ments, directed against Meister 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 Meister 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- Faëry Queen." We have not forgotten what is kucher of Quedlinburg. Herr Pustkucher felt due to Spenser; yet, perhaps, beside his imafflicted, it would seem, at the want of Patriot-mortal allegory this Wanderjahre may, in fact, ism and Religion too manifest in Meister; and determined to take what vengeance he could. By way of sequel to the Apprenticeship, Goethe had announced his Wilhelm Meisters Wanderjahre, as in a state of preparation; but the book still lingered: whereupon, in the interim, forth comes this Pustkucher with a pseudoWanderjahre of his own; satirizing, according to ability, the spirit and principles of the Apprenticeship. We have seen an epigram on Pustkucker and his Wanderjahre, attributed, with what justice we know not, to Goethe himself; whether it is his or not, it is written in his name; and seems to express accurately enough for such a purpose the relation between the parties,-in language which we had rather

not translate:

Will denn von Quedlinburg aus

Ein neuer Wanderer traben?
Hat doch die Wallfisch seine Laus,

Muss auch die meine haben.

not unfairly be named; and with this advan-
tage, that it is an allegory, not of the Seven-
teenth century, but of the Nineteenth; a pic-
ture full of expressiveness, of what men are
striving for, and ought to strive for in these
actual days. "The scene,
"The scene," we are further
told, “is not laid on this firm earth; but in a
fair Utopia of Art and Science and free Activity;
the figures, light and aëriform, come unlooked
for, and melt away abruptly, like the pageants
of Prospero, in his Enchanted Island." We
venture to add, that, like Prospero's Island,
this too is drawn from the inward depths, the
purest sphere of poetic inspiration: ever, as
we read it, the images of old Italian Art flit
before us; the gay tints of Titian; the quaint
grace of Domenichino; sometimes the clear,
yet unfathomable depth of Rafaelle; and what-
ever else we have known or dreamed of in
that rich old genial world.

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 Wanderjahre 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 Wanderjahre, 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 most perfect last degree of clearness and completeness. pieces of composition that Goethe has ever But to do this, to find a specimen that should 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 and 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 beautiWanderjahre, 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 in 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, hiding its borders on this side in light sunny clouds, fading away on that into the infinite azure: already, we might almost say, it gives us the notion of a completed fragment, or the state in which a fragment, not meant for completion, might be left.

But apart from its environment, and considered merely in itself, this Wanderjahre seems to us a most estimable work. There is, in truth, a singular gracefulness in it; a high, melodious Wisdom; so light is it, yet so earn

which, if they have ever reflected duly on that matter, will hardly fail to interest them. They will find these chapters, if we mistake not, worthy of deep consideration; for this is the merit of Goethe: his maxims will bear study, nay, they require it, and improve by it more and more. They come from the depths of his mind, and are not in their place till they have reached the depths of ours. The wisest man, we believe, may see in them a reflex of his own wisdom: but to him who is still learning, they become as seeds of knowledge; they take root in the mind, and ramify, as we meditate them, into a whole garden of thought. The sketch we mentioned is far too long for being extracted here: however, we give some scattered portions of it, which the reader will accept with fair allowance. As the wild suicidal Night-thoughts

*“Wanderjahre denotes the period which a German artisan is, by law or usage, obliged to pass in travelling, to perfect himself in his craft, after the conclusion of his Lehrjahre (Apprenticeship), and before his Mastership can begin. In many guilds this custom is as old as their existence, and continues still to be indispensable: it is said to have originated in the frequent journeys of the German Emperors to Italy, and the consequent improve-of Werter formed our first extract, this by way ment observed in such workmen among their menials as had attended them thither. Most of the guilds are what

is called geschenkten, that is, presenting, having presents

to give to needy wandering brothers."

of counterpart may be the last. We must fancy Wilhelm in the "Pedagogic province," proceeding towards the "CHIEF, or the THRFE,"

H

genuine, indispensable sentiment of self-estimation corrupts into self-conceit and presumption. Allow me, however,' continued he, to state one difficulty. You say that reverence is not natural to man: now has not the reverence or fear of rude people for violent convulsions of nature, or other inexplicable mysteriously foreboding occurrences, been heretofore regarded as the germ out of which a higher feeling, a purer sentiment, was by degrees to be developed?"

"Nature is indeed adequate to fear,' replied they, but to reverence not adequate. Men fear a known or unknown powerful being; the strong seeks to conquer it, the weak to avoid it: both endeavour to get quit of it, and feel themselves happy when for a short season they have put it aside, and their nature has in some degree restored itself to freedom and independence. The natural man repeats this operation millions of times in the course of his life; from fear he struggles to freedom; from freedom he is driven back to fear, and so makes no advancement. To fear is easy, but grievous; to reverence is difficult, but satisfactory. Man does not willingly submit himself to reverence, or rather he never so submits himself: it is a higher sense which must be communicated to his nature; which only in some favoured individuals unfolds itself spontaneously, who on this account too have of old been looked upon as Saints and Gods. Here lies the worth, here lies the business of all true Religions, whereof there are likewise only three, according to the objects towards which they direct our devotion."

was it not only to be patient with the Earth, and let it lie beneath us, we appealing to a higher birthplace; but also to recognise humility and poverty, mockery and despite, disgrace and wretchedness, suffering and death, to recognise these things as divine; nay, even on sin and crime to look not as hindrances, but to honour and love them as furtherances, of what is holy. Of this, indeed, we find some traces in all ages; but the trace is not the goal; and this being now attained, the human species cannot retrograde; and we may say that the Christian Religion, having once appeared, cannot again vanish; having once assumed its divine shape, can be subject to no dissolution.'

To which of these Religions do you specially adhere?' inquired Wilhelm.

"To all the three,' replied they, 'for in their union they produce what may properly be called the true Religion. Out of those three Reverences springs the highest Reverence, Reverence for One's self, and these again unfold themselves from this; so that man attains the highest elevation of which he is capable, that of being justified in reckoning himself the Best that God and Nature have produced; nay, of being able to continue on this lofty eminence, without being again by self-conceit and presumption drawn down from it into the vulgar level.""

The Three undertake to admit him' into the interior of their Sanctuary; whither, accordingly, he, " at the hand of the Eldest," proceeds on the morrow. Sorry are we that we cannot follow them into the "octagonal ball," so full of paintings, and the "gallery open 'on one side, and stretching round a spacious, gay, flowery garden." It is a beautiful figurative representation, by pictures and symbols of Art, of the First and the Second Religions, the Ethnic and the Philosophical; for the former of which the pictures have been composed from the Old Testament; for the latter from the New. We can only make room for some small portions..

"I observe,' said Wilhelm, 'you have done the Israelites the honour to select their history as the groundwork of this delineation, or rather you have made it the leading object there.'

"The men paused; Wilhelm reflected for a time in silence; but feeling in himself no pretensions to unfold these strange words, he requested the Sages to proceed with their exposition. They immediately complied. No Religion that grounds itself on fear,' said they, 'is regarded among us. With the reverence to which a man should give dominion in his mind, he can, in paying honour, keep his own honour; he is not disunited with himself as in the former case. The Religion, which depends on Reverence for what is Above us, we denominate the Ethnic; it is the Religion of the Nations, and the first happy deliverance from a degrading fear; all Heathen religions, as we call them, are of this sort, whatsoever names they may bear. The Second Religion, which founds itself on Reverence for what is Around us, we denominate the Philosophical; for the Philosopher stations himself in the middle, and must draw down to him all that is higher, and up to him all that is lower, and only in this medium condition does he merit the title of Wise. Here, as he surveys with clear sight his relation to his equals, and therefore to the whole human race, his relation likewise to all other earthly circumstances and arrangements "The friends walked on. Wilhelm, for the necessary or accidental, he alone, in a cosmic most part, met with well-known objects; but şense, 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- ing 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?'

"As you see,' replied the Eldest; 'for you will remark, that on the socles and friezes we have introduced another series of transactions and occurrences, not so much of a synchronistic as of a symphronistic kind; since, among all nations, we discover records of a similar import, and grounded on the same facts. Thus you perceive here, while, in the main field of the picture, Abraham receives a visit from his gods in the form of fair youths, Apollo among the herdsmen of Admetus is painted above on the frieze. From which we may learn, that the gods, when they appear to men, are commonly unrecognised of them.'

1

"The Eldest answered: 'Among all Heathen religions, for such also is the Israelitish, this has the most distinguished advantages; of which I shall mention only a few. At the Ethnic judgment-seat, at the judgment-seat of the God of Nations, it is not asked whether this is best, the most excellent nation; but whether it lasts, whether it has continued. The Israelitish people never was good for much, as its own leaders, judges, rulers, prophets, have a thousand times reproachfully declared; it possesses few virtues, and most of the faults of other nations: but in cohesion, steadfastness, valour, and, when all this would not serve, in obstinate toughness, it has no match. It is the most perseverant nation in the world; it is, it was, and it will be, to glorify the name of Jehovah through all ages. We have set it up, therefore, as the pattern figure; as the main figure, to which the others only serve as a frame.'

"It becomes not me to dispute with you,' said Wilhelm, 'since you have instruction to impart. Open to me, therefore, the other advantages of this people, or rather of its history, of its religion.'

"One chief advantage,' said the other, 'is its excellent collection of Sacred Books. These stand so happily combined together, that even out of the most diverse elements, the feeling of a whole still rises before us. They are complete enough to satisfy; fragmentary enough to excite; barbarous enough to rouse; tender enough to appease; and for many other contradicting merits might not these Books, might not this one Book, be praised?'

"In all sorts of instruction,' said the Eldest, 'in all sorts of communication, we are fond of separating whatever it is possible to separate; for by this means alone can the notion of importance and peculiar significance arise in the young mind. Actual experience of itself mingles and mixes all things together: here, accordingly, we have entirely disjoined that sublime Man's life from its termination. In life, he appears as a true Philosopher,-let not the expression stagger you,-as a Wise Man in the highest sense. He stands firm to this point: he goes on his way inflexibly, and while he exalts the lower to himself, while he makes the ignorant, the poor, the sick, partakers of his wisdom, of his riches, of his strength, he, on the other hand, in nowise conceals his divine origin; he dares to equal himself with God, nay, to declare that he himself is God. In this manner is he won't, from youth upwards, to astound his familiar friends; "Thus wandering on, they had now reached of these he gains a part to his own cause; the gloomy and perplexed periods of the His- irritates the rest against him; and shows to tory, the destruction of the 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 subséquent for- from the world. And thus, for the noble portunes were delineated in a cunning allegorical tion of mankind, his walk and conversation way; a real historical delineation of them are even more instructive and profitable than would have lain 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 your 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 shortly before; to whom, shortly before, they would give no ear.'

*

*

*

"To have done this, as you require it, would have been an error. The life of that divine Man, whom you allude to, stands in no connection with the general history of the world in his time. It was a private life; his teaching was a teaching for individuals. What has publicly befallen vast masses of people, and the minor parts which compose them, belongs to the general History of the World, to the general Religion of the World; the Religion we have named the First. What inwardly befalls individuals belongs to the Second Religion, the Philosophical: such a Religion was it that Christ taught and practised, so long as he went about on earth. For this reason, the external here closes, and I now open to you the internal.'

along with them a traitor, by whom he and the Better are to be destroyed.'

This seems to us to have "a deep, still meaning;" and the longer and closer we examine it, the more it pleases us. Wilhelm is not admitted into the shrine of the Third Religion, the Christian, or that of which Christ's sufferings and death were the symbols, as his walk and conversation had been the symbol of the Second, or Philosophical Religion. "That last Religion," it is said,—

'That last Religion which arises from the Reverence of what is Beneath us; that veneration of the contradictory, the hated, the avoided, we give to each of our pupils, in small portions, by way of outfit, along with him into the world, merely that he may know where more is to be had, should such a want spring up within him. I invite you to return hither at the end of a year, to attend our genera!

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.'

“Permit me one question,' said Wilhelm: 'as you have set up the life of this divine Man for a pattern and example, have you likewise selected his sufferings, his death, as a model of exalted patience?'

"Undoubtedly we have,' replied the Eldest. 'Of this we make no secret; but we draw a veil over these sufferings, even because we reverence them so highly. We hold it a damnable audacity to bring forth that torturing Cross, and the Holy One who suffers on it, or to expose them to the light of the Sun, which hid its face when a reckless world forced such a sight on it; to take these mysterious secrets, in which the divine depth of Sorrow lies hid, and play with them, fondle them, trick them out, and rest not till the most reverend of all solemnities appears vulgar and paltry. Let so much for the present suffice--* * * The rest we must still owe you for a twelvemonth. The instruction, which in the interim we give the children, no stranger is allowed to witness: then, however, come to us, and 'you will hear what our best Speakers think it serviceable to make public on those matters."

must take place, more or less consciously, in every character that, especially in these times, attains to spiritual manhood; and in characters possessing any thoughtfulness and sensibility, will seldom take place without a too painful consciousness, without bitter conflicts, in which the character itself is too often maimed and impoverished, and which end too often not in victory, but in defeat, or fatal compromise with the enemy. Too often, we may well say; for though many gird on the harness, few bear it warrior-like; still fewer put it off with triumph. Among our own poets, Byron was almost the only man we saw faithfully and manfully struggling, to the end, in this cause; and he died while the victory was still doubtful, or at best, only beginning to be gained. We have already stated our opinion, that Goethe's success in this matter has been more complete than that of any other man in his age; nay, that, in the strictest sense, he may also be called the only one that has so succeeded. On this ground, were it on no other, we have ventured to say, that his spiritual history and procedure must deserve attention; that his opinions, his creations, his mode of thought, his whole picture of the world as it dwells within him, must to his contemporaries be an inquiry of no common interest; of an interest altogether peculiar, and not in this

things can be but imperfectly stated here, and must be left, not in a state of demonstration, but, at the utmost, of loose fluctuating probability; nevertheless, if inquired into, they will be found to have a precise enough meaning, and, as we believe, a highly important one.

Could we hope that, in its present disjointed state, this emblematic sketch would rise before, the minds of our readers, in any measure as it stood before the mind of the writer; that, in considering it, they might seize only an out-degree exampled in existing literature. These line of those many meanings which, at less or greater depth, lie hidden under it, we should anticipate their thanks for having, a first or a second time, brought it before them. As it is, believing that to open-minded, truth-seeking men, the deliberate words of an open-minded, truth-seeking man can in no case be wholly unintelligible, nor the words of such a man as Goethe indifferent, we have transcribed it for their perusal. If we induce them to turn to the original, and study this in its completeness, with so much else that environs it, and bears on it, they will thank us still more. To our own judgment, at least, there is a fine and pure significance in this whole delineation: such phrases even as "the Sanctuary of Sorrow," "the divine depth of Sorrow," have of themselves pathetic wisdom for us; as indeed a tone of devoutness, of calm, mild, prieŝtlike dignity pervades the whole. In a time like ours, it is rare to see, in the writings of cultivated men, any opinion whatever, bearing any mark of sincerity, on such a subject as this: yet it is and continues the highest subject, and they that are highest are most fit for studying it, and helping others to study it.

Goethe's Wanderjahre was published in his seventy-second year; Werter in his twenty-fifth: thus in passing between these two works, and over Meisters Lehrjahre, which stands nearly midway, we have glanced over a space of almost fifty years, including within them, of course, whatever was most important in his public or private history. By means of these quotations, so diverse in their tone, we meant to make it visible that a great change had taken place in the moral disposition of the man; a change from inward imprisonment,

12

For the rest, what sort of mind it is that has passed through this change, that has gained this victory; how rich and high a mind; how learned by study in all that is wisest, by experience in all that is most complex, the brightest as well as the blackest, in man's existence; gifted with what insight, with what grace and power of utterance, we shall not for the present attempt discussing. All these the reader will learn, who studies his writings with such attention as they merit: and by no other means. Of Goethe's dramatic, lyrical, didacfic poems, in their thousandfold expressiveness, for they are full of expressiveness, we can here say nothing. But in every department of Literature, of Art ancient and modern, in many provinces of Science, we shall often meet him; and hope to have other occasions of estimating what, in these respects, we and all men owe him.

Two circumstances, meanwhile we have remarked, which to us throw light on the nature of his original faculty for Poetry, and go far to convince us of the Mastery he has attained in that art; these we may here state briefly, for the judgment of such as already know his writings, or the help of such as are beginning to know them. The first is his singularly emblematic intellect; his perpetual never-failing tendency to transform into shape, into life, the opinion, the feeling that may dwell in him; which, in its widest sense, we reckon to be

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