" His are the bright and
terrible eyes, which meet the modern student in every sacred chapel
of thought, in every public enclosure.
But now, that we may not seem to dodge the question which all
men ask, nor pay a great man so ill a compliment as to praise him
only in the conventional and comparative speech, let us honestly
record our thought upon the total worth and influence of this genius.
Does he represent not only the achievement of that age in which he
lived, but that which it would be and is now becoming? And what
shall we think of that absence of the moral sentiment, that singular
equivalence to him of good and evil in action, which discredits his
compositions to the pure? The spirit of his biography, of his poems,
of his tales, is identical, and we may here set down by way of
comment on his genius the impressions recently awakened in us by the
story of Wilhelm Meister.
All great men have written proudly, nor cared to explain. They
knew that the intelligent reader would come at last, and would thank
them. So did Dante, so did Machiavel. Goethe has done this in
Meister.
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