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of life, thou pinest and wastest away with age. But, because thou always desirest what is absent, and despisest present advantages, life has passed from thee imperfect and unsatisfactory, and death has stood by thy head unaware, and before thou canst depart content and satisfied with thy cir cumstances. Now, however, resign all things unsuitable to thy age, and yield at once, with submissive feelings, to that which is stronger than thou, for it is necessary.'"-iii, 139.

ART. II.-1. Briefwechsel zwischen Göthe und Zelter, in den Jah-
ren 1796 bis 1832; herausgegeben von Dr. FRIEDRICH WILHELM
RIEMER, Grossherzog. Sächs. Hofrathe und Bibliothekar.
6 vols., 8vo. Berlin, 1833, 1834. Duncker und Humblot.
2. Goethe's Correspondence with a Child. Boston: Ticknor &
Fields.

3. Göthe's Werke. Vollständige Ausgabe letzter Hand (Goethe's
Works. Completed, final Edition). 40 voll. Stuttgart and
Tübingen. 1827-30.

4. Göthe's Nachgelassene Werke (Goethe's Posthumous Works). Bände VI. to XV. Stuttgart and Tübingen. 1833.

5. The Life and Works of Goethe, &c. By G. H. LEWIS. 2 vols. Boston Ticknor & Fields.

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6. Faustus, a Dramatic Mystery; the Bride of Corinth; the First Walpurgis Night; translated from the German of Goethe, and illustrated with Notes. By JOHN ANSTER, LL. D. (of Trinity College, Dublin), Barrister-at-Law. London: Longman. 1838. It is but rarely that we make an author who is extensively read the subject of a paper in this journal. In general, we prefer to bring before our readers those who deserve to be studied, but who are neglected, save by the thoughtful and discriminating few. We pursue this course because there are enough besides us to tell people what most of them have an idea of already. It is for the daily and weekly papers to note what is transitory, and do so in such a manner that "he who runs may read." They are for the million-for those, the large majority of whom have not the time, even if they had the inclination, or the capacity, to think; while our journal is not for the half, or the quarter, of the million-only for the few thousands, but we may be permitted to add, for the cultivated few-for those who have learned to reason and analyze as well as read. As this is the class for which the work is designed, it becomes all the more necessary that we attempt to look beyond the surface, and show reason, as best we can, why the chefs d'œuvre of other days should be better

appreciated than they are. There is no danger but a robust youth, in the full vigor of life, will make his way in the crowd; but who would see a venerable, tottering man, so closely pressed on every side as to be in danger of being trampled under foot, without feeling he ought to assist in extricating him—especially if aware that, however neglected now, he was once the delight of thousands.

The same remark may serve as a reply to those wellmeaning, but thoughtless, persons who imagine that because a periodical is published in a particular country, and calls itself "National," all its subjects, at least the majority, should be "racy of the soil." We may, however, add another observation or two on this point; and they may as well assume the form of queries as any other. Is there anything unnational in profiting by the experience of the most insignificant nation, now existing, or for ever passed away, not to mention the wisest or greatest? Is there anything unnational in trying to learn wisdom, or taste, from the greatest productions of the human intellect-from the works of Homer, or Virgil, for example, because they are not "racy of the soil "? Would it not be just as sensible and logical to maintain that none of our buildings should be in the Grecian, Italian, or even Gothic style of architecture, since it is notorious that none of them originated with us? Fortunately, there are not many at the present day who entertain such notions-certainly no critics worthy of the name. Were it otherwise, they might well be asked, why do they buy silks for their wives or daughters? why watches for themselves? or why do they prefer to wear French or English cloth in their coats, when they can get the home-made article cheaper? Our journal is not local; it is cosmopolitan, as it was designed to be; but we hold that it is nothing the less national on this account, or less heartily devoted to the best interests of the Republic.

Now, too, we choose a subject which is not "racy of the soil," but not one that is in any danger of being forgotten soon, namely, Goethe and his works. If the author of Faust was, strictly speaking, never a citizen of the great Republic of the West, it is not the less true that he was a citizen of the world, and that none capable of appreciating the highest order of intellect will deny his claim, whatever may have been his faults, to the world's gratitude, as one of its greatest benefactors. But this, it may be replied, is well known, as scarcely any who read are ignorant of the fame of Goethe.

No modern author has had more books written about him, not excepting Dante or Shakespeare. The works in different languages of which he has been made the subject, would fill a pretty large library by themselves. He has been oftener translated than perhaps all other authors of his time; at least, translations of his principal productions have been oftener attempted than those of any other writer. We have now before us nine different English versions of Faust alone, namely, those of Anster, Talbot, Hills, Hayward, Syme, Bernays, Birch, Halliday, and Blackie. These are in prose and verse, most of them are annotated to a greater or less extent, and only two or three are without an elaborate introduction, in which the translator undertakes to analyze the poem. The French and Italians have also many translations of the principal works of Goethe; but considerably fewer than the English. The latter and ourselves read him more than all continental Europe, excepting his own country-all whose language is the German.

In this respect, we, as it were, reciprocate the admiration which the Germans have for Shakespeare. In France, Italy, and Spain the great English dramatist has, indeed, many admirers; but not one for every hundred he has in Germany. Many reasons are assigned for this disparity; but it is not necessary for us to examine them here. Suffice it to say, in passing, that the German mode of thought, as well as the German language, has a closer affinity to our own than those of any other people, which affords, perhaps, the best explanation that can be given, within equal bounds, of the mutual appreciation alluded to. But be this as it may, there are still but few who understand Goethe. Hundreds have, indeed, given elaborate opinions of his writings; but it may be doubted whether a single true portrait of him has yet been given by any foreigner. Carlyle has, perhaps, approximated nearest to the truth. His criticisms on his works are undoubtedly the best in the English language; but it is principally because they are the most elaborate. Not that any other foreigner was better qualified for the task than Carlyle. A man of genius himself, a profound thinker, one whose mind is eminently analytical, and whose taste has been formed on the best classic models, may well claim to pass judgment even on works like Faust, Tasso, and Iphigenia. But no critic, however stern and impartial, is superior to the influence of private friendship. That Carlyle had reason to be attached to Goethe is now well known-though certainly no

reason which was not equally honorable to author and critic. The high praise bestowed by Goethe on Carlyle's biography of Schiller was well calculated, by itself, coming, as it did, from so illustrious a source, to secure the good-will of the critic. "It is worthy of admiration," says the poet, "how the writer has attained to a satisfying insight into the character and exalted merit of this man, so clear and so just as was hardly to be expected from the distance. Here, however, an old observation is confirmed: Good-will leads to perfect knowledge. For it is precisely because the Scotchman recognizes the German with cordiality, honors and loves him, that he acquires the surest knowledge of his excellent qualities, and is enabled to raise himself to a clearness, as respects his subject, which the countrymen of the great departed were in former times utterly unable to reach." Who could help being influenced by a tribute like this? We have evidence enough that Carlyle was not the man; and who will blame him for it? He should be something more than human, to be proof against it. Even the divine Plato cannot be said to be altogether impartial in the estimate which he gives us of his master, Socrates. It is now generally admitted by the best critics, that, however great was the wisdom of the philosopher-martyr, his merits as an original thinker were exaggerated by his pupil, while his faults were kept out of sight. It is no discredit to Carlyle to say that his friendship, too, has somewhat warped his judgment. He could not, indeed, have admired the genius of Goethe too much; it deserved all. But there is a great difference between admiring a great painting or statue, and giving a true estimate of its merits, and, at the same time, pointing out its defects; for true criticism requires the latter as well as the former, since no human production, however beautiful or sublime, is perfect.

In this Carlyle has failed, and so we are without a true portraiture of Goethe in the English language. But let us not be charged with vanity, or any kindred sin, until it is seen that we are guilty of it; for we do not pretend, or hope that we can succeed in an effort in which Carlyle has failed. The task which we propose to ourselves is a simple one, though sufficiently laborious. Having first carefully read the principal works of Goethe, partly in the original and partly through translations, we have taken the pains to compare the impressions of different critics with each other,

and sought to discover the points in which they differ mostly from our own, and, whenever we have seen any sufficient reason to modify the latter, we have not hesitated to do so. Those impressions we now proceed to note as they occur to us, and the reader will form his own opinion as to whether they are correct or not, doing us the justice to bear in mind, that the wren has often discovered, as naturalists tell us, what has escaped the attention of the eagle-that is, when we have completed our task-not the present article, in which, we need hardly say, nothing more than an outline can be given.

The Boswell of Goethe is Dr. Riemer. But the Scotchman is vastly superior in the most essential characteristics of a biographer to the German. The latter is, indeed, much more learned and has a better judgment than the former, but the former is more graphic, a keener observer, a more patient and accurate reporter of conversations-in a word, a more truthful painter. Riemer is too heavy; he often gives us a Greek or Latin quotation instead of a conversation-a quotation, too, which, when deciphered, is found to have little relevancy to the question at issue. This, however, arises from no carelessness; for the genuine Boswell is not a more enthusiastic admirer of his great master than Riemer is of Goethe. Had the latter been less so, his work would have been much more valuable than it is. But he is too intolerant; he makes an idol of Goethe; those who refuse to worship him, as he does himself, he treats as the worst of heretics. He is peculiar in this respect-certainly different from any biographer, ancient or modern, with whom we are acquainted. According to Riemer, all who criticise Goethe must be either knaves or fools; they must either be actuated by malice prepense or be hopelessly stupid; and they are duly chastised accordingly. His excuse for conduct like this is, that he had an experience of thirty years of his subject, having been the greater part of that time employed by the poet as the corrector of his manuscripts, and several years as tutor of his son. He argues that with such opportunities it would be almost impossible to be mistaken, either in the author or the man. This, indeed, would be true, if the party possessing them were capable of availing himself of them. Without such capability, daily opportunities, extending over a period of a hundred years, if such were possible, would not be sufficient, especially with such a subject as Goethe. The philoso

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