IF a man were to write an account of a whale suddenly become human, and retaining in its new form the feelings and propensities of its former shape, with a multitude of such incidents heaped together as might be supposed to result from this absurd combination, he would probably write a very stupid book, but it would be intensely German.

All the admirers of that peculiar sort of originality to which our neighbours lay exclusive claim, would break out in a chorus of applause. The manfish or the fish-man would be the beau ideal of what can be produced by an exuberant imagination; his memory of northern seas, and the delight he used to experience in refreshing himself in hot weather, by rubbing his back against an iceberg, would furnish ample scope for the grotesque, by bringing the two modes of existence into juxtaposition; and, in fact, we venture to insure the most complete success to any one who will take this as a subject, and work it out with the necessary amount of horrors and incongruities. This would be a novel of active life, where our sympathies would be enlisted on the side of the living and moving personages of the drama: but if the author wished to Germanizein another manner, he would have nothing to do but to invest some inanimate object with thoughts and feelings, but without endowing it with visible life; say, for example, a milestone, and let it love, fear, hate, reason, poetize, or philosophize to the best of his ability. This style of writing appears to a great number of people, who have never taken the trouble to analyse the nature of it, to require a very high degree of fancy in the author. But never was such a mistake committed.

It is from a want of imagination, and not from the excess of it, that our neighbours have betaken themselves to their mysticism and magic, to their doublegangers and Peter Schlemihls. A very natural anxiety to escape from the imputation which for centuries gods and columns had caston German genius, that it was plodding, careful, mole-eyed, and unimaginative, has been the main inducement to the convulsive efforts they now make to astonish and perplex.

But they ought to be aware that no man has a right to imagine new worlds till he has exhausted the old ones. It is only in favour of Prospero and Miranda that we make allowance for Ariel and Caliban. See what effect those creations would have unless they were presented to us along with the deep human interests and delicate shadings of character which we trace in the other persone of "the Tem pest." Would a whole play of Calibans and Ariels, or even a play in which they were the principal figures, and not the mere accessories and excrescences, impress us with such ideas of an author's imagination as if he had called Hamlet into being, or clothed the passion of innocent love in flesh and blood, and called it Juliet, on awakened the horrors of conscience in Macbeth? The mistake of our Gothic cousins in believing that whatever is not in nature must be a proof of fancy is much the same as the very common one among some of our youthful bards of considering that whatever is not prose must be poetry. A ring tha makes its possessor invisible, a key that opens a terrestrial paradise filled with Mahommedan Houris, an enchanter, a vampire, or a ghost these are the great instruments with which to concoct a national literature, unless, in deed, the author adopts the still easie expedient of filling his three volume with all manner of inexplicable inci dents, and then loosing the knot h has so artfully tied by exclaiming, lik good John Bunyan, at the end of all "and I awoke, and behold it was dream." For, depend on it, there is n deus ex machina equal to a nightcap But this striving after the new is no limited to the dealers in novels and ro mances. It is the characteristic at thi moment, and for several years past of every effort of the German mind Their scholars give new views of his tory, their theologians new viewso divinity, their philosophers new view of man, his faculties and final destiny But by new views, think not that ol things are merely put in a new posi tion, and fresh light poured on then from the naphtha lamps of those sages This would be a labour too low, toc poor, for their ambition. The firs

step they take in their search for novelty, like the diggers for fairy treasures among their own old castles, is to shake down the whole fabric by removing the foundation on which it rested. Out of the ruins they contrive to build up some fantastic tower according to their own taste, and try to train the old ivy over it again, to give it the appearance of antiquity. But the ivy has been rooted up, and refuses to hide the modern masonry. Oh, Romulus! Oh, Remus! Oh sacred Capitol! towards which had marched so many triumphant heroes, and over which hung such a glory that Rome was indeed the Eternal City while it rested under thy protectionare ye all things that never were ? or so different from what we have been taught to think you, that you are, in fact, mere fancy pieces woven into gossamer tapestry by Livy and the ancient chroniclers?-or was Niebuhr a dull, dreamy, fusty, old pedant, de. nying all these, and fifty other things and incidents, which we had been ready to swear to for fifteen hundred years, merely to obtain a name for himself? The man was utterly unjustifiable, even if his discoveries were true, in laying sacrilegious hands on what had been so long believed that it had grown a truth; in depriving of life and glory time-honoured Cincinnatus, treating great Camillus as an impostor, and slaughtering with a more intolerable slaughter the white-haired senate, seated on curule chairs, whose majesty had restrained for a season the enmity and ferocity of the Gauls. For our own part, we believe in all the early history of Rome; and have as yet had no sufficient proofs offered us of the existence of Niebuhr to convince us that he ever lived. We therefore are ready to make our solemn affirmation, that, to the best of our knowledge and belief, Remus leapt over the walls while they were yet only three feet high; and that the person or apparition assuming the name of Niebuhr was a phantom, and no man.

Theology is too sacred ground for us to tread upon, farther than to refuse to be guided first into labyrinths, (which are not to be found in the Bible,) and then out of them, by such misty guides as Tholuck, Baur, and even Neander. As to Strauss and the other infidels, we name them not without disgust; for if fancy can conjure

any image more revolting than another, it is that of a German Voltaire, with all his venom and audacity, and not a particle of his wit. Their philosophy, however, is protected by no such sanctities; and we repeat that the whole effort of their metaphysics has been to strike out some new path -to dazzle us with strange speculations, and puzzle us with unintelligible paradoxes. Let us not fall foul of Kant on this particular occasion; for that unpretending-looking syllable, whether spelt with h or c, has powerful patrons in these degenerate days, whose slumbering venom it might be dangerous to wake. Let us go to Herder himself, one of the greatest names in German literature-a poet, a scholar, a philosopher; yet tainted so deeply with the spirit of his class and country, that his design is evidently rather to astonish than to instruct. So irrepressible is genius, that it cannot continue hidden even under the mummy-like integuments in which a very undivine philosophy endeavours to envelope it-like light in a tomb, it flashes out amid the most gloomy and unpromising scenes, and beautifies, with its lustre, the uninviting objects on which it shines. Herder was undoubtedly a man of genius-he shows it in all his writings; but in them all there is no mistaking the great aim we have alluded to-to startle, to delight; but not to inform. We shall take notice of but one passage in his " Ideas on the Philosophy of the History of Mankind," because we propose to go at greater length into a work of a follower of Herder, (and no unworthy follower,) of which we think our readers will be glad to accompany us in the examination, as illustrative of the present tendencies of the German spe. culative philosophy; we mean "The Spirit of History" of Wolfgang Menzel. The philosophers of Herder's day had kindly taken the other planets into their charge, and entered into laboured disquisitions on the state and prospects of our neighbours in the Milky Way. In his admirable "Ideas" he alludes to the vain dreams of Kircher and Schwedenborg on such subjects, and the utter groundlessness of all the guesses and suppositions of Hugens, Lambert, and Kant; but the temptation is too great. He guards himself, indeed, with the convenient go-between "perhaps," but propounds the ingenious doctrine, "that the proportion that exists between the velocity and distance of the different planets, holds good also between the intellects and faculties of their inhabitants." The relation of our matter to our spirit may be regulated by the relative length of our days and nights -the rapidity of our thoughts is in the proportion which the revolution of our planet round itself and round the sun bears to the quickness or slowness of other stars-so that as Mercury performs his daily revolution in six hours, and his annual course in eighty-eight days, the inhabitants of that favoured planet must be clever beyond belief. On the other hand, it is pleasing to reflect how the dullest of men would be looked up to among the dunderheads of Saturn, who gropes his way almost in the dark round the sun, and takes no less than thirty years to perform the jour. ney. Gods! what a poet would be M'Henry!-how inconceivably "quick in the uptak" the late Lord Newton, who used to find out at breakfast the point of Harry Erskine's witticism of the previous day! "I hae ye noo, Harry!" would be the proof of the most rapid comprehension, though uttered at the end of a month. This, however, is supposing the possibility of a Henry Erskine in such a world; which is only admissible in consideration of the extraordinary activity it displays in spinning round itself, a feat which it performs in about seven hours. Per haps, after all, this wonderful speed in one revolution may make up for its dilatoriness in the other; and there may be an Athens in Saturn as well as in Scotland.

This, however, is only one of many equally gratuitous exercises of the fancy contained in Herder's work, which, be it observed, having for its subject the philosophy of history, should have been strictly limited to an induction from facts. But inapplicable as such flights were in the midst of such a dissertation, what are we to think of Wolfgang Menzel, whose whole work is composed of nothing else? Now, Wolfgang Menzel is not a man to be passed lightly over in our estimate of German intellect. There is no higher name in the living literature of his country. His "History of the Germans" is

eloquent and popular at the same time; as a critic, he is distinguished for sound judgment and clear diserimination, joined to a fearlessness and true-hearted disdain of the hollowness and affectation that reigned in the most admired writings of the greatest authors of his land, that drew on him the unmitigated hatred of the followers of Göthe and Voss. His two excellent tales, "Rubezahl" and "Narcissus," are well known: and as a poet he has shown much talent and a great deal of wit. It was accordingly with no slight anticipation of enjoyment that we opened a little pamphlet, published at Stutgard in 1835, entitled "The Spirit of History." Here, then, we thought, we shall have admirable writing and extensive information. Here the great empires of the past will unfold their buried majesty, and point with warning finger to the present or the future. Here shall we see the footmarks of Providence traced amid the ruins of crumbled monarchies. Here we shall-but a truce to our expectations. We pulled the candles closer to us, fixed our feet more resolutely on the fender, and turned to the preface:

"The following sketch is intended merely to show the impression which, in a long-continued study of history, the powerful spirit that lies in it has made on one not insensible soul. In this I do not scruple to let my heart have its full play. The man whose feelings are unmoved when he considers the fortunes of his kind-whose inmost soul is not excited by the presence of the spirit that animates the world, will never be able to comprehend them. The calmest enquiry, the most dispassionate observation, enable us to discover truths, the knowledge of which, nevertheless, leaves the deepest impression upon our hearts. And is history, then, something unconnected with us, to which we can continue indifferent? Are we not in the midst of it?-do we not fight the great fight along with it? Is not each of us destined to take a part in its tremendous drama: as hero fighting for some holy object, or as base wight who helps to bring about the tragic catastrophe? No one is so inconsiderable that he cannot, by magnanimity or the reverse, add to the number of the good or the bad in the world; that he does not help to make the beautiful shine more clearly-or make the base more hateful.

Moreover, knowledge is given to us not to destroy sentiment, but to inspire it."

- Very good, said we; feeling is a very good thing; and Wolfgang, we perceive, is going to give us the plain, unvarnished tale of the sentiments - awakened by man's fate and destiny in the mind of a man of talent and sensibility. Proceed

"History is man's life on earth confined to a few thousand years, and to one small planet. Beyond these limits, however, are spread immeasurable space and infinite time, and in them reigns an inexhaustible world-life. But in the same manner as our earth stands in close relationship to other heavenly bodies, it is probable.that our history is connected with the history of all beings; our life with that great world-life. We find it impossible either to restrain, or to satisfy the inclination to be informed on these points. It would appear that the mere anticipation of a higher existence is fitted to have an animating effect on our present life; whereas a clear vision of those loftier things would destroy our earthly illusions, and tear us away from the circle of existence in which we are placed. The explanation of the mode in which our earth is connected with the great world of stars, and how our temporal life is connected with the eternal life of the world, remains a problem, a riddle un⚫ solved and unsolvable, and yet which must furnish us with employment." Why? we do not see the least necessity for troubling our heads about such unprofitable enquiries. We think, at the same time, we could suggest a book to our philosopher that would go some way towards appeasing his curiosity. But we fear that a person who puzzles himself with finding out our connexion with the eternal life of the world, would not attach much weight to the volume we refer to.

It appears, then, that a portion at least of our friend's employment will be to guess at such high and wondrous mysteries; and if it be really 80, we do not exactly see how any strong sentiment or deep feelings can be excited by such an occupation in the most susceptible hearts. But let us go on, and see how he makes good his case.

He divides his subject into five "Problems;" an Astronomical Pro

blem; a Theological Problem; a Mythological Problem; a Genealogical Problem, and an Historical Problem. We shall give a short abstract of each, andaswehave no intention of detracting in any way from the merits of Wolfgang Menzel, we shall at once allow that many beauties of expression are lost in our translation. We merely profess to give the meaning as closely and literally as the two tongues will permit, begging the reader not to impute to the original the stiffness or baldness he may discover in our version.

"ASTRONOMICAL PROBLEM.

"Our earth is a planet, and belongs to the small family of planets, eleven in number, which circle round the sun, and receive from it their light, their daily and annual seasons, and all existence which depends on light. The astronomical relationship of the other planets to our earth, justifies us in the supposition, that they are inhabited by beings resembling man, and that these also are as near akin to each other as the planets themselves. If a decision on such points were allowable, we might conclude, that in the same way as our earth holds a middle rank among the other planets, in regard to distance from the sun, size, &c., so we men probably hold a middle station between the beings of the different planets, and are therefore a more complete representative of the whole species inhabiting our planetary system, than the inhabitants of Mercury or Uranus, who perhaps express the two extremes of the human system, as their planets express the two extremes of the planetary system. In the same manner, we cannot give up the notion that all the inhabitants of our planetary system, however much they may differ from each other, are still only one species of beings, with several subdivisions, perhaps, as we ourselves are divided into separate races. In that case it would be particularly interest. ing to discover what relation the inhabitants of the planets bear to those of the sun.. If there are other systems of planets which revolve round a sun of their own, the idea occurs directly, that they stand on a parallel step with our planetary system. This step, however, appears to be one of the lowest in the great ladder of existence. The relation of the planets to the sun is that of slaves.

"On a higher step stand the double stars, of which many thousands are already discovered, two suns, both self-lighted, which move at no great distance round each other, and by this means express a relationship of freedom and equality, of friendship and voluntary connexion, which is of a far higher and nobler kind than the servile relation of the planets to the sun. Must not, therefore, the inhabitants of the double stars stand on a higher step than those of the planets? But -we must now be allowed to assume, that these little planetary systems and double stars are again united to a loftier whole, to a great group of stars; and it is not improbable that the multitude of stars surrounding us are only a portion of the Milky Way to which we jointly and separately belong; and which again is separated, as one perfect whole, from other milky ways and groups of stars, still farther removed from us. And as it is said in the Bible, In my father's house are many mansions; and space is infinite; the fancy has ample room wherein to imagine the milky ways as numerous and as diversified as possible.

"That the mind might not grow giddy, some resting-place, some firm centre amidst the infinite has been sought; but this it is impossible to imagine, without, at the same time, giving up the very idea of infinity. We have assumed a central sun, we have believed that the milky ways move in circles round each other, or that they touch, in parabolic paths, like a number of cones with united points, &c.; but all this can, at the utmost, make only one great starry configuration in the expanse of heaven, but cannot represent that whole expanse itself, which, being absolutely immeasurable, can have no figure. But to descend from this height to our little earth againmy intention in this exposition has been to show that, at all events, our earth is but a very subordinate heavenly body, and that what we call the history of the world is but a very small portion of universal existence.

"Although the earth, attracted by the sun, revolves around it, yet she always turns her poles to the congenial quarters of the heaven; that is to say, her north pole, round which most land is collected, to the north side of the heavens, in which there are most stars;

and her south pole, where she is deficient in land, to the southern quarter, which is deficient in stars. In this, therefore, we recognise a law of the earth, consonant with the law of the whole visible starry world, and which must be older than the law which binds us to the sun; becauset he sun, with his equatorial tendency east and west, could only produce a preponderance of the equatorial force over the polar force, and a contrasting of east and west, but could not produce a preponderance of the north pole over the south pole, which are indeed equal, so far as concerns the sun, and are indebted for the difference that exists between them to some higher cause. But that this cause is the same which heaped the stars in greater number on the north side of the heavens is clear; and we must accordingly seek the point of gravity of our visible world in the direction of the north pole.

"With the exception of this direction of our earth's axis, and the correpondent collection of dry land on the north side, there remains little peculiar on the earth which does not appear either as a consequence of the influence of the sun, or as a reciprocating power with it. Over all advances a victorious sun-god, who either chains up the old earth-gods as furious Titans, or rules the wife-like earth with the strong authority of a husband, and, as Eros, impregnates the maternal night with a beautiful world of light.

"All existence, therefore, upon earth depends upon the sun, and is its work. Even the metals, the embryo world in the deep womb of earth, bears the image of its golden sire; for the metallic veins run parallel with the equator, and not with the earth's axis, and the noblest are found in considerable quantity only beneath the equator itself. The same is the case with the botanic and the animal worlds, whose most perfect types are found under the equator. And as space is subject to the solar progress, so also are times and seasons; the growth of all organization; the period of existence. To this sun-service, man, the loftiest of terrestrial beings, forms a remarkable exception, and recurs to that primal earth-service, or rather star-service, which is older than the sun. the metals, plants, and animals, the human race follows not that confused

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