ward hearer with the challenge, proposed in perfect good faith, to explain exactly what the remark meant. Then, for the first time, he was brought distinctly to perceive that the oft-quoted saying of Richter, which he had supposed himself to understand well enough to enjoy it keenly for its witty expressiveness, was, in truth, less clear than it seemed. This leads us naturally to name an additional trait of German literature its lack of clearness, definiteness, solidity, point. The Germans think deeply, they think boldly, but they do not think clearly. Perhaps if they thought more clearly they would think less boldly. Perhaps, too, if they tasked-themselves to think more clearly they would less seem to be thinking deeply. This vagueness, this insubstantialness, this disappointing cloudiness, in German thought, may have been a part of what was consciously meant—it is certainly a part of what we well may understand as conveyed-in Richter's remark.

Unsophisticated sentimentalism, disposition to wear the heart on the sleeve, to have no personal secrets whatever from readers-this is a further singularity observable in German literature. What we mean goes beyond that certain degree of simplicity, of unreserve, of confidingness, on the part of writers, with which, though some might be surprised, most would be pleased. German outspokenness in literature is often, to English or American taste, something excessive, something almost egregious. It resembles what in society we should call lack of requisite reticence, of decorous selfcontrol.

The sentiment of delight in the contemplation of nature is a sufficiently striking thing in German literature to deserve separate note. This sentiment, in its later exhibition, may be a derivation from abroad-from Rousseau, from Spinoza, for example. But Luther, too, loved nature, and there are some exquisite bits of idyllic description of natural beauty interspersed through his letters. At any rate, however inspired, whether imported or indigenous, the passion has become a distinctive German literary trait.

Of near kindred with the two traits last named is, finally, a certain religiosity giving its tinge to German literature. Your German writer may be an infidel, but he will not therefore cease to have his religiosity. He may be a libertine in practice, but his religiosity will still be dear to him. Religiosity never gave up harboring in Heine's heart, cheek by jole with mockery, with ribaldry, with blasphemy. The religiosity of which we now speak, is not religion. It is rather simply the irrepressible, though half-perverted, witness borne in literature by the German temperament to its own ineradicable instinct for religion. Of religion itself, however, the authentic thing, beautiful and sweet, there is also, in German literature, no lack. We have, in saying this, to suppose a broad distinction made in thought between religion and orthodoxy, as orthodoxy is commonly conceived. A German strictly orthodox in religion may, indeed, exist; but such a one, we judge, has never yet made himself known to the world in literature.

We have said "finally," and we accordingly herewith bring our characterization of German literature abruptly to its close. A word or two only of related information, and we go without more delay to the exhibition of those select German authors who will furnish the subject and the material of the present volume.

German generosity in literary appreciation—perhaps we should say German generosity as toward English authors in particular has enjoyed the return from English-speakers of an overflowing reward in kind. Never, on behalf of any other coeval foreign literature than the German, has there been exercised among us a championship so importunate and so influential. Coleridge and Carlyle, by eminence, in England; in America, Felton, Ripley, Brooks, Hedge, and, indeed, in one way or another, nearly all our chief literary powers, have conspired to commend to Englishmen and Americans the study of German literature, and have accumulated a popular apparatus of means for that study far beyond what exists in the case of any modern literature ex

cept the German. The deep-lying difference in mental genius between the purely Teutonic and the mixed Anglo-Saxon race interposes a barrier, which will, perhaps, never be surmounted, to perfect freedom of literary interchange flowing back and forth from the one to the other. We may, however, safely wish well to every effort made on either side to promote mutual literary acquaintance.

For the benefit of those among our own readers who may desire to prosecute their explorations of German literature farther than, with the single aid of this volume, they can do, we mention now a few accessible books in English which they will find variously serviceable to their purpose.

Among living American teachers of the German language and literature, the place of honor belongs, we suppose, by right of seniority, to the veteran Dr. F. H. Hedge, whose two books, Prose Writers of Germany, an ample repertory of translation issued many years ago, and Hours with German Classics, recently published, a collection of university lectures on German literature, have gained wide acceptance with the public. In the older and larger book, translation (limited to originals in prose) is the principal object, biographical and critical comment being secondary. In the smaller, recent volume, that relation is reversed. Even this smaller volume of the two much exceeds the present book in size.

Professor James K. Hosmer's Short History of German Literature is not, what its title might seem to import, a complete, though compendious, sketch of German literary history. It is rather a series of essays or lectures on selected topics in German literature, designed by the author to be so treated as virtually to cover the whole field indicated in the title to his book. The book is by no means a primer in size. It contains more than six hundred fairly large pages. It is fresh and vigorous in style, and its tone is, on the whole, pure and bracing. It breathes unwasted youthful enthusiasm and joy in its subject. There are in it frequent translations from German interspersed.

A formal history of German literature has lately been translated, under the best auspices, from German, which may be mentioned as constituting a popular manual for general purposes probably not inferior to any now existing in English on its subject. This is the work of W. Scherer, commended in its English form to the public by the name of Max Müller on its title-page as editor. Scherer is a well-informed, judicious historian and critic, having at command a more than ordinarily clear and unembarrassed style-for a German. His book is not free from errors, and his plan of treatment seems to us faulty, involving as it does, on the historian's part, repeated recurrences here and there throughout the volume to a given name, and thus obliging the student, with much confusing use of his index, to piece out as best he can for himself that whole view of each particular author which his manual will rarely be found in any one place to supply. German-like, Scherer begins remotely, and stores his first volume with a mass of uninteresting information painstakingly gathered, such as it is a great satisfaction to have within reach-for future reference.

The special difference to characterize the volume herewith offered to the public-apart from its less comparative size, a very important feature of contrast-is, first, that while, on the one hand, it will not be either merely or chiefly historical and critical, it will, on the other hand, be both historical and critical incidentally; and, second, that while, on the one hand, it will not present long translated extracts in bare unbroken bulk, it will, on the other hand, present considerable extracts, interrupted, connected, elucidated, and appreciated, by means of quasi-editorial comment in explanation and appraisal. In other words, taking translated German text, select and representative, for the basis, the backbone, of the book, we shall seek so to edit that text as to invest it with flesh, its own flesh, to inspire it with breath, its own breath, to give it a heart, its own heart; in short, to make it live, and with its own life, to our readers. If we succeed in our efforts our readers will here have under their eye, neither, on the one

hand, simply so much translated German literature, to understand, as best they may, for themselves, and to form their own unguided judgment upon, nor, on the other hand, simply so much unexemplified critical expression to take on pure trust from the critic, without fully apprehending, and, of course, without verifying. The idea of this book is, therefore, not quite like that of any other book known to the present writer. The execution is such as his best conscientious endeavors could make it.