During the time that L. F. Lalande superintended the Royal Observatory in Paris, not long, indeed, before the revolution, a party from the court proceeded to the observatory to see an to an institution devoted to the blind.

OF THE

ENGLISH MAGAZINES.

THIRD SERIES.] BOSTON, AUGUST 1, 1829.

[VOL. 2, No. 9.

POETICAL EPISTLES.

FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE.

[The epistles, of which the following is a translation, were first published in the year 1795, in "The Horen," a journal conducted by Schiller, who may, therefore, be regarded as the friend addressed in them; and what is said of him is well suited to his ardent and noble character. These two epistles stand alone among the works of Goethe, as, indeed, they do in the whole field of modern literature; at least, where else is anything to be found worthy of being compared with those most exquisite and delightful productions of the good sense and good breeding of the Romans, the satires and epistles of Horace ?]

I.

Now that the whole world reads, and that many a reader will only
Turn impatiently over the leaves, and then snatching his own pen
Dexterously graft on the dwarfishest book a new portlier volume,
I too, thou wilt have it, my friend, must add to the number,
Writing to thee about writing, and telling thee all my opinions,
That so others again may broach their opinions about mine,
And wave driving on wave may roll everlastingly onward.
Thus however the fisherman goes out to sea, when the morning
Summons him, if but the wind bids fair; he plies at his task still,
Though his comrades by hundreds are skimming the glittering waters.

Generous friend, thou hast so much at heart,-the good of mankind first, Then that of thine own countrymen, and, above all, of thy next-door Neighbor: thou dreadest the mischief of mischievous books. We have seen such Often, alas! What, then, ought one to do? what might be accomplished,

Would honest men knit firmly together! were princes in earnest!

It is a grave, a momentous inquiry, but happens to find me

In an agreeable humor. The corn-clad country is smiling

Under the warm bright sky, and the gentlest breezes are blowing,

Cooling their wings in the waves, and gathering scents from the blossoms;
And, to the cheerful the world has a face of gladness; afar off
Care is seen floating away in thin clouds that are ready to vanish.

All that my light slim pen marks down you may easily blot out;
Nor are the traces of types much more enduring or deeper,
Though it is said they defy eternity. True, the black column
Speaks to a thousand at once; but anon, just as every one, after
Seeing his face in the glass, forgets it, in spite of its sweetness,
So words, too, are forgotten, although they be graven by iron.

Speeches are tossed to and fro with such marvellous ease, when a number
Talk away, each only hearing himself in the words that he pours forth,
Yea, only hearing himself in the words that proceed from his neighbor:
Just in the same way fares it with books; all, every reader
Reads himself out of the book that he reads ; nay, has he a strong mind,
Reads himself into the book, and amalgams his thoughts with the author's.
41 ATHENEUM, VOL. 2, 3d series.

Thus it is all lost labor, whene'er you endeavor, by writings,
Man's preconceived inclinations and made-up likings to alter.
But you may do thus much; you may strengthen him in his opinions,
Or, if he be but a youth, this and that you perchance may inculcate.

Shall I tell you my mind? it is life, life only, that fashions
Men, and that teaches and trains them; words mean little, do little.
True, we readily listen to all that confirms our own notions,

But what we hear never forms those notions. When we dislike aught,
We may perhaps go along with its advocate, if he be clever,

But when escaped from his clutches we hasten adown the old sheep-track.
Would you be heard with delight, and be hearkened to willingly, you must
Flatter. Whether you speak to the mob, or to nobles, or princes,

You must tell them all stories that place, as though living, before them
Just what they like, just what they themselves would wish to befal them.

Think you that all would have listened to Homer, that all would have read him, Had he not smoothed a way into the heart, persuading his reader

That he is just what he would be? and do we not in the high palace,

Or in the chieftain's tent, see the warrior exult in the Iliad?

While in the street, or the market, where citizens gather together,
All far gladlier hear of the craft of the vagrant Ulysses.
There, every warrior beholdeth himself in his helmet and armor;
Here, in Ulysses, the beggar sees even his rags are ennobled.

Thus was I walking one day on the well-paved quay of the city,
Dearly beloved by old Neptune, in which winged lions are worshipped
Almost as though they were gods, when a tale was a telling. A circle,
Close, thick, breathless, surrounded the voluble tatterdemalion.

"Once," so he sang, "I was driven by storms on the shores of an island,
Called by the name of Utopia. I wot not whether another
Out of this company ever set foot there; it lies in the ocean,

West of the Pillars of Hercules. There I was welcomed most kindly,
Led to an inn hard by, had the best of both eating and drinking,
All were on tiptoe to serve me, my bed was the softest and warmest.
Thus did a month glide swift as a song. I had fully forgotten
Care's grim looks and the furrows of want; when in secret this question
'Gan to disquiet me sore: What face will the reckoning put on,
When thy meals are all done? There was not a doit in my pocket.
Do not bring me so much, I cried to the host; but he brought me
Still more dishes and more. This increased my distress, and I could not
Eat any longer 'mid all my uneasiness: so I entreated,
Pray, master host, let my bill be a fair one. At this he grew angry,
Eyed me askance with a dark look, caught up a cudgel and swung it
Over my back, and the blows came pattering down on my shoulders,
Down on my back without mercy, and beat me almost to a mummy.
Fast as I could I ran off, and inquired for the Justice: he forthwith
Sent for the host, who was now grown calm, and grave was his answer:

"So must it be unto all who outrage the laws of our island,
Wronging a host whose rights are sacred, and wickedly asking
After a bill from the man who has courteously treated and fed them.
Was I then tamely to brook such an insult? in my own house too!
No! I should have but a sponge and never a heart in my bosom,
Had not my blood boiled over at such an offence to my honor.'

"Then said the Justice to me: Friend, think no more of your beating,
For if you had your deserts your punishment would be much harsher.
But if you choose to abide in this island and settle amongst us,

You must prove yourself worthy and fit to be one of our body.'

་

"Oh !' I exclaimed, ' kind Sir, I have most unluckily never

Felt any liking to labor, and nature gave me no talents

So as to earn my bread at my ease; my brethren all called me

Jack Do-nothing, and turned me away from the house of my father.'

"O then, welcome amongst us,' the Justice replied: thou shalt always Sit at the top of the table whenever the Commons assemble, And shalt have in the senate the place thou nobly deservest.

Only be well on thy guard that no backslidings entice thee
E'èr to disgrace us by working, that no spade ever be met with,
No oar ever be found in thy house; for if so, in a moment

Thou wert utterly ruined, and no one would honor or feed thee.
But to sit hour after hour in the market-place, folding thy arms thus
Over thy well-filled paunch, and hearing the merriest minstrels
Singing their ballads, and seeing the gay girls dancing, the glad boys
Gambolling: these are the duties that thou must promise and swear to.'

Such was the story he told; and there was not a hearer whose forehead
Did not grow open and cheerful, and all on that day began wishing
That they could find such a host, nay, that they could get such a beating.

II.

Excellent friend! thou knittest thy brows; thou exclaimest, that jesting Here has been quite out of place; thy question was grave and momentous, And it required to be answered as gravely. I know not, by heaven, How it has happened that some pert demon of laughter possessed me ; But I will now continue more seriously. Men, thou declarest,

Men may look after themselves, and watch over their lives and their lessons: Choose they to go wrong, let them; but think of thy daughters at home, think How these pandering poets are teaching them all that is evil.

This is a mischief, I answer, 'tis easy to remedy; more so

Than many think perhaps. Girls are so good, and so glad to have something
They may be busy about. Give the eldest the keys of the cellar,
That she may see thy wines placed right whenever the merchant
Or when the vintager sends in the barrels of generous liquor.

:

Here will be much for a damsel to look to such numbers of vessels,
Bottles, and emptied casks, to be kept all clean and in order.
Oft, too, will she observe how the must keeps frothing and stirring,
And she will pour in more when it falls short: so may the bubbles
Easily float to the mouth of the vat; and the noblest of juices
Ripen in delicate clearness, to gladden the years that are coming.
Daily, moreover, she draws it unweariedly, filling the bottles
Ever afresh, that its spirit may always enliven the table.

Next, let another be queen of the kitchen; then, in good earnest,
She will have work enough; dinners and suppers all summer and winter,
And they must always be savory, yet without draining the strong box.
When spring opens its doors, she has motherly cares for the poultry,
Feeding the ducklings betimes in the yard and the yellow-beaked chickens.
All that the season produces she brings in its turn to the table,

Happy if only before hand. Daily she changes the dishes,
Tasking her wits to devise a variety. Soon as the summer
Ripens the fruit, she stores for the winter. Down in the cool vault
Cabbages lie fermenting, and vinegar mellows the gurkins,
While, in the breeze-loving loft, she treasures the gifts of Pomona.
Joyfully lists she to the praise from her father, brothers, and sisters;
But if in aught she miscarry, alack! 'tis a greater misfortune,
Than if thy debtor absconded and left thee his note for thy money.
Thus will the maiden be ever more busy, and quietly grow up
Full of all household virtues, and happy the man who shall wed her.
Then, if she wishes to read, she will take up a treatise on cooking,
Such as the restless presses have issued already by hundreds.

Has she a sister? her care be the garden. Thou dost not condemn it,
Surely, to girdle thy house with a belt of romantical dampness :

But it is laid out neatly in beds for the use of the kitchen,

Bearing the wholesomest herbs, and the fruits that make children so happy.

Thus, like a patriarch, let thy own house be a kingdom in little,
And let thy offspring around thee be ever thy trustiest servants.
If thou hast still more daughters who like sitting quiet and working
Works such as women delight in, 'tis only the better: the needle
Finds little leisure to rust in the year round: be they so homely

While they are staying at home, when abroad they would willingly look like

Ladies with nothing to do. How much, too, has sewing and darning, Washing and pleating increased! now that every damsel is wearing White Arcadian garments, with long-tailed petticoats trailing,

Sweeping the streets and the garden, and stirring a dust in the ball-room.
Verily, had I a whole round dozen of daughters to manage,

I should be ne'er at a loss for employment; they get up employment
All for themselves in abundance; and so not a volume the year through
Should ever come from the book-lender's library over my threshold.

THE FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE.

MR. HENRY AUGUSTUS CONSTANTINE STUBBS.

MR. HENRY AUGUSTUS CONSTANTINE STUBBS was the son of Mr. Jonathan Stubbs; and Mr. Jonathan Stubbs was the husband of Angelina Stubbs, who was daughter and heiress of Benjamin Grogram, Esq. of Kerseymere Hall, a Grecian villa in the vale of Forest Hill, bordering on Peckham Rye Common. Miss Angelina Grogram had trod the flowery path of seven and twenty springs, not indeed