ART. IV. - The Life of FRIEDRICH SCHILLER, comprehending an Examination of his Works. From the London edition. Boston. Carter, Hendee, & Co. 1833. 12mo. Pp. 294.

He who is called to be a prophet in his generation, whose office it is to unfold new forms of truth and beauty, —enjoys, among other prerogatives peculiar to his calling, the privilege of a two-fold life. He is at once a dweller in the dust, and a denizen of that land where all truth and beauty spring. The genius that is linked with him, has its own world, and his earthly fortunes are chiefly memorable as the conditions of its developement, or as the fruits of its action. While his mortal part, according to necessary and everlasting laws, fulfills its destiny in the great circle of Nature, the free spirit labors joyfully in that invisible kingdom to whose service it has been called. Ofttimes, however, the mortal and the spiritual, the earthly calling and the high calling, the prophet and the man, are so interwoven, that it becomes almost impossible to distinguish the one from the other. Hence the biography of such an one, when conceived in the spirit of this double nature, is a task of peculiar difficulty. The biographer must not only exhibit each part of his subject in its individual distinctness and fulness, but he must also explain the relation between them; he must show how the intellectual life has sprung from the earthly condition, and how the earthly condition has in turn been modified by the intellectual life. Now it is evident, that none but an auto-biography can fully satisfy the conditions of such a problem, inasmuch as the whole mystery of the connexion between the mortal and the spiritual, can be known only to individual consciousness. But so far as it is possible for one mind to interpret another, so far as it is possible for the disciple of one nation or literature to comprehend and exhibit the intellectual offspring of a different nation and literature, so far this object has been accomplished in the work before us. The Biography of Schiller" is a production of no ordinary merit, from whatever point of view we regard it; to us, it is chiefly remarkable as one of the very few instances in which full justice has been rendered by an English mind, to the character and claims of a foreign

writer. Exclusiveness has been ever the besetting sin of that nation. Possessing a literature of their own, unequalled since the Greek, they seem never to have dreamed that any thing could be gained by a free intercourse with the genius of other climes. And yet there is no literature so rich, but it may be improved by grafts of foreign growth. The Germans have acted in this respect more liberally and more wisely. By means of translations, which seem rather to reproduce, than to interpret their respective originals, these indefatigable cultivators have succeeded in naturalizing the choice products of every zone. Their late luxuriant harvest of native produce has been rendered more luxuriant still, by a matchless collection of exotics; and an acquaintance with the German has now become an introduction to all that is beautiful and good of every age and clime.

The "Life of Schiller" is distinguished by its clear and happy method, its luminous critiques, and its just appreciation of the characteristic excellences and deficiencies of the poet whom it portrays. From scanty materials the author has constructed a work full of instruction, and pregnant with more than romantic interest. A life unusually barren of vicissitude, is made to appear eventful in the strong light which is thrown upon the revolutions of a master mind. In short, this biography is what the biography of a poet should always be, the history of a mind rather than the history of a person, a record of thoughts and feelings rather than of events, a faithful exposition of the struggles and vicissitudes, the trials and the triumphs, which have befallen a human intellect in the service of truth.

The few literary faults, which an impartial critic might discover, have arisen almost entirely from the want of a sufficient acquaintance with the German idiom. The author's translations are for the most part excellent; occasionally, however, a misapprehension of some word or phrase has betrayed him into errors, which sometimes distort, but oftener weaken the original. The most important of these errors have been pointed out and judiciously corrected by the American editor; the few that remain are, comparatively, trifling. In some instances they seem to be wilful deviations from, rather than misapprehensions of the poet's meaning. Not to dwell, however, on these literary imperfections, there is one portion of this work, we rejoice to say only one,

of which we feel ourselves constrained to express a decided disapprobation. We allude to the manner in which our author mentions Schiller's use of stimulants. This practice, he seems to regard, as not only innocent, but praiseworthy; the evils, which sprung from it, the enfeebling of the bodily frame and the shortening of life, are represented as noble sacrifices to the cause of letters. "It was an error so to waste his strength; but one of those, which increase rather than diminish our respect; originating, as it did, in generous ardor for what was best and grandest, they must be cold censurers, that can condemn it harshly. For ourselves, we lament, but honor this excess of zeal; its effects were mournful, but its origin was noble." We believe that much mischief is done by such representations, or, indeed, by any exposure of similar practices on the part of distinguished men. Young aspirants after literary eminence are led, by the hearing of such things, to believe that there is some essential connexion between the faults and the fame of the great, and that the one will necessarily lead to the other. We have seen effects of this kind produced in more than one instance by Byron's reported eulogy of gin. It is much to be regretted, that poets should ever resort to other sources of inspiration than the natural fountains of their own spiritual being; but, if such things be, let them be buried and forgotten. The biographer is bound by no obligation that we can understand, to reveal these secrets of the fleshly prison-house; if he must reveal them, let it not be in the spirit of commendation, but with the rebuke which the error deserves.

We shall not dwell any longer on this part of our subject. Indeed our purpose in taking up this work, was not to discuss the merits of the biography. We wish to speak of the illustrious poet whose memory it is designed to honor.

The name of Friedrich Schiller has been honorably known to the literary world for half a century. Nearly thirty years have elapsed since his decease, yet the memory of his poetic achievements is as fresh in the minds of his countrymen as if he had died but yesterday. A more brilliant fame has seldom fallen to the lot of any poet; and never did poet struggle more faithfully to win it. He was not one of those for whom fortune prepares the way, and whose paths are made straight by the machinery of circumstances; he belongs to that noble army who have raised

[July,

themselves to the summit of humanity with no other machinery than the buoyancy of their own genius. Born in poverty, bred in obscurity, bound to an institution which warred with every natural expression of the soul and delighted in torturing all minds into one mould, trained to a profession which deals emphatically with the flesh, the world was all against him. But he had a soul that could overcome the world. Let those who are accustomed to derive every manifestation of the mind from outward circumstances explain, if they can, the phenomenon of a poem originating under such circumstances as these. Yet, it was while thus circumstanced, at the age of eighteen, that Schiller produced the Robbers. Our biographer says; "There seems no doubt that but for so mean a cause as the perverted discipline of the Stuttgard school, we had never seen this tragedy." We cannot agree with him. Schiller's sufferings at Stuttgard may have furnished the coloring of this drama; but, without the inborn spirit of poesy that possessed him, all the discipline in the world would not have produced it. Where that spirit is, it will speak. In Schiller it spoke the louder no doubt, for the restraints which opposed it. Its first accents were strong and terrible. It spoke with an angry scream, which pierced every soul from the Rhine to the Baltic, and startled the eagles of dominion on their ancient sceptres. Such a voice had never been heard in Germany since Luther called her from the bondage of Rome. It was a prophecy of that tempest which soon after burst upon Europe and changed the face of empires. A true image of man, as he exists in his native strength and majesty, undisguised by old conventions, was held up to the world, and tyrants trembled as they gazed. Germany was soon filled with the fame of " The Robbers." It went into every circle, and for a time supplanted every other work. The Sorrows of Werter were forgotten in the agonies of Moor, and Götz with the iron hand, the hero of history, dwindled into insignificance before this giant-child of the imagination.

The class of writings, to which this work belongs, is peculiar, we believe, to modern times. It is characterized by a spirit of fierce disquietude, a dissatisfaction with the whole mechanism of society, and a presumptuous questioning of all that God or man has ordained. It represents a state of being which no word or combination of words can exactly express; a disease peculiar to ardent natures, in early life:

"The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind;

A savageness of unreclaimed blood;

a keen sensibility to all that is absurd and oppressive in social life, a scorning of authority and custom, a feeling that all the uses of this world are weary and unprofitable, together with the consciousness of high powers, bright visions of ideal excellence, and a restless yearning after things not granted to man. To those who are not acquainted with German works of this description, Shelley's and Byron's poetry may serve as English samples. "The Robbers" is, on the whole, the most innocent work of the kind to which it belongs. Heinse's "Ardinghello," a contemporary production of the same class, is a very impure book, the tendency of" Werter" is questionable, and that of "Faust" still more so ; but Schiller's drama, we will venture to affirm, never did injury to the morals of any one. The allegation that young men have been made highwaymen by it, is unsupported by any evidence that we have been able to discover. It seems to us just about as probable that "The Robbers" should produce this effect, as that any one should be induced by one of Cooper's novels to join a tribe of Indians. Our author has said with truth, that the publication of "The Robbers " forms an era in the literature of the world. With the exception of "Faust," we know of no work since Shakspeare, that possesses half its power; we mean that kind of power which is evinced by fertility of imagination, and by vivid expression of passionate emotions. In this latter respect, "The Robbers" exceeds every thing of the kind. "The Corsair" and "The Giaour" are pastoral eclogues compared with it. The play has innumerable faults, it is objectionable throughout in point of manner, it abounds in puerilities and in violations of the most obvious rules of taste; and yet, with all these deductions, it still remains, in our estimation, the most effective of Schiller's works, and it seems to us, that the promise implied in this early effort was never fully realized. In expressing this opinion we do not mean to contradict the German critics and Schiller himself, who agree in condemning "The Robbers" for its juvenile extravagance. We agree with them that the author's later works, beginning with "Don Carlos," are far preferable as finished specimens of art; they evince a greater reach of thought, clearer judgment, maturer views of nature and life,

VOL. XVI.

-N. S. VOL. XI. NO. III.

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