and could we but exchange this narrow hut of our body for a freer prospect. And shall we be forever contented with this nook, this dungeon? What wretch, doomed to life-long misery in this life, confines his wishes to the throwing off of this world's burden, without the sense or the hope of requital for his present disappointment and degradation? When, even at the sweetest fountains of friendship and love, we so often pine, thirsty and sick, seeking union and finding it not, begging alms from every earthly object and always poor, always unsatisfied; and when we find, at last, that all the aims and plans of earth are vanity and vanity, and feel that daily,-what free and noble soul does not lift itself up and despise everlasting tabernacles and wanderings in the circle of earthly deserts. "The soul longs from her prison-house to come, And we would seal and sew up, if we could, the womb! The cracks and breaches of the extended shell, Would rudely force to dwell The noble, vigorous bird already wing'd to part." During these conversations, they had imperceptibly reached the end of the forest. At the last tree Charicles stood still. Before we leave this wood, Theages, said he, I must tell you the result of our conversations. In all the forms and conditions of humanity, the cultivation of our wit, our sagacity, or other branches of the human intellect, is of less consequence than the education of the heart; and that heart is in all men a human heart. And it may be educated, to a certain degree, in all the forms and situations of humanity. As to the extent to which it has been developed in this situation, and the way in which Providence may succor the unfortunate and the suffering, that I leave to Heaven, and venture not to make its secret ways the race-course or the beaten highway of an hypothesis by which man is to be scared, or in which the sluggish and the froward shall find their account. Sacred to me is the saying of the gospel: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Purification of the heart, the ennobling of the soul, with all its propensities and cravings,this, it seems, to me, is the true palingenesia of this life, after which, I doubt not, a happy, more exalted, but yet unknown metempsychosis awaits us. Herewith I am content, and I thank you that you have unfolded for me my thoughts. They embraced each other, and parted. JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE. Born 1749. Died 1832. THE biography of this extraordinary person- | diverged into an episode of love and romance age is yet to be written. His own memoirs, of which the charming Friederike of Sesenheim 'Aus meinem Leben', &c.,-comprise but the was the heroine; that he began to practise his first half of that full, rich life, of which the last profession at Frankfort, but soon slid into litehalf was the fullest, the richest. The materi- rature, made an era therein, publishing Werals for a farther and complete delineation are ther's Leiden and Goetz von Berlichingen, not wanting, but the historian who shall col- and so completed the first phase of his poetic lect, and arrange, and reproduce these in a life. Furthermore, if all the parts of these 'Life of Goethe' worthy that name, has not memoirs are given, we shall see the poet again yet been found. Shall we look to the author in the character of declared and accepted lover, of the Life of Schiller' for this service? Or will Germany herself, out of the countless host of her literary artificers, furnish the historian of her own Genius ? Meanwhile, it is gratifying to learn that the autobiography is about to be given to the American Public, in a translation by one of our own countrymen, which, if it fairly represents the original, can hardly fail to be a popular work. From this they will learn, if they have not already learned, that Johann Wolfgang v. Goethe was born at Frankfort on the Mayn, on the 28th of August, 1749, at midday, "as the clock struck twelve;" that his father was a wealthy and cultivated Reichsbürger, who lived much in his Italian reminiscences; that his maternal grandfather, Johann Wolfgang v. Textor, was a man of mark, the chief magistrate of the Imperial city; that the experiences and observations of his boyhood,-house-building, coronation, the seven years' war, the aspects of his native city, arts and trades, boyish love and shame and disappointment — wrote imperishable records, materials for future creations, on the poet's heart; that, after a various and careful education at home, he was in due season matriculated at Leipzig, fell sick and returned to Frankfort, a confirmed invalid, much to his father's chagrin; that he recovered his health and studied law at Strassburg where he received the Doctor's degree, and where he * See the volumes of Goethe's correspondence with dis tinguished cotemporaries, published since his death, the Tag und Jahres Hefte," and the works of Eckermann, Falk, v. Muller, Döring and others. Parke Godwin, Esq. Since the above was written the work referred to has appeared. See No. LXXV. of Wiley and Putnam's Library of Choice Reading. the betrothed of the beautiful Lili;-since "it was the strange ordination of the High, above us ruling, that, in the progress of my wondrous life-course, I should also experience the feelings of a betrothed." We shall see him, next, this cold, impassive, self-sufficing Goethe,—as he has been depicted,—the man who lived only for self and Art,—we shall see him, on the summit of the Alps, turning his back upon Italy, the land of his youthful dreams, the pilgrim-goal of the artist, and hastening home, unable to resist any longer the passion which drew him back to his beloved:* and that, * Hear his own account of the matter. "It seems to me as if man, in such cases, had no power of decision in himself, but were rather governed and determined by earlier impressions. Lombardy and Italy lay as something wholly foreign before me, Germany as something known and love-worthy, full of friendly, domestic prospects. And let me confess it-that which had so long compassed me about, which had borne up my existence, continued, at this moment also, to be the most indispensable element, out of whose limits I did not trust myself to pass. A small golden heart which I had received from her in the fairest hours, hung still, by the same riband by which she had fastened it, love-warmed upon my neck. I seized and kissed it. And here let me insert the poem occasioned by this circumstance. "Memorial thou of a joy whose sound has died away! Which I yet wear about my neck, Holdest thou, longer than the soul-band, us two? Do I flee, Lili, before thee? Must I, still led by thy band, Like a bird who breaks his string He has already been some one's property." "I rose quickly that I might get away from the steep spot, and that the friend storming toward me, with the knapsack-bearing guide, might not whirl me away with after the resolution to separate himself from her, wrung from him by his sister, was already formed or forming within him. We shall see this connection sundered, for reasons which are not very obvious; but not till after long and dire struggles through "a cursed state which, in some respects, might be likened to Hades," and a "torture which, even in the remembrance, is well nigh insupportable." Finally, we shall see him called to the court of Weimar by the hereditary prince, Karl August, afterward Grand Duke, there to become the client of a life-long patronage, as honorable to one party as it was beneficial to both. Then, we have what may be regarded as the continuation of these memoirs, in the " Italienische Reise,” the “Zweiter römischer Aufenthalt," and the " Campagne in Frankreich." And, be it remarked by the way, these are not the least impressive of Goethe's works. He maintains, as a writer of travels, the same rank which distinguishes him in every species of composition. In 1779, Goethe was made Privy Counsellor; he received the title of nobility in 1782, travelled in Italy and Sicily, and sojourned in Rome during the two years from 1786 to 1788; made another visit in 1790; and, in 1792 accompanied the Grand Duke in the French campaign. In 1806, he married a Miss Vulpius, the mother of his only surviving child. In 1815, he was made Prime Minister; and although, during the last four years of his life, he withdrew himself from State affairs, he continued to labor in his vocation as a poet with unabated diligence, and apparently with unabated faculty, until the hour of his death, which overtook him, as it were with the pen in his hand, on the 22d March, 1832, in the eighty-third year of his age. There is great satisfaction in contemplating so complete a life, a life in which the idea and the task have been so visibly and utterly fulfilled and accomplished. At the age of eighty, Goethe often spoke of his death, and of how it might still be deferred. him into the steep abyss. I likewise greeted the pious Pater, and turned myself, without losing a word, toward the path by which we had come. A little lingering the friend followed, and, notwithstanding his love and attachment to me, he remained for awhile some distance behind, until, at last, the glorious waterfall brought us together again, kept us together, and that, which had once for all been determined, was also finally accepted as wholesome and good.”—Aus meinem Leben. "Yes!" said he, "we can make head against him for some time yet. As long as one creates there can be no room for dying. But yet the night, the great night will come in which no man can work." It was about this time that he lost his only son. "Here then," he writes to Zelter, "can the mighty conception of duty alone hold us erect. I have no other care but to keep myself in equipoise; the body must, the spirit will; and he who sees a necessary path prescribed to his will, has no need to ponder much." Was Goethe wanting in sensibility, because he did not give himself up to the lamentation of that loss? "Thus did he shut up the deepest grief within his breast, and hastily seized upon a long postponed labor, in order entirely to lose himself in it. In a fortnight he had nearly completed the fourth volume of his Life, when Nature avenged herself for the violence he had done her. The bursting of a blood-vessel brought him to the brink of the grave.”* He entirely recovered himself from this attack, and resumed his task. In the year preceding that of his death, he had still to finish the second part of Faust. God willing, he would not die till that was accomplished. "He laid it down as a law to himself, to complete it worthily; and on the day before his last birth-day he was enabled to announce that the highest task of his life was completed. He sealed it under a ten-fold seal, escaped from the congratulations of his friends, and hastened to revisit, after many years, the scenes of his earliest cares and endeavors, as well as of the richest and happiest hours of his life. He went to Ilmenau. The deep calm of the woods, the fresh breath of the hills, breathed new life into him. With refreshed and invigorated mind he returned home and felt himself inspired to undertake new observations of Nature. The Theory of Colors was revised, completed and confirmed, the nature of the rainbow more accurately examined, and unwearied thought bestowed on the spiral tendency of vegetation."* And when, at last, the brief and painless sickness which terminated his earthly career had laid him prostrate, "faithful to his principles he continued to occupy himself that he might not give the thinking faculty time to grow dull and inactive. Even when he had * Chancellor von Müller, in Mrs. Austin's Characteristics. The statesman-poet was inhumed with the pomp befitting his illustrious name. Agreeably to the wishes of the Grand Duke, who had preceded him by a few years, his remains were deposited by the side of that Prince and "the glorious Schiller." The royal vault of Weimar holds henceforth the honored frame in which that life was performed; to the living Weimar and to us and to all generations belongs "the absolute total of that life's vast sum." The first thing that strikes us in the life of Goethe is the wonderful fortune of the man. No Genius was ever more favored from without. Sophocles alone, among the poets of all generations, may vie with him in this. We look in vain for another instance of so rich a naure coupled with so kind a destiny. It would seem as if all things had conspired for once to make a perfect lot; genius, organization, beauty of person, high culture, riches, rank, renown, length of days. Does the work performed correspond to the advantages enjoyed? Does the result justify the partiality of Fortune ?-is a question which other ages must answer. Goethe's genius is distinguished by its versatility. No other writer has shone with such various excellence. The two poles of the human intellect, poetry and science, define the range of his mind. His writings embrace both these extremes, and touch almost every topic of interest between the two. To speak only of more prominent and unquestioned excellences;-as a lyric poet, he has no equal. And this will be found, perhaps, in the final judgment, to constitute his chief merit. The union of perfect finish with perfect freedom; the uttermost abandonment of fancy, joined to the uttermost self-possession of artistic judgment; the wild freshness of poetic feeling-the very breath and aroma of Nature-accompanied by that profound philosophy which, rather felt than seen, pervades all his writings;-all this gives to Goethe's lyrics the highest relish of which that form of poetry is susceptible. The singular facility with which these pieces were produced, resembling improvisation or inspiration rather Notes to Mrs. Austin's Characteristics. than composition, has contributed, in some cases, no doubt, to enhance their peculiar charm. "I had come," says he, "to regard the poetic talent dwelling in me, entirely as nature; the rather that I was directed to look upon external Nature as its proper subject. The exercise of this poetic gift might be stimulated and determined by occasion; but it flowed forth most joyfully, most richly, when it came involuntarily or even against my will. I was so accustomed to say over a song to myself without being able to collect it again, that I sometimes rushed to the desk, and, without taking time to adjust a sheet that was lying crosswise, wrote the poem diagonally from beginning to end, without stirring from the spot. For the same reason, I preferred to use a pencil, which gives the characters more willingly. For it had sometimes happened that the scratching and sputtering of the pen would wake me from my somnambulistic poetizing, distract my attention, and stifle some small product in the birth. For such poetry I had a special reverence. My relation to it was something like that of a hen to the chickens, which, being fully hatched, she sees cheeping about her. My former desire to communicate these things only by reading them aloud, renewed itself again. To barter them for money seemed to me detestable."* Goethe claims our admiration next, as a painter of character. Here too, the very highest rank, second to Shakspeare only, has been assigned to him. His characters have the Shakuniversal and individual, impersonations of a spearean merit of being, at the same time, general type, and veritable men and women, such as one might look to meet with, any day of the year, in their respective circles. And where he transcends the sphere of ordinary humanity, as in the case of Mignon, he gives us nothing inconceivable or inconsequent, but a nature that carries its constitutive law within itself, which all its movements obey, by which they are to be interpreted, and by which they must be judged. His success is greatest in female character, of which almost every variety is represented in his works. Running through the series of those works, we perceive a moral gradation of female character, from Gretchen the uncultivated, the unconscious, the betrayed but still pure, to Makaria, in whom female * Aus meinem Leben. IVth part. F virtue reaches its apotheosis, and whose only must reach its destination. dation incident to leading an exclusively poetic life. Mignon, gift divine as ever the Muse bestowed on the passionate heart of man, with her soft, mysterious inspiration, represents the high desire that leads to this mistake, as Aurelia the desire for excitement, Teresa practical wisdom, gentle tranquillity, which seem most desirable after the Aurelia glare. Of the "Beautiful Soul" and Natalia we have already spoken. The former embodies what was suggested to Goethe by the most spiritual person he knew in youth, Fräulein von Klettenberg, over whom, as he said, in her invalid loneliness, the Holy Ghost brooded like a dove. Entering on the Wanderjahre, Wilhelm becomes acquainted with another woman who seems the complement of all the former, and represents the idea which is to mould and to guide him in the realization of all the past experience. This person, long before we see her, is announced in various Another characteristic excellence of Goethe is herewith suggested, viz: his veneration for women. This sentiment, with him, was not chivalry which, in assuming a protective attitude, assumes and emphasizes a weakness in the female nature, and thus degrades where it professes to honor; and whose very homage, fantastical and patronizing as it is, contains a latent irony the more bitter, perhaps, because unintentional. Goethe's respect for women was a philosophical appreciation of the real dignity and unacknowledged riches of the female cha-ways as a ruling power. She is the last hope racter, coupled with the reverent homage of the heart for what the understanding so clearly discerned; a homage which two such living examples as the Grand Duchess and the Duchess Mother of Weimar could not fail to keep in active exercise. In the extent to which he carried this appreciation of female excellence he stands alone; far in the van of opinion as yet pronounced. No writer has estimated so highly, none so truly, the influence of woman on the social and moral destiny of man. The saving and benign power of the feminine element in human things is made prominent in all his creations. In some of them it is a cardinal point. It is the pivot in Wilhelm Meister' A contemporary remarks in accordance with in cases of difficulty, and, though an invalid, and living in absolute retirement, is consulted by her connections and acquaintance as an unerring judge in all their affairs. All things tend toward her as a centre; she knows all, governs all, but never goes forth from herself. Wilhelm at last visits her. He finds her infirm in body, but equal to all she has to do. Charity and counsel to men who need her, are her business; astronomy her pleasure.” * "The apparition of the celestial Makaria seems to announce the ultimate destiny of the soul of man.”* As a writer of German prose, or, to use a coinage derived from that language,—as a stylist, Goethe's pre-eminence is undisputed and, even by his most determined opponents and detractors, emphatically affirmed. Menzel, whose work on German literature suggests the idea of having been written for the express purpose of abusing him and one or two others of like political sentiments, says: "He could make everything, even the smallest and meanest, delightful by the magic of his representathe talent of making his reader an accomplice tion." "Goethe possesses in the highest degree He carried in his hand the talisman which con-of forcing from him a feeling of approbation. trols all hearts. No poet has so completely mastered the charm which language possesses. We cannot guard ourselves against the secret *Dial. Vol. II. No. 1. |