356 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 



Knowest thou none such ? I know him and name 

 him Goethe.' l The majesty of Goethe's character 

 seemed, in Carlyle's estimate of him, to dissolve all his 

 errors, both of intellect and conduct. The standards of 

 the homiletic market-place were scornfully brushed 

 aside ; drawbacks and qualifications were blown away 

 like chaff, the golden grain ' of the mighty German 

 husbandman being alone garnered and preserved. 



I had various talks with him about Groethe's mis- 

 taken appreciation of the * Farbenlehre ' as the greatest 

 of his works. To Carlyle this was a most pathetic fact. 

 The poet thought he had reached the adamant of > 

 natural truth, and alas ! he was mistaken. But, after 

 all, was he mistaken ? Over German artists the * Far- 

 benlehre' had exercised a dominant influence. Could it 

 be all moonshine ? Thus he mused. While holding 

 firmly to the verdict that with regard to theory 

 Goethe was hopelessly wrong, I dwelt with pleasure on 

 the wealth of facts which his skill and industry had 

 accumulated. This to a certain extent gratified Car- 

 lyle, but he sighed for the supplement necessary to the 

 scientific completeness of his hero. He was intimately 

 acquainted with every nook and corner of Goethe's 

 work sometimes more intimately than the poet's own 

 countrymen. . I once had occasion to quote the poem 

 ' Mason Lodge,' translated and published in 4 Past and 

 Present.' 2 The article in which it was quoted was 



1 Sartor Resartus, Library Edition, p. 244. 



2 Book III. chap. xv. A very noble song-, and a great favourite 

 of Carlyle's. With it he wound up his Rectorial address at Edin- 

 burgh. The reciting of two of its verses, under peculiar circum- 

 stances, had an important influence on my own destiny. 



1 Solemn before us, 

 Veiled, the dark Portal, 

 Goal of all mortal : 

 Stars silent o'er us, 

 Graves under us silent 1 



' Here eyes do regard you, 

 In Eternity's stillness ; 

 Here is all fulness, 

 Ye brave, to reward you, 

 Work and despair not.' 



