Wilhelm,) and still more that of Tieck, whom | but full of gladness and hope; quite inspired also he first met in Jena, seems to have ope- with plans of his future happiness; his house rated a considerable diversion in his line of was already fitted up; in a few months he was study. Tieck and the Schlegels, with some to be wedded: no less zealously did he speak less active associates, among whom are now of the speedy conclusion of Ofterdingen, and mentioned Wackenroder and Novalis, were at other books; his life seemed expanding in the this time engaged in their far-famed campaign richest activity and love." This was in 1800; against Duncedom, or what called itself the four years ago Novalis had longed and looked "Old School" of Literature; which old and for death, and it was not appointed him; now rather despicable "School" they had already, life is again rich, and far extending in his both by regular and guerrilla warfare, reduced eyes, and its close is at hand. Tieck parted to great straits; as ultimately, they are reckon with him, and it proved to be for ever. ed to have succeeded in utterly extirpating it, or at least driving it back to the very confines of its native Cimmeria. It seems to have been in connection with these men, that Novalis first came before the world as a writer: certain of his Fragments, under the title of Blüthenstaub (Pollen of Flowers;) his Hymns to the Night, and various poetical compositions, were sent forth in F. Schlegel's Musen-Almanach, and other periodicals under the same or kindred management. Novalis himself seems to profess that it was Tieck's influence which chiefly "reawakened Poetry in him." As to what reception these pieces met with, we have no information: however, Novalis seems to have been ardent and diligent in his new pursuit, as in his old ones; and no less happy than diligent.

In the month of August, Novalis, preparing for his journey to Freyberg, on so joyful an occasion, was alarmed with an appearance of blood proceeding from the lungs. The Physician treated it as a slight matter; nevertheless, the marriage was postponed. He went to Dresden with his parents, for medical advice; abode there for some time in no improving state; on learning the accidental death of a young brother at home, he ruptured a bloodvessel; and the Doctor then declared his malady incurable. This, as usual in such maladies, was nowise the patient's own opinion; he wished to try a warmer climate, but was thought too weak for the journey. In January (1801) he returned home, visibly to all, but himself, in rapid decline. His bride had already been to see him, in Dresden. We may give the rest in Tieck's words:

"The nearer he approached his end, the

"In the summer of 1800," says Tieck, "I saw him for the first time, while visiting my friend Wilhelm Schlegel; and our acquaint-more confidently did he expect a speedy recoance soon became the most confidential friendship. They were bright days those, which we passed with Schlegel, Schelling, and some other friends. On my return homewards, I visited him in his house, and made acquaintance with his family. Here he read me the Disciples at Sais, and many of his Fragments. He escorted me as far as Halle; and we enjoyed in Giebichenstein, in the Reichardts' nouse, some other delightful hours. About this time, the first thought of his Ofterdingen had occurred. At an earlier period, certain of his Spiritual Songs had been composed; they were to form part of a Christian Hymn-book, which he meant to accompany with a collection of Sermons. For the rest, he was very diligent in his professional labours; whatever he did was done with the heart; the smallest concern was not insignificant to him."

The professional labours here alluded to, seem to have left much leisure on his hands: room for frequent change of place, and even of residence. Not long afterwards, we find him "living for a long while in a solitary spot of the Güldne Aue in Thuringia, at the foot of the Kyffhauser Mountain;" his chief society two military men, subsequently Generals; "in which solitude great part of his Ofterdingen was written." The first volume of this Heinrich von Ofterdingen, a sort of Art-Romance, intended, as he himself said, to be an "Apothesis of Poetry," was ere long published; under what circumstances, or with what result, we have, as before, no notice. Tieck had for some time been resident in Jena, and at intervals saw much of Novalis. On preparing to quit that abode, he went to pay him a farewell visit at Weissenfels; found him "somewhat paler,"

very; for the cough diminished, and excepting languor, he had no feeling of sickness. With the hope and the longing for life, new talent and fresh strength seemed also to awaken in him; he thought, with renewed love, of all his projected labours; he determined on writing Ofterdingen over again from the very beginning; and shortly before his death, he said on one occasion, 'Never till now did I know what Poetry was; innumerable Songs and Poems, and of quite different stamp from any of my former ones, have arisen in me.' From the nineteenth of March, the death-day of his Sophie, he became visibly weaker: many of his friends visited him; and he felt great joy when, on the twenty-first, his true and oldest friend, Friedrich Schlegel, came to him from Jena. With him he conversed at great length; especially upon their several literary operations. During these days he was very lively; his nights too were quiet; and he enjoyed pretty sound sleep. On the twenty-fifth, about six in the morning, he made his brother hand him certain books, that he might look for something; then he ordered breakfast and talked cheerfully till eight; towards nine he bade his brother play a little to him on the harpsichord, and in the course of the music fell asleep. Friedrich Schlegel soon afterwards came into the room, and found him quietly sleeping: this sleep lasted till near twelve, when without the smallest motion he passed away, and unchang ed in death, retained his common friendly looks as if he yet lived.

"So died." continues the affectionate Biographer," before he had completed his twentyninth year. this our Friend; in whom his extensive acquirements, his philosophical talent,

and his poetic genius, must alike obtain our class of persons, who do not recognise the love and admiration. As he had so far outrun "syllogistic method," as the chief organ for his time, our country might have expected investigating truth, or feel themselves bound extraordinary things from such gifts, had this at all times to stop short where its light fails early death not overtaken him: as it is, the them. Many of his opinions he would despair unfinished writings he left behind him have of proving in the most patient Court of Law; already had a wide influence; and many of and would remain well content that they his great thoughts will yet, in time coming, should be disbelieved there. He much loved, lend their inspiration, and noble minds and and had assiduously studied, Jacob Böhme deep thinkers will be enlightened and enkindled and other mystical writers; and was, openly by the sparks of his genius. enough, in good part a Mystic himself. Not indeed what we English, in common speech, call a Mystic; which means only a man whom we do not understand, and, in self-defence, reckon or would fain reckon a Dunce. Novalis was a Mystic, or had an affinity with Mysticism, in the primary and true meaning of that word, exemplified in some shape among our own Puritan Divines, and which at this day carries no opprobrium with it in Germany, or except among certain more unimportant classes, in any other country. Nay, in this sense, great honours are recorded of Mysticism: Tasso, as may be seen in several of his prose writings, was professedly a Mystic; Dante is regarded as a chief man of that class.

"Novalis was tall, slender, and of noble proportions. He wore his light-brown hair in long clustering locks, which at that time was less unusual than it would be now; his hazel eye was clear and glancing; and the colour of his face, especially of the fine brow, almost transparent. Hand and foot were somewhat too large, and without fine character. His look was at all times cheerful and kind. For those who distinguish a man only in so far as he puts himself forward, or by studious breeding, by fashionable bearing, endeavours to shine or to be singular, Novalis was lost in the crowd: to the more practised eye, again, he presented a figure which might be called beautiful. In outline and expression, his face strikingly resembled that of the Evangelist John, as we see him in the large noble painting by Albrecht Dürer, preserved at Nürnberg and München.

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In speaking, he was lively and loud, his gestures strong. I never saw him tired: though we had talked till far in the night, it was still only on purpose that he stopped, for the sake of rest, and even then he used to read before sleeping. Tedium he never felt, even in oppressive company, among mediocre men; for he was sure to find out one or other, who could give him some yet new piece of knowledge, such as he could turn to use, insignificant as it might seem. His kindliness, his frank bearing, made him a universal favourite: his skill in the art of social intercourse was so great, that smaller minds did not perceive how high he stood above them. Though in conversation he delighted the most to unfold the deeps of the soul, and spoke as inspired of the regions of invisible worlds, yet was he mirthful as a child; would jest in free artless gayety, and heartily give in to the jestings of his company. Without vanity, without learned haughtiness, far from every affectation and hypocrisy, he was a genuine, true man, the purest and loveliest imbodiment of a high immortal spirit."

So much for the outward figure and history of Novalis. Respecting his inward structure and significance, which our readers are here principally interested to understand, we have already acknowledged that we had no complete insight to boast of. The slightest perusal of his writings indicates to us a mind of wonderful depth and originality; but at the same time, of a nature or habit so abstruse, and altogether different from any thing we ourselves have notice or experience of, that to penetrate fairly into its essential character, much more to picture it forth in visual distinctness, would be an extremely difficult task. Nay, perhaps, if attempted by the means familiar to us, an impossible task; for Novalis belongs to that

Nevertheless, with all due tolerance or reverence for Novalis's Mysticism, the question still returns on us: How shall we understand it, and in any measure shadow it forth? How may that spiritual condition which by its own account is like pure Light, colourless, formless, infinite, be represented by mere Logic-Painters, mere Engravers we might say, who, except copper and burin, producing the most finite black-on-white, have no means of representing any thing? Novalis himself has a line or two, and no more, expressly on Mysticism; "What is Mysticism?" asks he. "What is it that should come to be treated mystically? Religion, Love, Nature, Polity.-All selected things (alles Auserwählte) have a reference to Mysticism. If all men were but one pair of lovers, the difference between Mysticism and NonMysticism were at an end." In which little sentence, unhappily, our reader obtains no clearness; feels rather as if he were looking into darkness visible. We must entreat him, nevertheless, to keep up his spirits in this business; and above all, to assist us with his friendliest, cheerfullest endeavour: perhaps some faint far-off view of that same mysterious Mysticism may at length rise upon us.

To ourselves, it somewhat illustrates the nature of Novalis's opinions, when we consider the then and present state of German metaphysical science generally; and the fact, stated above, that he gained his first notions on this subject from Fichte's Wissenschaftslehre. It is true, as Tieck remarks, "he sought to open for himself a new path in Philosophy; to unite Philosophy with Religion;" and so diverged in some degree from his first instructor; or, as it more probably seemed to himself, prosecuted Fichte's scientific inquiry into its highest prac tical results. At all events, his metaphysical creed, so far as we can gather it from these writings, appears everywhere in its essential lineaments, synonymous with what little we understand of Fichte's, and might indeed, safely enough for our present purpose, be

classed under the head of Kantism, or German | on belief of the invisible, and derives its first metaphysics generally. meaning and certainty therefrom!

How deep these and the like principles had impressed themselves on Novalis, we see more and more, the further we study his Writings. Naturally a deep, religious, contemplative spirit; purified also, as we have seen, by harsh Affliction, and familiar in the "Sanctuary of Sorrow," he comes before us as the most ideal of all Idealists. For him the material Creation is but an Appearance, a typical shadow in which the Deity manifests himself to Man. Not only has the unseen world a reality, but the only reality: the rest being not metaphori cally, but literally and in scientific strictness, "a show;" in the words of the Poet, Schall und Rauch umnebelnd Himmels Gluth, "Sound and Smoke overclouding the Splendour of Heaven." The Invisible World is near us: or rather it is here, in us and about us; were the fleshly coil removed from our Soul, the glories of the Unseen were even now around us; as the Ancients fabled of the Spheral Music. Thus not in word only, but in truth and sober belief, he feels himself encompassed by the Godhead; feels in every thought, that "in Him he lives, moves, and has his being."

ness, and for sheer idleness, being without | Reason, and set forth as the true sovereign of any bearing on the practical interests of men. man's mind. On the contrary, however false, or however true, it is the most serious in its purport of all Philosophies propounded in these latter centuries; has been taught chiefly by men of the loftiest and most earnest character; and does bear, with a direct and highly comprehensive influence, on the most vital interests of men. To say nothing of the views it opens in regard to the course and management of what is called Natural Science, we cannot but perceive that its effects, for such as adopt it, on Morals and Religion, must in these days be of almost boundless importance. To take only that last and seemingly strangest doctrine, for example, concerning Time and Space, we shall find that to the Kantist it yields, almost immediately, a remarkable result of this sort. If Time and Space have no absolute existence out of our minds, it removes a stumblingblock from the very threshold of our Theology. For on this ground, when we say that the Deity is omnipresent and eternal, that with Him it is a universal Here and Now, we say nothing wonderful: nothing but that He also created Time and Space, that Time and Space are not laws of His being, but only of ours. On his Philosophic and Poetic Procedure, Nay to the Transcendentalist, clearly enough, all this has its natural influence. The aim of the whole question of the origin and existence Novalis's whole Philosophy, we might say, is of Nature must be greatly simplified: the old to preach and establish the Majesty of Reason. hostility of Matter is at an end, for Matter is in that stricter sense; to conquer for it all itself annihilated, and the black Spectre, provinces of human thought, and everywhere Atheism, "with all its sickly dews," melts into reduce its vassal, Understanding, into fealty, nothingness for ever. But farther, if it be, as the right and only useful relation for it. Kant maintains, that the logical mechanism Mighty tasks in this sort lay before himself of the mind is arbitrary, so to speak, and of which, in these Writings of his, we trace might have been made different, it will follow only scattered indications. In fact, all that he that all inductive conclusions, all conclusions has left is in the shape of fragment; detached of the Understanding, have only a relative expositions and combinations, deep, brief truth, are true only for us, and if some other glimpses: but such seems to be their general thing be true. Thus far Hume and Kant go tendency. One character to be noted in many together, in this branch of the inquiry: but of these, often too obscure, speculations, is his here occurs the most total, diametrical diverg- peculiar manner of viewing Nature; his habit, ence between them. We allude to the recog- as it were, of considering Nature rather in the nition, by these Transcendentalists, of a concrete, not analytically and as a divisible higher faculty in man than Understanding; Aggregate, but as a self-subsistent universally of Reason, (Vernunft,) the pure, ultimate light connected Whole. This also is perhaps partly of our nature; wherein, as they assert, lies the the fruit of his Idealism. "He had formed the foundation of all Poetry, Virtue, Religion; Plan," we are informed, "of a peculiar Ency things which are properly beyond the province clopedical Work, in which experiences and of the Understanding, of which the Under- ideas from all the different Sciences were mustanding can take no cognisance except a false tually to elucidate, confirm, and enforce each one. The elder Jacobi, who indeed is no other." In this work he had even made some Kantist, says once, we remember-"It is the progress. Many of the "Thoughts," and short instinct of Understanding to contradict Reason.” | Aphoristic observations, here published, were Admitting this last distinction and subordina- intended for it; of such, apparently, it was, tion, supposing it scientifically demonstrated, for the most part, to have consisted. what numberless and weightiest consequences As a Poet, Novalis is no less Idealistic than would follow from it alone! These we must leave the considerate reader to deduce for himself; observing only farther, that the Teologia Mistica, so much venerated by Tasso in his philosophical writings; the "Mysticism" alluded to above by Novalis; and generally all true Christian Faith and Devotion, appear, so far as we can see, more or less included in this doctrine of the Transcendentalists; under their several shapes, the essence of them all being what is here designated by the name

as a Philosopher. His poems are breathings of a high devout soul, feeling always that here he has no home, but looking, as in clear vision, to a "city that hath foundations." He loves external Nature with a singular depth; nay, we might say, he reverences her, and holds unspeakable communings with her: for Nature is no longer dead, hostile Matter, but the veil and mysterious Garment of the Unseen; as it were, the Voice with which the Deity proclaims himself to man. These two quali

ties, his pure religious temper, and heart-felt of men.. Only for a moment will their wishes, love of Nature,-bring him into true poetic their thoughts thicken into form. Thus do relations both with the spiritual and the mate- their Anticipations arise; but after short whiles, rial World, and perhaps constitute his chief all is again swimming vaguely before them, worth as a Poet; for which art he seems to even as it did. have originally a genuine, but no exclusive or even very decided endowment.

His moral persuasions, as evinced in his Writings and Life, derive themselves naturally enough from the same source. It is the morality of a man, to whom the Earth and all its glories are in truth a vapour and a Dream, and the Beauty of Goodness the only real possession. Poetry, Virtue, Religion, which for other men have but, as it were, a traditionary and imagined existence, are for him the everlasting basis of the Universe; and all earthly acquirements, all with which ambition, Hope, Fear, can tempt us, to toil and sin, are in very deed but a picture of the brain, some reflex shadowed on the mirror of the Infinite, but in themselves air and nothingness. Thus, to live in that Light of Reason, to have, even while here, and encircled with this vision of Existence, our abode in that Eternal City, is the highest and sole duty of man. These things Novalis figures to himself under various images: sometimes he seems to represent the Primeval essence of Being as Love; at other times, he speaks in emblems, of which it would be still more difficult to give a just account; which, therefore, at present, we shall not further notice.

For now, with these far-off sketches of an exposition, the reader must hold himself ready to look into Novalis, for a little, with his own eyes. Whoever has honestly, and with attentive outlook, accompanied us along these wondrous outskirts of Idealism, may find himself as able to interpret Novalis as the majority of German readers would be; which, we think, is fair measure on our part. We shall not attempt any further commentary; fearing that it might be too difficult, and too unthankful a business. Our first extract is from the Lehrlinge zu Sais, (Pupil at Sais,) adverted to above. That "Physical Romance," which for the rest contains no story or indication of a story, but only poetized philosophical speeches, and the srangest shadowy allegorical allusions, and indeed is only carried the length of two Chapters, commences, without note of preparation, in this singular wise:

“From afar I heard say, that Unintelligibi lity was but the result of unintelligence; that this sought what itself had, and so could find nowhere else; also that we did not understand Speech, because Speech did not, would not, understand itself; that the genuine Sanscrit spoke for the sake of speaking, because speaking was its pleasure and its nature.

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Not long thereafter, said one: no explanation is required for Holy Writing. Whoso speaks truly is full of eternal life, and wonderfully related to genuine mysteries does his Writing appear to us, for it is a concord from the Symphony of the Universe.

Surely this voice meant cur Teacher; for it is he that can collect the indications which lie scattered on all sides. A singular light kindles in his looks, when at length the high Rune lies before us, and he watches in our eyes whether the star has yet risen upon us, which is to make the Figure visible and intelligible. Does he see us sad, that the darkness will not withdraw he consoles us, and promises the faithful assiduous seer better fortune in time. Often has he told us how, when he was a child, the impulse to employ his senses, to busy, to fill them, left him no rest. He looked at the stars, and imitated their courses and positions in the sand. Into the ocean of air he gazed incessantly; and never wearied contemplating its clearness, its movements, its clouds, its lights. He gathered stones, flowers, insects, of all sorts, and spread them out in manifold wise, in rows, before him. To men and animals he paid heed; on the shore of the sea he sat, collected mussels. Over his own heart and his own thoughts he watched attentively. He knew not whither his longing was carrying him. As he grew up, he wandered far and wide; viewed other lands, other seas, new atmospheres, new rocks, unknown plants, animals, men; descended into caverns, saw how in courses and varying strata the edifice of the Earth was completed, and fashioned clay into strange figures of rocks. By and by, he came to find everywhere objects already known, but wonderfully mingled, united; and thus often extraordinary things "I. THE PUPIL.-Men travel in manifold came to shape in him. He soon became paths: whoso traces and compares these, will aware of combinations in all, of conjunctures, find strange Figures come to light; Figures concurrences. Ere long, he no more saw any which seem as if they belonged to that great thing alone. In great, variegated images, the Cipher-writing which one meets with every-perceptions of his senses crowded round him; where, on wings of birds, shells of eggs, in he heard, saw, touched, and thought at once. clouds, in the snow, in crystals, in forms of rocks, in freezing waters, in the interior and exterior of mountains, of plants, animals, men, in the lights of the sky, in plates of glass and pitch when touched and struck on, in the filings round the magnet, and the singular conjunctures of Chance. In such Figures one anticipates the key to that wondrous Writing, the grammar of it; but this Anticipation will not fix itself into shape, and appears as if, after all, it would not become such a key for us. An Alcahest seems poured out over the senses

He rejoiced to bring strangers together. Now the stars were men, now men were stars, the stones animals, the clouds plants; he sported with powers and appearances; he knew where and how this and that was to be found, to be brought into action; and so himself struck over the strings, for tones and touches of his own.

"What has passed with him since then he does not disclose to us. He tells us that we ourselves, led on by him and our own desire f will discover what has passed with him