That Goethe had not a moral
perception proportionate to his other powers, is not then merely a
circumstance, as we might relate of a man that he had or had not the
sense of tune or an eye for colors; but it is the cardinal fact of
health or disease; since, lacking this, he failed in the high sense
to be a creator, and with divine endowments drops by irreversible
decree into the common history of genius. He was content to fall
into the track of vulgar poets, and spend on common aims his splendid
endowments, and has declined the office proffered to now and then a
man in many centuries in the power of his genius -- of a Redeemer of
the human mind. He has written better than other poets, only as his
talent was subtler, but the ambition of creation he refused. Life
for him is prettier, easier, wiser, decenter, has a gem or two more
on its robe, but its old eternal burden is not relieved; no drop of
healthier blood flows yet in its veins. Let him pass. Humanity must
wait for its physician still at the side of the road, and confess as
this man goes out that they have served it better, who assured it out
of the innocent hope in their hearts that a Physician will come, than
this majestic Artist, with all the treasuries of wit, of science, and
of power at his command.
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