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thy of remark that this very peculiarity to which Schlegel objects is one for which Boileau ridicules le lieutenant criminel Tardieu,' a notorious miser of the day:

Chez lui deux bons chevaux, de pareille encolure
Trouvaient dans l'écurie une pleine pâture,
Et, du foin que leur bouche au râtelier laissait

De surcroît une mule encor se nourrissait.* The Lecture on Shakspeare has met with more approbation than any other portion of the work. We believe it has been vastly overrated; we believe that eloquence has been mistaken for criticism, and varied ingenious illustration for profound insight. The author has, we are willing to admit,' said many excellent things about Shakspeare;' but that he has worthily treated this great subject, that he has at all pierced to the core of it, that he has given to the student any important light, we cannot believe. It is a panegyric, not a criticism: a masterly panegyric, which many years ago was of beneficial influence. Had reason—had analysis formed the staple, and eloquence only the ornament of this Lecture, it would have been as useful now as then; but Schlegel is a rhetorician by nature, and as such we should have left him in peace had not his admirers declared him to be a philosophic critic.

It is not, however, on the score of unlimited admiration that we think Schlegel's lecture so faulty; it is because he has used pompous phrases, which are empty sounds with him. He talks of Shakspeare's profound art, yet he gives no example of it. Shakspeare was a profound artist; he would not otherwise have been the greatest poet that the world has seen; but how has Schlegel exhibited specimens of it? He spins phrases; he says fine things about Shakspeare; and too much about,' not enough to the purpose.

Let any one compare his brief and meager notices of the separate plays with the highflown panegyric which precedes them: it will then be seen how barren is this verbiage of philosophy, how useless are these bursts of rhetoric when face to face with details. We must repeat there is no style of criticism so easy as this of synthetical appreciation.' Observe the licence of imagination in such passages as these: “Shylock' possesses a very

determinate and original individuality; and yet we perceive a light touch of Judaism in every thing which he says or does. We imagine we hear a sprinkling of the Jewish pronunciation in the mere written words.Surely, if critics are allowed to “imagine' in this way, sane men will shut their ears. If criticism is to become a province of conjecture and imagination, not a science, the

* Sat. X.

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sooner it be abolished the better. To conjecture is easy, to know is difficult; therefore, unless we curb the vagabond licence of the former, the latter will grow into rusty disuse. That Schlegel has little knowledge, and abundant conjecture, we believe has been established during the course of this article. We will now select two specimens of his science, sufficient we trust to lead every one to suspect its solidity in other places.

Of the plays absurdly attributed to Shakspeare, Schlegel selects: • Thomas Lord Cromwell,' Sir John Oldcastle,' and 'a Yorkshire tragedy, observing that they are not only unquestionably Shakspeare's, but, in my opinion, they deserve to be classed amongst his best and maturest works!This judgment implies a great deal; and after considering it, the reader will perhaps estimate the value of that profound and penetrating appreciation of Shakspeare's art, for which our critic is celebrated. It is quite of a piece with his rhapsodies on Calderon, and fully accounts for his seeing little in Racine. The second specimen is in its way equal to it. Speaking of Marlowe, he says, “ His verses are flowing but without energy ; how Ben Jonson could use the expression • Marlowe's mighty line' is more than I can conceive.” Now one of two things: either Schlegel had never read Marlowe, in which case it is rather impudent of him thus to contradict Ben Jonson; or else he was utterly ignorant of the rhythm and structure of English verse, Marlowe's characteristics being, as every English reader knows, a wonderful energy and want of fluency:

With these samples of Schlegel's critical knowledge, we conclude our polemical essay; his lecture on the Spanish drama having been treated in our last number. We felt it a duty to protest against his being regarded as an authority; and especially to protest against the pseudo-philosophical method, which we have throughout followed his disciples in calling synthetical.' The candid reader will not misunderstand our preference of the science over the metaphysics of criticism.


Art IX.-Göthe. Von C. B. CARUS. 1843. Leipzig: Weichardt.
ANOTHER book on Göthe in addition to the many we have
already, and yet not one too many. Whoever can say something
new of that old man of Weimar; whoever can throw new light
on that wonderful organization; whoever can find for us one more
stray letter, or can repeat to us one spoken sentence hitherto un-
recorded: he shall be welcome. Nay, even if we do not learn
any thing so very new, it is a healthful act to contemplate Göthe.
The serene countenance which shines not only through his own
pages, but through those of all who write about him, is a fine
panacea against every morbid sensation. We can fully under-
stand his beneficial influence on all whom he allowed to come in
contact with him: the aspiring Schiller, the humbly worshipping
Eckermann, the pietistical Jung, and the earnest Dr. Carus.
We can comprehend his magical hold on those who knew him,
saw him, spoke with him, for we can almost feel the magic at
second hand.
Dr. Carus has a point of view quite his own.

He is eminent as a physiologist, as a writer on comparative anatomy, and he considers Göthe physiologically. Being a Göthianer of the most orthodox class, a real thorough-going adorer, he feels that he is bound to make use of those talents which he has exercised in the consideration of vertebrated animals and zoophytes, to explain the great human phenomenon that made its appearance in 1749, and ruled all Germany for three-fourths of a century. _Such a book could scarcely have been written by any Briton on a British author. However our literary enthusiasts may be disposed to read, and to buy, and to quote, and to quarrel over a bottle for the honour of their favourite poets, a disposition to regard them in their relation to the universe, to study them almost as divine emanations, and piously to trace the peculiar circumstances under which the earth was blessed by such sacred visitants, this is unknown to them, or if known, would be kept as secret as possible. There is a pantheism in German criticism which allows an idol to be much more an idol than in this country. Had the book of Dr. Carus been written by an Englishman, we should have thought the author was mystified himself, or was trying to mystify his co-patriots. Being by a German we are not in the least surprised at the tone of adoration ; we do not elevate our eyebrows the eighth of an inch; we merely see a natural act of devotion.

The acquaintance of Dr. Carus with Göthe was during the last years of the great poet's life, and therefore we have from him, as from Eckermann, a picture of fine healthy old age. Göthe never

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deteriorated ; like the setting sun, when his course was over he departed in full majesty. A delightful picture is that given by Dr. Carus of his own personal experience of the greatest genius of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The venerable poet and the young physiologist were brought into contact by the passion which the former felt for all theories connected with comparative anatomy. Dr. Carus had published a work on the subject of his studies, and though personally unknown to Göthe deemed it right to send him a copy. A letter of thanks was received almost immediately, and this led to a correspondence. Göthe warmed at once to Dr. Carus. He found a man from whom he could learn something, to whom he could write pleasant communications on darling topics—a man whose hobby' was the same as his own: and therefore to him he exhibited naught of that repelling quality at which so many were offended. The letters which Dr. Carus has published in the little work are not such as we can quote. Relating to the subjects under the consideration of Göthe and himself, they would require a more minute account of the circumstances in which they were written than would accord with an article not intended to be scientific. We must be contented with remarking that the tone that pervades these letters is beautiful. It is most impressive to see the fine old man, who had never pursued science as a profession, who had energized in so many different spheres of action, actuated, even when his years numbered considerably more than threescore years and ten, by the pure

thirst of knowledge, inquiring and conjecturing and rejoicing in a discovery or a theory with all the healthy ardour of youth. The soundness of that 'theory of colours' which occupied so much of his time, may readily be doubted; but there can be no doubt of the sound state of the mind which took so much interest in its investigation.

If we cannot give a letter from Dr. Carus's collection, we can at any rate give the visit paid by him to Göthe at Weimar, in July 1821. We are sure our readers will like to be in his

presence, however often they may have seen him before:

“ At the very entrance of the house, the broad and somewhat slanting steps, the decoration of the landing-place with Diana's dog and the young Faun of Belvedere, indicated the owner. The group of the Dioscuri, which was placed above, had an agreeable effect; and an inviting “salve,' blue and inlaid in the floor, received the visiter. The anteroom was richly adorned with engravings and busts. Behind, a second hall of busts led through a door, pleasantly entwined with foliage, to the balcony and the garden steps. Entering a second room, I found myself again surrounded with specimens of art and antiquity. At last the sound of an active step announced the venerable man him

self. Simply dressed in a blue surtout, in boots, with short powdered hair, and with those well-known features which were so admirably caught by Rauch—his bearing firm and upright, he approached me, and led me to the sofa. Years had made but little impression on Göthe; the arcus senilis in the corner of both eyes was indeed beginning to form itself, but the fire of the eye was by no means weakened. Altogether his eye was particularly expressive. I could at once see in it the whole tenderness of the poetical mind, which his otherwise somewhat forbidding demeanour appeared to have restrained with trouble, thus preserving it from the intrusion and annoyance of the world. Occasionally, as he warmed into conversation, the whole fire of the gifted seer would flame forth. Now was I close to him! The form of a man, who had so much influence on my own cultivation, was suddenly brought before me, and hence did I exert myself the more to comprehend and to conteroplate the phenomenon. The ordinary introductions to conversation were soon got over. I spoke to him of my new labours about the skeleton, and told him how his previous conjecture of the existence of six vertebral bones in the head* was confirmed. To explain myself more readily, I asked for pencil and paper. We went into another room; and as I drew the type of a fish's head, with all its


characteristics, he often interrupted me with exclamations of approval, and joyous nods of the head. “Yes, yes,' said he; "the matter is in good hands. S. and B. have touched darkly upon it. Ay, ay!' The servant brought a collation and some wine, of which we partook. Göthe spoke of my pictures; told me how the Brockenhaus had puzzled him for a long time ; and how these things would be held in honour. Then he had his portfolio of comparative anatomy brought, and showed me his earlier labours. We came to the importance of the form of rocks and mountains, in determining of what stone they consisted—as well as its importance in determining the figure of the entire surface of the earth. For this branch of investigation, he had already collected materials, as was proved by a map, with drawings of rocks in the Harz and other places. For a short time, I remained alone in the room; and it was exceedingly interesting to me to observe the things by which Göthe was immediately surrounded. Besides a high stand, with large portfolios illustrating the history of art, there was a cabinet with drawers (probably a collection of coins) which arrested my attention. On the top of it was a large quantity of little mythological figures, Fauns, &c., and among them a little golden Napoleon, set in a barometer tube, closed bell-fashion. All indicated the various directions taken by the mind of the possessor. When Göthe re-entered, the conversation turned upon entoptic colours.

He ordered Karlsbad drinking-glasses, with yellow transparent paintings, to be brought in, and showed the almost miraculous changes of yellow into blue, red, and green, according to the side on which the light was received. He could not suppress a remark or two as to the unfavourable reception of so many of his scientific works ; and every pause in the conversation was animated with a good,

* Kopfwirbel

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