The International Monthly, Volume 2, No. 4, March, 1851. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
attain reflection on himself, and on this account the maxims in general are not successful, as is shown by his creed, 'much money, no authority,' for much money always paralyzes authority. But where he will create, he always succeeds; and we may truly say that with him inspiration supplies the place of reflection. He was always obliged to go on poetizing, and then every thing that came from the man, especially from his heart, was excellent. He produced his best things, as women do pretty children, without thinking about it or knowing how it was done. He is a great talent, a born talent, and I never saw the true poetical power greater in any man than in him. In the apprehension of external objects, and a clear penetration into past situations, he is quite as great as Shakspeare. But as a pure individuality, Shakspeare is his superior. This was felt by Byron, and on this account he does not say much of Shakspeare, although he knows whole passages by heart. He would willingly have denied him altogether, for Shakspeare's cheerfulness is in his way, and he feels that he is no match for it. Pope he does not deny, for he had no cause to fear him. On the contrary, he mentions him, and shows him respect when he can, for he knows well enough that Pope is a mere foil to himself.'…
"Goethe seemed inexhaustible on the subject of Byron, and I felt that I could not listen enough. After a few digressions, he proceeded thus: 'His high rank as an English peer was very injurious to Byron; for every talent is oppressed by the outer world,—how much more, then, when there are such high birth and so great a fortune. A certain middle rank is much more favorable to talent, on which account we find all great artists and poets in the middle classes. Byron's predilection for the unbounded could not have been nearly so dangerous with more humble birth and smaller means. But as it was, he was able to put every fancy into practice, and this involved him in innumerable scrapes. Besides, how could one of such high rank be inspired with awe and respect by any rank whatever? He spoke out whatever he felt, and this brought him into ceaseless conflict with the world. It is surprising to remark,' continued Goethe, 'how large a portion of the life of a rich Englishman of rank is passed in duels and elopements. Lord Byron himself says, that his father carried off three ladies. And let any man be a steady son after that. Properly speaking, he lived perpetually in a state of nature, and with his mode of existence the necessity for self-defence floated daily before his eyes. Hence his constant pistol-shooting. Every moment he expected to be called out. He could not live alone. Hence, with all his oddities, he was very indulgent to his associates. He one evening read his fine poem on the Death of Sir John Moore, and his noble friends did not know what to make of it. This did not move him, but he put it away again. As a poet, he really showed himself a lamb. Another would have commended them to the devil.'"
Yet Goethe had a curious theory in respect to criticism, and believed it possible for a foreigner to understand the achievements of a language not his own better than those to whom it is native—in which we think he was partially correct. In the following he criticises Carlyle.
"'Sit down,' said he, 'and let us talk awhile. A new translation of Sophocles has just arrived. It reads well, and seems to be excellent; I will compare it with Solgar. Now, what say you to Carlyle?' I told him what I had been reading upon Fonqué. 'Is not that very good?' said Goethe. 'Aye, there are clever people over the sea, who know us and can appreciate us?… We are weakest in the æsthetic department, and may wait long before we meet such a man as Carlyle. It is pleasant to see that intercourse is now so close between the French, English, and Germans, that we shall be able to correct one another. This is the greatest use of a world-literature, which will show itself more and more. Carlyle has written a life of Schiller, and judged him as it would be difficult for a German to judge him. On the other hand, we are clear about Shakspeare and Byron, and can, perhaps, appreciate their merits better than the English themselves."
Carlyle is frequently referred to, and always thus. The clear-sighted, great old man, already perceives how much his fame will owe to such an apostle and preacher of his faith—for he sees also what Carlyle himself will become. The mention of Lockhart is also very interesting.
"I asked about Lockhart, and whether he still recollected him. 'Perfectly well!' returned Goethe. 'His personal appearance makes so decided an impression that one cannot easily forget him. From all I hear from Englishmen, and from my daughter-in-law, he must be a young man from whom great things in literature are to be expected. I almost wonder that Walter Scott does not say a word about Carlyle, who has so decided a German tendency that he must certainly be known to him. It is admirable in Carlyle that, in his judgment of our German authors, he has especially in view the mental and moral core as that which is really influential. Carlyle is a moral force of great importance. There is in him much for the future, and we cannot foresee what he will produce and effect.'"
Again:
"'It is pleasant to see,' said Goethe, 'how the earlier pedantry of the Scotch has changed into earnestness and profundity. When I recollect how the 'Edinburgh Reviewers' treated my works not many years since, and when I now consider Carlyle's merits with respect to German literature, I am astonished at the important step for the better. In Carlyle,' said he, 'I venerate most of all the mind and the character which lie at the foundation of his tendencies. The chief point with him is the culture of his own nation; and, in the literary productions of other countries, which he wishes to make known to his contemporaries, he pays less attention to the arts of talent, than to the moral elevation which can be attained through such works. Yes,' said Goethe, 'the temper in which he works is always admirable. What an earnest man he is! and how he has studied us Germans! He is always more at home in our literature than ourselves. At any rate we cannot vie with him in our researches in English literature.'"
MR. KELLOGG'S EXPLORATION OF MT. SINAI
The last volume of Bohn's Illustrated Library (published in New-York by Bangs & Brother), is "Scripture Lands, Described in a Series of Historical, Geographical, and Topographical Sketches," by John Kitto, D.D., F.S.A., the well-known author of the Dictionary of the Bible, &c. It embraces, in a convenient and condensed form, results of the most important recent investigations by travellers and scholars in the countries sacred for their connection with the history of true religion. With other things by Americans, Dr. Kitto gives a prominent place to Mr. Miner K. Kellogg's account of Mt. Sinai, which we reprint below; and we cannot let the opportunity pass unimproved, of expressing a hope that Mr. Kellogg will prepare for the press the voluminous notes which we know him to possess of his various and interesting travels in the ancient world, which he saw with the eye of an artist, the head of a scholar, and the heart of a Christian. If he would, he might give us a most delightful and instructive book upon the East, and one that would be eminently popular, though Asia has been of all the continents the most frequently described. Dr. Kitto says:
"At the foot of the pass which leads up to the sacred shrine beneath the awful mount, from whose summit Jehovah proclaimed his law to the trembling hosts of Israel, Dr. Robinson says,—'We commenced the slow and toilsome ascent along the narrow defile, about south by east, between blackened, shattered cliffs of granite, some eight hundred feet high, and not more than two hundred and fifty yards apart, which every moment threatened to send down their ruins on our heads. Nor is this at all times an empty threat; for the whole pass is filled with large stones and rocks, the débris of these cliffs. The bottom is a deep and narrow water-course, where the wintry torrent sweeps down with fearful violence. A path has been made for camels, along the shelving rocks, partly by removing the topmost blocks, sometimes in the manner of a Swiss mountain-road. But though I had crossed the most rugged passes of the Alps, and made from Chamouni the whole circuit of Mont Blanc, I had never found a path so rude and difficult as that we were now ascending.'
"After toiling along for nearly two hours, our travellers continue their narrative:
"'Here the interior and lofty peaks of the great circle of Sinai began to open upon us—black, rugged, desolate summits; and, as we advanced, the dark and frowning front of Sinai itself (the present Horeb of the monks) began to appear. We were gradually ascending, and the valley gradually opening; but as yet all was a naked desert. Afterwards, a few shrubs were sprinkled round about, and a small encampment of black tents was seen on our right, with camels and goats browsing, and a few donkeys belonging to the convent. The scenery through which we had now passed reminded me strongly of the mountains around the Mer de Glace in Switzerland. I had never seen a spot more wild and desolate.
"'As