-clad, in military pomp; and quitting must die; but " still the next had prowess their battalions,, gather round him. to take his more," and forgot the thousands that had Sunk orders. In a wild Pindaric ode, delivered with in clearing the way for him. However, Lyn- due emphasis, he directs them not so much ceus, in his love of plunder, did not take "the how they are to conquer Menelaus,;whob fairest maid," nor "the steer" fit for burden, doubtless he knIows' to be a sort of dream, as but rather jewels and other rare articles of how they are respectively to manage'and parvalue; in which quest his high power of eye- tition the Country, they shall hereby acquire. sight proved of great service to him. Better GermanDus is to have "the bays of Corinth';" had it been, perhaps, to have done as others while "Achaia, with its hundred dells," is redid, and seized " the fairest maid," or even the commeended to the' care of Coth; the host of "steer" fit for burden, or one of the "horses" the Franks maust go towards Elis; Messene is which were in such request: for, when he to be the Saxon's share; and Normann is to quitted practical Science and the philosophy clear the seas, and make Argolis great. Sparta, of Life, and addicted himself to curious subtil- however, is to continue the territory of Helena. ties and Metaphysical crotchets, what did it and be queen and patroless of these;inferilr avail him. At the first glance of the Grecian Dukedoms. In all this, are we to trace some beauty, he found that it was " naught, poor, and faint changeful shadow of the National Cha-. misunderstood." His extraordinary'obscura- racter, and respective Intellectual Performance tion of vision on Helena's approach'; his nar- of the several European tribes? Or, perhaps, row escape from death, on that account, at the of the real History of the Middle Ages; the 70 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. irruption of the northern swarms, issuing, like Foolish Love's caressing, teasing; cry ofjest, and shriek Faust and his air-warriors, "from Cimmerian of pleasure, Night," and spreading over so many fair In the turn dostunme qlite. regions!! Perhaps of both, and of more;* per- Naked, without wings a Genius, Faun in humour without coarseness, haps properly of neither: for the whole has a Springs he sportful on the ground; but the ground rverchameleon character, changing hue as we look berating, on it. However, be this as it may, the Chorus Darts him up to airy heights; and at the third, the second cannot sufficiently admire Faust's strategic gambol, faculty; and the troops march off, without Touches he thevaultedRoof. speech indeed, but evidently in the highest Frightened cries the Mother: Bound away, away, and as spirits. He himself concludes with another thou pleasest, rapid dithyrambic, describing the Peninsula But, my Son, beware of Flying; wings nor power of of Greece, or rather, perhaps, typically the flight are thine. Region of true Poesy, "kissed by the sea- And the Father thus advises: in the Earth resides the virtue waters," and "knit to the last mountainbranch" ofth fr lnd heesa Which so fast doth send thee upwards; touch but with branch" of the firm land. There is a wild thy toe the surface, glowing fire in these two odes; a musical in- Like the earth-born old Antreus, straightway thou art distinctness, yet enveloping a rugged, keen strong again. sense, which, were the gift of rhyme so com- And so skips he, hither, thither, on these jagged rocks; imon as Faust thinks it, we should have plea- fron summit suire in presenting to our readers. Again and Still to sumunmit, all about, like stricken ball rebounding, again, we think of Calderon and his Life a Dream. But at once in cleft of some rude cavern sinking as he Faust, as he resumes his seat by HIelena, vanished, observes that " she is sprung from the highest And so seems it we have lost him. Mother mourning, gods, and belongs to the first world alone. It Father cheers her, Shrug my shoulders I, and look about me. But again, is not meet that bolted towers should encircle behold, what vision! her; and near by Sparta, over the hills, "Ar- Are there treasures lying here concealed. There he is cadia blooms in eternal strength of youth, a again, and garments blissful abode for them two." "Let thrones Glittering, flower-bestriped has on. pass into groves; Arcadianly free be such eliity!" No sooner said, than done. Our lyfreeTassels waver from his arms, about his bosom flutter felicity!" No sooner said, than done. Our breastknots, Fortress, we suppose, rushes asunder like a In his hand the golden Lyre; wholly lilke alittle Phoebus. Palace of Air, for, "the scene altogether changes. Steps he light of heart upon the beetling cliffs: asto- series of Grottoes now are shut iqn by close Boswers. nished-stand we, Shady Grove, to the foot of the Rocks euhich encilrcle And the Parents, in their rapture, fly into each other's the place. Fauzst and Helena are not scen. The arms. C'horuas, scnattered olrouzd, lie sleepintg." For what glittering's that about his head S Were hard to say what glitters, In Arcadia, the business grows wilder than Whether Jewels and gold, or Flame of all-subduing ever. Phorcyas, who has now become won- strength of soul. derfully civil, and, notwithstanding her ug- And with stuch a bearing moves he, in himself this boy liness, stands on the best footing with the announces poor light-headed Cicada-Swarm of a Chorus, Future Master of all Beauty, whom the Melodies Eternal awakes them, to hear and see the wonders Do inform through every fibre; and forthwith so shall ye that have happened so shortly. It appears, earhi,, And forthwith so shall ye see him, to your uttermost too, that there are certain "Bearded Ones" (we amazement. suspect, Devils) waiting with anxiety, "sitting watchful there below," to see the issue of this The Chorus suggest, in their simplicity, that extraordinary transaction; but of'these Phor- this elastic little urchin may have some relacyas gives her silly woman no hint what- tionship- to the "Son of Maia," who, in old ever. She tells them, in glib phrase, what times, whiskled himself so nimbly out of his great things are in the wind. Faust and swaddling clothes, and stole the "Sea-ruler's Helena have been happier than mortals in trident" and " Heph.estos' tongs," and various these grottoes. Phorcyas,whowasinwaiting, other articles before he was well span-long. gradually glided away, seeking "roots, moss, But Phorcyas declares all this to be superanand rinds," on household duty bent, and so nuated fable, unfit for modern uses. And now, " they two remained alone." "a beautiftul,purely vnelodious snttsic of stringel ioncronRus. strnsments resooends fiosrs the Cave..ill listen, and 31.lk'st as if within those grottoes lay whole tpacts of soon appear deeply moved. It continues playing in country, full tone;" while Euphorion, in person, malres Wood and meadow, rivers, lakes: what tales thou palm'st his appearance, " itn the costume above described;" on us! larger of stature, but no.less frolicsome and ProarCYAS. tuneful. Sure enough, ye foolish creatures! These are unexplor- Our readers are aware that this Euphorion, ed recesses; the offspring of Northern Character wedded to IHall runs out on hall, spaces there on spaces: these I Grecian Culture, frisks it here not without remusing traced. ference to Modern Poesy, which had a birth so But at'once re-echoes from within a peal of laughter: precisely s Pteping in,what is it Leaps a boyfroni mother'sbreast Io Father's, not follow'him through these fine Nwarblings Prom the Father to the MIother: such a fondling, such a and trippings on the light fantastic toe: to our dandling, ears there is a quick, pure, small-toned music GOETHE'S HELENA. 71 in them, as perhaps of elfin bells when the Crownlet mounts like a comet to the sky, Coat, Ml~anrie, Queen of Faery rides by moonlight. It is, in and Lyre, are left lying.) truth, a graceful emblematic dance, this little HELE.NA abnd FAUST. life of Euphorion; full of meanings and halfneanings. The history of Poetry, traits of in- Joy soon changes to wo, And mirth to heaviest moan. dividual Poets; the Troubadours, the Three Anmittohaesma. Italians; glimpses of all things, full vision of ErP-IoItOoN's voice (from beneath.) nothing! Euphorion grows rapidly, and passes Let me not to realins below from one pursuit to another. Quitting his Descend, 0 mother, alone boyish gambols, he takes to dancing and romp- The prayer is soon granted. The Chorus ing with the Chorus; and this in a style of tu- chant a dirge over his remains, and then: mu!t which rather dissatisfies Faust. The wildest and coyest of these damsels he seizes with IIELENA (to FAUST.) avowed intent of snatching a kiss; but, alas, A sad old saying proves itself again in me, she resists, and still more singular, "flashes tp Good hap with beauty hath no long abode. it flarme into the air~:" inviting him, perhaps in So with love's Band is life's asunder rent: mockery, to follow her, Rnd "catch his van- Lamenting both, I clasp thee ill my arms ished purpose." Euphorion shakes off the Once more, and bid thee painfuilly farewell. remnants of the flame, and now, in a wilder Persephoneia take ny boy, and with him me. humour, mounts on the crags, begins to talk (Site embraces Faust; her Body lelts away; Garmnent of courage and battle; higher and higher he andVeilremain n his amls.) rises, till the Chorus see him on the topmost PHIORCYAS (to FAUST.) cliff, shining "in harness as for victory;" and yet, though at such a distance, they still hear Hold.faSt, what now alone remains to thee That Garment quit not. They are tugging there, hiS tones, Tneither is his ~figure diminished i These Demons at the skirt ofit; would fain their eyes; which indeed, as they observe, al- To the Nether Kingdoms take it down. Hold fast! ways is, and should be, the case with " sacred The goddess is it not, whom thou hast lost, Poesy," though it mounts heavenward, farther Yet godlike is it. See thou use aright and farther, till it " glitter like the fairest star." The priceless high bequest, and soar aloft: But Euphorion's life-dance is near ending.'T will lift thee away above the common world, From his high peak, he catches the sound of Far tip to Ether, so thou,canst endure. We meet again, far, very far from hence. war, and fires at it, and longs to mix in it, let Chorus, and Mother, and Father say what they (HELENA's Garments unfold into Clouds, encircle FAUST; willraise him aloft andfloat away with him.) (eHORcYAS picks Aup EUPHORION'S Coat, Mlantle, arid hEU:EPHtSOtI5OBN..Lyre from the Ground, comses forward into the Prosceniusm, And hear ye thunders on the ocean, lolds these Renmains aloft, and says:) And thunders roll from tower and wall, Well, fairly found be happily won And host with host in fierce commotion,-T is true, the Flame is lost and gone: See mixing at the trumpet's call: But well for us we have still this stuff! And to die in strife And to dhe la f life A gala-dress to dub our poets of merit, That is therlaw ofclife rall, And make guild-brethren snarl and cuff; That is certain once for all. And can't they borrow the Body and Spirit HELESNA, FAUST, and coltRus. At least, I'll lend them Ylothes enough. What a horror! spoken madly! (Sits down in the Proscensium at the foot of a pillar.) Wilt thou die s then what musult II The rest of the personages are now speedily EUPHORION. disposed of. Panthalis, the Leader of the Shall I view it, safe and gladly? Chorus, and the only one of them who has No! to share it will I hie. shown any glimmerings of Reason, or of aught HELENA, FAUST, and CHORUS. beyond mere sensitive life, mere love of PleaFatal are such haughty things, sure and fear of Pain, proposes that, being now War is for the stout. delivered from the soul-confusing spell of the UrPHoRIONx.- "Thessalian Hag," they should forthwith reMa!-and a pair of wings turn to Hades, to bear Helena company. But Folds itself out! none will volun'teer with her; so she goes herThither! Insmrst! Imust! self. The Chorus have lost their taste for'T is my hest to fly' Asphodel Meadows, and playing so subordinate (Ife casts himsself into the air: his Garsoments support a part in Orcus: they prefer abiding in the himn for a moment; his HIead radiates, a Train of Light Light of Day, though, indeed, under rathet follows him.) peculiar circumstances; being no longer " Per CHORUS. sons," they say, but a kind of Occult Qualities, Icarus! earth and dust: as we conjecture, and Poetic Inspirations, reO, wo! thou mouInt'st too high. siding in various natural objects. Thus, on.: (A beautiful Youth rushes down at the feet of the Pa- division become a sort of invisible Haia rents; you fancy you recognise in the dead a well-knowsn dryads, and have their being in Trees, and Forn;* bult the bodily part instantly disappears; the gold their joy in the various movements, beauties. It is perhaps in reference to this phrase, that cbrtain est critic finds that he can see no deeper into a millstone sagacious critics among the Germans have hit upon the than another man. Some allsion to our English Poet wonderfuil discovery of Euphorion being-Lord Byron! there is, or may be, here and in the page that precedes, A fact, if it is one, which curiously verifies the author's and the page that follows; but Euphorion is no image prediction in this passage. But unhappily, while we of any person: least of all, one would think, of George fancy that we recognise in the dead a well-known form, Lord Byron. "the bodily part instantly disappears;" and the keen 72 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS IWRITINGS. and products of trees. A second change into successful. It iis wonderfcul with what fidelity Echoes; a third, into the Spirit of Brooks; the Classical style is main tained throughout and a fourth take up their abode in Vineyards, the earlier part of the poem; howr skilfully it and delight in the manufacture of Wine. No is at once united to the Romantic style of the sooner have these several parties made up their latter part, and made to re-appear, at intervals, minds, than the Curtain falls; and Phorcyas "in to the end. And then the small half-secret the Proscenium rises in gigantic size; but steps down touches of sarcasm, the curious little traits by from her cothurni, la/ys her Mlask and Veil aside, which we get a peep behind the curtain! and shows herself as MEPHISToPRELES,, in order, so Figure, for instance, that so transient allusion far as may be necessary, to comment on the piece, to these "Bearded Ones sitting watchful there by way of -Epilogue." below," and then their tuggin-g at Helena's ManSuch is Helena the interhtde in Faust. We tle to pull it down with them. By such li ght have all the desire in the world to hear hints does Mephistopheles -point out our Mephisto's Epilogue:'but far b;e it from us to Whereabout; and ever and anon remind us, take the word out of so gifted a mouth! In that not on the firm earth, but on the wide and the way of commentary on Ielena,,we ourselves airy Deep, has he spread his strange pavilion, have little more, to add. The' reader sees, in where, in magic light, so many wonders are general,'that Faust is to save himself from the displayed to us. straits and fetters of Worldly Life in the loftier Had we chanced to find that Goethe, in other regions of Art, or in that temper of mind by instances, had ever written one line without which alone those regions can be reached,' meaning, or many lines without a deep and and permanently dwelt in. Further, also, that true meaning, we should not have thought this this doctrine is to be stated emblematically and little cloud-picture worthy of such minsute deparabolically; so that it might seem as if, in velopment, or such careful study.,In that Goethe's hands, the -History of Faust, com- case, too, we should never have seen the true mencing among the realities of every-day Helena of Goethe, but some~ false one of our existence, superadding to these certain spiritual own too indolent imagination; for this Drama, agencies, and passing into a more aerial charac- as it grows' clearer, grows also more beautiful ter as it proceeds, may fade away, at its termi- and complete; and the third, the fourth perusal nation, into a phantasmagoric region, where of it pleases far better than the first. Few living symbol and thing signified are no longer artists would deserve such faith from us; but clearly distinguished; ahd thus the final rtsult few also would so well reward it. be curiously and significantly indicated, rather On the general relation of-Helena to Faust, than directly exhibited. With regard to the and the degree of fitness of the one for the special purport of Euphorion, Lynceus, and other, it were premature to speakl more exthe rest, we have nothing more to say at pre- pressly at present. We have learned, on sent; nay, perhaps we may have already said authority which we may justly reckon the best, too much. For it must not be forgotten by the that Goethe is even now engaged in preparing commentator, and will not, of a surety, be for- the entire Second Part of Faust, into which gotten by Mephistopheles, whenever he may this Helena passes as a component part. With please to deliver his Epilogue, that Helena is the third Lieferusig of his Works, we undernot an Allegory, but a Phantasmagory; not a stand, the beginning of that Second Part is to type of one thing,.but a vague, fluctuating, be published: we shall thee, if need be, feel fitful adumbration of many. This is no Pic- more qualified to speak. ture painted on canvas, with mere material For the present, therefore, we take leave -of colours, and steadfastly abiding our scrutiny; HTelena and Faust, and of their Author: but with but rather it is like the Smoke of a Wizard's regard to the latter, our task is nowxise ended; Cauldron,'in which as we,aze on its flicker- indeed, as yet,hardly begun, for it is not in the ing tints and wild splendours, thousands of province of the iihR hrchen, that Go-ethe will ever strangest shapes unfold themselves, yet no one become most interesting to English readers. will abide with us; and thus,,as Goethe says But, like his own Euphorion, though he lrses elsewhere, " we are reminded of Nothing and'aloft into 2Ether, he derives, Antsus-like, his of All." strength from the earth. The dullest plodder Properly speaking, Heleena is- what the Ger- has not. more practical understanding, or a mans call a lMidhrchen (Fabulous Tale), a sounder or more quiet character, than this species of fiction they have particularly ex- most aerial and imaginative of poets. We celled in, and of which Goethe has already hold Goethe to be the Foreigner, at this era, produced more than one distinguished speci- who, of all others, the best, and the best by men. Some day we purpose to translate for many degrees, deserves our study and appreour readers, that little piece of his, deserving ciation. What help we individually can give to be named, as it is, "THE Miihrchess," and in such a matter, we shall consider -it a d'uty which we must agree with a great critic in and a pleasure to hae' in readiness. We reckoning the "Tale of all Tales." As to the purpose to return, in our next Number, to -the composition of this Helesna, we cannot but per- consideration of his Works and Character in ceivb it to be deeply-studied,'appropriate, and general. GOETHE. 73 GOETHE.* [FOREIGN REVIEW, 1828.] IT is not on this" Second Portion" ofGoethe's racter: but here, unhappily, our knowledge works, which at any rate contains nothing new almost terminates; and still must Curiosity, to us, that we mean at present to dwell. In our must ingenuous love of Information and mere last Number, we engaged to make some survey passive Wonder alike inquire: What manner of his writings and character in general; and of man is this? How shall we interpret, how must now endeavour, with such insight as we shall we even see him? What is his spiritual have, to fulfil that promise. structure, what at least are the outward form We have already said that we reckoned this and features of his mincld Has he any real no unimportant subject; and few of Goethe's poetic worth; and if so, how much; how much readers can need to be reminded that it is no to his own people, how much to us? easy one. ~We hope also that our pretensions Reviewers, of great and of small character, in regard toit are not exorbitant; the sum of have manfully erideavoured to satisfy the'Briour aims being nowise to solve so deep and tish world on these points: but which of us pregnant an inquiry, but only to show that.an could believe their report?'Did it not rather inquiry of such a sort lies ready for solution; become apparent, as we reflected on the matcourts the attention of thinking men among us, ter, that this Goethe of theirs was not the real nay, merits a thorough investigation, and must man, nay, could not be any real man whatever? sooner or later obtain it. Goethe's literary For what, after all, were their portraits of him history appears to us a matter, beyond most but copies, with some retouchings and ornaothers, of rich, subtile, and manifold signifi- mental appendages, of our grand English cance; which will require cund reward the best original Picture of the German generically'?study of the best heads, and to the right expo- In itself such a piece of art, as national porsition of which not one but many judgments traits, under like circumstances, are wont to be; will be necessary. and resembling Goethe, as some unusually exHowever, we need not linger, preluding on pressive Sign of the Saracen's Head may reOur own inability, and magnifying the difficult semble the present Sultan of Constantinople! ties we have so courageously volunteered to Did we imagine that much information, or front. Considering the highly complex aspect any very deep sagacity were required for which such a mind of itself presents to us; avoiding such mistakes, it would ill become and, still more, taking into account the state us to step forward on this occasion. But of English opinion in respect of it, there cer- surely it is given to every man, if he will but tainly seem few literary questions of our time take heed, to know so much as whether or not so perplexed, dubious, perhaps hazardous, as he knows. And nothing can be plainer to us this of the character of Goethe; but few also than that if, in the present business, we can on which a well-founded, or even a sincere, report augcht from our own personal vision and word would be more likely to profit. For our clear hearty belief, it will be a useful novelty countrymen, at no time indisposed to foreign in the discussion of it. Let the reader be excellence, but at all times cautious of foreign patient with us then; and according as he finds singularity, have heard much of Goethe; but that we speak honestly and earnestly, or loosely heard, for the most part, what excited and per- and dishonestly, consider our statement, or displexed rather than instructed them. Vague miss it as unworthy of consideration. rumors of the man have, for more than half a Viewed in his merely external relations, century, been humming through our ears: Goethe exhibits an appearance such as seldom from time to time, we have even seen some occurs in the history of letters, and indeed, distorted, mutilated transcript of his own from the.nature of the case, can seldom occur. thoughts, which, all obscure and hieroglyphi- A man, who, in early life, rising almost at a cal as it might often seem, failed not to emit single bound into the highest reputation over here and there a ray of keenest and purest all Europe; by gradual advances, fixing himsense; travellers also are still running to and self more and more firmly in the reverence of fro, importing the opinions or, at worst, the his countrymen, ascends silently through many gossip of foreign countries: so that, by one vicissitudes to the supreme intellectual place means or another, many of us.have come to among them; and now, after half a century, understand, that considerably the most dis- distinguished by convulsions, political, moral, tinguished poet and thinker of his age is called and'poetical, still reigns, full of years and Goethe, and lives at Weimar, and must, to all honours, with a soft undisputed sway; still appearance, be an extremely surprising cha.- labouring in his vocation, still forwarding, as with knightly benignity,,whatever can profit *Goethe's $i5.mmtliche Werke. Vollstlindige./JAusgabe the culture of his nation: such a man might letzter Haind. (Goethe's Collective Works. Complete Edition, with his final Corrections.) Zereite Lieferung, justly attract our notice, were it only by the Bde. vi. —x. Cotta: Stuttgard and Tiibingenl. 1827. singularity of his fortune. Supremacies., 10 G a714 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. this sort are rare in modern times; so univer- cannot unriddle, learns to trust;" each takes sal, and of such continuance, they are almost with him what he is adequate to carry, and deunexampled. For the age of the Prophets and parts thankful for his own allotments. Two Theologic Doctors had long since passed of Goethe's intensest admirers are Schelling away; and now it is by much slighter, by of Munich, and a worthy friend of ours in transient and mere earthly ties, that bodies of Berlin; one of these among the deepest men men connect themselves with a man. The in Europe, the other among the shallowest.;visest, most melodious voice cannot in'these All this is, no doubt, singular enough; and a days pass for a divine one; the word Inspira- proper understanding of it would throw light tion still lingers, but only in the shape of a on many things. Whatever we may think of poetic figure, from which the once earnest, Goethe's ascendency, the existence of it reawful, and soul-subduing sense has vanished mains a highly curious fact; and to trace its without return. The polity of Literature is history, to discover by what steps such incalled a Republic; oftener it is an Anarchy, fluence has been attained, and how so long where, by strength or fortune, favourite after preserved, were no trivial or unprofitable infavourite rises into splendour and authority, quiry. It would be worth while to see so but like Masaniello, while judging the people, strange a man for his own sake; and here we is on the third day deposed/and shot. Nay, should see, not onlythe man himself, and his few such adventurers can attain even this own progress and spiritual development, but painful pre-eminence; for at most, it is clear, the progress also of his nation; and this at no any given age can have but one first man; sluggish or even quiet era, butin times marked many ages have only a crowd of secondary by strange revolutions of opinions, by angry men, each of whom is first in his own eyes: controversies, high enthusiasm, novelty of enand seldom, at best, can the "Single Person" terprise, and doubtless, in many respects, by long keep his station at the head of this wild rapid advancement: for that the Germans have commonwealth; most sovereigns are never been, and still are, restlessly struggling foruniversally acknowledged, least of all in their ward, with honest unwearied effort, sometimes lifetimes; few of the acknowledged can reign with enviable success,, no one, who knows peaceably to the end. them, will deny; and as little, that in every Of such a perpetual dictatorship Voltaire province of Literature, of Art, and humane among the French gives the last European accomplishment, the influence, often the direct instance; but even with him it was perhaps a guidance of Goethe may be recognised. The: much less striking affair. Voltaire reigned history of his mind is, in fact, at the same time, over a sect, less as their lawgiver than as their the history of German culture in his day; general; for he was at bitter enmity with the for whatever excellence this individual might great numerical majority of his nation, by realize has sooner or later been acknowledged whom his services, far from being acknow- and appropriated by his country; and the title ledged as benefits, were execrated as abomina- bf fucsaogetes, which his admirers give him, is tions. But Goethe's object has, at all times, perhaps, in sober strictness, not unmerited. been rather to unite than to divide; and though Be it for good or for evil, there is certainly no he has not scrupled, as occasion served, to German, since the days of Luther, whose life speak forth his convictions distinctly enough can occupy so large a space in the intellectual on many delicate topics, and seems, in general, history of that people. to have paid little court to the prejudices or In this point of view, were it in no other, private feelings of any man or body of men, Goethe's Dichtung?tmd WThrheit, so soon as it we see not at present that his merits are any- is completed, may deserve to be'reckoned one where disputed, his intellectual endeavours of his most interesting works. We speak not controverted,-or his person regarded otherwise of its literary merits, though in that respect, than with'-affection and respect. In later years, too, we must say that few Autobiographies too, the advanced age of the poet has invested have come in our way, where so difficult a hium with another sort of dignity; and the ad- matter was so successfully'handled; where miration to which his great qualities give him perfect knowledge could be found united so claim, is tempered into a milder, grateful feel- kindly with perfect tolerance; and a personal ing, almost as of sons and grandsons to their' narrative, moving along in soft clearness, common father. Dissentients, no doubt, there showed us a man, and the objects that enare and must be; but, apparently, their cause vironed him, under an aspect so verisimilar, is not pleaded in words: no man of he small- yet so lovely, with an air dignified and earnest, est note speaks on that side; or at most, such yet graceful, cheerful, even gay: a story as of men may question, not the worth of Goethe, a Patriarch to his children; such indeed, as but the cant and idle affectation with which, in few men can be called upon to relate, and few, many quarters, this must be promulgated and if called upon, could relate so well. What bepraised. Certainly there is not, probably would we give for such an Autobiography of there never was, in any European country, a Shakspeare, of Milton, even of Pope or Swift! writer who, with so cunning a style, and so Dichat..g aumd Wiahrheit has been censured condeep, so abstruse a sense, ever found so many siderably in England; butnot, we are inclined readers. For, from the peasant to the king, to believe, with any insight into its proper from the callow dilettante and innamorato, to meaning. The misfortune of the work among thl grave transcendental philosopher, men of us was, that we did not know the narrator bealt debrees and dispositions are familiar with fore his narrative; and could not judge what the writings of Goethe: each. studies them sort of narrative he was bound to give, in these with affection, with a faith which, "where it circumstances, or whether he was bound to GOETHE. 75 give any at all. We say nothing of his situa- wise that German translator, whom indignant tion; heard only the sound of his voice; and Reviewers have proved to know nio German, hearing it, never doubted that he must be per- were a highly reprehensible man. His work, orating in official garments from the rostrum, it appears, is done from the French, and shows instead of speaking trustfully by the fireside. subtractions, and, what is worse, additions. For the chief ground of offence seemed to be, But the unhappy Dragoman has already been that the story was not noble enough; that it chastised, perhaps too sharply. If warring entered on details of too poor and private a with the reefs and breakers and cross eddies nature; verged here and there towards garru- of Life, he still hover on this side the shadow lity; was not, in one word, written in the style of Night, and any word of ours- might reach of what we call a gentleman. Whether it might him, we would rather say: Courage, Brother! be written in the style of a'nan, and how far Grow honest, andTimes will mend! these two styles might be compatible, and It would appear, then, that for inquirers into what might be their relative worth and prefer- Foreign Literature, for all men, anxious to see ableness, was a deeper question, to which ap- and understand the European world as it lies parently no heed had been given. Yet herein around them, a great problem is presented in lay the very cream of the matter; for Goethe this Goethe; a singular, highly significant phewas not writing to "persons of quality" in nomenon, and now, also, means more or.less England, but to persons of heart and head in complete for ascertaining its significance. A Europe: a somewhatdifferent problem perhaps, man of won derful, nay unexampled reputation and requiring a sot ewhat different solution. and intellectual influence among forty millions As to this ignobleness and freedom of detail., of reflective, serious, and cultivated men, inespecially, we may say, that, to a German, few vites us to study him; and to determine for accusations could appear more surprising than ourselves whether and how far such influence this, which, with us, constitutes the head and has been salutary, such reputation merited. front of his offending. Goethe, in his own That this call will one day be answered, that country, far from being accused of undue Goethe will be seen and judged of in his real familiarity towards his readers, had, up to that character among us, appears certain enough. date, been labouring under precisely the oppo- His name, long familiar everywhere, has now site charge. It was his stateliness, his reserve, awakened the attention of critics in all Euhis indifference, his contempt for the public, ropean countries to his works: he is studied that were censured. Strange, almost inexpli- wherever true study exists; eagerly studied cable, as many of his works might appear; even in France; nay, some considerable knowloud, sorrowful, and altogether stolid as might ledge of his nature and spiritual importance be the criticisms they underwent, no word of seems already to prevail there. explanation could be wrung from him; he had For ourselves, meanwhile, in giving all due never even deigned to write a preface. And, weight to so curious an exhibition of opinion, in later and juster days, when the study of it is doubtless our part, at the same time, to Poetry came to be prosecuted in another spirit, beware that we do not give it too -much. This and it was found that Goethe was standing, not universal sentiment of admiration is wonderlike a culprit to plead for himself before the ful, is interesting enough; but it must not literary plebeians, but like a higher teacher and lead us astray. We English stand as yet preacher, speaking for truth, to whom both without the sphere of it; neither will we plunge plebeian.s and patricians were bound to give all blindly in, but enter considerately, or, if we see ear, the outward difficulty of interpreting his good, keep aloof from it altogether. Fame, we works began indeed to vanish; but enough still may understand, is no sure test of merit, but remained, nay, increased curiosity had given only a probability of such.: it is an accident, rise to new difficulties, and deeper inquiries. not a property, of a man; like light, itan Not only what were these works, but how did give little or nothing, but at mniost may show they originate, became questions for the critic. what is given; often, it is but a false glare, dazYet several of Goethe's chief productions, and, zling the eyes of the vulgar, lending by casual, of his smaller poems, nearly the whole, seemed extrinsic splendour the brightness and maniso intimately interwoven with his private his- fold glance of the diamond to the pebbles of no tory, that without some knowledge of this, no value. A man is in all cases simply the man, answer to such questions could be given. Nay, of the same intrinsic worth and weakness, commentaries have been written on single whether his worth and weakness lie hidden in pieces of his, endeavouring, by way of guess, the depths of his own consciousness, or be beto supply this deficiency. We can thus judge trumpeted and beshouted from end to end of whether, to the Germans, such minuteness of the habitable globe. These are plain truths, exposition in this DichtUag und Wahrheit may which no one should lose sight of; though, have seemed a sin. Fewr readers of Goethe, whether in love or in anger, for praise or for we believe, but would wish rather to see it ex- condemnation, most of us are too apt to forget tended than curtailed. them. But least of all can it become the critic It is our duty also to remark, if any one be to " follow a multitude to do evil," even wher still unaware of it, that the Memoi-rs of Goethe, that evil is excess of admiration; on the con.. published some years ago in London, can have trary, it will behove him to lift up his voice, no real concern with this autobiography. The how feeble soever, how unheeded soever, rage of hunger is an'excuse for much; other- against the common delusion; from which, if * Witness Le Tasse, Drame par Duival, and the' CrAtl* See, in particular. Dr. Kannengiesser Usber Goethe's cisms on it. See also the Essays in the Globe. Nos 55, HIausreise in Winter, 1820. 64, (1826.) 76 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. he can save, or help to save, any mortal, his Goethe besides appears to is a person of that endeavours will have been repaid. deep endowment, and gifted vtision, of that exWith these things in some measure before;perience also and sympathy in the ways of all us, we must remind our readers of another in- men, which qualify him to stand forth, not only fluence at work in this affair, and one acting, as the literary ornament, but in many respects as we think, in the contrary direction. That too as the Teacher and exemplar of his age. pitiful enough desire for "originality," which For, to shy nothing of his natural gifts, he has lurks and acts in all minds, will rather, we cultivated himself and his art, he has studied imagine, lead the critic of Foreign Literature how to live and Write, with a fidelity, an unto adopt the negative than the affirmative with wearied earnestness; of which there is no other regard to Goethe. If a writei, indeed; feel that living instance; of which, among British he is writing for England alone, invisibly and poets especially, Wordsworth alone offers any inaudibly to the rest of the Earth, the tempta- resemblance. And this in our view is the retions may be pretty equally balanced; if he suit: To our minds, in these soft, melodious write for some small conclave, which he mis- imaginations of his, there'is embodied the Wistakenly thinks the representative of England, dom which is proper to this time; the beautithey may sway this way or that, as it chances. ful, the religious Wisdom, which may still, But Writing in such isolated spirit is no long- with something of its old impressiveness, speak er possible. Traffic, with its swift ships, is to the whole soul; still, in these hard, unbeuniting all nations into one; Europe at large lieving, utilitarian days, reveal to us glimpses is becoming more and more one public: and of the Unseen but not runreal World, that so in this public, the voices for Goethe, compared the Actual and the Ideal may again meet towith those against him, are in the proportion, gether, and clear Knowledge be again wedded as we reckon them, both as to the number and to Religion, in the life and business of men. value, of perhaps a hundred to one. We take Such is our conviction or persuasion with in, not Germany alone, but France and Italy; regard to the poetry of Goethe. Could we denot the Schlegels and Schellings, but the Man- monstrate this opinion to be true, could we zonis and de Stalls. The bias of originality,) even exhibit it with that degree of clearness therefore, may lie to the side of the censure: and consistency which it has attained in our and whoever among us shall step forward, own thoughts, Goethe' were, on our part, suffiwith such knowledge as our common critics ciently recommended to the best attention of have of Goethe, to enlighten the European all thinking men. But, unhappily, it is not a public, by contradiction in this matter, displays subject susceptible of demonstration: the merits a heroism, which, in estimating his other and characteristics of a Poet are not to be set merits, ought nowise to be forgotten. forth by logic; but to be gathered by personal, Our own view of the case coincides,we con- and as, in this case, it must be, by deep and fess, in some degree with that of the majority. careful inspection of his works. Nay, Goethe's We reckon that Goethe's fame has, to a conside- world is every way so different from ours; it costs rable extent, been deserved; that his influence us such effort, we have so much to remember and has been of high benefit to his own country; so much to forget, before we can transfer ournay more, that it promises to be of benefit to selves in any measure into his peculiar point of us, and to all other nations. The essential,vision, that a right study of him, for an Englishgrounds of this opinion, which to explain nman, even of ingenuous, open, inquisitive mind, minutely were a long, indeed boundless task, becomes unusually difficult; for a fixed, decided, we mnay state without many words. We find, contemptuous Englishman, next to impossible. then, in Goethe, an Artist, in the high and an- To a reader of the first class-, helps may be cient meaning of that term; in the. meaning given, explanations will remove many a diffiwhi6h it may have borne long ago among the culty; beauties that lay hidden may be made masters of Italian painting, and the fathers of apparent; and directions, adapted to his actual Poetry in England; we say that we trace in the position, will at length guide him into the proper creations of this man, belonging in every sense track for such an inquiry. All.this, however, to our own time, some touches of that old, must be a Work of progression and detail. To divine spirit, which had long passed away from do our part in it, fiom time to time, must rank among us, nay, which, as has often been la- among the best duties of an English Foreign boriously demonstrated, was not to return to Review. Meanwhile, our present endeavour this world any more. limits itself within far narrower bounds. We Or perhaps we come nearer our meaning, if cannot aim to make Goethe known, but only to we say that in Goethe we discover by far the prove that he is. worthy of being known; at most striking instance, in our time, of a writer most, to point out, as it were afar off, the path who is, in strict speech, what Philosophy can by which some knowledge of him may be obcall a Man. He is neither noble nor plebeian, tained. A slight glance at his general literary neither liberal nor servile, nor infidel, nor de- character and procedure, and one or two of votee; but the best excellence of all these, his chief productions, which throw light on joined in pure union; "a clear and universal these, must for the present suffice. KMan,." Goethe's poetry is' no separate faculty, A French diplomatic personage, contemnno mental handicraft; but the voice of the plating Goethe's physiognomy, is said to have whole harmonious manhood: nay it is the very observed: Voila uns hontme qui a euo beaucoup de harmony, the living, and life-giving harmony chagrins. A truer version of the matter, Goethe of that rich manhood which forms his poetry. himself seems to think, would have been: All good men may be called poets in act, or in Here is a man who has struggled toughly; who word; all good poets are so in both. But has es sich recht saner werden lassen. Goethe's GOETHE. 77 life, whether as a writer and thinker, or as a produce of his twenty-fourth year. Werter living, active man, has indeed been a life of appeared to seize the heaits of men in. all effort, of earnest toilsome enldeavour after all quarters of the world, and to utter for them the excellence. Accordingly, his intellectual pro- word which they had long been waiting to hear. gress, his spiritual and moral history, as it may As9 usually happens, too, this same word, once be gathered from his successive works, -fur- uttered, was soon abundantly repeated; spoken nishes, with us, no small portion of the plea- in all dialects, and chanted through all notes sure and profit we derive from perusing them. of the gamut,. till the sound of it had grown a Participating deeply in all the influences of weariness rather than a pleasure. Skeptical his age, he has from the first, at every new sentimentality, view-hunting, love, friendship, epoch, stood forth to elucidate the new circum- suicide, and desperation, became the staple of stances of the time: to offer the instruction, the literary ware; and though the epidemic, after solace, which that time required. His literary a long course of years, subtsided in Germany, life divides'itself into two portions widely dif- it reappeared with various modifications in ferent in character: the products of the first, other countries, and everywhere abundant once so new and original, have long, either traces of its good and bad effects are still to be directly or through the thousand, thousand discerned. The fortune of Berlichingen with the imitations of them, been familiar to us; with. Iron Hand, though less sudden, was by no the products of the second, equally original, means less exalted. In hisown country, Goetz, and, in our day, far more precious, we are yet though he now stands solitary and childless, little acquainted. T'hese two classes of works- became the parent of aninnumerable progeny, stand curiously related with each other; at first of chivalry plays, feudal delineations, and poview, in strong contradiction, yet, in truth, etico-antiquarian performances; which, though connected together by the strictest sequence. long ago deceased, made noise enough in their For Goethe has not only suffered and mourned day and generation: and with ourselves, his in bitter agony under the spiritual perplexities influence has been perhaps still miore remarkof his time; but he has also mastered these, he able. Sir Walter Scott's first literary enteris above them, and has shown others how to prise was a translation of Goetz von Bee-lichingen; rise above them. At one time, we found him and, if genius could be communicated like inin darkness, and now, he is in light; he was struction, we might call this work of Goethe's once an Unbeliever; and now he is a Believer; the prime cause of llarmioqn and the Lady of and he.believes, moreover, not'by denying his the Lake, with all that has followed from the unbelief, but by following it out; not by stop- same creative hand. Truly, a grain of seed ping short, still less turning back, in his inqui- that has lighted on the right soil! For if not ries, but by resolutely prosecuting them. This, firmer'and fairer, it has grown to be taller and it appears to us, is a case of singular interest, broader than any other tree; and all the nations and rarely exemplified, if at all, elsewhere, in of the earth are still yearly gathering of its these our days. How has this" man, to whom fruit. the world once offered nothing but blackness, "But overlooking these spiritual genealogies, denial, and despair, attained to that better which bring little certainty and little profit, it vision which now shows it to him, not tolerable may be sufficient to observe of Berlichizngen and only, but full of solemnity and loveliness? Werter,-that they stand prominent among the How has the belief of a Saint been united in causes, or at the very least, among the signals this high and true mind with the clearness of a of a great change in modern literature. The Skeptic; the devout spirit of a Fenelon made former directed, men's attention with a new to blend in soft harmony with the gayety, the force to the picturesque efflects of the Past; sarcasm, the shrewdness of a Voltaire. and the latter, for the first time, attempted the Goethe's two earliest worlrs are Goetz von more accurate delineation of a class of feelings Berlichi'ngcn and The Sorrows of Werter. The deeply important to modern minds, but for boundless influence and popularity they gained, which our elder poetry offered no exponent, both at home and abroad, is well known. It and perhaps could offer none, because they was they that. established almost at once his are feelings that arise from Passion incapable literary fame in his own country.; and even of being converted into Action, and belong determined his subsequent private history, for chiefly to an age as indolent, cultivated, and they brought him into contact with the Duke unbelieving as our own. This, notwithstanding of Weimar; in connection with whom, the Poet, the dash of falsehood which may exist in WCerengaged din manifold duties, political as well as ter itself, and the boundless delirium of extraliterary; has lived for fifty-four years, and still, vagance which it called forth in others, is a in honourable' retirement, continues to live.- high praise which cannot justly be denied it. Their effects over Europe at large were not less The English reader ought also to understand striking than in Germany.' that our current version of Wetter is mutilated "It would be difficult," observes a writer on and inaccurate: it comes to us through the this subject, "to name two books which have all-subduing medium of the French, shorn of exercised a deeper influence on the subsequent its caustic strength, with its melancholy renliterature of Europe than these two perform- dered maudlin, its hero reduced from the stateances of a young author; his first-fruits, the ly gloom of a broken-hearted poet to the tearful wrangling of a dyspeptic tailor."' *-Since the above was written, that worthy Prince, To the same dark, wayward'mood, which, worthy, we have understood, in all respects, exemplary in Werler, pours itself forth'n bitter wailings in whatever concerned Literature and the Arts, has been called suddenly away. He died on his road from Berlin, * near Torgau, on the 24th of June. * German Romance, tol. iv. pp. 5-7. G2 78 CARLYLE S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. overhuman life; and, in Berlicingesn, appears;as mains the best of all modern Idyls; but it is a fond and sad looking back into the Past, be- and was nothing more. And consider our long various other productions of Goethe's; leading writers; consider the poetry of Gray, for example, the Mitschuldigen, and the first and the prose of Johnson. The first a laboidea of Faust, which, however, was not realized rious mosaic, through the h&ii:d, stiff lifneain actual composition, till a calmer period of ments of which little life or true grace could his history. Of this early " harsh and crude," be expected to look: real feeling, and all freeyet fervid and genial period, Werterter may stand dom of expressing it, are sacrificed to pomp, here as the representative; and, viewed in its to cold splendour; for vigour we have a cerexternal and internal relation, will help to il- tain mouthing vehemence, too elegant indeed lustrate both the writer and the public he was to be tumid, yet essentially foreign to the writing for. heart, and seen to extenfd no deeper than the At the present day, it would be difficult for mere voice and gesture. Were it not for his us, satisfied, nay, sated to nausea, as we have Letters, which are full of warm, exuberant been with the doctrines of Sentimentality, to power, we might almost doubt whether Gray estimate the boundless interest which Wcteru was a man of genius; nay, was a living man must have excited when first given to the at all, and not rather some thousand-times world. TIt was then new in all senses; it was more cunningly devised poetical turning-loom, wonderful, yet. wished for, both in its own than that of Swift's Philosophers- in Laputa. country and in every other. The literature Johnson's prose is true, indeed, and sound, of Germany had as yet but partially awakened and full of practical sense: few men, have from its long torpor:;deep learning,'deep re- seen more clearly into the motives, the inteflection, have at no time been wanting there:. rests, the whole walk and conversation of the but the creative spirit had for above a century living' busy world as it lay before him; but been almost extinct. Of late, however, the farther than this busy, and, to most of us, Ramlers, Rabeners, Gellerts, had attained to no rather prosaic world, he seldom looked: his inconsiderable polish of style; Klopstock's instruction is for men of business, and in re_Messias had called forth the admiration, and gard to matters of business alone. Prudence perhaps still more the pride, of the country, as is the highest Virtue he can inculcate; and for a piece of art; a high enthusiasm was abroad; that finer portion of our nature, that portion Lessing had rousped the minds of men, to a of it which belongs essentially to Literature deeper and truer interest in literature, had strictly so called; where our highest feelings, even decidedly begun to introduce a heartier, our best joys and keenest sorrows, bur Doubt, warmer, and more expressive style. The our Love, our Religion reside, he has no word Germans were on the alert; in expectation, or to utter; no remedy, no counsel to give us in.at least in full readiness for some far bolder our straits; or at most, if, like poor Boswell, impulse; waiting for the Poet that might speak the patient is importunate, will answer: "-My to them from the heart to the heart. It was in dear Sir, endeavour to clear your mind of Goethe that such a Poet was, to be given them. Cant." Nay, the literature of other countries, placid The turn which Philosophical speculation self-satisfied as they might seem, was in an had taken in the preceding age corresponded equally expectant condition. Everywhere, as with this tendency, and enhanced its narcotic in Germany, there was poli/sh and languor, influences; or was, indeed, properly speaking, external glitter and internal vacuity; it was the root they had sprung from. Locke, himnot fire, but a picture of fire, at which no soul self, a clear, humble-minded, patient, reverent, could be warmed. Literature had sunk from nay, religious man, had paved the way for its former vocation: it no longer held the mil- banishing religion from the world. Mind, by ror up to nature; no longer reflected, in many- being modelled in men's imaginations into a coloured expressive symbols, the actual pas- Shape, a Visibility; and reasoned of as if it sions, the hopes, sorrows, joys of Living men; had been some composite, divisible and rebut dwelt in a remote conventional world, in unitable substance, some finer chemical salt, Castles of Otranto, in Epigaoniads and Leonidases, or curious piece of logical joinery,-began to among clear, metallic heroes, and white, high, lose its immaterial, mysterious, divine though stainless beauties, in whom' the drapery and invisible character: it was tacitly figured as elocution were nowise the least important something that might, wrere our organs fine qualities. Men thought it right that the heart enough, -be seen. Yet who had ever seen it? should swell into magnanimity with Caracta- Who could ever see it? Thus by degrees it cus and Cato, and melt into sorrow with many passed into a Doubt, a Relation, some faint an Eliza and Adelaide; but the heart was in possibility; and at last into a highly-probable no haste either to swell or to melt. Some Nonentity. Following Locke's footsteps, the pulses of heroical sentiment, a few unnatural French had discovered that "as the stomach tears might, with conscientious readers, be ac- secretes Chyle, so does the brain secrete tually squeezed forth on such occasions: but Thought." And what then was Religion, what they came only from the surface of the mind; was Poetry, what'was all high and heroic nay, had the conscientious nian considered of feeling? Chiefly a delusion; often a false and the matter, he would have found that they pernicious one.'Poetry, indeed, was still to Ought not to have come atall. Our only Eng- be preserved; because Poetry was a useful ish poet of the period was Goldsmith; a pure, thing: men needed amusement, and loved to clear, genuine spirit, had li he been of depth or amuse themselves with Poetry: the playhouse strength sufficient: his Vicar of Wakefield re- was a pretty lounge of an evening; then there GOETHE. 79 were so many precepts, satirical, didactic, so sphere, (for every man, disguise it as he may,:much more impressive for the rhyme; to say has a soul in him,) at least a tolerable enough nothing of your occasional verges, birth-day place;o where, by one item and another, some odes, epithalamiums, epicediums, by which comfort, or show of comfort, might from time,"the dream of existence may be so highly to time be got up, and these few years, espesweetened and embellished." Nay, does not cially since they were so few, be spent withPoetry, acting on the imaginations of men, out much murmuring. But to men afflicted excite them to daring purposes; sometimes, as with the " malady of Thought," some devoutin the case of Tyrtmus, to fight better; in ness of temper was an inevitable heritage: to which wise may it not rank as a useful stimu- such the noisy forum of the world could aplant to man, along with Opium and Scotch pear but an empty, altogether insufficient con Whisky, the manufacture of which is allowed cern; and the whole scene of life had- become by law? In Heaven's name, then, let Poetry hopeless enough. Unhappily, such feelings be preserved. are yet by no means so infrequent with ourIWith Religion, however, it fared somewhat selves, that we need stop here to depict them. worse. In the eyes of Voltaire and his dis- That state of Unbelief from which the Gerciples, Religion was a superfluity, indeed a mans do seem to be in some measure delivernuisance. Here, it is true, his followers have ed, still presses with incubus force on the since found that he went too far; that Religion, greater part of Europe; and nation after being a great sanction to civil morality, is of nation, each in its own way, feels that the first use for keeping society in order, at least the of all moral problems is how to cast it off, or lower classes, who have not the feeling of how to rise above it. Governments naturally Honour in due force; and therefore, as a con- attempt the first expedient; Philosophers, in siderable help to the Constable and Hangman, general, the second. ought decidedly to be kept up. But such tolera- The poet, says Schiller, is a citizen not only' tion is the fruit only of later days. In those of his country, but of his time. Whatever octimes, there was no question but how to get cupies and interests men in general, will inrid of it, root and branch, the sooner the better. terest him still more. That nameless Unrest, A gleam of zeal, nay, we will call it, however the blind struggle of a soul in bondage, that basely alloyed, a glow of real enthusiasm and high, sad, longing Discontent, which was agilove of truth, may have animated the minds of tating every bosom, had driven Goethe almost these men, as they looked abroad on the pesti- to despair.- All felt it; he alone could give it lent jungle of Superstition, and hoped to clear voice. And here lies thie secret of his popothe earth of it for ever. This little glow, so il- larity; in his deep, susceptive heart, he felt a loyed, so contaminated with pride and other thousand times more keenly what every one poor or bad admixtures, was the last which was feeling; with the creative gift which bethinking men were to experience in Europe longed to him as a poet, he bodied it forth into for a time. So is it always in regard to Reli- visible shape, gave it a local habitation and a gious Belief, how degraded and defaced soever: name; and so made himself the spokesman of the delight of the Destroyer and Denier is no his generation. Werter is but the cry of that pure delight, and must soon pass away. With dim, rooted pain, under which all thoughtful bold, with skilful hand, Voltaire set his torch men of a certain age were languishing: it to the jungle: it blazed aloft to heaven; and paints the misery, it passionately utters the the flame exhilarated and comforted the incen- complaint; and heart and voice, all over Endiaries; but, unhappily, such comfort could nbt rope, loudly and at once respond to it. True, continue. Ere long this flame, with its cheer- it prescribes no remedy; for that was a far ful light and heat, was gone: the jungle, it is different, far harder enterprise, to which other true, had been consumed; but, with its en- years and a higher culture were required; but tanglements, its shelter and spots of verdure even this utterance of the pain, even this little, also; and the black, chill, ashy swamp, left in for the present, is ardently grasped at, and its stead, seemed for the time a greater evil with eager sympathy appropriated in every than the other. bosom. If Byron's life-weariness, his moody In such a state of painful obstruction, ex- melancholy, and mad, stormful indignation, tending itself everywhere over Europe, and borne on the tones of a wild and quite artless already master of Germany, lay the general melody, could pierce so deep into many a Brimind, when Goethe first appeared in Litera- tish heart, now that the whole matter is no ture. Whatever belonged to the finer nature longer new,-is indeed old and trite,-we may of man had withered under the Harmattan judge with what vehement acceptance this breath of Doubt, or passed away in the confia- Werter must have been welcomed, coming as gration of open Infidelity; and now, where the it did like a voice from unknown regions, the Tree of Life once bloomed and brought fruit first thrilling peal of that impassioned dirge, of goodliest savour, there was only barrenness which, in country after country, men's ears and desolation. To such as could find suffi- have listened to, till they were deaf to all else. cient interest in the day-labour and day-wages For Werter, infusing itself into the core and of earthly existence; in the resources of the whole spirit of Literature, gave birth to a race five bodily Senses, and of Vanity, the only of Sentimentalists, who have raged and wailed mental'sense which yet flourished, which in every part of the world; till better light flourished indeed with gigantic vigour, matters dawned on them, or at worst exhausted Nature were still not so bad. Such men helped them- laid herself to sleep, and it was discovered selves forward, as they will generally do; and that lamenting was an unproductive labour. found the world, if not an altogether proper These funereal choristers, in Germany, a loud, sO CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. haggard, tumultuous, as well as tearful class, it likewise with those who can label their ragwere named the Krqaftinner, or Power-men; gathering employments, or perhaps their pasbut have all long since, like sick children, sions, with pompous titles, and represent them cried themselves to rest. Byron was our to mankind as gigantic undertakings for its English Sentimentalist and Power-man; the welfare and. salvation. Happy the man who strongest of his kind in Europe; the wildest, can live in such wise! But he who, in his the gloomiest, and it may be hoped, the last.' humility, observes where all this issues, who For what good is it to " whine, put finger i' the sees how featly any small thriving citizen can eye, and sob," in such a case? Still more, to.trim his patch of garden into a Paradise, and snarl and snap in malignant wise, "like dog with what unbroken heart even the unhappy distract, or a monkey sick?." Why should crawls along under his burden, -and'all *are we quarrel with our existence, here as it lies alike ardent to'see the light of this sun but before us, our field and inheritance, to make one minute longer:-yes, he is silent, and he or to mar, for better or for worse:; in which; too forms his world out of himself, and he too too, so many noblest men have, ever from the is happy because he is a man. And then, hembeginning, warring with the very evils we war med in as he is, he ever keeps in his heart the with, both made and been what will be vene- sweet feeling of freedom, and that this dungeon rated to all time. -can be left when he likes." " What Goethe's own temper and habit of What shapest thou here at the World?'Tis shapen thought must have been, while the materials long ago; of such a work were forming themselves withThe Maker shaped it, and thought it were best even so. in his heart, might be in some degree conjecThy lot is appointed, go'follow its hest; *j T lot is appointed, go follow its est; tiered, and he has himself' informed us. We Thy journey's begun, thou must move and not rest.; quote the following passae from his icht For sorrow and care cannot alter thy case, And running, not raging, will win thee the race. uqzd Wahrheit. ~ The writing of Wertcr,, it would seem, vindicating so gloomy, almost desperate Meanwhile, of the philosophy which reigns a state of mind in the author, was at the same in T'Verter, and which it has been our lot to time a symptom, indeed a cause, of his now hear so often repeated elsewhere, we may here having got delivered from such melancholy. produce a short specimen. The following Far from recommending suicide to others, as passage will serve our turn; and be, if we VWerter has often been accused of doing, it was mistake not, new to the mere English reader. the first proof that Goethe himself had aban"That the life of man is but a dream, has doned these "hypochondriacal crotchets:" the come into many a head; and with me, too, imaginary "Sorrows" had helped to free him some feeling of that sort is ever at work. from many real ones. When I look upon the limits within which "Such weariness of life," he says, "has its man's powers of action and inquiry are hem- physical and spiritual causes; those we shall med in; whenI see how all effort issues sim- leave to the Doctor, these to the Moralist, for ply in procuring supply for wants, which again investigation; and in this so trite matter, touch have no object but continuing this poor exist- only on the main point, when that phenomeence of ours; and then, that all satisfaction non expresses itself most distinctly. All pleaon certain points of inquiry is but a dreaming sure in life is founded on the'regular return of resignation, while you paint, with many-co- external things. The alternations of day and ioured figures and gay prospects, the walls night, of the seasons, of the blossoms and you sit imprisoned by,-all this, Wilhelm, fruits, and whatever else meets us from epoch makes me dumb. I return to my own heart, to epoch with the offer and command of enand find there such aworld! Yet a world too, joyment,-these are the essential springs of more in forecast and dim desire, than in vision earthly existence. The more open we are to and living power. And then all swims before such enjoyments, the happier we feel ourmy mind's eye; and so I smile, and again go selves; but, should the vicissitude of these apdreaming on as others do. pearances come and go without our taking " That children know not what they want, all interest in it, should such benignant inviconscientious tutors and education-philoso- tations address themselves to us in vain, phers have long been agreed: but that full- then follows the greatest misery, the heaviest grown men, as well as children, stagger to and malady; one grows to view life as a sickening fro along this earth; like these, not knowing burden. We have heard of the Englishman whence they come or whither:they go; aiming, who hanged himself, to be no more troubled just as little, after true objects: governed just with daily putting off and on his clothes. I as well by biscuit, cakes, and birch-rods: this is knew an honest gardener, the overseer of some what no one likes to believe; and yet, it seems extensive pleasure-grounds, who once' splenetto me, the fact is lying under our very nose. ically exclaimed: Shall I see these clouds for "I will confess to thee, for I know what thou ever passing, then, from east to west? It is wouldst'say to me on this point, thatthose'are the told of one of our most distinguished men,t happiest, who, likachildren,live fromone day to that he viewed with dissatisfaction the spring the other, carrying their dolls about with them, again growing green, and wished that, by way to dress and undress; gliding, also, with the of change, it would for once be red. These highest respect, before the drawer where mam- are specially the symptoms of life-weariness, ma has locked the gingerbread: and, when they do get the wished-for morsel, devouring *Leidedes jidneen Werther. Am 22 JMay. it'with pluffed-out cheeks, and crying, More!-~-Lessing, we believe: but perhaps it was less the t' greenness of spring that vexed him than Jacobi's too These are the fortunate of the earth. Well is lyric admiration of it.-ED. GOETHE. 81 which not seldom issues in suicide, and, at crosses and tediums of the time. These senthis time, among men of meditative, secluded timents were so universal, that Werter, on this character, was more frequent than might be very account, could produce the greatest efsupposed. fect; striking in everywhere with the domi"Nothing, however, will sooner induce this nant humour, and representing the interior of feeling of satiety than the return of love. The a sickly, youthful heart, in a visible and palfirst love, it is said justly, is the only one; for pable shape. How accurately the English in the second, and by the second, the highest have known this sorrow, might be seen from significance of love is in fact lost. That idea these few significant lines, written before the of infinitude, of everlasting endurance, which appearance of Werter: supports and bears it aloft, is destroyed; it seems transient, like all that r etu-rns. - To griefs congenial prone Miiore wounds than nature gave he knew, " Further, a young man soon comes to find, While misery's form his fancy drew if not in himself, at least in others, that moral In dark ideal hues, and horrors not its own.* epochs have their course, as well as the seasons. The favour of the great, the protection of the pow-Rerfui, the help of the active, the fairs, which, how much soever it may have good-will of the many, the love of the few, all already been discussed and commented upon, fluctuates up and down; so that we cannot excites an interest in every mortal; and, at hold it fast, any more than we can hold sun, every new era, must be discussed again. Monoo, and stars. And yet these thins are tesquieu confers on his heroes and great men _.noon, -aln stars. And yet these things are not mene, natral events: such blessings Aee the right of putting themselves to death when away from us, by our chron blame or that of they see good; observing, that it must stancd at the will of every one to conclude the Fifth others, by accident or destiny; but they flee away, they fluctuate, and we are'never sure of Act of his Tragedy whenever he thinks best. thlem. Here, however, our business lies not with per" But what most pains the young man of sen-sons who, in activity, have led an important sibility is the incessant return of our faults: life, who ha-e spent their days for some migh.tyr for how long is it before we learn, that in cul empire, or for the cause of freedom: and whom. titvatiug our virtues, we nourish our faults one may forbear to censure, when, seeing the; along with them Tle former rests on the high ideal purpose which had inspired thenm latter, as on their roots; and these ramify from the earth, they meditate pursuin. themselves in secret as strongly and as wide it to that other undiscovered country. OarF as those others in the open light. Now, as we e ee ith persons to whom, pr for the most part practise our virtues with perly for want of activity, and in the peacforethought and will, but by our faults are. ~fullest condition imaginable, life has, neverovertaken unexpectedly, the former seldom theless, by their exorbitant requisitions on themselves, become a burden. As I myself give us much joy, the latter are continually giving us sorrow and distress. Indeed, here was in this predicament, and know best what lies the subtilest difficulty in Self-knowledge, pain I suffered in it, what efforts it cost me to the difficulty which almost renders it impossi- escape from it, I shall not hide the speculations, I from time to time considerately prose'ble. But figure, in addition to all this, the heat ions, I from tie to time considerately prose of youthful blood, an imagination easily fasci- cuted, as to the various modes of death one nated and paralyzed by individual objects; had to choose from. further, the wavering commotions of the day, It i something SO unnatural for a man to and you will find that an impationt striving doy break loose from himself, not only to hurt, hut and you will find that an impatient striving to' to annihilate himself, that he for the most part free one's self front such a pressure was no catches at means of a mechanical sort for putunnatural state. "However, these gloomy cotemplations, ting his purpose in execution. When Aj;ax "However, thesegloomcontmplfalls on his sword, it is the weight of his bod'v which, if a man yield to them, will lead him to falls on his sword, it is the weight of his b. boundless lengths, could not have so decidedly that performs this service for him. Wien. developed themselves in our young German warrior adjures his armour-bearer to sly minds, had not some outward cause excited m, rather than that he come into the hands of the enemy, this is likewise an external force and forwarded us in this sorrowful employ- which he secures for himself; only a moral ment. Such a cause existed for us in the Lit- which he se cures for himself; on ly a morai erature, especially the Poetical Literature, of instead ofa physical one. Wooen seek in, the water a cooling for their desperation;, anl': England, the great qualities of which are accompansed by a certain earnest melancholy, the highly mechanical means of pistol-shooting insures a quick act with the smallest effort. wihich itim p a ryself ait thu it.pie Hanging is a death one mentions unwillingly,. himself wh i. * because it is an ignoble one. In England it may happen more readily than elsewhere, because' mentof circustances, with studies and tastes from youth upwards you there see that punishment of circumstances, with studies and tastes of this sort, harassed by unsatisfied desires, mentfrequent ithoutb eingspeiayignominiexternally nowhere called forth to important ous. By poisonby opening of veins, men am but at parting slowly from life; and the most reaction; with thesoleprospect of dragging on a fined the speediest, the most painless death, by' languid, spiritless, mere civic life, we had re-, w h curred, in our disconsolate pride, to the thought of an asp, was worthy of a Queen, who that life, when it no longer suited one, might d spent her life in pomp and luxurous plea. be cast aside at pleasure; and Ihad helped our- sure. All these, however, are external helps. selves hereby, stintedly enough, over the So in the original. 11 82 CARLYLE'S MISCELLAN'E OUS WRITINGS. are enemies, with which a man, that he may the writer's history; and in this point of view, fight against himself, makes league. it certainly seems, as contrasted with its "When I considered these various methods, more popular precursor, to deserve our best and, filrther, looked abroad over history, I attention-: for the problem which had been could find among all suicides no one that had stated in rerter, with despair of its solution, is gone about this deed with such greatness and here solved. The lofty enthusiasm, which, freedom of Spirit as the Emperor Otho. This wandering wildly over the universe, found no man, beaten indeed as a general, yet nowise resting place, has here reached its appointed reduced to extremities, determines for the good home; and lives in harmony with what long of the Empire, which already in some measure appeared to threaten it with annihilation. belonged to him, and for the saving of so many Anarchy has now become Peace; the once thousarids, to' leave the world. With' his gloomy and perturbed spirit is now serene, friends he passes a gay, festive night, and cheerfully vigorous, and rich'in good fruits. next morning it is found that with his own Neither, which is most important of all, has hand he has plunged a sharp.dagger into his this Peace been attained by a surrender to heart. This sole act seemed to me worthy of Necessity, or any compact with Delusion; a imitation; and': convinced myself that who- seeming blessing, such as years and dispiritever could not proceed herein as Otho had ment will of' themselves bring to most men, done, was not entitled to resolve on renouncing and which is indeed' no blessing, since even life. By this conviction, I saved myself from continued battle is better than destruction or the purpose, or indeed, more properly speaking, captivity; and peace of this sort is like that of from the whim, of suicide, which in those fair Galgacus's Romans, who " called it peace when peaceful times had insinuated itself into the they had made a des'ert." Here the ardent, mind of indolent youth. Among a considera- high aspiring youth has grown into the calmest ble collection of arms, I possessed a costly man, yet with increase and not loss of ardour, well-ground dagger. This I laid down nightly and with aspirations higher as well as clearer. beside my bed; and before extinguishing the For he has conquered his unbelief; the Ideal light, I tried whether I could succeed in send- has been built on the actual; no longer floats ing the sharp point an inch or two deep into vaguely in darkness and regions of dreams, my breast. But as I truly never could suc- but rests in light, on the firmn ground of human ceed, I at last took to laughing at myself; threw interest and business, as in its true scene, on away all these hypochondriacal crotchets, and its true basis. determined to live. To do this with cheerful- It is wonderful to see with what softness the ness, however, I required to have some poetical skepticism of Jarno, the c6mmercial spirit of task given me, wherein all that I had felt, Werner, the reposing, polished manhood of thought, or dreamed on this weighty business, Lothario and the Uncle, the unearthly enthnmight be spoken forth. With such view, I siasm of the Harper, the gay, animal vivacity endeavoured to collect the elements which for of Philina, the-mystic, ethereal, almost spiritual a year or two had been floating about in me; nature of Mignon, are blended together in this I represented to myself the circumstances work; how justice is done to each, how each which had most oppressed and afflicted me; lives freely in his proper element, in his proper but nothing of all this would take form; there form; and how, as Wilhelm himself, the was wanting an incident, a fable, in which I mild-hearted, all-hoping, all-believing Wilhelm, might imbody it. struggles forward towards his world of Art "All at once I hear tidings of Jerusalem's through these curiously complected influences, death; and directly following the general all this unites itself into a multifarious,,yet rumour, came the most precise and circuin- so harmonious Whole, as into a clear poetic stantial description of the business; and in mnirror, where man's life and business in this this instant the plan of TWrter was invented; age, his passions and purposes, the highest the whole shot'together from all sides, and be- equally with the lowest, are imnaged back to came a solid mass; as the water in the vessel, us in beautiful significance. Poetry and which already stood on the point of freezing, Prose are no longer at variance, for the poet's is by the slightest motion changed at once into eyes are opened: he sees the changes of many-'firm ice."* coloured existence, and sees the loveliness and A wide, and every way most important, in- deep purport which lies hidden under the very terval divides Wesrter, with its skeptical philo- meanest of them; hidden to the vulgar sight, sophy, and "hypochondriacal crotchets," from but clear to the poet's; because the "open Goethe's next novel, Wilhelosn Ifeister's./lppren- secret," is no longer a secret to him, and he ticeship, published some twenty years after- knows that the Universe is fi11 of goodness; wards. This work belongs, in all senses, to that whatever has being has beauty. the second and sounder period of Goethe's Apart from its literary merits or demerits, life, and may indeed serve as the fullest, if such is the temper of mind we trace in Goethe's perhaps not the purest, impress of it; being AMeister, and, more or less expressly exhibited, written with due forethought, at various times, in all his later works. We reckon it a rare during a period of no less than ten years. phenomenon, this temper; and worthy, in our Considered as a piece of Art, there were much times, if it do exist, of best'study from all into be said on leister; all which, however, lies quiring men. How has such a temper been beyond our present purpose. We are here attained in this so lofty and impetuous mind,.ulhing'at the work chiefly as a document'for once, too, dark, desolate, and full of doubt, -__ more than any other? How may we, each of + Dickhtng used WTahrekeit, b. iii. s. 200-213. us in his several sphere, attain it, or strengthen GOETHE. 83 it, for ourselves 1 These are questions, this ought also to work at the plough like an ox; last is a question, in which no one is uncon- like a dog to train himself to the harness and cerned. draught; or, perhaps, tied up in a chain, to To answer these questions, to begin the guard a farm-yard by his barking?' answer of them, would lead us very far beyond "Werner, it may well be supposed, had listour present limits. It is not, as we believe, ened with the greatest surprise.'All true,' he without long, sedulou. study, without learning rejoined,'if men were but made like birds; much, and unlearning much, that, for any man, and, though they neither spun nor weaved, the answer of such questions is even to be could spend peaceful days in perpetual enjoyhoped. Meanwhile, as regards Goethe, there ment; if, at the approach of winter, they could is one feature of the business which, to us, as easilybetake themselves to distant regions; throws considerable light on his moral per- could refire before scarcity, and fortify themsuasions, and will not, in investigating the selves against frost.'secret of them, be overlooked. We allude to "'Poets have lived so,' exclaimed Wilhelm, the spirit in which he cultivates his Art; the'in times when true nobleness was better renoble, disinterested, almost religious love with verenced; and so should they ever live. Suffiwhich he looks on Art in general, and strives ciently provided for within, they had need of towards it as towards the sure, highest, nay, little from without; the gift of imparting lofty only good. We extract one passage from emotions,. and glorious images to men, in meloWilhelmr Meist-er: it may pass for a piece of fine dies and words that charmed the ear, and fixed declamation, but not in that light do we offer themselves inseparably on whatever they might it here. Strange, unaccountable as the thing touch, of old enraptured the world, and served may seem, we have actually evidence before the gifted as a rich inheritance. At the courts our mind that Goethe believes in such doc- of kings, at the tables of the great, under the trines, nay, has, in some sort, lived and en- windows of the fair, the sound of them was deavoured to direct his conduct by them. heard, while the ear and the soul were shut for "'Look. at men,' continues Wilhelm,'how all beside; and men felt, as we do when! dethey struggle after happinless and satisfaction! light comes over us, and we pause with rapTheir wishes, their toil, their gold, are ever ture if, among the dingles we are crossing, the hunting restlessly; and after what? After that voice of the nightingale starts out, touching which the Poet has received from nature; the and strong. They found a home in every haright enjoyment. of the world: the feeling of bitation of the world, and the lowliness of their hiriself in others; the harmonious conjunction condition but exalted them the more. The of many things that will seldom go together. hero listened to their songs, and the Conqueror "' What is it that keeps men in continual dis- of the Earth did reverence to a Poet; for he content. and agitation? It is that they cannot felt that, without poets, his own wild and vast make realities correspond with their concep- existence would pass away like a whirlwind, tions, that enjoyment steals away from among and be forgotten for ever. The lover wished their hands, that the wished-for comes too late, that he could feel his longings and his joys so and nothing reached and acquired produces on variedly and so harmoniously as the Poet's inthe heart the effect which their longingfor it at spired lips had skill to show.them forth; and a distance led them to anticipate. Now fate evefi the rich manl could not of himself discern has exalted the Poet above all this, as if he such costliness in his idol grandeurs, as when were a god. He views the conflicting tumult they were presented to him shining in the of the passions; sees families and kingdoms splendour of the Poet's spirit, sensible to all raging in aimless commotion; sees those per- worth, and ennobling all. Nay, if thou wilt plexed enigmas of misunderstanding, which have it, who but the Poet was it that first formoften a single syllable would explain, occa- ed Gods for us; that exalted us to them, and sioning convulsions unutterably baleful. He brought them down to us'.' " has a fellow-feeling of the mournful and the For a man of Goethe's talent to write many joyful in the fate of all mortals. When the man such pieces of rhetoric, setting forth the dignity of the world is devoting his days to wasting of poets, and their innate independence on exmelancholy for some deep disappointment; or, ternal circumstances, could be no very hard in the ebullience of joy, is going out to meet task: accordingly, we find such sentiments his happy destiny, the lightly-moved and all- again and again expressed, sometimes with conceiving spirit of the Poet steps forth, like still more gracefulness, still clearer emphasis, the sun from night to day, and with soft transi- in his various writings. But to adopt these tion tunes his harp to joy or wo. From his sentiments into his sober practical persuasion; heart, its native soil, springs the fair flower of in any measure to feel and believe that such Wisdom; and if others while waking dream, was still, and must always be, the. high vocaand are pained with fantastic delusions from tion of the poet; on this ground of universal their every sense, he passes the dream of life humanity, of ancient and now almost forgotten like one awake, and the strangest event is to nobleness, to take his stand, even in these tri' him nothing,, save a part of the past and of the vial, jeerin, withered, unbelieving days; and future. -And thus the Poet is a teacher, a pro- through ail their complex, dispiriting, mean, phet, a friend of gods and men., How! Thou yet tumultuous influences, to "make his light wouldst have him descend from his height to shine before men," that it might beautify even some paltry occupation? e who is fashioned, our " rag-gathering age" with some beams of like a bird, to hover round the world, to nestle on that mild, divine splendour, which had long the lofty summits, to feid on flowers and fruits, exchanging gaily one bough for another, he * Wilhelrm Jieister''s.-ppreaticeship, book ii. chap. 2. 84 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUJS WRITINGS. left us-the very possibility of which was de-; "Books, too, have their past happiness, nied; heartily and in earnest to meditate all which no chance can take away: this, was no common proceeding; to bring it I7er vie sein Brod miI T/'riitsen ass, into practice, especially in such a life as his Wer nikht die kumzmiservollen dichte. has been, was among the highest and hardest. Af sei2ser Bettse 2einsend sass, enterprises, which any man whatever could Der kennlt e/tcls nscht, ihr hiimsuliscen.1fl/chte. * engage in. We reckon this a greater novelty, "These heart-broken lines a highly noblethan all the novelties which as a mere writer minded, venerated Queen repeated in the cruelhe ever put forth, whether for praise or cen- est exile, when cast forth to boundless'misery. sure.'We have taken it upon us to say that if She made herself familiar with the Book in such is, in any sense, the state of the case with which these words, with many other painful regard to Goethe, he deserves not mere approval experiences, are communicated, and drew from as a pleasing poet and sweet singer; but deep, it a' melancholy consolation. This influence, gratefu-l study, observance, imitation, as a Mo- stretching of itself into boundless time, what is ralist and Philosopher. If there be anyproba- there that can obliterate'" bility that such is the state of the case, we can- here are strange diversities of taste; " nanot but reckof it amatter well worthy of being tional discrepancies" enough, had we time to inquired into. And it is for this only that we'investigate them! Nevertheless, wishing each are here pleading and arguing. party to retain his own special persuasions, so On the literary merit and meaning of WTilhelm far as they are honest, and adapted to his in_eister we have already said that we must not tellectual position, national or individual, we enter at present. The book has been trans- cannot but believe that there is an inward and lated into English; it underwent the usual essential Truth in Art; a Truth far deeper judgment from our Reviews and Magazines; than the dictates of mere Mode, and which, xwas to some a stone of stumbling, to others could we pierce through these dictates, wouldc foolishness, to most an object of wonder. On be true for all nations and all men.'1To arrive the whole, it passed smoothly through the criti- at this Truth, distant from every one at first, cat Assaying-house, for the Assayers have approachable by most, attainable by some Christian dispositions, and very little time; so small number, is the end and aim of all real Meister was ranked, without umbrage, among the study ofPoetry. For such a purpose, among legal coin of the Minerva Press; and allowed others, the comparison of English with foreign to circulate as copper currency among the rest. judgment, on works that will bear judging, That in so quick a process, a German Freid- forms no unprofitable help. Some day, vre rich d'or might not slip through unnoticed may translate Friedrich Schlegel's Essay on among new and equally brilliant British brass Meister, by way of contrast to our English aniFarthings, there is no warranting. For our madversions on that subject. Schlegel's praise, critics canll now criticise impromptu,, which, whatever ours might do, rises sufficiently high: though far the readiest, is nowise the surest neither does he seem, during twenty years, to plan. Meister is the mature product of the first have repented of what he said; for we observe genius in our times; and must, one would think, in the edition of his works, at present publishbe different, in various respects, from the im- ing, he repeats the whole Character, and even mature products of geniuses who are far from appends to it, in a separate sketch, some new the first, and whose works spring from the assurances and elucidations. brain in as many weeks as Goethe's cost him It may deserve to'be mentioned here that years. M]'eister, at its first appearance in Germany, was Nevertheless, we quarrel with no man's ver- received very much as it has been in England. diet; for Time, which tries all things, will try Goethe's known character, indeed, precluded this also, and bring to light the truth, both as indifference there; but otherwise, it was much regards criticism and the thing criticised; or the same. The'whole guild of criticism was sink both into final darkness, which likewise thrown into perplexity, into sorrow; everywill be the truth as regards them. But there where was dissatisfaction open or concealed. is one censure which we must advert to for a Official duty impelling them to speak, some moment, so singular does it seem to us. Ieis- said one thing, some another; all felt in secret ter, it appears, is a "vulgar" work; no " gen- that they knew not what to say. Till the aptlematn," we hear in certain circles, could have pearance of Schlegel's Charctrter, no word, that written it; few real gentlemen, it is insinuated, we have seen, of the smallest chance to be decan like to read it; no real lady, unless pos- cisive, or indeed to last beyonid the day, had sessed of considerable courage, should profess been uttered regarding it. Some regretted that having read it at all. Of Goethe's "gentility" the fire of Werter was so wonderfully abated'; we shall leave all men to speak that have any, whisperings there might be about " lowness," even the faintest knowledge of him; and with " heaviness;" some spake forth boldly in beregard to the gentility of his readers, state only half of suffering "virtue." Novalis was not the following fact. Most of us have heard of among the speakers, but he censured the work the late Queen of Prussia, and know whether in secret, and'this for a reason which to us or not she was genteel enough, arid of real will seem the strangest; for its being, as we ladyhood: nay, if we must prove every thing, should say, a Benthamite work! Many are he r character can be read in the Life of N3apo- the bitter aphorisms we find, among his Fragleon, by Sir Walter. Scott, who passes for a * Who never ate his bread in sorroxYv; judge of those.matters. And yet this is what we Who never spent the darklsome hours nfiLdC written in the Kzcnst tend.lterthsum for 1824 Weeping and watching for the mnorrow, He'knowse you not, ye unseen Powers. ~ Band v. s. 8. f WithelnL JMIeister, book ii. chap. 13. GOETHE. 85 ments, directed against Meseis!er for its prosaic, est; so calm, so gay, yet so strong and deep mechanical, economical, cold-hearted, alto- for the purest spirit of all Art rests over it and gether Utilitarian character. We English breathes through it; " mild Wisdom is wedded again call Goethe a mystic: so difficult is it to' in living union to Harmony divine;" the please all parties! But the good, deep, nobl Thought of the Sage is melted, we might say, Novalis made the fairest amends; for notwith- and incorporated in the liquid music of the standing all this, Tieck tells us, if we remem- Poet. "It is called a Romance," observes the ber rightly, he regularly perused Jleister twice English Translator; "but it treats not of roa year. mance characters or subjects; it has less reOn a somewhat different ground, proceeded lation to Fielding's Tom Jones, than to Spenser's quite another sort of assault from one Pust- FaGry Queen." We have not forgotten what is; kucher of Quedlihnburg. Herr Pustkucher felt due to Spenser; yet, perhaps, beside his imafflicted, it would seem, at the want of Patriot- mortal allegory this TWatnderCjahe may, in fact, ism and Religion too manifest in Mleister; and not unfairly be named; and with this advandetermined to take what vengeance he could. tage, that it is an allegory, not of the SevenBy way of sequel to the ipprenliceshlip, Goethe, teenth century, but of the Nineteenth; a pichad announced his Wilhelm Meisters Wander- ture full of expressiveness, of what men are jahre,"* as in a state of preparation; but the striving for, and ought to strive for in these book still lingered: whereupon, in the interim, actual days. "The scene," we are further forth comes this Pustkucher with a pseudo-_ told, "is not laid on this firm earth:; but in a Wandeijah re of his own; satirizing, according fair Utopia of Art and Science and free Activity; to ability, the spirit and principles of the.p- the figures, light and aeriform, come unlooked prenticeship. We have seen an epigram on for, and melt away abruptly, like the pageants Pustkucker and his Wanderjahre, attributed, of Prospero, in his'Enchanted Island." WJTe with what justice we know not, to Goethe him- venture to add, that, like Prospero's Island, self; whether it is his or not, it is written in this too is drawn from the inward depths, the his name; and seems to express accurately purest sphere of poletic inspiration: ever, as enough for such a purpose the relation between we read it, the images of old Italian Art flit the parties, —il language which we had rather before us; the gay tints of Titian; the quaint not translate: grace of Domenichino; sometimes the clear, IWill denn von Quedlinbung als yet unfathomable depth of Rafaelle; and what)n? e2ner Wanderer traben? ever else we have known or dreamed of in TItat doch die WallJiscl seine Laus, that rich old genial world..hLdss anch die ineine har~ben. As it is Goethe's moral sentiments, and cul So much for Pustkucher, and the rest. The ture as a man, that we have made our chief true t4randerjahre has at length appeared: the object in this survey, we would fain give some first volume has been before the world since adequate specimen of the Wanderjfahre, where, 1821. This fragment, for it still continues as appears to us, these are to be traced in their such, is in our view one of the imost perfect last. degree of clearness and completeness. preces of composition that Goethe has ever But to do this, to find a specimen that shouldt produced. We have heard something of his be adequate, were difficult, or rather impossible. being at present engaged in extending or com- How shall we divide what is in itself one antd pleting it: what the whole may in his hands indivisible? How shall the fraction of a combecome, we are anxious to see; but the plex picture give us any idea of the so beautiZeandlemjalre, even in its actual state, can ful whole? Nevertheless, we shall refer our hardly be called unfinished, as a piece of readers to the Tenth and Eleventh Chapters of writing; it coheres so beautifully within it- the Wanderjahre; where im poetic and symbolic self; and yet we see not whence the wonder- style, they will find a sketch of the nature, ous landscape came, or whither it is stretch- objects, and present ground of Religious Belief, ing; but it hangs before us as a fairy region, which, if they have ever reflected duly on that hiding its borders on this side in light sunny matter, will hardly fail to interest them. They clouds, fading away on that into the infinite will find these chapters, if we mistake not, azure: already, we might almost say, it gives worthy of deep consideration; for this is the us the notion, of a completed fragment, or the merit of Goethe: his maxims will bear study, state in which a fragment, not meant forcom- nay, -they require it, and improve by it more pletion, might b.e left. and more. They come from the depths of his But apart from its environment, and con- mind, and are not in their place till they have sidered merely in itself,,this Tanderjehre seems reached the depths of ours.'the wisest mnan, to us a most estimable work. There is, in we believe, may see in them a- reflex of his own truth, a singular gracefulness in it; a high, wisdom: but to him who is still learnin', they melodious Wisdom; so light is it, yet so earn- become as seeds of knowledge; they take root in the mind, and ramify, as we meditate them, * "Watlandejahre denotes the period which a German into a whole garden of thought. The sketch artisan is, by law or usage, obliged to pass in traveltif, we mentioned is far too long for being extracted to perfect Ituself in his craft, after the conclusion of his Lehlr'jale (Apprenticeship), and before his Mastersip here: however, we give some scattered portion.S can begin. In many guilds this custom is as old as their of it, which the reader will accept withl faic existence, and continues still to be indispensable: it is allowance. As the wild suicidal Night-tho'g gli said to have originated in the frequent journeys of the Gerian Empnerors to rtaly, and the consequent improve- of W/,rler formed our first extract, this,, w07ay rment observed in such workmen among their menials as of counterpart may be the last. We must had attended them thither. Most of the guilds are what is called geschetlten, that is, presenting, having presents fancy Wilhelmn the "Ped pro e to give to needy wanderinfr brothers." proceeding towards the'; CitE, or the TW-RIpt.y: H 86 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. with intent to place his son under their charge, tion, the substance of which we now present in that wonderful region, "where he was to see in an abbreviated shape. so many singularities." "'Since you intrust your son to us,' said " Wilhelm had already noticed that in the they,'it is fair that we admit you to a closer cut and colour of the young people's clothes, a view of our procedure. Of what is external variety prevailed, which, gave the whole tiny you have seen much that does not bear its population a peculiar aspect: he was about to meaning on its front. What part of this do question his attendant on this point, when a you wish to have explained?' still stranger observation forced itself upon "'Dignified yet singular gestures of salutahim; all the children, how employed soever, tion I have noticed; the import of which I laid down their work, and turned, with singular would gladly learn: with you, doubtless, the yet diverse gestures, towards the party riding exterior has a reference to the interior, and past them; or rather, as it was easy to infer, inversely: let me know what this reference is.' towards the Overseer, who was in it. The "'Well-formed healthy children,' replied the youngest laid their arms crosswise over their Three,'bring much into the world along with breasts and looked cheerfully up to the sky; them; nature has given to each whatever he those of middle size held their hands on their requires for time and duration; to unfold this backs, and looked smiling on the ground; the is our duty; often it unfolds itself better of its eldest stood with a frank and spirited air; their own accord. One thing there is, however, arms stretched down, they turned their heads which no child brings into the world with him; to the right, andl formed themselves into a line; and yet it is on this one thing that all depends whereas the others kept separate, each where for making man in every point a man. If you he chanced to be. can discover it yourself, speak it out.' VTil. "The -riders having stopped and dismounted helm thought a little while, then shook his here, as several children, in their various head. modes, were standing forth to be inspected by "The Three, after a suitable pause, exthe Overseer, Wilhelm asked the meaning of claimed,'Reverence!' Wilhelm seemed to these gestures; but Felix struck in and cried hesitate.'Reverence!' cried they, a second gaily:'What posture am I to take then.' time.'All want it, perhaps yourself.'':Without doubt,' said the Overseer,'the first "'Three kinds of gestures you have seen; posture; the arms over the breast, the face and we inculcate a threefold reverence, which earnest and cheerful towards the sky.' Felix when commingled and formed into one whole, obeyed, but soon cried:'This is not much to attains its full force and effect. The first is my taste; I see nothing up there: does it last Reverence for what is Above us. That poslong? But yes!' exclaimed he joyfully,' yon- ture, the armls crossed over the breast, the look der are a pair of falcons -lying from the west turned joyfully towards heaven; that is what to the east; that is a good sign too?'-'As we have enjoined on young children; requiring thou talrest it, as thou behavest,' said the other: from them thereby a testimony that there is a'Now mingle among them as they mingle.' God above, who images and reveals himselfin He gave a signal, and the children left their parents, teachers, superiors. Then comes the postures, and again betook them to work or second; Reverence for what is Under us. sport as before." Those hands folded over the back, and as it WVilhelm a second time "asks the meaning were tied together, that down-turned smiling of these gestures;" but the Overseer is not at look, announce that we are to regard the earth liberty to throw much light on the matter; with attention and cheerfulness: from the mentions only that they are symbolical, " no- bounty of the ea.rth we are nourished: the earth wise mere grimaces, but have a moral purport, affords unutterable joys; but disproportionate which perhaps the CHIEF or the THRB. may sorrows she also brings us. — Should one of further explain to him." The children them- our children do himself external hurt, blamably selves, it would seem, only know it in part; or blamelessly; should others hurt him acci"secrecy having many advantages; for when dentally or purposely; should dead involuntary you tell a'man at once and straight forward matter do him hurt; then let him well conthe purpose of any object, he fancies there is sider it; for such dangers will attend him all nothing in it." By and by, however, having his days. But from this posture we delay not left Felix by the way, and parted with the to free our pupil, the instant. ae become conOverseer, Wilhelm arrives at the abode of the vinced that the instruction connected with it Three "who preside over sacred things," and has produced sufficient influence on him. from whom further satisfaction is to be looked Then, on the contrary, we -bid him. gather for. courage, and, turning to his comrades, range "Wilhelm had now reached the gate of a himself along with them. Now, at last, he wooded vale, surrounded with high walls: on stands forth, frank and bold; not selfishly a certain sign, the little door opened and a isolated; only in combination with his equals man of earnest, imposing look received our does he front the world. Further we have traveller. The latter found himself in a large nothing to add.' beautifully umbrageous space, decked with the "' I' see a glimpse of itt' said Wilhelm.'Are richest foliage, shaded with trees and bushes not the mass of men so marred and stinted:f ali sorts; while stately walls and magnificent because they talke pleasure only in the element buildings were discerned only in glimpses of evil-wishing and evil-speaking? Whoever through this thick natural boscage. A friendly gives himself to this, soon comes to -:be indifreception from the Three, -whop by and by ap- ferent towards God, contemptuous towards the lpeared, at last turned into a general conversa- world, spiteful towards his equals; and the tiue, GOETHE. 87 genuine, indispensable sentiment of self-esti- was it not only to be patient with the Earth, mation corrupts into self-conceit andpresump- and let it lie beneath us, we appealing to a tion. Allow me, however,' continued he,'to higher, birthplace; but also to recognise hustate one difficulty. You. say that reverence is mility and poverty, mockery and despite, disnot natural to man: now has not the reverence grace and wretchedness, suffering and death, or fear of rude people for violent convulsions to recognise these things as divine; nay,.even of nature, or other inexplicable mysteriously on sin and crime to look not as hindrances, foreboding occurrences, been heretofore re- but to honour and love them as-furtherances, garded as the germ out of which a higher feel- bf what is holy. Of this, indeed, we find some ing, a purer sentiment, was by degrees to be traces in all ages; but the trace is not the goal; developed?' and, this being now attained, the human spe-'' Nature is indeed adequate to fear,' replied cies cannot retrograde; and we may say that they,' but to reverence not adequate. Men fear the Christian Religion, having once appeared, a known or unknown powerful being; the cannot again vanish; having once assumled its strong seeks to conquer it, the weak to avoid divine shape, can be subject to no dissolution.' it: both endeavour to get quit of it, and feel "'To which of these Religions do you spethemselves happy when for a short season cially adhere?' inquired Wilhelm. they have put it aside, and their nature has in "'To all the three,' replied they,' for in their some degree restored itself to freedom and in- union they produce what may properly be dependence. The natural man repeats this called the true Religion. Out of those three operation millions of times in the course of Reverences springs the highest Reverence, Rehis life; from fear *he struggles to freedomn; verence for One's self, and these again unfold from freedom he is driven back to fear, and so themselves from this; so that man attains the makes no advancement. To fear is easy, but highest elevation of which he is capable, that grievous; to reverence is difficult, but satis- of being justified in reckoning himself the Best factory. Man does not willingly submit himself that God and Nature have produced; nay, of to reverence, or rather he never so submits him- being able to contin'ue on this lofty eminence, self: it is a higher sense which must be com- without being again by self-conceit and preniunicated to his nature; which only in some sumption drawn down from it into the vulgar favoured individuals unfolds itself spontane- level.'" ously, who on this account too have of old been The Three undertake to admit him' into the looked upon as Saints and Gods. Here lies interior of their Sanctuary; whither, accordthe worth, here lies the business of all true ingly, he, " at the hand of the Eldest," proceeds Religions, whereof there are likewise only on the morrow. Sorry are we that wre cannot three, according to the objects towards which follow them into the " octagonal hall," so full they direct our devotion.' of paintings, and the "gallery open'on one " The men paused; Wilhelm reflected for a side, and stretching round a spacious, gay, time in silence; but feeling in himself no pre- flowery garden." It is a beautiful figurative retensions to unfold these strange words, he re- presentation, by pictures and symbols of Art, quested the Sages to proceed with their expo- of the First and the Second Religions, the Ethnic sition. They immediately complied.'No and the Philosophical; fbr the former of which Religion that grounds itself on fear,' said they, the pictures have been composed from the Old'is regarded among us. With the reverence Testament; for the latter from the New. We to which a man should give dominion in his can only make room for some small portions. mind, he can, in paying honour, keep his own "'I observe,' said Wilhelm,'you have done honour; he is not disunited with himself as in the Israelites the honour to select their history the former case. The Religion, which depends as the groundwork of this delineation, or raon Reverence for what is Above us, we deno- ther you have made it the leading object there.' minate the Ethnic; it is the Religion of the "'As you see,' replied theEldest;'for you will Nations, and the first happy deliverance from remark, that on the socles and, friezes we have a degrading fear; all Heathen religions, as we introduced another series of transactions and call them, are of this sort, whatsoever names occurrences, not so much of a synchronistic as they may bear. The Second Religion, which of a symphronistic kind; since, among all nafounds itself on Reverence for what is Around tions, we discover records of a similar import, us, we denominate the Philosophical; foI the and grounded on the same facts. Thus you Philosopher stations himself in. the middle, perceive here, while, in the main field of the and must draw down to him all that is higher, picture, Abraham receives a visit from his and up to him all thatis lower, and only in this gods in the form of fair youths, Apollo among medium condition does he merit the- title of the herdsmen of Admetus is painted above on'Wise. Here, as he surveys with clear sight the frieze. From which we may learn, that his relation to his equals, and therefore to the the gods, when they appear to moen, are conmwhole human race, his relation likewise to all monly unrecognised of them.' other earthly circumstances and arrangements "'IThe friends walked on. Wilhelm, for the necessary or accidental, he alone, in a cosmic most part, met with well-known objects; but sense, lives in Truth. But now we have to they were here exhibited in a livelier, more speak of the Third Religion, grounded on Re- expressive manner, than he had been used to verence for what is Under us; this we name see them. On some few matters, he requested the Christian; as in the Christian Religion explanation, and at last could not help returnsuch a temper is the most distinctly manifest-I iing to his former question: *' Why the Israed; it is a last step to which mankind were elitish history had been chosen in preference fitted and destined to attain. But what a task| to all others?' 88 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. "The Eldest answered:'Among all Heathen "A door went back, and they entered a religions, for such also is the Israelitish, this similar gallery; where Wilhelm soon recoghas the most distinguished,advantages; of nised a corresponding series of Pictures from which I sllal mention only a few. At the Eth- the. New Testament. They seemed as if by nic judgment-seat, at the judgment-seat of the another hand than the first: all was softer; God of Nations, it is not asked whether this is forms, movements, accompaniments, light, and best, the most excellent nation; but whether it colouring."' lasts, whether it has continued. The Isra- Into this second gallery, with its strange elitish people never was good for much, as its doctrine about "Miracles and Parables," the own leaders, judges, rulers, prophets, have a characteristic of the Philosophical Religion, thousand times reproachfully declared; it pos- we cannot enter for the present, yet must give sesses few viitues, and most of the faults of one hurried glance. Wilhelm expresses some other nations: but' in cohesion, steadfastness, surprise that these delineations terminate valour, and, when all this would not serve, in "with the Supper, with the scene where the obstinate toughness, it has no match. It is the Master and his Disciples part." He inquires most perseverant nation in the world; it is, it for the remaining portion of the history. was, and it will be, to glorify the name of Je-'In all sorts of instruction,' said the Eldest, hovah through all ages. We have set it up,'in all sorts of communication, we are fond therefore, as the pattern figure; as the, main of separating whatever it is possible to sepafigure, to which the others only serve as a rate; for by this means alone can the notion frame.' of importance and peculiar significance arise " It becomes not me to dispute with you,' in the young mind. Actual experience of itsaid Wilhelm,'since you have instruction to self mingles and mixes all things together: impart. Open to me, therefore, the other ad- here, accordingly, we have entirely disjoined vantages of this people, or rather of its history, that Sublime Man's life from'its termination. of its religion.' In life, he appears as a true Philosopher,-let "'One chief advantage,' said the other,'is not the expression stagger you,-as a Wise its excellent collection of Sacred Boolks. These Man in the highest sense. He stands firm to stand so happily combined together, that even this point: he goes on his way inflexibly, and out of the most diverse elements, the feeling while he exalts the lower to himself, while he of a whole still rises before us. They are com- makes the ignorant, the poor, the sick, parplete enough to satisfy; fragmentary enough takers of his wisdom, of his riches, of his to excite; barbarous enough to rouse; tender strength, he~,on the other hand, in nowise conenough to appease; and for many other con- ceals his divine origin; he dares to equal tradicting merits might not these Books, might himself with God, nay, to declare that he himnot this one Book, be praised' self is God. In this manner is he won't, fi:om youth upwards, to astound hisfamiliar friends; "Thus wandering on, they had now reached of these he gains a part to his OIwn cause; the gloomy and perplexed periods of the His- irritates the rest against him; and shows to tory, the destruction ofthe City and the Temple, all men, who are aiming at a-certain elevation the murder, exile, slavery of whole masses' of in doctrine and life, what they have to look for this stiff-necked people. Its subsequent for- from the world. And thus, for the noble portunes were delineated in a cunning allegorical tion of manLind, his walk and conversation way; a real historical delineation of them are even more instructive and profitable than would have lainr without the limits of true Art. his death: for to those trials every one is called, " At this point, the gallery abruptly termi- to this trial but a few. Now, omitting all that nated in a closed door, and Wilhelm was sur-, results from this consideration, do but look at prised to see' himself already at the end.' In the touching scene of the Last Supper. Here vour historical series,' said he,'I find a chasm. the Wise Man, as it ever is, leaves those,.that You have destroyed the Temple of Jerusalem, are his own, utterly orphaned behind him;.and dispersed the' people; yet you have not in- aad while he is careful for the Good, he feeds troduced the divine Man who taught there along with them a traitor, by whom he and shortly before; to ivhom, shortly before, they the Better are to'be destroyed.'" would give no ear.' This seems to us to have "a deep, still "'To have done this, as you' require it, meaning;" and the longer and closer we exwould have been an error. The life of that amine it, the more it pleases us. Wilhelm is divine Man, whom you allude to, stands in no not admitted into the shrine of the Third Reconnection with the general history of the i ligion, the Christian, or that of which Christ's world in his time. It was a private life; his sufferings and death-were the symbols, as his teaching was a teaching for individuals. What.walk and conversation had been the symbol has publicly befallen vast masses of people, of the Second, or Philosophical Religion. and the minor parts which compose them, be- "That last Religion," it is said,longs to the general History of the World, to "' That last Religion which arises from the the general Religion of the World; the Reli- Reverence of what is Beneath us; that veneraIion we have named the First. What inwardly tion of the contradictory, the hated, the avoided, befalls individuals belongs to the Second Re- we give to each of our pupils, in small porligion, the Philosophical: such a Religion tions, by way of outfit, along with him into was it that Christ taught and practised, so long the world, merely that he may know where as he went about on earth. For this reason; more is to be had, should such a want- spring the external here closes, and I now open to up within him. I invite you to return' hither vou the internal.' i at the end of a'year, to attend our genera! GOETHE. S9 Festival, and see how far your son is advanced: doubt, and discontent, into freedom, belief, and then shall you be admitted into the Sanctuary clear activity: such a change as, in our opinion, of Sorrow.' must take place, more or less consciously, "'Permit me one question,' said Wilhelm: in every character that, especially in these'as you have set up the life of this divine times, attains to spiritual manhood; and in Man for a pattern and example, have you like- characters possessing any thoughtfulness and wise selected his sufferings, his death, as a- sensibility, will seldom take place without a model of exalted patience?' too painful consciousness, without bitter con"' Undoubtedly we have,' replied the Eldest. flicts, in which the character itself is too often'Of this we make no secret; but we draw a maimed and impoverished, and which end too veil over these sufferings, even because we often not in victory, but in defeat, or fatal reverence them so highly. We hold it a damna- compromise with the enemy. Too often, we ble audacity to bring forth that torturing may well say; for though many gird on the Cross, and the Holy One who suffers on it, or harness, few bear it warrior-like; still fewer to expose them to the light of the Sun, which put it off with triumph. Among our own poets, hid its'face when a reckless world forced such Byron was almost the only man we saw faitha sight on it; to take these mysterious secrets, fully and manfully struggling, to the end, in in which the divine depth of Sorrow lies hid, this cause; and he died while the victory was and play with them, fondle them, trick them still doubtful, or at best, only beginning to be out, and rest not till the most reverend of all gained. We have already- stated ouropinion, solemnities appears vulgar and paltry. Let that Goethe's success in this matter has been so much for the present suffice —* The more complete than that of any other man in rest we must still owe you for a twelvemonth. his age; nay, that, in the strictest sense, he The instruction, which in the interim we give may also be called the only one that has so the children, no stranger is allowed to witness: succeeded. On this ground, were it on no then, however, come to us, and dyou will hear other, we have ventured to say, that his spiritual what our best Speakers think it serviceable to history and procedure must deserve attention; make public on those matters.'" that his opinions, his creations, his mode of' Could we hope that, in its present disjointed thought, his whole picture of the world as it state, this emblematic sketch would rise before, dwells within him, must to his contemporaries the minds of our readers, in any measure as it be an inquiry of no common interest; of an stood before the mind of the writer; that, in interest altogether peculiar, and not in this considering it, they might seize only an out- degree exampled in existing literature. These line of those many meanings which, at less or things can be but imperfectly stated here, and greater depth, lie hidden under it; we should must be left, not in a state of demonstration, anticipate their thanks for having, a first or a but, at the utmost, of loose fluctuating probasecond time, brought it before them. As it is, hility; nevertheless, if inquired into, they will believing that to open-minded, truth-seelring be found to have a precise enough meaning, men, the deliberate words of an open-minded, and, as we believe, a highly important one. truth-seeking man can in no case be wholly For the rest, what sort of mind it is that has unintelligible, nor the words of such a man as passed through this change, that has gained Goethe indifferent, we have transcribed it for' this victory; how rich and high a mind; how their perusal.' If we induce them to turn to learned by study in all that is wisest, by expethe original, and study this in its completeness, rience in all that is most complex, the brightwith so much else that environs it, and bears est as well as the blackest, in man's existence; onp it, they will thank us still more. To our gifted with what insight, with what grace own judgment, at least, there is a file and pure and power of utterance, we shall not for significance in this whole delineation: such the present attempt discussing. All these the phrases even as" the Sanctuary of Sorrow," reader will'learn, who studies his writings wivth "the divine depth of Sorrow," have of them- such' attention as they merit: and by no other selves pathetic wisdom for us; as indeed a means.: Of Goethe's dramatic, lyrical, didactone of devoutness, of calm, njild, prieatlikie e icpo'ms, in their thousandfoldexpressiveness, dignity pervades the whole. In a time like for they are full of expressiveness, we carl ours, it is rare to see, in the writings oT culti- here say nothing. But in every department vated men, any opinion whatever, bearing any of Literature, of Art ancient and modern, in mark of sincerity, on such a subject as this: many provinces of Science, we shall often yet it is and continues the highest subject, and meet him; and hope to have other occasions they that are highest are most fit for studying of estimating what, in these respects, we aind it, and helping others to study it. all men owe him. Goethe's T4e.derjahre was published in his Two circumstances, meanlwhile we have reseventy-second year; Velrtert in his twenty-fifth: marked, which to us throw light on the nature thus in passing between these two works, and of his original faculty for Poetry, and go ftr over iicis'ers Lehrjalore, which stands nearly to convince us of the Mastery he has attained midway, we have glanced over a space of in that art; these we may here state briefly, almost fifty years, including within them, of for the judgment of such as already know his course, whatever was most important in his writings, or the help of such as are beginning public or private history. By means of these to know them. The first'is his singularly emquotations, so diverse in their tone, we meant blematic intellect; his perpetual neverifailing to make it visible that a'great change had tendency to transform into shape, into l.ife, the talren place in the moral disposition of the opinion, the feeling that may dwell in him; man; a change from in-ward imprisonment, which, in its widest sense, we recklon to lo: 12 ae 90 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. essentia.ly the grand problem of the Poet. for his pretensions to mastery and completeWe do not mean mere metaphor and rheto- ness in his heart, we can but reckon this rical trope: these are but the exterior concern, among the surest. Tried by this, there is no often but the scaffolding of the edifice, which living writer that approaches within many is to be built up (within our thoughts) by degrees of Goethe. means of them. In allusions, in similitudes, Thus, it would seem, we consider Goethe to though no one known to us is happier, many be a richly educated Poet, no less than a richly are more copious, than Goethe. But we find educated Man: a master both of Humanity, this faculty of his in the very essence of his and of Poetry; one to whom Experience has intellect; and trace it alike in the quiet, cun- given true wisdom,and the "Melodies Eternal" ning epigram, the allegory, the quaint device, a perfect utterance for his wisdom. Of the remainding us of some Quarles or Bunyan; particular form. which this humanity, this and in the Fausts, the Tassos, the lMignons, which, wisdom has assumed; of his opinions, chain their pure and genuine personality, may al- racter, personality,-for these, with whatever most remind us of the.riels and Humlets of difficulty, are and must be decipherable in his Shakspeare. Every thing has form, every thing writings, —we had much to say: but this also has visual existence; the poet's imagination we must decline. In the present state of matbodiesfort/h the forms of things unseen, his pen ters, to speak adequately would be a task too turns them to shape. This, as a natural endow- hard for us, and one in which our readers ment, exists in Goethe, we conceive, to a very could afford little help, nay, in which many of high degree. them might take little interest. Meanwhile, The other characteristic of his mind, which we have found a brief cursory sketch on this proves to us his acquired mastery in art, as subject, already written in our language: some this shows us the extent of his original capa- parts of it, by way of preparation, we shall city for it, is his wonderful variety, nay, uni- here transcribe. It is written by a professed versality; his entire freedom from. Mannerism. admirer of Goethe; nay, as might almost seem, We read Goethe for years before we come to by a grateful learner, whom he taught, whom see wherein the distinguishing lbeculiarity of he had helped to lead out of spiritual obstruchis understanding, of his disposition, even of tion, into peace and light. Making due allowhis way of writing, consists. It seems quite a ance for all this, there is little in the paper simple style-that of his; remarkable chiefly that we object to. for its calmness, its perspicuity, in short, its "In Goethe's mind," observes he, "the first commonness: and yet it is the most uncom- aspect that strikes us is its calmness, then its monll of all styles: we feel as if every one beauty; a deeper inspection reveals to us its might imitate it, and yet it is inimitable. As vastness and unmeasured strength. This man hard is it to discover in his writings,-though rules, and is not ruled. The stern and fiery there also, as in every man's writings, the energies of a most passionate soul'lie silent character of the wreter must lie recorded,-. in the centre of its being; a trembling sensiwhat sort of spiritual construction he has, bility has been enured to stand, without flinchrwhat are his temper, his affections, his indivi- ing or murmur, the sharpest trials. Nothing dual specialities. For all lives freely within outward, nothing inward, shall agitate or conhim; Philina and Clarchen, Mephistopheles trol him. The brightest and umost capricious and Mignon, are alike indifferent, or alike dear fancy, the most piercing and inquisitive intelto him; he is of no sect or caste: he seems lect, the wildest and deepest imagination; the not this man or that man, but a man. Mre highest thrills of joy, the bitterest pangs of reckon this to be the characteristic of a Mas- sorrow: all these are his, he is not theirs. ter in Art of any sort; and true especially of While he moves every heart from its steadall great Poets. HIow true is it of Shakspeare fastness, his own is firm and still: the words and Homer! Who knows, or can,figure wvhat that search into the inmost recesses of our the Mlan Shakspeare was, by the first, by the nature, he pronounces with a tone of coldness tiwentieth perusal of his works? He is a and equanimity: in the deepest pathos he Voice coming to us from the Land of Melody,: weeps not, or his tears are like water trickling his old, brick dwelling-place, in the mere from a rocky of adamant. 3EIe is a king of earthly burgh of Stratford-on-Avon, offers us himself and of this wvorld; nor does he rule th1e most inexplicable enigma. And what is it like a vulgar great man, like Napoleon or Homer in the I/ias? HE IS THE WITNEss; he Charles the Twelfth, by the mere brute exerhas seen, and he reveals it; we hear and be- tion of his will, grounded on no principle, or lieve, but do not behold him. Now compare, on a false one: his faculties and feelings are with these two poets, any other two; not of not fettered or prostrated under the iron sway equal genius, for there are none such, but of of Passion, but led and guided in kindly union equal sincerity, who wrote as earnestly, and under the mild sway of Reason; as the fierce from the heart, like them. Take, for instance, primeval elements of Chaos were stilled at the Jean Paul and Lord Byron. The good Richter coming of Light, and bound together, under begins to show himself, in his broad, massive, its soft vesture, into a glorious and beneficent kindly, quaint significance, before we have Creation. read many: pages of even his slightest work; "This is the true rest of man; the dim aim and to the last, he paints himself much better of every human soul, the full attainment of than his subject. Byron may almost be said only a chosen few. It comes not unsought to to have painted nothing else than himself, be any; but the wise are wise because they think lhis subject what it might. Yet as a test for no price too high for it. Goethe's inward the culture of a Poet, in his poetical capacity, home has been reared byv slow and laborious GOETHE. 91 efforts; butit stands on no hollow or deceitful some experiences, of business done in the basis: for his peace is not from blindness, but great deep of the spirit; a maxim, trivial to the from clear vision; not from uncertain hope careless eye, will rise with light and solution of alteration, but from sure insight into what over long perplexed periods of our own history. cannot alter. His world seems once to have It is thus that heart speaks to heart, that the been desolate and baleful as that of the dark- life of one man becomes a possession to all. est skeptic: but he has covered it anew with Here is a mindof the most subtile and tumultubeauty and solemnity, derived from deeper ous elements; but it is governed in peaceful sources, over which Doubt can have no sway. diligence, and its impetuous and ethereal faHe has acquired fearlessly, and fearlessly culties work softly together for good and noble searched out and denied the False; but he has ends. Goethe may be called a Philosopher; not forgotten, what is equally essential and in- for he loves and has practised as a man the finitely harder, to search out and admit the wisdom which, as a poet, he inculcates. ComTrue. His heart is still full of warmth, though posure and cheerful seriousness seem to his head is clear and cold; the world for him breathe over all his character. There is no is still full of grandeur, though he clothes it whining over human woes: it is understood with no false colours; his fellow-creatures are that we must simply all strive to alleviate or still objects of reverence and love, though their remove them. There is no noisy battling for basenesses are plainer to no eye than to his. opinions; but a persevering effort to make To reconcile these contradictions is the task Truth lovely, and recommend her, by a thouof all good men, each for himself, in his own sand avenues, to. the hearts of all men. Of his way and manner; a task which, in our age, personal manners we can easily believe the is encompassed with difficulties peculiar to universal report, as often given in the way of the time; and which Goethe seems to have ac- censure as of praise, that he is a man of concomplished with a success that few can rival. summate breeding and the stateliest presence: A mind so in unity with itself, even though it for an air of polished tolerance, of courtly, we were a poor and small one, would arrest our might almost say, majestic repose, and serene attention, and win some kind regard from us; humanjDy, is visible throughout his worlrs. In but when this mind ranks among the strong- no line of them does he speak with asperity of est and most complicated of the species, it any man: scarcely ever even of a thing. He becomes a sight full of interest, astudy full of knows the good, and loves it; he knows the deep instruc.tion. bad and hateful, and rejects it; but in neither "Such a mind as Goethe's is the fruit not case with violence: his love is calm and only of a royal endowment by nature, but also active; his rejection is implied, rather than of a culture proportionate to her bounty. In pronounced; meek and gentle, though we see Goethe's original form of spirit, we discern the that it is thorough, and never to be revoked. highest gifts of manhood, without any defi- The noblest and the basest he not only seems ciency qf the lower: he has an eye and a heart to comprehend, but to personate and body equally for the sublime, the common, and the forth in their most secret lineaments: hence ridiculous; the elements at once of a poet, a actions and opinions appear to him as they thinker, and a wit. Of his culture we have are, with all the circumstances which extenuoften spoken already; and it deserves again to ate or endear them to the hearts where they be held up to praise and imitation. This, as originated and are entertained. This also is he himself unostentatiously confesses, has the spirit of our Shakspeare, and perhaps of been the soul of all his conduct, the great every great dramatic poet. Shakspeare is no enterprise of his life; and few that understand sectarian; to all he deals with equity and him will be apt to deny that he has prospered. mercy; because he knows all, and his heart As a writer, his resources have been accumu- is wide enough for all. In his mind the world lated from nearly all the provinces of human is a whole; he figures it as Providence gointellect and activity; and he has trained him- verns it; and to him it is not strange that the self to use these complicated instruments, with sun should be caused to shine on the evil and a light expertness which we might have ad- the good., and the rain to fall on the just and mired in the professor of a solitary depart- the ul)just." ment. Freedom, and grace, and smiling Considered as a transient, far-off view of earnestness are the characteristics of his Goethe in his personal character, all this, from works: the matter of them flows along in the writer's peculiar point of vision, may have chaste abundance, in the softest combination; its true grounds, and wears at least the aspect and their style is referred to by native critics of sincerity. We rmay also quote something as the highest specimen of the German tongue. of what follows on Coethe's character as a poet a e: * * -iand thinker, and the contrast he exhibits in "But Goethe's culture as a writer is perhaps this respect with another celebrated, and now less remarkable than his culture as a man. altogether European author. He has learned not in head only, but also in "Goethe," observes this critic, "has been heart; not from Art and Literature, but also called the'German Voltaire,' but it is a by action and passion, in the rugged'school of name which does him. wrong and describes Experience. If asked what was the grand him ill. Except.in the corresponding variety characteristic of his writings, we should not of their pursuits and knowledge, in which, persay knowledge, but wisdom.. A mind that has haps, it does Voltaire wrong, the two cannot seen, and suffered, and done, speaks to us of be compared. Goethe is all, or the best of all, what it has tried and conquered. A gay de- that Voltaire was, and he is much that Voltaire lineation will giv:' us notice of dark and toil- did not dream of. To say nothing of his dig 92 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. nified and truthful character as a man, he be- like baked bread, savoury and satisfying for a longs, as a thinker and a writer, to a far higher single day;" but, unhappily, " flour cannot be class than this enfant ga c utd d moZne qlu'il gdtta. sown, and seed-cor'n ought not to be ground." He is not a questioner and a despiser, but a We proceed with our Critic in his contrast of teacher and a reverencer; not a destroyer, but Goethe with Voltaire. a builder up; not a wit only, but a wise man. "As poets," continues he, "the two live not in Of him Montesquieu could not have said, with the same hemisphere, not in the same world. even epigrammatic truth: 11 a pl.ts que personne Of Voltaire's poetry, it were blindness to deny l'esprit que (out le mi?onde a. Voltaire is the cle- the polished; intellectual vigour, the'logical ewrest of all past and present men; but a great symmetry, the flashes that from time to time man is something more, and this he surely give it the colour,if not the warmth, of fire: but was not." it is in a far other sense than this that Goethe Whether this epigram, which we have seen is a poet; in a sense of which the French in some Biographical Dictionary, really be- literature has never afforded any example. We longs to Montesquieu, we know not; but it may venture to say of him, that his province is does seem to us not wholly inapplicable to high and peculiar; higher than any poet but Voltaire, and at all events, highly expressive himself, for. several generations, has so far of an important distinction among men of'succeeded in, perhaps even has steadfastly attalent generally. In fact, the popular man., tempted. In reading Goethe's poetry, it perand the man of true, at least of great origin- petually strikes us that we are reading the ality, are seldom one and the same; we sus- poetry of our own day and generation. No pect that, till after a long struggle on the part demands are made on our credulity: the light, of the latter, they are never so. Reasons are the science, the skepticism of our age, is not obvious enough. The popular man stands on hid from ur. He does not deal in antiquated our own level, or a hair's breadth higher; he mythologies, or ring changes on traditionary shows us a truth which we can see without poetic forms; there are nosupernal,'no infernal shifting our present intellectual position. This influences, for Faust is an apparent, rather is a highly convenient arrangement? The than a real exception; but there is the barren original man, again, stands above us; he prose of the nineteenth century, the vulgar life wishes to wrench us from our old fixtures, and which we are all leading, and it starts into elevate us to a higher and clearer level: but strange beauty in his hands, and we pause in to quit our old fixtures, especially if we have delighted wonder to behold the flowerage of sat in them with moderate comfort for some poesy blooming in that parched and rugged score or two of years, is no such easy business; soil. This is the end of his Mignons and accordingly we demur, we resist, we even give Harpers, of his Hermanrns and Meisters. Poetry, battle; we still suspect that he is above us, as he views it, exists not in time. or place, but but.try to persuade ourselves (Laziness and in the spirit of man; and Art with Nature is Vanity earnestly assenting) that he is below. now to perform for the poet what Nature alone For is it not the very essence of such a man performed of old. The divinities and demons, that he be few? And who will warrant us the witches, spectres, and fairies, are vanished that, at, the same time, he shall only be an in- from the world, never again to be recalled: but tensation and continuation of the old, which, in the Imagination, which created these, still lives, general, is what we long and look for? No and will for ever live, in man's soul; and can one can warrant us. And, granting him to be again pour its wizard light over the Universe, a man of real genius, real depth, and that and summon forth enchantments as lovely or speaks not till after earnest meditation, what impressive, and which its sister faculties will sort of a philosophy were his, could we esti- not contradict. To say that Goethe has acmate the length, breadth, and thickness of it at complished all this, would be to say that his a single glance? And. when did Criticism genius is greater than was ever given to any give two glances? Criticism, therefore, opens man: for if it was a high and glorious mind, on such a man its greater and its lesser bat- or rather series of minds, that peopled the first teries, on every side: he has no security but -ages with their peculiar fornhs of poetry, it must to go on disregarding it; and "in the end," be a series of minds much higher, and more says Goethe, "Criticism itself comes to relish glorious that shall so people the present. The that method." But now let a speaker of the angels and demons, that can lay prostrate our other class come forward; one of those men hearts in the nineteenth century must be of anothat " have more than any one, the opinion ther, and more cunning fashion, than those that which all men have!" No sooner does he subdued us in the ninth. To have attempted, speak, than all and sundry of us feel as if we to have begun this enterprise, may be accounthad been wishing to speak that very thing, as ed the greatest praise. That Goethe ever meif we ourselves might have spoken it; and ditated it, in the form here set forth, we have no forthwith resounds f-om the united universe a direct evidence: but, indeed, such is the end and zelebration of that surprising feat. What clear- aim of high pbetry at all times and seasons; ness, brilliancy, justness, penetration! Who for the fiction of the poet is not falsehood, but can doubt that this man is right, when so the purest truth; and, if he would lead captive many thousand votes are ready to back him? our whole being, not rest satisfied with a part Doubtless, he is right; doubtless, he is a clever of it, he must address us on interests that are, man; and his praise will long be in all the not that were, ours; andin a dialyet Nthich finds Magazines. a response, and not a contradiction, within our Clever men are good, but they are not the bosoms." dest. " The instruction they can give us is * German Romance, vol. iv. pp. 17-25. GOETHE. 93 Here, however, we must terminate our pil- an inconsistency bet'ween the means and the ferings, or open robberies, and bring these end; a discordance.between the end and truth, straggling lucubrations to a close. In the ex- there is a fault: was there not, there is no fault. tracts we have given, in the remarks made on Thus it would. appear that the detection of them, and on the subject of.them, we are aware faults, provided -they be faults of any depth and that we have held the attitude of admirers and consequence, leads us of itself into that region pleaders: neither is it unino(wii to us that the where also the higher beauties of the piece, if critic is, in virtue of his ofice, a judge, and not it have any true beauties, essentially reside. In an advocate; sits there, not to do favour, but fact, according to our view, no man can proto dispense justice, which in most cases will nounce dogmatically, with even a chance of involve blame as well as praise. But we are being right, on the faults of a poem, till he has firm believers in the maxim that, for all right seen its very last and highest beauty; the last judgment of any man or thing, it is useful, nay, in becoming visible to any one, which few ever -essential, to see his good qualities before pro- look after, which indeed in most pieces it were nouncing on his bad. This maxim is so clear very vain to look after; the beauty of the poem. to ourselves, that, in respect of poetry at least, as a Whole, in the strict sense; the clear view We almost think we could make it clear to other of it as an indivisible Unity; and whether it men. In the first place, at all events, it is a has grown up naturally from the general soil much shallower and more ignoble occupation of Thought, and stands there like a thousandto detect faults than to discover beau'ties.- The years Oak, no leaf, no bough superfluous; or critid fly," if it do but alight on any plinth or is nothing but a pasteboard Tree, cobbled tosingle cornice of abrave, stately building, shall gether out of size and waste-paper and waterbe able to declare, with its half-inch vision, that colours; altogether unconnected with the soil here is a speck'; and there an inequality; that, I of Thought, except by mere juxtaposition, or in fact, this and the other individual stone are at best united with it by some decayed stumzp nowise as they should be; for all this the and dead bough.s, which the more cunning De"critic fly" will be sufficient: but to take in corationist (as in your Historic Novel) may the fair relations of the Whole, to see the build- have selected for the basis and support-of his ing as one object, to estimate its purpose, the agglutinations. It is true, most readers judge adjustment of its parts, and their harmonious of a poem by pieces, they praise and blame by co-operation towards that purpose, will require pieces: it is a common practice, and for most the eye and the mind of a Vitruvius, or a Pal- poems and, most readers may be perfectly ladio. But further, the faults of a poem, or I sufficient; yet we would advise no man to folother -piece of art, as we view them at first, will low this practice, who traces in himself even by no means continue unaltered when we view the slightest capability of following a betterone; them after due and final investigation. Let us - and if possible, we would advise him to pracconsider what we mean by a fault. By the word tise only on worthy subjects; to read few poems fault, we designate something that displeases us, that will not bear being studied as well as read. that contradicts us. But'here the question might That Goethe has his faults cannot be doubtarise. VWho are we? This fault displeases, ful; for we believe it was ascertained long ago contradicts us; so far is clear; and had we, had that there is no man free from them. Neither I, and my pleasure and confirmation, been the are we ourselves without some glimmering of chief end of the poet, then doubtless he has certain actual limitations and inconsistencies failed in that end, and his fault remains afault ir- by which he too, as he really lives, and writer, remediably, and without defence. But who shall and is, may be hemmed in; which beset him say whether Such really was his object, whether too, as they do meaner men; which show us such ought to have been his object? And that he too is a son of Eve. But to exhibit if it was not, and ought not to have been, what these before our readers, in the present state becomes of the fault? It must hang altogether of matters, we should reckon no easy labour, undecided; we as yet know nothinb of it; per- were it to be adequately, to'be justly done; haps it may not be the poet's but our own fault; I and done any how, no profitable one. Better perhaps it may be no fault whatever. To see | is it we should first study him; better " to see rightly into this matter, to determine with any the great man before attemptin.g to oversee him." infallibility, whether what we.call a fault is in We are not ignorant that certain objections very deed a fault, we must previously have set- against Goethe already float vaguely in the tied two points, neither of which may be so I English mind, and here and there, according to readily settled. First, we must have made occasion, have even come to utterance: these, plain to ourselves what the poet's -aim really as the study of him proceeds, we shall hold ourand truly was, how the task he had to do stood selves ready, in due season, to discuss; but before his own eye, and how far, with such for the present we must beg the reader to be' means as it afforded him, he has fulfilled it. lieve, on our word, that we do not reckon Secondly, we must have decided whether and them unanswerable, nay, that we reckon therm how far this aim, this task of his, accorded,- in general the most answerable things in the not with us, and our individual crotchets, and world; and things which even a little increase the crotchets of our little senate where we give of knowledge will not fail to answer without or take the law,-but with human nature, and other help. the nature of things at large; with the univer- For furthering such increase of knowledge salpri-nciplesofpoeticbeauty, not as they stand on this matter, may. we beg the reader to acwritten in our text-books, but in the hearts and cept two small pieces of advice, which we imaginations of all men. Does the answer in ourselves have found to be of use in studying either case come out unfavourable; was there I Goethe. They see:, appi:3cable to the study 94 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. of-Foreign Literature generally; indeed to the Terence otherwise than boys do. "Happy study of all Literature that deserves' the name. contractedness of youth," adds Goethe, " nay, The first is,jnowise to suppose that Poetry of men in general; that at all moments of their is a superficial, cursory business, which may existence they can look upon. themselves as be seen through to the very bottom, so soon complete; and inquire neither after the True as one inclines to cast his eye on it. We nor the.False, northe H3[igh nor the Deep; but reckon it the falsest of all maxims that a.true simply after what is proportioned to themPoem can be adequately tasted; can be judged selves." of" as men judge of a dinner," by some inter- Our second advice we. shall state in a few nal tongue, that shall decide on the matter at words. It is to'remember that a Foreigner is once and -irrevocably. Of the poetry which no Englishman; that in judging a foreign supplies spouting-clubs, and circulates in cir- work, it is not enough to ask whether it is culati.n libraries. we speak not here. That suitable to our modles, but whether it is suitable is quite another species; which has circulated, to foreign oa:se.ts:. above all, whether it is suitand will circulate, and ought to circulate,' in able to itself. The fairness, the necessity of all times; but for the study of which no man this can need no demonstration: yet how often is required to give rules, the rules being al- do we find it, in practice, altogether n eglected! ready given by the thing itself. We speak of We could fancy we saw some Bond-street that Poetry which Masters write, which aims Tailor criticising the costume of an ancient not "at furnishing a languid mind with fan- Greek; censuring the highly improper cut of tastic shoes and indolent emotions," but at collar and lapel; lamenting, indeed, that colincorporating the everlasting Reason of man lar and lapel were nowhere to be seen. He in forms visible to his Sense, and suitable to pronounces the costume, easily and decisiveit: and of this we say that to know it is no Iy, to be a barbarous one; to know whether it slight task; but rather that being the essence is a barbarous one, and how barbarous, the of all science, it requires the purest of all study judgment of a Winkelmann might be required, for knowing it. "What!" cries the reader, and he would find it hard to give a judgment. "are we to stusdy Poetry? To pore over it as For the questions set before the two were radiwe do over Fluxions?" Reader, it depends cally different. The Fraction asked himself: upon your object: if you want only amzsenlmeant, How- will this look in Almacks, and before choose your book, and you get along, without Lord Mahogany? The Winklemann asked study, excellently well. "Bit is not Shakspeare himself: How will this lool in the Universe, plain, visibl'e to the very bottom, without and before the Creator of Man? study!" cries he. Alas, no, gentle Reader; Whether these remarks of ours may do we cannot think so; we do not find that he is any thing to forward a right appreciation of "visible to the very bottom," even to those Goethe in this country, we know not; neither that profess the study of him. It has been our do we reckon this last result to be of any vital lot to read some criticisms on Shakspeare, and importance. Yet must we believe that, in reto hear a great many; but for most part they commending GQethe, we are doing our part to amounted to no such "visibility." Vo,,lumes recommend a truer study of Poetry itself: and we have seen that were simply one huge In- happy were we to fancy that any efforts of terjection printed over three hundred pages. I ours could promnote suchan object. Promoted, Naine tenths of our critics have told us little attained it will be, as we believe, by one means more of Shakspeare, than what honest Fraxnz and another. A deeper feeling for Art is Horn says our neighbours used to tell of him, abroad over Europe; a purer, more earnest:' that he was a great spirit, and stept majes- purpose in the study, in' the practice of it. In tically alohg." Johnson's Preface, a sound this influence we too must participate: the and- solid piece for its purpose, is a complete time will come when our own ancient noble exception to this rule; and, so far as we re- Literature whill be studied and felt, as well as member, the only complete one. Students of talrked of; when Dilettantism will give place noetry admire Shakspeare in their tenth year; to Criticism in respect of it; and vague wonbut go on admiring him more and more, un- der end in clear knowledge, in sincere revederstanding him more and more, till their rence, and, what were best of all, in hearty,hreescore-and-tenth. Grotius said, he read. emulation. BURNS. 95 B UTRNS. [EDINBURGH REVIEW, 1828.] Ie the modern arrangements of society, it is tocracy, and all the Squires and Earls, equally no uncommon thing that a man of genius must, with the Ayr Writers, and the New and Old like Butler, "ask for bread and receive a Light Clergy, whom he had to do with, shall stone;" for, ili spite of our grand maxim of have become invisible in the darkness of the supply and demand, it is'by no means the Past, or visible only by light borrowed from his highest excellence that men are most forward juxtaposition, it will be difficult to measure to recognise. The inventor of a spinning- him by any true standard, or to estimate what jenny is pretty sure of his reward in his own he really was and did, in the eighteenth cenday; but the writer of a true poem, like the tury, for his country and the world. It will be apostle of a true religion, is nearly as sure of difficult, we say; but still a fair problem for the contrary. We do not know whether it is literary historians; and repeated attempts will not an aggravation of the injustice, that there give us repeated approximations. is generally a posthumous retribution. Robert His former biographers have done sonmeBurns, in the course of nature, mighf yet have thing, no doubt, but by no means a great deal, been living; but his short life was spent in to assist us. Dr. Currie and Mr. Walker, the toil and penury; and he died, in the prime of principal of these writers, have both, we think, his manhood, miserable.and neglected; and mistaken one essentially important thing: —yet already a brave mausoleum shines over his Their own and the world's true relation to dust, and more than one splendid monument their author, and the style in which it became has been reared in other places to his fame:' such men to think and to speak of such a the street where he languished in poverty is man. Dr. Currie loved the poet truly; more called by his name; the highest personages in perhaps than he avo-wed to his readers, or even our literature have been proud to appear as to himself; yet he everywhere introduces him his commentators and admirers, and here is witli a certain patronizing, apologetic air; as the sixth narrative of his Life, that has been if the polite public might think it strange and given to the world! half unwarrantable that he, a man of science, Mr. Lockhart thinks it necessary to apologize a scholar, and gentleman, should do such for this new attempt on such a subject: but his honour to a rustic. In all this, however, we readers, we believe, will readily acquit him;. readily admit that his fault was not want of or, at worst, will censure only the performance love, but weakness of faith; and regret that of his task, not the choice of it. The character the firat and kindest of all our poet's biograof Burns, indeed, is a theme, that cannot easily phers should not have seen farther, or believed become either trite or exhausted; and will pro- more boldly what he saw. Mr. Walker offends bably gain rather than lose in its dimensions more deeply in thle same kind: and both err by the distance to which it is removed by alike in presenting us with a detached cataTime. No man, it has been said, is a hero to logue of his several supposed attributes, vAihis valet: -and this is probably true; but the toes, and vices, instead of a delineation of the fault is at least as likely to be the valet's as resulting character as a living unity. This, the hero's: For it is certain, that to the vulgar however, is not.painting a portrait; but gaugeye few things are wonderful that are not ing the length and breadth of the several feadistant. It is difficult for men to believe that tures, and jotting down their dimensions in the man, the mere man whom they see, nay, arithmetical ciphers. Nay, it is not so much perhaps, painfully feel, toiling at their side as this: for we are yet to learn by what arts or through the poor jostlings of existence, can be instruments the mind could be so measured and made of finer clay than themselves. Suppose gauged. that some dining acquaintance of Sir Thomas. Mr. Lockhart, we are happy to say, has Lucy's, and neighbour of Johh a Combe's, had avoided both these errors. He uniformly treats snatched an hour or.two from the preservation Burns as the high and remarkable man the of his game, and written us a Life of Shak- public voice has now pronounced him to be: speare! What dissertations should we not and in delineating him, he has avoided the have had,-not on Hamlet and The Tempest, but method of. separate generalities, and rather on the wool-trade, and deer-stealing, and the sought for characteristic incidents, habits, libel and yagrant laws! and how the Poacher actions, sayings; in a word, for aspects which became a Player; and how Sir Thomas and exhibit the whole man, as he lookedta-nd-l~~e Mr. John had Christian bowels, and did not among his fellows. The book accordingly, push him to extremities! In like manner, we with all its deficiencies, gives more insight, we believe, with respect to Burns, that till the think, into the true character of Burns, than companions of his pilgrimage, the honourable any prior biography: though, being'written on Excise Commissioners, and the Gentlemen of the very popular andc condensed scheme of an the Caledonian Hunt, and the Dumfries Aris- article for Constable's Jl.iscellanzy, it has less depth than twe could have wished and expected *The Life of Robert Burns. By J. G. Lockhart, LL B. from a writer of such power; and contains Edinburgh, 1828. rather mnore, and more multifarious, quotations, 96 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. than belong of right,to an original production, own intrinsic merits, and may now be well Indeed, Mr. Lockhart's own writing is gene- nigh shorn of that casual radiance, he appears rally so good, so clear, direct, and nervous, not only as a true British poet, hut. as one of that we seldom wish to see it making place the most considerable British men of the for another man's. IHowever, the spirit of the eighteenth century. Let it not be objected that work is throughout capdid, tolerant, and anx-'he did little: He did much, if we consider where iously conciliating; compliments and praises and how. If the work pefformed was small, are liberally distributed, on all hands, to great we must remember that he had his very maand small; and, as Mr. Morris Birkbeck ob- terials to discover; for the metal be worked serves of the society in the backwoods of in lay hid under the desert, where no eye but America, "the courtesies of polite life are his had guessed its existence; and we may alnever lost sight of for a moment." But there most say, that with his own hand he had to are better things than these in the volume; construct the tools for fashioning it. For he and we can. safely testify, not only that it is found himself in deepest obscurity, without easily anti pleasantly read a first time, but may help, without instruction, without model; or even be without difficulty read again. with models only of the meanest sort. An Nevertheless, we are far fiom thinking that educated man stands, as it were, in the midst the problem of Burns's Biography has yet of a boundless arsenal and magazine, filled been adequately solved. - We do not allude so with all/the weapons and engines which man's much to deficiency of facts or documents,- skill has been able to devise from the earliest though of these we are still every day'receiv- time; and he works, accordingly, with a ing some fresh accession,-as to the limited strength borrowed from all past ages.i How and imperfect application of them to the great different is his state who stands on the outside end of Biography. "Our notions upon this sub- of that storehouse, and feels that its gates must ject may perhaps appear extravagant; but if be stormed, or remain for ever shut against an individual is really of consequence enough him? His means are the commonest and to have his life and character recorded for rudest; the mere work done is no measure of public remembrance, we have always been of his strength. A dwarf behind his steamopinion, that the public ought to be made ac- engine may remove-mountains; but no dwarf qu:ainted with all the inward springs and rela- will hew them down with the pick-axe; and tions of his character. How did the world and he must be a Titan that hurls themt abroad man's life, from his particular position, repre- with his arms. sent themselves to his mind? How did coex- It is in this last shape that Burns presents isting circumstances modify him from without; himself. Born in an age the most prosaic how did he modify these from within? With Britain had yet seen, and in a condition the what endeavours and what efficacy rule over most disadvantageous, "-where his mind, if it them; with what resistance and what suffer- accomplished' aught, must accomplish it uning sink under them? In one word, what and der the pressure of continual bodily toil, nay, how produced was the effect of society on him; of penury and desponding apprehension of" what. and how produced was his effect on the worst evils, and with no furtherance but society? He who should answer these ques- such knowledge as dwells in a poor man's hut, tions, in regard to any individual, would, as and the rhymes of a Ferguson or Ramsay for we believe, furnish a model of perfection in his standard of beauty, he'sinkls not under all biography. Few individuals, indeed, can de- these impediments: Through the fogs and serve such a study; and many lives will be darkness of that obscure region, his eagle eye written, and, for the gratification of innocent discerns the true relations of the world and curiosity, ought to be written, and read, and human life; he grows into intellectual strength, forgotten, which are not in this sense biogra- and trains himself into intellectual expertness. phies. But Burns, if we mistake not, is one of'Imp'elled by the irrepressible movement of his these few individuals; and such a study, at inward spirit, he struggles forward into the least with such a result, he has not yet obtained. general view, and with haughty. modesty lays Our own contributions to it, we are aware, can down before us, as the fruit of his lab-our, a be but scanty and feeble; but we offer them gift, which Time has now pronounced imwith good-will, and trust they may meet with perishable. Add to all this, that his darksome, acceptance from those for whom they are in- drudging childhood and youth was by far the tended. kindliest era of his whole life;, and that he died Burns first came upon the world as a prodi- in his thirty-seventh year: and then ask if it gy; and was, in that character, entertained by be strange that his poems are imperfect, and it, in the usual fashion, with loud, vague, tu- of small extent, or that his genius attained no multuous wonder, speedily subsiding into.cen- mastery in its art? Alas, his Sun shone as sure and neglect; till his early and most through a tropical tornado; and the pale mournful death again awakened an enthu- Shadow of Death eclipsed it at noon! Shroud. siasm for him, which, especially as there was ed in such baleful vapours, the genius of Burns now nothing to be done, and much to be was never seen in clear azure splendour, enspoken, has prolonged itself even to our own lightening the world: But some beamis from it time. It is true, the " nine days" have long did, by fits, pierce through; and, it tinted those since elapsed; and the very continuance of clouds with rainbow and orient colours into a this clamour proves that Burns was no vulgar glory and stern grandeur, which men silently wonder. Accordingly, even in sober judg- gazed on with wonder and tears! xnentsi where, as years passed by,'he has We are anxious not to exaggerate; for it,, come to rest more and more exclusively on his exposition rather than admiration that our BURNS. 97 readers require of us here; and yet to avoid, thoughts to Him that wzealketh on the wi?ngs of the some tendency to that side is no easy matter. wind." Al trien Poet-soul,. for.itneeds.but to be W.re lov.e tBurns, and we pity him; and love struclr, and the sound it yields will be music! and pity are prone to magnify. Criticism, it But observe him chiefly as he mingles with is sometimes thought, should be a cold busi- his brother men. What warm, all-compreness; we are not so sure of this; but, at all hending, fellow-feeling, what trustful, boundevents, our concern with Burns is not exclu- less love, what generous exaggeration of the sively that of critics. True and genial as his object loved! His rustic friend, his nut-brown poetry must appear, it is not chiefly, as a poet, maiden, are. no longer mean and homely, but but as a man, that he interests and affects us. a hero and a quqen, whom he prizes as the He was often advised to write a tragedy: time paragons of Earth. The rough scenes of and means were not lent him for this; but Scottish life, not seen by him in any Arcadian through life he enacted a tragedy, and one of illusion, but in the rude contradiction, in the the deepest. We question whether the world smoke and soil of a too harsh reality, are still has since witnessed so utterly sad a scene; lovely to him: Poverty is indeed his compawhether Napoleon himself, left to brawl with nion, but Love also, and Courage; the simple Sir Hudson Lowe, and perish on his rock, feelings, the worth, the'. nobleness, that dwell "amid the melancholy main," presented to the under the straw roof, are dear and venerable reflecting mind such a "spectacle of pity and to his heart; and thus over the lowest profear," as did this intrinsically nobler, gentler, vinces of man's existence he pours the glory and perhaps greater soul, wasting itself away of'his own soul; and they rise, in shadow and in a hopeless struggle with base entangle- sunshine, softened and brightened into a ments, which coiled closer and closer round beauty whbch other eyes discern not in the him, till only death opened him an outlet, highest. HIe has a just self-consciousness, Conquerors are a race with whom the world which too often degenerates into pride; yet it could well dispense; nor can the hard intel- is a noble pride, for defence, not for offence, lect, the unsympathizing loftiness, and high no cold, suspicious feeling, but a frank and but selfish enthusiasm of such persons, inspire social one. The peasant Poet bears himself, us in general with any affection; at best it may we might say, like a King In exile: he is cast excite amazement; and their fall, lilre that of among the low, and feels himself equal to the a pyramid, will be beheld with a certain sad- highest; yet he claims no rank, that none may ness and awe. But a true Poet, a man in be disputed to him. The forward he can re-whose heart resides some effluence of Wis- pel, the sipercilious he can subdue; pretendom, some tone of the "Eternal Melodies," is sions of wea[lifth?6'{: ancestry are of no avail the most precious gift that can be bestowed with him; there is a fire in that dark eye, unon a generation: we see in him a freer, purer, der which the "insolence of condescension" development of whatever is noblest in our- cannot thrive. In his abasement, in his ex, selves; his life is a rich lesson to us, and we treme need, he foiet'' im'0t' for a moinent the mourn his death, as that of a benefactor who majesty of Poetry and Manhood.-. And yet, far loved and taught us. as he feels himself above common men, he:Such a gift'had Nature in her bounty be- wanders not apart from them, but mixes stowed on us in Robert Burns; but with queen- warmly in their interests; nay, throws himself like indifference she cast it'from her hand, into their arms; and, as it were, entreats them like a thing of no moment; and it was defaced to love him.':It is moving to see how, in his and torn asunder, as an idle bauble, before we, darkest desspondency, this proud being still recognised it. To the ill-starred Burns was seeks relief from friendship; unbosoms himgiven the power of making man's life more self, often to the unworthy; and, amid tears, venerable, but that of wisely guiding his own strains to his glowing heart a heart that knows was not given. Destiny,-for so in our igno- only the name of friendship. And yet he was rance we must speak,-his faults, the faults "quick to learn;" a man of keen vision, before of others, proved too hard for him; and that whom common disguises afforded no concealspirit, which might have soared, could it but ment. His understanding saw through the have walked, soon sank to the dust, its glori- hollowness even of accomplished deceivers; ous faculties trodden under foot in the blos- but there was a generous credulity in his som, and died,: w.e mnay almost say, without Heart. And so did our Peasant show himself ever havinig lived. And so kind and warm a among us; " ai soul like an AEolian harp, in soil; so full of inborn riches, of love to all whose strings the vulgar wind, as it passed living and lifeless things! How his heart through them, changed itself into articulate flows out in sympathy over universal nature; melody." (And this was he for whom the and -in her bleakest provinces discerns a world found no fitter business than quarrelling beauty and a meaning! The " Daisy" falls with smugglers and vintners, computing exnot unheeded under his ploughshare; nor the eqse dues upon tallow, and gauging alebarrels! ruined nest of that "wee, cowering, timorous In such toils was that mighty Spirit sorrowbeastie," cast forth, after all its provident fully wasted: and a hundred years may pass pains, to "thole the sleety dribble, and cran- on, before another such is given us to wasteD reuch cauld." The "hoar visage" of Winter delights him: he dwells with a sad and oft- All that remains of Burns, the Writings he returning fondness in these scenes of solemn has left, seem to us, as we hinted above, no desolation; but the voice of the tempest be- more than a poor mutilated fraction of what comes an anthem to his ears; he loves to walk was in him; brief, broken glimpses of a genius in the sounding woods, for'"it raises his tlat could never show itself complete; that 13 I 98 CARLLYLEo' MISCELLTANEOUS WKRITINGS. -wVarnted all things for completeness: culture, response within us; for in spite of all casual leisure, true effort, nay, even length of life. varieties in outward rank, or inward, as face Hfis poems are, with scarcely any exception, answers to face, so does the heart of man to mere occasional efiusions, poured forth with man. little premeditation, expressing, by such means This may appear a very simple principle, as offered, the passion, opinion, or humour of and one which Burns had little merit in disthe hour. Never in one instance was it per- covering. True, the discovery is easy enough: mitted him to grapple with any subject with but the practical appliance is not easy; is the full collection of his strength, to fuse and indeed the fundamental'difficulty which all mould it in the concentrated fire of his geniuy poets have to strive with, and which scarcely To try by the strict rules of Art such imperfect one in the hiindred ever fairly surmounts. A fiagments, would be at once unprofitable and head too dull to discriminate the true from the unfair. Nevertheless, there is something in false; a heart too dull to love the one at all these poems, marred and defective as they are, risks, and to hate the other in spite of all which forbids the most fastidious student of temptations, are alike fatal to a writer. With poetry to pass them by. Some sort of enduring either, or, as more commonly happens, with quality they must have; for, after fifty years both, of these deficiencies, combine a love of of the wildest vicissitudes in poetic taste, they distinction, a wish to be original, which is selstill continue to be read; nay, are read more dom wanting, and xA;e,.ha.ve A.fect.atiozte. and more eagerly, more and more extensively; bane of literature, as Cant, its elder brother, is and this not only by literary virtuosos, and that of morals. How often does the one and the class upon whom transitory causes operate other front us, in poetry, as in life! Great most strongly, but by all classes, down to the poets themselves are not always free of this most hard, unlettered, and truly natural class, vice; nay, it is precisely on a certain sort and who read little, and especially no poetry, ex- degree of greatness that it is most commonly cept because they find pleasure in it. The ingrafted. A strong effort after excellence w-ill grounds of so singular and wide a popularity, sometimes solace itself with a mere shadow which extends, in a literal sense, from the of success, and he lwho has much to unfold, palace to the hut, and over all regions where will sometimes unfold it imperfectly. Byron, the English tongue is spoken, are well worth for instance, was no common man: yet if' we inquiring into. After every just deduction, it examine his poetry with this view, we shall seems to imply some rare excellence in these find it far enough from faultless. Generally works. What is that excellence? speaking, we should say that it is 1not true. To answer this question will not lead us far. He refreshes us, not with the divine fountain, The excellence of Burns is, indeed,' among the but too often with vulgar stronag waters, stimnurarest, whether in poetry or prose; but, at the lating indeed to the taste, but soon ending in dissamre timne, it is plain and easily recognised: like or even nausea. Are his Harolds and his Sizncerity, his Jndisputable air of Truth. Giaours, we would ask, real men, we mean, ":He ee Ino': faiilious woes or joys; no hollow poetically consistent and conceivable men? Do fantastic sentimentalities; no wiredrawn re- not these characters, does not the character of finings, either in thought or feeling: the pas- their author, which more or less shines through sion that is traced before us has glowed in a them all, rather appear a thing put on for the living, heart; tlhe opinion he utters has risen in occasioia; no. natural or possible mode of his own understanding, and been a light to his being, but something intended to look much own steps. He does not write from hearsay, granderi"han nature? Surely, all these stormbut from sight and experience; it is the scenes ful agonies, this volcanic heroism, superhuman he has lived and laboured amidst, that he contempt, and moody desperation, with so describes: those scenes, rude and humble as much scowling, and teeth-gnashingl, and other they are, have kindled beautiful emotions in sulphurous humours, is more like the brawling his soul, noble thoughts, and definite resolves; of a player in some paltry tragedy, whlich is to and he speaks forth what is in him, not from last three hours, than the bearing of a man in any outward call of vanity or interest, but the business of life, which is to la3t three-score because his heart is too full to be silent. He and ten years. To our minds, there is a taint speaks it, too, with such melody and modula- of this sort, something which we should call tion as he can; "in homely rustic jingle;" but theatrical, false, and affected, in every one of it is his own, and genuine. This is the grand these otherwise powerful pieces. Perhaps Dog secret for finding readers and retaining them: TJuan, especially the latter parts of it, is the let him who would move and convince others, only thing approaching to a since2re work, he be first moved and convinced himself. Horace's ever wrote; the only'work where he showed rule, Si vis gne fie-ce, is applicable in a wider himself, in any measure, as he was; and sense than the literal one. To every poet, to seemed so intent on his subject, as, for moevery writer, we might say: Be true, if you ments, to forget himself. Yet Byron hated would be believed. Let a man but speak forthi this vice; we believe, heartily detested it: nay,'.with genuine earnestness the thought, the emo- he had declared formal war against it in words t4ion, the actual condition, of his own heart; So difficult is it even for the strongest'to inmake iand other men, so strangely are we all knit this primary attainment, which might seem together by the tie of sympathy, must and'the simplest of all: to read its own consciousness twill give heed to him. In culture, in extent without mistakes, without errorst involuntary or of view, we may stand above the speaker, or wilful! We recollect no poet of Burns's sustelow him; but in either case, his words, if ceptibility who comes before us from the first, they are earnest and sincere, will find some -and abides with us to the last, with such a total BURNS. 99 want of affectation. He is an honest man, and and copper-coloured Chiefs in wampum, and so an honest writer. In his successes and his many other truculent figures from the heroic failures, in his greatness and his littleness, he times or the heroic climates, who on all hands is ever clear, simple, true, and glitters with no swarm in our poetry. Peace be with them! lustre but his own. We reckon this to be a But yet, as a great moralist proposed preachgreat virtue; to be, in fact, the root of most ing to the men of.this century, so would we other virtues, literary as well as moral. fain preach to the poets, "a serLnon on the i It is necessary, however, to mention, that it f sta.yin.t hoe." t thee re is to the poetry of Burns that we now allude; that heroic ages anid heroic climates 9an do to those writings which he had time to medi- little for them. That form of life has attraction tate, and where no special reason existed to for us, less because it is better or nobler than warp his critical feeling, or obstruct his en- our own, than simply becauseit is different; deavour to fulfil it. Certain of his Letters, and and even this attraction must be of the most other fractions of prfoier60'cip-iij'ositin, by no transient sort. For will not our own age, one means deserve this praise. Here, doubtless, day, be an ancient one'; and have as quaint there is not the same natural truth of style; a costume as the rest; not contrasted with the but on the contrary, something not only stiff, rest, therefore, but ranked along with them, but strained and twisted; a certain high-flown, in respect of quaintness? Does Homer ininflated tone; the stilting emphasis of which terest us now, because he wrote of what contrasts ill with the firmness and rugged passed out of his native Greece, and two censimplicity of even his poorest verses. Thus turies before he was born; or because he no man, it would appear, is altogether un- wrote of what passedin God's world, and in the affected. Does not Shakspeare himself some- heart of man, which is the same after thirty times premeditate the sheerest bombast! But centuries? Let our poets look to this: is their even with regard to these Letters of Burns, it feeling really finer, truer, and their vision is but fair to state that lie had two excuses. deeper than that of other men, they have noThe first was hias.-g4oimparative deficiency in thing to fear, even from the humblest subject; language. Burns, though for most part he is it not so, —they have nothing to hope, but an writes with singular force, and even graceful- ephemeral favour, even from the highest. ness, is not master of English prose, as he is The poet, we cannot but think, can never of Scottish verse; not master of it, we mean, have far to seek for a subject: the elements in proportion to the depth and vehemence of of his art are in him, and around him on every his matter. These Letters strike us as the hand; for him the Idealtworld is not remote effort of a man to express something which from the Actual, but under it and within it: he has no organ fit for expressing. But a nay, he is a poet, precisely because he can second and weightier excuse is to be found in discern it there.' Wherever there is a sky the peculiarity of Burns's social rank. His above him, and a world around him, the poet co. ipo7irE ndenlits -are often men whose relation is in his place; for here too is man's existto him he has never accurately ascertained; ence, with its infinite longings and small whom therefore he is either forearming him- acquirings; its ever-thwarted, ever-renewed self against, or else unconsciously flattering, endeavours; its unspeakable aspirations, its by adopting the style he thinks will please fears and hopes that wander through Eternity: them. At all events, we should remember that and all the mystery of brightness and of gloom these faults, even in his Letters, are not the that it was ever made of, in any age or clirule, but the exception. Whenever he writes, mate, since iman first began to live. Is there as one would ever wish to do, to trusted friends not the fifth act of a Tragedy in every deathand on real interests, his style becomes simple, bed, though it were a peasant's and a bed of vigorous, expressive, sometimes even beauti- heath? And are wooings and weddings obful. His Letters to Mrs. Dunlop are uniform- solete, that there can be Comedy no longer? ly excellent. Or are men suddenly grown wise, that LaughBut we return to his poetry. In addition to ter must no longer shake his sides, but be its sincerity, it has another peculiar merit, cheated of his Farce? Man's life and nature, which indeed is but a mode, or perhaps a is, as it was, and as it will,ever be. But the means, of the foregoing. It displays itself in poet must have an eye to read these things, his choice of subjects, or rather in his in- and a heart to understand them; or they come difference as to subjects, and the power he has and pass away before him in vain. He is a of making all subjects interesting. The ordina- vates, a seer; a gift of vision has been given ry poet, like the ordinary man, is for ever him. Has life no meanings for him, which seeking, in external circumstances, the help another cannot equally decipher? then he is no which can be found only in himself. In what poet, and Delphi itself will not make him one. is familiar and near at hand, he discerns no In this respect, Burns, though not perhaps form or comeliness: home is not poetical but absolutely a great poet, better manifests his prosaic; it is in some past, distant, conven- capability, better proves the truth of his genius, tional world, that poetry resides for him; than if he had, by his own strength, kept the were he there and not here, were he thus and whole Minerva Press going, to the end of his not so, it would be well with him. Hence our literary course. He shows himself at least a innumerable host of rose-coloured novels and poet of Nature's own making; and Nature, iron-mailed epics, with their locality not on the after all, is still the grand agent ir. making Earth, but somewhere nearer to the Moon. poets. We often hear of this and the other Htence our Virgins of the Su,,and our Knights external condition being requisite for the exof the Cross. malicious Saracens in turbans, istence of a poet. Sometimes it is a certain 100 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. sort of training; he must have studied certain his poetry; it is redolent of natural life, and things, studied for instance "the elder dra- hardy, natural men. There is a decisive matists," and so learned a poetic language; strength in him; and yet a sweet native as if poetry lay in the tongue, not in the heart. gracefulness: he is tender, and he is veheAt other times we are told, he mnist be bred in ment, yet without constraint or too visible efa certain rank, and must be on a confidential fort; he melts the heart, or inflames it, with a. footing with the higher classes; because, powey which seems habitual and familiar to above all other things, he?nust see the world. him..-We see in him the gentleness, the tremAs to seeing the world, we apprehend this bling pity of a woman, with the deep earnestwill cause him little difficulty, if he have but ness, the force and passionate ardour of a an eye to see it with. Without eyes, indeed, hero'. Tears lie in him, and consuming fire; the task might be hard. But happily every as lightning lurks in the drops of the summer poet is born in the world, and sees it, with or cloud. He has a resonance in his bosom for against his will, every day and every hour he every note of human feeling: the high and the lives. The mysterious workmanship of man's low, -the sad, the ludicrous, the joyful, are welheart, the true light and the inscrutable dark- come in their turns to his " lightly-moved and ness of man's destiny, reveal themselves not all-conceivingspirit." And observe with what only in capital cities, and crowded saloons, a prompt and eager force he grasps his subject, but in every hut and hamlet where men have be it-what it may! How he fixes, as it were, their abode. INay, do not the elements of all the full image of the matter in his eye; full human virtues, and all human vices; the and clear in every'lineament; and catches the passions at once of a Borgia and of a Luther, real type and essence of it, amid a thousand lie written, in stronger or fainter lines, it the accidents and superficial,circumstances, no consciousness of every individual bosom, that: one of which misleads him! Is it of reason; has practised honest self-examination? Truly, some truth to be discovered?. No sophistry, no this same world may be seen in Mossgiel and vain surface-logic detains him.; quick, resoTarbolton, if we look well, as clearly as it lute, unerring he pierces through into the ever came to light in Crockford's, or the marrow of the question; and speaks his verTuileries itself. diet with an emphasis that cannot be forgot-'But sometimes still harder'requisitions are ten. Is it of description; some visual object laid on the poor aspirant to poetry; for it is to be represented? No poet of any age or hinted that he should have been born two cen- nation is more graphic than Burns: the chaturies ago; inasmuch as poetry, soon after racteristic features disclose themselves to him that date, vanished from the earth, and became at a glance; three lines from his hand, and no longer attainable by men! Such cobweb we have a likeness. I And, in that rough diaspeculations have, now and then, overhung lect, in that rude, often awkward, metre, so th'e field of literature; but they obstruct not clear, and definitee a likeness! It seems a the growth of any plant there: the Shakspeare draughtsman working with a burnt stick; and or the Burns, unconsciously, and merely as yet the burin of a Retzsch is not more expres-,'he walks onward, silently brushes them away. sive or exact. Is not every genius an impossibility till he ap-' This clearness' of sight we may call the pear? Why do we call him new and original, foundation of all talent; for in fact, unless we if wLe saw where his marble was lying, and see our object, how shall we know how to place what fabric he could rear from it'? It is not or prize it, in our understanding, our imagithe material but the workman that is wanting. nation, our affections. Yet it is not in itself -It is not the dark place that hinders, but the perhaps a very high excellence; but capable dim; eye. A Scottish:,peasant's life wras the of being united indifferently with the strongmeanest and rudest of all lives, till Burns be- est, or with ordinary powers. Homer surcame a poet in it, and a poet of it; found it passes all men in this quality: but strangely a ieaJ?'s life, and therefore significant to men. enough, at no great distance below him are A thousand battle-fields remain unsung; but Richardson and Defoe. It belongs, in truth, the WTIoended Heare has not perished without its to what is called a lively mind: and gives no memorial; a balm of mercy yet breathes on sure indication of the higher endowments that us from its dumb agonies, because a poet was may exist along with it. In all the three cases there. Our Halloween had passed and repassed, we have mentioned, it is combined with great in rude awe and laughter, since the era of the garrulity; their descriptions are detailed, amDruids; but no ThIeocritus, till Burns, dis- ple, and lovingly exact; Homer's fire bursts cerned in it the materials of a Scottish'Idyl: through, from time to time, as if by accident; neither was the Holy Fair any Council of Trelt, but Defoe and Richardson have no fire. or Roman Jubilee; but nevertheless, Szipersti- Burns, again, is' not more distinguished by tieoz, and Hypocr'isy, and Fun having been pro- the clearness than by the impetuous force of pitious to him, in this man's hand it became a his conceptions. Of the strength, the piercing poem, instinct with satire, and genuine comic emphasis with which he thought, his emphalife. Let but the true wet be given us, we sis of expression may give an humble but the repeat it,-place Wfii T*wqiere and how you will, readiest proof. Who ever uttered sharper and true poetry will not be wanting. sayings than his; words more memorable, now Independently of the essential gift of poetic by their burning vehemence, now by their cool'eeling, as we'hatve now attempted to describe vigour and laconic' pith 1 A single phrase deit, a certain rdgged sterling worth pervades picts a whole subject, a whole scene. Our whatever Burns'has written: a virtue, as of Scottish forefathers in the battle-field struggled green' fields and mountain breezes, dwells in forward, he says, "m'ed-wat shod:"' giving, in BURNS. IQ1 this one word, a full vision of horror and car- "We lrnow nothing," thus writes he, " or nage, perhaps too frightfully accurate for Art! next to nothing, of the structure of our souls, ~.In fact, one of the leading features in the so we cannot account for those seeming camind of Burns is this vigour of his strictly prices in them, that one should be particularly intellectual perceptions. A resolute force is pleased with this thing, or struck with that, ever visible in his judgments, as in his feel- which, on minds of a different cast, makes no ings and volitions. Professor Stewart says of extraordinary impression. I have some fahim, with some surprise: "All the faculties vourite flowers in spring, among which are of Burns's mind were, as far as I could judge, the mountain-daisy, the hare-bell, the fox-glove, equally vigorous; and his predilection for po- the wild-brier rose, the budding birch, and the etry was rather the result of his own enthusi- hoary hawthorn, that I view and hang over astic and impassioned temper, than of a genius with particular delight. I never hear the loud exclusively adapted to that species of compo- solitary whistle of the curlew in a sunmer sition. From his conversation I should have noon, or the wild mixig cadence of a troop of pronounced him to be fitted to excel in what- gray plover in an autumnal morning, without ever walk of ambition he had chosen to exert feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm his abilities." But this, if we mistake not, is of devotion or poetry. Tell me, my dear friend, at all times the very essence of a truly poet- to what can this be owing? - Are we a piece ical endowment. Poetry, except in such cases of machinery, which, like, the Eo'lian harp, as that of Keats, where the whole consists in passive, talkes the impression of the passing extreme sensibility, and a certain vague per- accident; or do these workings argue somevading tunefulness of nature, is no separate thing within us above the trodden clod? I faculty, no organ which can be superadded to own myself partial to such proofs of those the rest, or disjoined from them; but rather awful andimportant realities: aGod thatmade the result of their general harmony and com- all things, man's immaterial and immortal napletion. The feelings, the gifts, that exist in ture, and a world of weal or wo beyond death the Poet, are those that exist, with more or and the grave." less development, in every human soul: the Force and fineness of understanding are imagination, which shudders at the Hell of often spoken of as something different from Dante, is the same faculty, weaker in degree, general force and fineness of nature, as somewhich called that picture into being. How thing partly independent of them. - The necesdoes the poet speak to all men, with power, but sities of language probably require this; but. by being still more a man than they Shak- in truth these qualities are not distinct and inspeare, it has been well observed, in the plan- dependent: except in special cases, and from niing and completing of his tragedies, has special causes, they ever go together. A man shown an Understanding, were it nothing more, of strong understanding is generally a man of which might have governed states, or indited strong character; neither is delicacy in the a AiNovucm Orgcanism. What Burns's force of un- one kind often divided from delicacy in the derstanding may have been, we have less other. No one, at all events, is ignorant that means of judging: for it dwelt among the in the poetry of Burns, keenness of insight humblest objects, never saw philosophy, and keeps pace with keenness of feeling; that his never rose, except for short intervals, into the light is not more pervading than his larmth. region of great ideas. Nevertheless, suffi- He is a man of the most impassioned temper; cient indication remains for us in his works: with passions not strong only, but noble, and we discern the brawny movements of a gigan- of the sort in which great virtues and great tic though untutored strength, and can under- poems take their rise. It is reverence, it is stand how, in conversation, his quick, sure ILove towards all Nature that inspires him, that insight into men and things may, as much as opens his eyes to its beauty, and makes heart aught else about him, have amazed the best and voice eloquent'in its praise. There is a thinkers of his time and country. true old saying, that "love furthers knowBut, unless we mistake, the intellectual gift ledge:" but above all, it is the living essence of Burns is fine as well as strong. The more of that knowledge which makes poets; the first delicate relations of things could not well have principle of its existence, increase, activity. escaped his eye, for they were intimately pre- Of Burns's fervid affection, his generous, allsent to his heart. The logic of the senate and embracing Love, we have spoken already, as the forum is indispensable, but not all-suffi- of the grand distinction of his nature, seen cient; nay, perhaps the highest Truth is that equally in word and deed, in his Life and in which will the most certainly elude it. For his Writings. It were easy to multiply exthis logic works by words, and " the highest," amples. Not man only, but all that environs it has been said, "cannot be expressed in man in the material and moral universe, is words." We are not without tokens of an lovely in his sight: "the hoary hawthorn," the openness for,this higher truth also, of a keen "troop of gray plover," the "solitary curlew." though uncultivated sense for it, having exist- are all dear to him; all live in this Earth alona ed in Burns. Mr. Stewart, it will be remem- with him, and to all he is knit as in mysterious bered, " wonders," in the passage above quoted, brotherhood..How touching is it, for instance, that Burns had formed some distinct concep- that, amidst the gloom of personal misery, lion of the "doctrine of association." We ra- brooding over the wintry desolation wi'thout iher think that far subtiler things than the him and within him, he thinks of the " ourie doctrine of association had from of old, been fa- cattle" and " silly sheep," and their sufferings miliar to him. Here for instance: in the pitiless storm! I 2 102 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. I thought me on tile ourie cattle, and the ethereal soul sinkl not, even in its Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle blindness, without a cry which has survived it. O' wintry war; But who, except Burns, could have given Or thro' the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle, ords to such a so words to such a soul'; Mwords that we never listen to without a strange half-barbarous, halfIlk happing bird, wee helpless tiling, poetic fellow-feeling X That in the merry month o' spring SAe ani e ntonly Delighted me to hear thee sing, Sae drsaotingyJ ged Ae; What comes o' thee! Be ptay'd a spring, and danced it eoutnd, Where wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing, Heloe the gallows t ee. And close thy ee i Under a lighter and thinner disguise, the The tenant of the mean hut, with its "ragged same principle of Love, which we have reroof and chinky wall," has a heart to pity even cognised as the great characteristic of Burns, these! This is worth several homilies on and of all true poets, occasionally'manifests Mercy: for it is the voice of Mercy herself. itself in the shape of Humour. Everywhere,Burns, indeed, lives in sympathy; his soul indeed, in his sunny moods, a full buoyant rushes forth into all realms of being; nothing flood of mirth rolls through the mind of Burns; that has existence can be indifferent to him. he rises to the high, and stoops to the low, and The very Devil he cannot hate with right or- is brother and playmate to all Nature. We thodoxy! speak not of his bold and often irresistible But fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben; faculty of caricature; for this is Drollery o wad ye tak a thought and nien'! rather than'Humour: but a much tenderer Ye aiblins might, —I dinna ken,- sportfulness dwells in him; and comes forth Still hae a stake; here and there, in evanescent and beautiful I'm wae to think upo' yon den, touches; as in his Adldress to the l ouse, or the Even for your salke! Farsmeir's Marq-e, or in his Elegy o'n Poor lailie, He did not know, probably, that Sterne had been which last may be reckoned his happiest effort beforehand with him. "'He is the father of of this kind. In these pieces, there are traits curses and lies,' said Dr. Slop;'and is cursed of a Humour as fine as that of Sterne; yet and damned already.' —'I am sorry for it,' altogether different, original,, peculiar,-the quoth my uncle Toby!"-" A poet without Humour of Burns. Love, were a physical and metaphsyical im- Of the tenderness, the playful pathos, and possibility." many other kindred qualities of Burns's poetry, Why should we speak of Scots, wha hae wi' much more might be said; but now, with these TVallace bled; since all know it, from the kIing poor outlines of a sketch, we must prepare to to the meanest of his subjects? This dithyram- quit this part of our subject. To speak of his bic was composed on horseback; in riding in individual writings, adequately, and n-ith any the middle of tempests, over the wildest Gallo- detail, would lead us far beyond our limits. As. way moor, in company with a Mr. Syme, who, already hinted, we can look on but few of these observing the poet's looks, forebore to speak, pieces as, in strict critical language, deserving -judiciously enough,-for a man composing the name of Poems; they are rhymed elo-'3rtlce's.1ddress might be unsafe to trifle with quence, rhymed pathos, rhymed sense; yet Doubtless this stern hymn was singing itself, seldom essentially melodious, aerial, poetical. as he formed it, through the soul of Burns; Tamn o' Shalerecr itself, which enjoys so high a but to the external ear, it should be sung with favour, does not appear to us, at all decisively, the throat of the whirlwind. So long as there to come under this last category. It is not so is warm blood in the heart of Scotchman or much a poem, as a piece of sparkling' rhetoric; man, it will move in fierce thrills under this the heart and body of the story still lies hard war-ode, the best, we believe, that was ever and dead. He has not gone back, much less written by any pen. carried us back, into that dark, earnest wonAnother wild stormful song, that dwells in dering age, when the tradition was believed, our ear and mind with a strange tenacity, is and when it took its rise; he does not attempt, 2acrphersoan's Fareswell. Perhaps there is some- by any new modelling of hisi" supernatural thingin the tradition itself that co-operates. For ware, to strike anew that deep mysterious was not this grim Celt, this shaggy Northland chord of human nature, which once responded Cacus, that " lived a life of sturt and strife, and to such things; and which lives in us too, and died by treacherie," was not he too one of the will for ever live, though silent, or vibrating 1Nimrods and Napoleons of the earth, in the with far other notes, and to far dif'erent issues. arena of his own remote misty glens, for want Our German readers will understand us, when of a clearer and wider one? Nay, was there we say, that he is not the Tieclk but the not a touch of grace given him? A fibre of Musiius of this tale. Externallyit is all green love and softness, of poetry itself, must have and living; yet look closer, it is no firm growth, lived in his savage heart; for he composed but only ivy on a rock. The piece does not nat air the night before his execution; on the properly cohere; the strange chasm'which'wings of that poor melody, his better soul yawns in our incredulous imaginations bewould soar away above oblivion, pain, and all tween the Ayr public-house and the gate of the ignominy and despair, which, like an ava- Tophet, is nowhere bridged over, nay, the idea lanche, was hurling him to the abyss! Here of such a bridge is laughed at; and thus the also, as at Thebes, and in Pelops' line, was Tragedy of the adventure becomes a mere material Fate matched against man's Free- drunken phantasmagoria, painted on ale; svill; m.atched in bitterest thoughobscure duel;.vaporus, and the farce alone has any reality toug ULIC~fac a elt BURNS. 1 03 WVe do not say that Burns should have made department. True, we have songs enough much more of this tradition; we rather think " by persons of quality;" we have tawdry, that, for strictly poetical purposes, not much hollow, wine-bred, madrigals; many a rhymed wres to be made of it. Neither are we blind to " speech" in the flowing and watery vein of the deep, varied, gelnial power displayed in Ossorius the Portugal Bishop, rich in sonorwhat he has actually accomplished; but we ous words, and, for moral, dashed perhaps find far more "Shakspearian" qualities, as with sonie tint of a sentimental sensuality; these of Tan o' Shuanter have been fondly named, all which many persons cease not from enin many of his other pieces; nay, we incline deavouring to sing: though for most part, to believe, that this latter might have been we fear, the music is but fitnm the throat outwritten, all but quite as well, by a man who, ward, or at best fronm some region far enough in place of genius, had only possessed talent. short of the Soul; not in which, but in a certain Perhaps we may venture to say, that the inane Limbo of the Fancy, or even in some most strictly poetical of all his "poems" is vaporous debatable land on the outside of the one, which does not appear in Currie's Edi- Nervous System,, most of such madrigals and tion; but has been often printed before and rhymed speeches seem to have originated. since, under the humble title of The Jolly/-eg- With the Songs of Burns we must not naine galrs. The subject truly is aniong the lowest these things. Independently of the clear, manly, in nature; but it only the more shows our heartfelt seutinent that ever pervades his poet's gift in raising it into the domain of Art. poetry, his Songs are honest in another point To our minds, this piece seems thoroughly of view: in form, as well as in spirit. They compacted; melted together, refined; and do not affect to be set to music, but they actually poured forth in one flood of true liquid bar- and in themselves are music; they have remoiny. It is light, airy, and soft of movement; ceived their life, and fashioned themselves yet sharp a'nd precise in its details; every face together, in the medium of Harmony, as is a portrait: that raucle carlin, that thee aRpollo, Venus rose fiom the bosom of the sea. The that So, of Miars, are Scottish, yet ideal; the story, the feeling, is not detailed, but sugested; scene is at once a dream, and the very Rag- not sctid, or spouted, in rhetorical completeness castle of "Poosie-Nansie." Farther, it seenis and coherence; but sun.g, in fitful gushes, in in a considerable degree complete, a real self- glowing hints, irn fantastic breaks, in utwblir.cgs supporting Whole, which is the highest merit not of the voice only, but of the whole mind. in a poemi.i The blanket of the night is drawn We consider this to be the essence of a song; asunder for a moment; in full, ruddy, and and that no songs since the little careless flaming light, these rough tatterdemalions are catches, and, as it were, drops of song, which seen in their boisterous revel; for the strong Shakspeare has here and there spriiniled over pulse of Life vindicates its right to gladness his plays, fulfil this condition in nearly the even here; and when the curtain closes, we same degree as most ofBurns's do. Such grace prolong the action without effort; ihe next day and truth of external movement, too, presupas the last, our Caird and our Balladcimonger are poses in general a. corresponding force and singing and soldiering; their "brats and cal- truth of sentiment, and inward meaning. The lets" are hawking, begging, cheating; and Songs of Burns are not more perfect in the sone other night, in new combinations, they former quality than in the latter. With what will wring from Fate another hour of wassail tenderness he sings, yet with what vehenmence and good cheer. It would be strange, doubt- and entireness! There is a piercing wail in less, to call this the best of Burns's writings; his sorrow, the purest rapture in his joy: he Mwe mean to say only, that it seems to us the burns with the sternest ire, or laughs with the most perfect of its kind, as a piece of poetical loudest or slyest mirth; and yet he is sweet composition, strictly so called. In the BeggCar's and soft,"' sweet as the smile when fond lovers Opera, in the Begg'ar's Bush, as other critics meet, and soft as their parting tear!" If we have already remarked, there is nothing which, farther take into account the immense variety in real poetic vigour, equals this Cantatata no- of his subjects; how, from the loud flowing thing, as we think, which comes within many revel in W'illie brew'd a peck o'.Mazt, to the still, degrees of it. rapt enthusiasm of sadness for Mliary in H:eaven; But by far the most finished, complete, and from the glad kind&greeting of.leld Lanrgsyne, truly inspired pieces of Burns are, without dis- or the co'iic archness of Dlicare Gray, to the pute, to be found among his Seongs. It is here fire-eyed fury of Scots, whea hae ti' WVallace bled, that, although through a small aperture, his he has found a tone and words for every mood light shines with the least obstruction; in its of man's heart, —it will seem a small praise highest beauty, and pure sunny clearness. The if we rank him as the first of all our songreason may be, that Song is a brief and simple writers; for we know not where to find one species of composition: and requires nothingso iworthy of being second to him. much for its perfection as genuine poetic feel- It is on his Songs, as we believe, that Burns's ing, genuine music of heart. The song has its chief influence as an author will ultimately be rules equally with the Tragedy; rules which in found to depend: nor, if our Fletcher's aphormIost cases are poorly fulfilled, in many cases ism is true, shall we account this a small inare not so much as felt. We might write a long fluence. " Let me ma.kerthe songs of a people," essay on the Songs of Burns; which we reckon said he, " and you shall make its laws." Surely, byfar thebest that Britain has yet produced; for, if ever antf Poet might have equalled himself indeed, since the era of Queen Elizabeth, we with Legislators, on this ground, it was Burns. know not that, by any other hand, aught truly His songs are already part of the mother worth attention has been accomplished in this tongue, not of Scotland only but of Britain, anli 104 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. of the millions that in all the ends of the earth.ITontesuieu and Mably that guided Robertspeak a British language. In hut and hall, as son in hs political speculations; Quesnay's the heart unfolds itself in the joy and wo of lamp that kindled the lamp of Adam Smith. existence, the name, the voice of' that joy and Huie was too rich a man to borrow; and perthat wo, is the name and voice which Burns haps he r(ached on the French more than he bha given them. Strictly speaking, perhaps, was acted on by them: but neither had he no British man has so deeply affected the aught to do with Scotland; Edinburgh, equally thoughts and feelings of so many men as this with La Fleche, was but the lodging and laborsolitary and altogether private individual, with atory, in which he not so mnuch morally lived, means apparently the humblest. as metaphysically investigated. Never, perhaps, In another point of view, moreover, we in- iwas there a class of writers, so clear and wellcline to think that Burns's influence may have ordered, yet so totally destitute, to all appearbeen considerable: we mean, as exerted spe- ance, of any patriotic affection, nay, of ally cially on the Literature of his country, at least human affection whatever. The French wits on the Literature of Scotland. Among the of the period were as unpatriotic: but their great changes which British, particularly Scot- general deficiency in moral principle, not to tish literature, has undergone since that period, say their avowed sensuality and unbelief in all one of the greatest will be found to consist in virtue, strictly so called, render this accountits remarkable increase of nationality. Even able enough. We hope there is a patriotism the English writers, most popular in Burns's founded on something better than prejudice; time, were little distinguished for theirliterary that our country may be dear to us, without patriotism, in this its best sense. A certain injury to our philosophy; that in loving and attenuated cosmopolitanism had, in good mea- justly prizing all other lands, we may prize sure, taken place of the old insular home-r justly, and yet love before all others, our own feeling; literature was, as it were, without any stern Motherland, and the venerable structure local environment; was not nourished by the of social and moral Life, which lMind has affections which spring from a native soil. through long ages been building up for.us Our Grays and Glovers seemed to write almost there. Surely there is nourishment for the as if in vacuoo; the thing written bears no mark better part of man's heart in all this: surely of place; it is not written so much for English- the roots, that have fixed themselves in the men, as for men; or rather, which is the inev- very core of man's being, may be so cultivated itable result of this, for certain Generalizations as to grow up not into briers, but into roses, in which philosophy termed men. Goldsmith is the field of his life! Our Scottish sages have no an exception; not so Johnson; the scene of such propensities: the field of their life shows his Ranbler is little more English than that of. neither briers nor roses; but only a flat, conhis Ralselas. But if such was, in soiie degree, tinuous thrashing-floor for Logic, whereon all the case with England, it was, in the highest questions, firom the "Doctrine of Rent," to the degree, the case with Scotland. In fact, our "Natural History of Religion, are thrashed and Scottish literature had, at that period, a very sifted with the same mechanical impartiality! singular aspect; unexampled, so far as we With Sir Walter Scott at the head of our know, except perhaps at Geneva, where the literature, it cannot be denied that much of same state of matters appears still to continue. this evil is past, or rapidly passing away: our For a long period after Scotland became Bri- chief literary men, whatever other faults they tish, we had no literature: at the date -when may have, no longer live among us like a Addison and Steele were writing their Specta- French Colony, or some knot of Propaganda to's, our good Thomas Boston was writing, with Missionaries; but like natural-born subjects the noblest intent, but alike in defiance of of the soil, partakinig and sympathizing in all grammar and philosophy, his Foua:fold State of our attachments, humours, and habits. Our Jiah,. Then came the schisms in our National literature no longer grows in water, but in Church, and the fiercer schisms in our Body mould, and with the true racy virtues of the Politic: Theologic ink, and Jacobite blood, soil and climate. How much of this change with gall enough in both cases,. seemed to have may be due to Burns, or to any other individual, blotted out the intellect of the country; how- it mightbe difficultto estimate. Directliterary ever, it was only obscured, not obliterated. imitation of Burns was not to be looked for. Lord Kames made nearly the first attempt, and But his example, in the fearless adoption of a tolerably clumsy one, at writing English; domestic subjects. could not but operate from and ere long, Hume, Robertson, Smith, and a afar; and certainly in no heart did the love of wvhole host of followers, attracted hither the country ever burn with a warmer glow than in eyes of all Europe. And yet in this brilliant that of Burns: " a tide of Scotti.sh prejudice," resuscitation of our "fervid genius," there was as he modestly calls this deep and generous nothing truly Scottish, niothing indigenous; feeling, "had been poured along his veins; except, perhaps, the natural impetuosity of in- and he felt that it would boil there till the flood-'elect, which we sometimes claim, and are gates shut in eternal rest." It seemed to him, sometimes upbraided with, as a characteristic as if hie could do so little for his country, and of our nation. It is curious to remark that and yet would so gladly have done all. One Scotland, so full of writers, had no Scottish,small province stood, open for him; that of culture, nor indeed any English; our culture Scottish song, and how eagerly he entered on was almost exclusively French. It was by it; how devotedly he laboured there! In his studying Racine and Voltaire, Batteux and most toilsome journeyings, this object never Boileau, that Kames had trained himself to be quits him;, it is the little happy-valley of his a critic and philosopher: it was the light of careworn heart. In the gloom of his own BURNS. 105 affliction, he eagerly searches after some lonely with the world, on the comparatively insignifibrother ofthe muse, and rejoices to snatch one cant ground of his being more or less comother name from the oblivion that was cover- pletely supplied with money, than others; of ing it! These were early feelings, and they his standing at a higher, or at a lower'altitude abode with him to the end. in general estimation, than others. For the world still appears to him, as to the young, in -a wish, (I mind its power,) borrowed colours: he expects from it what it wilsh, that to my latest hoast cannot give to any man; seeks for contentxWill strongly heave my breast; That I, for poor auld Scotland's sake, ment, not within himself, in action and wise Some useful ptlan or book could make, effbrt, but from without,in the kindness of cirOr sing a sang at least. cumstances, in love, friendship, honour, peThe rough bur Thistle spreading wide cuniary ease. He would be happy, not actively Aniang the bearded bear, and in himself, but passively, and from some I tlrdil my weeding-clips aside, ideal cornucopia of Enjoyments, not earned And spared the symbol dear. by his own labour, but showered on him by But to leave the mere literary character of the beneficence of Destiny. Thus, like a young Burns, which has already detained us too long, man, he cannot steady himself for any fixed or we cannot but think that the Life he willed, systematic pursuit, but swerves to and fro, and was fated to lead among his fellow-men, bletween passionate hope, and remorseful disis both more interesting and instructive than appointment: rushing onwards with a deep any of his written works. These Poems are but tempestuous force, he surmounts or breaks like little rhymed fragments scattered here and asunder many a barrier; travels, nay, advances there in the grand unrhymed Romance of his far, but advancing only under uncertain guidearthly existence; and it is only when inter- ance, is ever and anon turned from his path: calated in this at their proper places, that they ancf to the last, cannot reach the only true attain their full measure of significance. Atd happiness of a man, that of clear, decided Acthis too, alas, was but a fragment! The plan tivity in the sphere for which by nature and of a mighty edifice had been sketched; some circumstances he has been fitted and apcolumns, porticoes, firm masses of building, pointed. stand completed; the rest more or less clearly We do not say these things in dispraise of indicated; with many a far-stretching tendency, Burns: nay, perhaps, they but interest us the which only studious and friendly eyes can now more in his favour. This blessing is not given trace towards the purposed termination. For soonest to the best; but rather, it is often the the work is broken off in the middle, almost in greatest minds that are latest in obtaining it; the beginning; and rises among us, beautiful for where most is to be developed, most time and sad, at once unfinished and a ruin! If may be required to develope it. A complex charitable judghient was necessary in esti- condition had been assigned him from without, mating his poems, and justice required that as complex a condition from within: "no the aim and the manifest power to fulfil it "pre-established harmony" existed bet.ween must often be accepted for the fulfilment; the clay soil of Mossgiel and the empyrean much more is this the case in regard to his soul of'Robert Burns; it was not wonderful, life, the sumn and result of all his endeavours, therefore, that the adjustment between them where his difficulties came upon him not in should have been long postponed, and his arm detail only, but in mass; and so much has long cumbered, and his sight confused, in so been left unaccomplished, nay, was mistaken,' vast and discordant an economy, as he had and altogether marred. been appointed steward over. Byron was, at Properly speaking, there is but one era in his death, but a year younger than Burns; the life of Burns, and that the earliest. We and through life, as it might have appeared, have not youth and manhood; but only youth: far more simply situated; yet in him, too, we For, to the end, we discern no decisive change can trace no such adjustment, no such moral in the complexion of his character; in his manhood; but at best, and only a little before thirty-seventh year, he is still, as it were, in his end, the beginning of what seemed such. youth. WVith all that resoluteness of judg- By much the most striking incident in men,, that penetrating insight, and singular Burns's Life is his journey to Edinburgh; but maturity of intellectual power, exhibited in his perhaps a still more important one is his resiwritings, he never attains to any clearness re- dence at Irvine, so early as in his twenty-third garding himself; to the last he never ascertains year, Hitherto his life had been poor and toilhis peculiar aim, even with such distinctness worn; but otherwise not ungenial, and, with as is comtnon among ordinary men; and there- all its distresses, by no means unhappy. In his fore never can pursue it with that singleness parentage, deducting outward circumstances, of will, which insures success and some con- he had every reason to reckon himself fortentment to such men. To the last, he wavers tunate: his father was a man of thoughtful, between two purposes: glorying in his talent, intense,' earnest character, as the best of our like a true poet, he yet cannot consent to make peasants are; valuing knowledge, possessing this his chief and sole glory, and to follow it as some, and, what is far better and rarer, openthe one thing needful, through poverty or minded for more; a man with a keen insight, riches, through good or evil report. Another and devout' heart: reverent towards God, far meaner ambition still cleaves to him.; lie friendly therefore at once, and fearless towards must dream and struggle about a certain " Rock all that God has'made; in one word, though *of Independerce;" which, natural and even ad- but a hard-handed peasant, a complete and fully mirable as it might be, was still but a warring unfolded ilfat. Such a father is seldom fostdnt 14 I06 CARLYLE'S MISC:ELLANI-EOUS WRITINGS. in any rank in society; and was worth de- beset us at all stages of life, and are always scending far in society to seek. Unfortunately, such infdifferent company, that it seems hard he was very poor; had he been even a little we should, at any stage, be forced and fated richer, almost ever so little, the whole might not only to meet, but to yield to them; and even nave issued far otherwise. Mighty events turn serve for a term in their leprous armada. We on a straw; the crossing of a brook decides hope it is not so. Clear we are, at all events, the conquest of the world. Had this William it cannot be the training one receives in this Bi urns's small seven acres of nursery ground service, but only our determining to desert anywise prospered, the boy Robert had been from it, that fits us for true manly Action. We sent to school; had struggled forward, as so become men, not after we have been dissipated, many weaker., men do, to some university; and disappointed in the chase of false pleasure; comne forth not as a rustic wonder, but qs a but after we have ascertained, in any way, regular well-trained intellectual workman, and what impassable —barriers hem us in through changed the whole course of British Literature, this life; how mad it is to hope for content-for it lay in him to have done this! But ment to. our infinite soul from the gifts of this the nursery did not prosper; poverty sank his extremely finite world! that a man must be whole family below the help of even our cheap sufficient for himself; and that " for suffering school-system: Burns remained a hard-worked and enduring there is no remedy but striving plough-boy, and British literature took its own and doing." Manhood begins when we have course. Nevertheless, even in this rugged in any way made truce with Necessity; begins, scene, there is much to nourish him. If he at all events, when we have surrendered to drudges, it is with his brother, and for his Necessity, as the most part only do; but begins father and mother,.whom he loves, and would joyfully and hopefully only when we have fain shield from want. Wisdom is not ban- reconciled ourselves to Necessity; and thus, in ished from their poor hearth, nor the balmf of reality, triumphed over it, and felt that in natural feeling: the solemn words, Let us wor- Necessity we are free. Surely, such lessons ship God, are heard there from a "priest-like as this last, which, in one shape or other, is father;" if threatenings of unjust men throw the grand lesson for every mortal man, are mother and children inito tears, these are tears better learned from the lips of a devout mother, not of grief only,but of holiest affection; every in the looks and actions of a devout father, heart in that humble group feels itself the while the heart is yet soft and pliant, than in closer knit to every other; in their hard war- collision with the sharp adamant of Fate, atfare they are there together, a " little band of tracting us to shipwreck us, when the heart is brethren." Neither are such tears, and the grown hard, and may be broken before it will deep beauty that dwells in them, their only become contrite! Had Burns continued to portion. Light visits the hearts as it does the learn this, as he was already learning it, in his eyes of all living: there is a force, too, in. this father's cottage, he would have learned it fully, youth, that enables him to trample on misfor- which 1ie never did,-and been saved many a tune; nay, to bind it under his feet to make lasting aberration, many a bitter hour and year him sport. For a bold, warm, buoyant humour of remorseful sorrow. of character has been given him; and so the It seems to us another circumstance of fatal thick-comuing shapes of evil are welcomed import in Burns's history, that at this time too iwith -a gay, friendly irony, and in their closest lie became involved in the religious quarrels pressure he bates no jot of heart or hope. of his district; that he was enlisted and feasted, Vague yearnings of ambition fail not, as he as the fighting man of the New-Light Priestgrows up; dreamy fancies hang like cloud- hood, in their highly unprofitable warfare. At cities around him; the curtain of Existence is the tables of these free-minded clergy, he slowly rising, in many-coloured splendour and learned much more than was needful for him. gloom: and the auroral light of first love is Such liberal ridicule of fanaticism awakened gilding his horizon, and the music of song is in his mind scruples about Religion itself; and on his path; and so he walks a whole,,world of Doubts, which it required quite another set of conjurors than these men Behind plough upon the tain side to ex-orcise. WXe do not say that such an intellect as his could have escaped similar doubts, We know, from the best evidence, that up to at some period of his history; or, even that he this date, Burns was happy; nay, that lie was could, at a later period, have come through the gayest, brightest, most fantaslic, fascinating them altogether victorious and unharmed: but being to be found in the world; more so even it seems peculiarly unfortunate that this time, than he ever afterwards appeared. But now, above all others, should have been fixed for the at this early age, he quits the paternal roof; encounter. Forl now, with principles assailed goes forth into looser, louder, more exciting by evil example from without, by "passions society; and becomes initiated in those dissi- raging like demons" from within, he had little patiolis, those vices, which a certain class of need of skeptical misgivings to whisper treaphilosophers have asserted to be a natural son in the heat of the battle, or to cut off' his preparative for entering on active life; a kind retreat if he were already defeated. He loses of mud-bath, in which the youth is, as it were, his feeling of innocence; his mind is at varinecessitated to steep, and, we suppose, cleanse ance wiith itself; the old divinity no longer prehimself, before the real toga of Manhood can sides there; but wild Desires and wild Repentbe laid on him. WvTe shall- not dispute much ance alternately oppress him. Ere long, too, with this class of philosophers; we hope they l-ie has committed himself before the world; are mistaken: for Sin and Remorse so easily his chlaracter for sobriety, dear to a Scottish BURNS. 107 peasant, as few corrupted worldlings can even without indicating the smallest willingness to conceive, is destroyed in the eyes of men; and be ranked among those professional ministers his only refuge consists in trying to disbelieve of excitement, whQ are content to be paid in his guiltiness, and is but a refuge of lies. The money and smiles for doing what the spectators blackest desperation now gathers over him, and auditors would be ashamed of doing in broken only by the red lightnings of remorse. their own persons, even if they had the power The-whole fabric of his life is blasted asunder; of doing it; and last, and probably worst of all, for nowu not only his character, but his per- who was known to be in the habit of enlivensonal liberty, is to be lost; men and Fortune ing societies which they would have scorned are leagued for his hurt; "hungry Ruin has to approach, still more frequently than their him in the wind." He sees no escape but the own, with eloquence no less magnificent; with saddest of all: exile from his loved country, to wit, in all likelihood still more daring; often a country in every sense inhospitable and ab- enough as the superiors whom he fronted horrent to him. While the "gloomy night is without alarm might have guessed from the gathering fast," in mental storm and solitude, beginning, and had, erae long, no occasion to as well as in physical, he sings his wild fare- guess, with wit pointed at themselves."-p. 131. well to Scotland: The farther we remove from this scene, the more singular will it seem to us: details of the Farewell, my friends, farewell my foes: My peace wtth these, nary love with t-ose: exterior aspect of it are already full of inteMy peace with these, my love with those: The burating tears my heart declare; rest. Most readers recollect Mr. Walker's perAdieu, my native banks of Ayr sonal interviews with Burns as among the best passages of his Narrative; a time will Light breaks suddenly in on him in floods; come when this reminiscence of Sir Walter but still a false transitory light, and no real Scott's, slight though it is, will also be presunshine. He is invited to Edinburghl; hastens cious. thither with anticipating heart; is welcomed "As for Burns," writes Sir Walter, "I may as in triumph, and with universal blandish- truly say Viginrni vidi tantrum. I was a lad ment and acclamation; whatever is wisest, of fifteen in 1786-7, when he came first to whatever is greatest, or loveliest there, gathers Edinburgh, but had sense and feeling enough round him, to gaze on his face, to show him to be much interested in his poetry, and would honour, sympathy, affection. Burns's appear- have given'the world to know him: but I had ance'among the sages and nobles of Edinburgh, very little acquaintance with any literary peomustfbe regarded as one of the most singular ple; and still less with the gentry of the west phenoniena in modern Literature; almost like country, the two sets that he most frequented. the appearanfce of some Napoleon among the Mr. Thomas Grierson was at that time a clerk crowned sovereigns of modern Politics. For of my father's. He knew Burns, and proit is nowise as a "mockery king," set thlere by mised to ask him to his lodgings to dinner. but favour, transiently, and for a purpose, "that he had no opportunity to keep his word; otherSise will let himself be treated; still less is he a I might have seen more of this distinguished mad Rienzi, whose sudden elevation turns his man. As it was I saw him one day at the late too weak head: but he stands there on his own venerable Professor Ferguson's, where there basis; cool, unastonished, holding his equal were several gentlemen of literary reputation, rank from Nature herself; putting forth no among whom I remember the celebrated Mr. claim which there is not strength in him, as Dutgald Stewart. Of,course, we youngsters well as about him, to vindicate. Mr. Lock- sat silent, looked and listened. The only thing hart has some forcible observations on this I remember, which was remarkable in Burns's point: manner, was the effect produced upon him by "It needs no effort of imagination," says he, a print of Bunbury's, representing a soldier "to conceive what the sensations of an isolated lying dead on the snow, his dog sitting in miset of scholars (almost all either clergymen or sery on one side,-on the other, his widow, professors) must have been, in the presence with a child in her arms. These lines were of this big-boned, black-browed, brawahy written beneath: stranger, with his great flashing eyes, who, having forced his way among them from the "Cold on Canadian hills, or ilinden's plain, plough-tail, at a single stride, manifested in Perhaps that mother wept her soldier slain: the whole strain of his bearing and conversa- her b, er eye disslved in dew, tion, a most thorough conviction that in the The big drops migling with the milk he drew Gave the sad presage of his future years, society of the most'eminent men of his nation, The child of misery baptized in tears." he was exactly where he was entitled to be; hardly deigned to flatter them by exhibiting "Burns seemed much affected by the print, even an occasional symptom of being flattered or rather by the ideas which it suggested to his by their notice; by turns calmly measured mind. He actually shed tears. He asked himself against the most criltivated understand- whose the lines were, and it chanced that noings of his time in discussion; overpowered body but myself remembered that they occur the boln unots of the most celebrated convivialists in a half-forgotten poem of Langhorne's, called by broad floods of merriment, impregnated by the unpromising title of " The Justice of with all the burning life of genius; astounded Peace." I whispered my information to a bosoms habitually enveloped in the thrice-piled friend present, he mentioned it to Burns, who folds of social reserve, by compelling them to rewarded me with a look and a word, which, tremble,-nay, to tremble visibly,-beneath the though of mere civility, I then received anail fearless touch of natural pathos; and all this still recollect with very great pleasure. 108 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. "His person was strong and robust; his fear of being thought affected, lwe could have manners rustic, not clownish; a sort of digni- pardoned in almost any manl; but no such infied plainness and simplicity, which received dication is to be traced here. In his ulnexampart ofits effect perhaps from one's knowledge pled situation the young peasant is not a of his extraordinary talents. His features are moment perplexed; so many strange lights represented in Mr. Nasmyth's picture: but to do not confuse him, do not lead him astray. me it conveys the idea that they are dimi- Nevertheless, we cannot but perceive that this nished, as if seen in perspective. I think his winter did him great and lasting injury. A countenance was more massive than it looks somewhat clearer knowledge of men's affairs, in any of the portraits. I should have taken scarcely of their characters, it did afford him: the poet, had I not known what he was, for a but a sharper feeling of Fortune's unequal arvery sagacious country farmer of the old rangements in their social destiny it also left Scotch school, i. e. none of your modern agri- with him. He had seen the gay and gorgeous culturists who keep labourers for their drudg- arena, in which the powerful are born to play ery, but the douce gudemanl who held his own their parts; nay, had himself stood in the plough. There was a strong expression of midst of it; and he felt more bitterly than sense and shrewdness in all his lineaments; ever, that here he was but a looker-on, and the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical had no part or lot in that splendid game. From character and temperament. It was large, this time a jealous indignant fear of social and of a dark cast, which glowed (I say lite- degradation takes possession of him; and rally glowed) when he spoke with feeling or perverts, so far as aught could pervert, his interest. I never saw such another eye in a private contentment, and his feelings towards human head, though I have seen the most dis- his richer fellows. It was clear enough to tinguished men of my time. His conversa- Burris that he had talent enough to malke a tion expressed perfect self-confidence, without fortune, or a hundred fortunes, could he but the slightest presumption. Among the men have rightly willed this; it was clear also that who were the most learned of their time and he willed something far different, and therecountry, he expressed himself with perfect fore could not make one. Unhappy it was firmness, but without the least intrusive for- that he had not power to choose the one, and wardness; and when he differed in opinion, reject the other; bhut must halt for ever behe did not hesitate to express it firmly, yet at tureen two opinions, tuwo objects; making the same time with modesty. I do not resmem- hampered advancement towards either. (But her any part of his conversation distinctly so is it with many men: we "l long for the enough to be quoted; nor did I ever see him merchandise, yet would fain keep the price;" again, except in the street, where he did not and so stand chaffering with Fate in vexatious recognise rme, as I could not expect he should. altercation, till the Night come, and our fair is He. was much caressed in Edinburgh: but over!) (considering what literary emoluments have;The Edinburgh learned of thaf period were been since his day) the efforts made for his in general more noted for clearness of head relief were extremely trifling.' than for warmth of heart: with the excep"I remember, on this occasion I mention, I tion of the good old Blacklock, whose help thought Burns's acquaintance with English was too ineffectual, scarcely one among them poetry was rather limited; and also, that hav- seems to have looked at Burns with any ing twenty times the, abilities of Allan Ramsay true sympathy, ot indeed much otherwise than and of Ferguson, he talked of them with too as at a highly curious thieg. By the great, much humility as his models: there wmis also, he is treated in the customary fashio,; doubtless national predilection in his estimate. entertained -at their tables, and dismissed: "This is all I can tell you about Burns. I certain modica of pudding and praise are, have only to add, that his dress corresponded from time to time, gladly exchanged for the with his manner. He was like a farmer fascination of his presence; which exchange dressed in his best to dine with the laird. I once effected, the bargain is finished, and each do. not speak in nalaen paetenm, when I say, I party goes his several way. At the end of this never saw a man in company with his supe- strange season, Burns gloomily sums up his riorts in station or information more perfectly gains and losses, and meditates on the chaotic free from either the reality or the affectation of future. In money he is somewhat richer; in embarrassment. I was told, but did not observe fame and the show of happiness, infinitely it, that his address to females was extremely richer; but in the substance of it, as poor as deferential, and always with a turn either to ever. Nay poorer, for his heart is now madthe pathetic or humorous, which engaged their dened still more with the fever of mere worldatrention particularly. I have heard the late ly Ambition; and through long years the disDuchess of Gordon remark this.-I do not ease will rack him with unprofitable sufferings know any thing I can add to these recollections and weaken his strength for all true and nobler of forty years since."- pp. 112-115. aims. The conduct of Burns under this dazzling What Burns was next to do or avoid; how laze of favour; the calm, unaffected, manly a man so circumstanced was now to guide manner, in which he not only bore it, but esti- himself towaids his true Advantage, might at mated its value, has justly been regarded as this point of time have been a question for the the best proof that could be given of his real wisest: and it was a question which he was vigour and integrity of mind. A little natural left altogether to answer for himself: of his vanity, some touches of hypocritical.modesty, learned or rich patrons it had not struck any some glimmerings of affectation, at least some individual to turn a thought on this so trivial BURNS. 109 matter. Without claiming for Burns the praise ion able danglers after literature, and, far worse, of perfect sagacity, we must say, that his all manner of convivial Mecenases, hovered Excise and Farm scheme does not seem to us round him in his retreat; and his good as a very unreasonable one; and that we should well as his weak qualities secured them inbe at a loss, even now, to suggest one decided- fluence over him. He was flattered by their ly better. Some of his admirers, indeed, are notice; and his warm social nature made it scandalized at his ever resolving to gauge; and impossible for him to shake them off, and hold would have had him apparently lie still at the on his way apart fromn them. These men, as pool, till the spirit of Patronage should stir the we believe, were proximately the means of waters, and then heal with one plunge all his his ruin. Not that they meant him any ill; worldly sorrows! We fear such counsellors they only meant themselves a little good; if knew but little of Burns; and did not consider he suffered harm, let him look to it! But they that happiness might in all cases be cheaply wasted his precious time and his precious had by waiting for the fulfilment of golden talent; they disturbed his composure, broke dreams, were it not that in the interim the down his returning habits of temperance anti dreamer must die of hunger. It reflects credit assiduous contented exertion. Their pamperon the manliness and sound sense of Burns, inlg was baneful to him; their cruelty, which that he felt so early on what ground he was soon followed,.was equally baneful. The old standing; and preferred self-help, on the,hum- grudge against Fortune's inequality awoke blest scale, to dependence and inaction, though with new bitterness in their neighbourhood, with hope of far more splendid possibilities. and Burns had no retreat but to the "Rock of But even these possibilities were not rejected Independence," which is but an air-castle, after in his scheme: he might expect, if it chanced all, that looks well at a distance, but will that he had any friend, to rise, in no long screen no one from real wind and wet. period, into something even like opulence and Flushed with irregular excitement, exasperleisure; while again, if it chanced that he had ated alternately by contempt of others, and no friend, he could still live in security; and contempt of himself, Burns was no longer for the rest, he "did not intend to borrow regaining his peace of mind, but fast losing it honour from any profession." We think then for ever. There was a hollowness at the heart that his plan was honest and well-calculated: of his life, for his conscience did not now apall turned on the execution of it. Doubtless it prove what he was doing. failed; yet not, we believe, fromn any vice in- Amid the vapours of unwise enjoyment, of herent in itself. Nay after all, it was no failure bdotless remorse, and angry discontent with of external means, but of internal that over- Fate, his true loadstar, a life of Poetry, with took Burns. His was no bankruptcy of the Poverty, nay, with Famine if it must be so, purse, but of the soul; to his last day, he was too often altogether hidden fr-om his eyes. owed no man any thing. And yet he sailed a sea, where, without some Meanwhile he begins well: with two good such guide, there was no right steering. and wise actions. His donation to his mother, Meteors of French Politics rise before him, munificent from a man whose income had but these were not his stars. An accident this, lately been seven pounds a-year, was worthy which hastened, but did not originate, his of him, and not more than worthy. Generous worst distresses. In the mad contentions of also, and worthy of him, was his treatment of that time, he comes in collision with certain the woman whose life's welfare now depended oflicial Superiors; is wounded by them.; cruelon his pleasure. A friendly observer might ly lacerated, we should say, could a dead have hoped serene days for him: his mind mechanical implement, in any case, be called is on the true road to peace with itself: what cruel: and shrinks, in indignant pain, into clevrness he still wants will be given as he deeper self-seclusion, into gloomier moodiness proceeds; for the best teacher of duties, that than ever. His life has now lost its unity: it still lie dim to us, is the Practice of those we is a life of fragments; led with little aim, besee, and have at hand. Had the "patrons of yond the melancholy one of securing its own genius," who coild give him nothing, buttaken continuance,-in fits of wild false joy, when nothing from him, at least nothing more!-the such' offered, and of black despondency when wounds of his heart would have healed, vulgar they passed away. His character before the ambition would have died away. Toil and world begins to suffer: calumny is'busy xwith Frugality would have been welcome, since him; for a miserable man makes more eneVirtuedwelt with them, and poetry would have mies than friends. Some faults he has fallen shone through them as of old; and in her clear into, and a thousand misfortunes; but deep ethereal light, which was his own by birth- criminality is what he stands accused of, and right, he might havelooked down on his earth- they that are not without sin, cast the first ly destiny, and all its obstructions, not with stone at him!'For is he not a well-wisher of patience only, but with love. the French Revolution, a'Jacobin, and thereBut the patroiis of genius would not have it so. Picturesque tourists,* all manner of fash- depended an enormous Highland broad-sword. It was., ________________ Burns." Now, we rather think, it was not Burns. -Fox to say nothing of the fox-skin cap, loose and qutte *Thereis one little sketch by certain " English gentle- Hibernian watch-coat with the belt, what are we to men" of this class, which though adopted in Currie's make of this "enormous Highland broad-sword" deNarrative, and since then repeated in most others, we pending from him? More especially,- as there is no have all along' felt an invincible disposition to regard as word of parish constables on the outlock to see whether, imaginary: " On a rock that projected into the stream as Dennis phrases it, he had an eye to his own mntdrifl they saw a man employed in angling, of a singular ap- or that of the public! Burns. of all men, had the least pearance. He had a cap made of fox-skin on his head, tendency, to seek for distinction, either in his own eyes, a loose great-coat fixed round him by a belt, from which or those of others, by such poor munimmeries. K 110 CAIRLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. fore in that one act guilty of all? These charm for the simplest and the wisest; and accusations, political and moral, it has since all men felt and knew that here also was one appeared, were false enough: but the world of the Gifted! "If he entered an inn at midhesitated little tocreditthem. Nay,hisconvivial night, after all the inmates were in bed, the Mecenases themselves were not the last to do news of his arrival circulated from the cellar it. There is reason to believe that, in his later to the garret; and ere ten minutes had elapsed, years, the Dumfries Aristocracy had partly the landlord and all his guests were assemwithdrawn themselves from Burns, as from a bled!" Some brief, pure moments of poetic tainted person, no longer worthyof their ac- life were yet appointed him, in the cormposiquaintance. That painful class, stationed, in tion of his Songs. VWe can understand how all provincial cities, behind the outmost breast- he grasped at this employment; and how, too, work of Gentility, there to stand siege and do he spurned at all other reward for it but what battle against the intrusion of Grocerdom, and the labour itself brought him. For the soul Grazierdom, had actually seen dishonour in of Burns, though scathed and marred, was yet the society of Burns, and branded him with living in its full moral strength, though'sharply their veto; had, as we vulgarly say, ctt him i conscious of its errors and abasement: and We find one passage in this work of Mr. here, in his destitution and degradation, was'Lockhart's, which will not out of our thoughts: one act of seeming nobleness and self-devoted"A gentleman of that country, whose name ness left even for him to perform. He felt, I have already more than once had occasion too, that with all the "thoughtless follies" that to refer to, has often told me that he was sel- had "laid him low," the world was unjust and dom more grieved, than when, riding into cruel to him, and he silently appealed to'Dumfries one fine summer evening about this another and calmer time. Not as a hired soltime to attend a country ball, he saw Burns dier, but as a patriot, would he strive for the walking alone, on the shady side of the prin- glory of his country; so he cast from him the cipal street of the town, while the opposite poor sixpence a-day, and served zealously as side was gay with successive groups of gen- a volunteer. Let us not grudge him this last tlemen and ladies, all drawn together for the luxury of his existence; let him not have apfestivities of the night, not one of whom ap- pealed to us in vain! The money was not peared willing to recognise him. The horse- necessary to him; he struggled thr'ough withman dismounted, and joined Burns, who on out it; long since, these guineas would have his proposing to cross the street said: "Nay, been -one, and now the high-mindedness of nay, my young friend, that's all over now;" refusing them will plead for him in all'heartt and quoted, after a pause, some verses of Lady for ever. Grizzel Baillie's pathetic ballad: We are here arrived at the crisis of Burns's life; for matters had now taken such a shape "His bonnet stood ance fol' fair on his browv, with him as could not long continue. If imHis auld are looked better than mony ane's new; provement was not to ed for, But now he lets't wear ony way it will hing, And casts himsell dowie upon the corn-bing. could only for a limited time maintain this dark and maddening warfare against the world' O were we young, as we ance hae been, and itself. We are not medically informed We sud hae been galloping down on yon green, whether any continuance of years was, at this And linking it ower the lily-white lea i period, probable for Burns; whether his death anoea s nrt lig.ht lad di." is to be looked on as in some sense an acciIt was little in Burns's character to let his dental event, or only as the natural consefeelings on certain subjects escape in this quence of the long series of events that had fashion. He immediately after reciting these preceded. The latter seems to be the likelier verses, assumed the sprightliness of his most opinion; and yet it is by no means a certain pleasing n manner; and, taking his young friend one. At all events, as we have said,'SOme home with him, entertained him very agreeably change could nt be very distant. hree ates till the hour of the ball arrived." of deliverance, it seems to us, were open for Alas! when we thinl that Burns now sleeps Burns: clear poetical activity; madness; or "where bitter indignation can no longer lace- death. The first, with longer life, was still rate his heart," and that most of these fair possible, though not probable; for physical dames and friizzled gentlemen already lie at his causes were beginning to be concerned in it: side, where the breastwork of gentility is quite and yet Burns had an iron resolution; could thrown down, -who would not sigh over the he but have seen and felt, that not only his thin delusions and foolish toys that cdivxide highest glory, but his first duty, and the true heart from heart, and make man unmerciful medicine for all his woes, lay here. The to his brother! second was still less probable; for his mind It was not now to be hoped that the genius was ever among the clearest and firmest. So of Burns would ever reach maturity, on ac- the milder third gate was opened for him: and complish ought worthy of itself. His spirit he passed, not softly, yet speedily, into that was jarred in its melody; not the soft breathstill country, where the hail-storms and fireof natural feeling, but the rude hand of Fate, showers do not reach, and the heaviest-laden was now sweeping over the strings. And yet wayfarer at length lays down his load! what harmony was in him, what music even Ln his discords! How the wild tones had a Contemplating this sad end of Burns, and "_ _ how he sank unaided by any real help, un* Uli scaou in.dionatio cor ulteriuss lacerare nequit. — cheered by any wise sympathy, generous 1SWIFT'S Epitaph. mitids have sometimes figured to themselves. BURNS. 111 with a reproachful sorrow, that much might befriended him: patronage, unless once cursed, have been done for him; that by counsel, true needed not to have been twice so. At all events, affection, and friendly ministrations, he might the poor promotion he desired in his calling have been saved to himself and the world. might have been granted: it was his owmn We question whether there is not more tender- scheme, therefore, likelier than any other to be ness of heart than soundness of judgment'in of service. All this it might have been a luxuthese suggestions. It seems dubious to us ry, nay, it was a duty, for our nobility to have whether the richest, wisest, most benevolent done. No part of all this, however, did any of in.dividual, could have lent Burns any effec- them do; or apparently attempt, or wish to do; tual help. Counsel, which seldom profits any so much is granted against them. But what one, he did not need; in his understanding, he then is the amount of their blame? Simply knew the right from the wrong, as well per- that they were men of the world, and walked haps as any man ever did; but the persuasion, by the principles of such men; that they treated which wou.ld have availed him, lies not so Burns, as other nobles and other commoners much in the head, as in the heart, where no had done other poets; as the English did argument or expostulation could have assisted Shakspeare; as King Charles'and his cavamuch to implant it. As to money again, we liers did Butler, as King Philip and his Grando not really believe that this was his essen- dees did Cervantes. Do men gather grapes of tial want; or well see how any private man thorns? or shall we cut down our thorns for could, evenpresupposing Burns's consent, have yielding only a fence, and haws? How, indeed, bestowed on him an independent fortune, with could the "nobility and gentry of his native much prospect of decisive advantage. It is a land" hold out any help to this "Scottish Bard, mortifying truth, that two men in any rank of proud of his name and countrye?" WNere the society could hardly be found virtuous enough nobilityeand gentry so much as able rightly to to give money, and to take it, as a necessary help themselves? Had they not their game to gift, without injury to the moral entireness of preserve; their borough interests to strengthen; one or both. But so stands the fact: Friend- dinners, therefore, of various kinds to eat and ship, in the old heroic sense of that term, no give'! Were their means more than adequate longer exists; except in the cases of kindred to all this business, or less than adequate or other legal affinity; it is in reality no longer Less than adequate in general: few of them in expected, or recognised as a virtue among reality were richer than Burns; many of thenm men. A close observer of manners has pro- were poorer; for sometimes they had to wring nounced "Patronage," that is, pecuniary or their supplies, as with thumbscrews, from the other economic furtherance, to be "twice hard hand; and, in their need of guineas, to cursed;" cursing hixm that gives, and him that forget their duty of mercy; which Burns was takes! And thus, in regard to outward mat- never reduced to do. Let us pity and forgive ters also, it has become the rule, as in regard them. The game they preserved and shot, the to inward it always was and must be the rule, dinners they ate and gave, the borough intethat no one shall look for effectual help to rests they strengthened, the little Babylons they another; but that each shall rest contented severally builded by the glory of their might, with what help he can afford himself. Such, are all melted, or melting back into the primewe say, is the principle of modern Honour; val Chaos, as man's merely selfish endeavours naturally enough growing out of that senti- are fated to do: and here was an action exment of Pride, which we inculcate and eni tending, in virtue of its worldly influence, we courage as the basis of our whole social mo- may say, through all time; in virtue of its rality. Many a poet has been poorer, than moral nature, beyond all time, being immortal Burns; but no one was ever prouder: we may as the Spirit of Goodness itself; this action was question, whether, without great precautions, -offered them to do, and light was not given even a pension from Royalty would not have them to do it. Let us pity and forgive them. galled and encumbered, more than actually But, better than pity, let us go and do otherweise. assisted him. Human suffering did not end with the life of Still less, therefore, are we disposed to join Burns; neither was the solemn mandate, with another class of Burns's admirers, who "Love one another, bear one another's bur. accuse the higher ranks among us of having dens," given to the rich only, but to all men. ruined Burns by their selfish neglect of him. True, we shall find no Burns to relieve, to asWe have already stated our doubts whether suage by our aid or our pity: but celestial nadirect pecuniary help, had it been offered, tures, groaning under the fardels of a weary would have been accepted, or could have life, we shall still find; and that wretchedness proved very effectual. We shall readily admit, which Fate has rendered voiceless and tusneless, is however, that much was to be done for Burns; not the least wretched, but the most. that many a-poisoned arrow might have been Still we do not thinnk that the blame of Burns'% warded from his bosom; many an entanglement failure lies chiefly with the world. The worid. in his path cut asunder by the hand of the pow- it seems to us, treated him with more, rather erful; and light and heat shed on him from high than with less kindness, than it usually shows places, would have made his humble atmo- to such men. It has ever, we fear, shown but sphere more genial; and the softest heart then small favour to its Teachers; hunger and nabreathing might have lived and died with some kedness, perils and reviling, the prison, the fewer pangs. Nay, we shall grant further, and cross, the poison-chalice, have, in most times for Burns it is granting much, that with all his and countries, been the market-place it has, pride, he would have thanked, even with ex- offered for, Wisdom, the welcome with which aggerated gratitude, any one who had cordially it has greeted those who have come I., ez, 112 CARLYLE'S MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. lighten and purify it. Homer and Socrates, and in him ever sternly demanded its rights, its suthe Christian Apostles, belong to old days; premacy; he spent his life in endeavouring to but the world's Martyrology was not completed reconcile these two; and lost it, as he must with these. Roger Bacon and Galileo lan- have lost it, without reconciling them here. guish in priestly dungeons, Tasso pines in the Burns was born poor; and born also to concell of a mad-house, Camoens dies begging on tinue poor, for he would not endeavour to be the streets of Lisbon. So neglected, so " per- otherwise: this it had been well could he have secuted they the Prophets," not in Judea only, once for all admitted, and considered as finally but in all places where men have been. We settled. He was poor, truly; but hundreds reckon that every poet of Burns's order is, or even of his own class and order of minds have should be, a prophet and teacher to'his age; been poorer, yet have suffered nothing deadly that he has no right therefore to expect great from it: nay, his own Father had a far sorer k.indness from it, but rather is bound to do it battle with ungrateful destiny than his was; great kindness; that Burns, in particular, ex-' and he did not yield to it, but died courageously perienced fully the usual proportion of the warring, and to all moral intents prevailing, world's goodness; and that the blame of his against it. True, Burns had little means, had ifailure, as we have said, lies not chiefly with even little time for poetry, his only real pursuit the world. and vocation; but so much the more precious Where then does it lie 1 We are forced to was what little he had. In all these external answer: W/it'h himself; it is his inward, not respects his case was hard; but very far from his outward misfortunes, that bring him to the'the hardest. Poverty, incessant drudgery, and dust. Seldom, indeed, is it otherwise; seldom much worse evils, it has often been the lot of is a life morally wrecked, but the grand cause Poets and wise men to strive with, and their lies in some internal mal-arrangement, some glory to conquer. Locke was banished as a want less of good fortune than of good guidance. traitor; and wrote his Essay on the Human Nature fashions no creature without implant- Understanding, sheltering himself in a Dutch ing in it the strength needful for its action and garret. Was Milton rich or at his ease, when duration; least of all does she so neglect her he composed Paradise Lost? Not only low, but masterpiece and darling, the poetic soul. Nei- fallen from a height; not only poor but imther can we believe that it is in the power of poverished; in darkness and with danger.> any external circumstances utterly to ruin the compassed round, he sang his immortal song, mind of a man; nay, if proper wisdom be given and found fit audience, though few. -Did not him, even so much as to affect its essential Cervantes finish his work, a maimed soldier, health and beauty. The sternest sum-total of and in prison'! Navy, was not the Araucanla, all worldly misfortunes is Death; nothing more which Spain acknowledges as its Epic, written can lie in the cup of human wo: yet many without even the aid of paper; on scraps of men, in all ages, have triumphed over Death, leather, as the stout fighter and voyager and led it captive; converting its physical vic- snatched any moment from that wild warfare? tory into a moral victory for themselves, into a And what then had these men, which Burns seal and immortal consecration for all that wanted! Two things; both which, it seems their past life had achieved. What has been to us, are indispensable for such men. They done, may be done again; nay, it is but the had a true' religious principle of morals-; and degree and not the kind of such heroism that a single not a double aim in their activity. differs in different seasons; for without some They were not self-seekers and self-worshipportion of this spirit, not of boisterous daring, pers: but seekers and worshippers of somebut of silent fearlessness, of Self-denial, in all thing far better than Self. Not -