to Jacobi, said of him :-"Heaven has sent me a treasure in Richter that I neither deserved nor expected. Every time we are together he opens anew the treasures that the three wise men brought, and the star goes always before him. I can only say that he is all heart, all soul; an harmonious tone in the great golden harp of humanity, in which there are so many broken and discordant strings." Shortly after his return to Hof, the Princess of Hohenlohe came and entreated him to take charge of the education of her sons. The offer was alluring, inasmuch as the income would be handsome, and, by accepting it, Paul would have а beautiful residence on the Rhine." But his answer was, "That he was henceforth determined to educate no children but his own--the books, namely, which he designed to write; and that he had so much to say, that if death should surprise him at his writing table in his eightieth year, it would be yet too early."

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So, with a fixed and steady purpose, he proceeded with what he conceived to be his only proper work. Prior to visiting Weimar, he had commenced his great romance, the "Titan :" but after the literary and feminine fascinations of that city, Richter's spirits, on returning to his Patmos at Hof, were too much depressed to go on with it to his satisfaction. He therefore occupied himself during the winter with two of his minor works, "Jubelsenior" and the "Kampaner Thal." The latter (of which we have an English translation) is a powerful discourse on the immortality of the soul, and is reckoned "one of the most purely serious and poetically beautiful of all the author's minor works." The "Jubelsenior" is a touching and simple representation of a marriage festival, celebrated by an aged clergyman and his wife, at the same time with the consecration of the church, and the introduction of a new young pastor, who is in love with the adopted child of the old people. Jean Paul delighted in all these humble, simple religious ceremonies; and the picture presented in this work is the expression of his sympathy with the lonely and lowly joys and aspirations that subsist in silent and secluded places. The love of the young people is also mingled in the history, making a sweet, gentle under-tone of passion

in the staid solemnity of the piece, and brightening, as with rays of hope, the quietude of resignation.

In the summer of 1797, while Richter was at the baths of Eger, in Saxony, enjoying the society of a multitude of brilliant and distinguished persons, and glowing under the smiles of a rich and beautiful young widow from Switzerland, he was startled by receiving the intelligence of his mother's death. With a sorrowing and remorseful heart he hastened back to Hof, to gaze for the last time upon the honoured countenance whose eyes he should now behold no more. He found her looking calm and happy, and even youthful; the traces of her age being softened and refined by the hallowing touch of death. It only remained for him to have her carried to that last dwelling of the weary, where, as our gifted Tennyson expresses it,

"She will not hear the north wind rave,

Nor, moaning, household shelter crave,, From winter rains that beat her grave.' Her cares and sorrows are all ended, and whatsoever there remains of rest and immortality, it is now opened to her as the beginning of a new existence. And the mourner sits him down to think of the days that are now gone, when the buried one had shared with him the burden of his disappointments, and witnessed the advent of his better fortunes; and of all the love which she had ever borne him, and of the meek humility with which she had sometimes murmured under the hardships of her lot. And among her treasured household stores he found a faded book, wherein, in times gone by, she had set down the scanty earnings of her midnight spinnings; and this, with a tenderness and regret unspeakable, he pressed closely to his breast as a most precious memorial never to be parted with. "If all other manuscripts are destroyed," said he, "yet will I keep this, good mother! where the misery of thy nights is recorded, and where, in weakness and pain, thy thread of life is drawn out." And with the sanctity of death about the house, he remained in it, sad and still, for many days. But life in the frame of man is powerful, and cannot anchor always by the shores of a gloomy memory; and so, with a spirit subdued and chastened, he turns again to explore the untraversed waters of existence,

that yet lie broad and dimly seen before him under the horizon of the coming years.

Strange, perhaps, it may seem,-but yet how natural to a man stricken in his affections,-Richter fled back to the baths of Eger, to find, in the sympathy of the fascinating Swiss widow, some suitable consolation for his sorrow. She must have exercised a great charm over him, for he wrote to his friend Otto: "I have found the first female soul that I can completely unite with without weariness, without contrariety; that can improve me while I improve her.

She is too noble and too perfect to be eulogised with a drop of ink. She belongs to that class of women who, with firm steps, go straight forward on their path, and do not turn, or observe the gazers on the right or left. She has more love in her heart than in her eyes, and, therefore, she is not understood, nor happy; and her clear reason and brilliant fancy surpass the glow of her imagination." With this lady, he afterwards carried on an interesting correspondence; but, as was the case in other instances of Paul's experience, nothing further sprung from it.

Sometime in 1798, Richter took his final leave of Hof, and settled himself at Leipzig. Here he entered his younger brother at the University; and, after living some time as the guest of an eminent bookseller, he took up his quarters in his old lodgings in the Peterstrass. He seems to have lived in pleasant intercourse with the best society of the place, and to have followed his vocation as an author in the midst of all suitable and convenient furtherances. Emilie Von Berlespsh (the interesting Swiss widow) had purchased a country house at a short distance from the city; and thither Paul was privileged to repair whensoever he felt inclined, having "a quiet, retired room fitted up for him expressly as a study, where he could retire if he wished to be alone; or, if he desired society, he might have it "with her and her friends in her apartments." Upon all occasions, we hear, he met a glowing heart, and a warm disinterested friendship. "I find in her," said Paul, "a soul that has not once fallen beneath my ideal, and I should be wholly happy in her friendship, if she would not be too happy with me."

In this same year Richter accompanied Emilie to Dresden, where a new and hitherto unimagined world was opened to him in its widely-renowned galleries of art. On his return to Leipzig a distressing discovery awaited him. "His brother Samuel, upon whose account and to promote whose education he had come to Leipzig, a youth of good talents and originally of a noble disposition, had fallen into dissipated company, and become involved in a deep passion for gaming. He had taken advantage of Richter's absence to break open his desk, and abstract from it a hundred and fifty rix dollars." With this sum he departed; and, though Paul performed many journeys in search of him, and would have readily forgiven him and received him back, he never saw him more. Subsequently, indeed, he heard of him, and settled on him a small yearly sum sufficient for his maintenance. The youth led a wandering and irregular life, and at last died at a military hospital in Silesia.

After his brother's departure, Leipzig became insupportable to Richter as a place of residence. He accordingly left it, and for a while settled in Weimar. Here again he soon became pleasantly domesticated. "His reception," we are told, "was even more flattering than at first, as personal knowledge had confirmed the former admiration. All doors and all hearts, even the ducal, were opened to him." The noble and intellectual Duchess Amelia received him as a friend, and gave him suggestions which he wrought up in his works. With Herder, Wieland, and, in a less degree, with Göethe and Schiller, he lived on terms of free and pleasing intimacy; though ultimately with Göethe there was some estrangement, which, more or less, continued throughout life. For the rest, Richter appears to have been highly valued by all who knew him; and perhaps he now stood upon a higher elevation in the estimation of society and in his own than he had ever before attained.

So passed the autumn of 1798; but, in the month of January following, Madame von Kalb, returning from her country residence, dashed like an ominous comet into the Weimar circles, and very sensibly disturbed the harmony of their arrangements. She had persuaded her husband to consent to a

divorce, and, as a consequence, insisted upon marrying our hero! She hinted, one night at Herder's, that such a consummation might be effected in the spring. But," says Richter, "I afterwards said to her decidedly, No! and, after a glow of eloquence from her, it stands thus, that she shall take no step for, and I no step against, the divorce. I have at last acquired firmness of heart. In this affair I am wholly guiltless. I can feel that holy, general love which I cannot, indeed, paint with this dark water; but it passes not beyond my dreams,"

However, no experience comes amiss to a man of poetic genius; and it would seem that the stormy passages of his life, arising out of his relations with the Kalbs and Berlespshs, were of unquestionable advantage to him in the way of enabling him to complete his "Titan." At this work he labours until the spring, when, instead of marrying the enchantress Kalb, he accepted an invitation to the Court of Hilburghausen, "from whose Duke," we are told, "he received the diploma of Legations-rath." * Here Paul is again bewitched by a certain Caroline von F, a maid of honour to the Duchess, and seems decidedly to think, "If I were united with her, my whole being, even the smallest stain, would be purified." The lady, indeed, appears to reciprocate his feelings, and for a time all goes joyous "as a marriage bell." But you are aware that "the course of true love never does run smooth;" and here, again, we find "objections on the part of friends," and endless fastidious "botherations;" and, finally, the match is broken off, never more to be renewed. Richter, meanwhile, is so discomposed by the termination of the affair, as to grow tired of Weimar, and, for a change, he journeys to Berlin.

But before going, he contrived to get the first volume of "Titan" published, the same being dedicated to the hospitable Duchess and her three noble sistersall of whom had declared themselves Paul's intense admirers. Other works, of lesser note, he had produced, with a view to keep himself before the public while the "Titan" was in preparation. On arriving at Berlin, he found his fame had arrived before him; and,

* Counsellor of Legation.

accordingly, he was everywhere well received and entertained. And now, if the Fates will only be propitious, Richter shall certainly obtain a wife. He is now thirty-seven years of age, so that if he means to marry he had better lose no time. Many brilliant ladies are made known to him, and among them, Caroline Meyer, daughter of Dr. John Andrew Meyer, Professor of Medicine, and a member of the Royal Privy Council. As we have no space to spare for describing the particularities of the wooing, it may be as well to state at once that to this lady Richter was duly married on the 27th of May, 1801. The young wife, writing shortly afterwards to her father, declares herself to be happy beyond her utmost expectations:-"It will sound extravagant to you," she says, "if I say, the high enthusiasm which Richter excited in me has continually risen as we have entered into real life together. Never can a misunderstanding arise between us. This man so loves me, that I have nothing to wish but that we may die together." Of her, in return, Jean Paul affirms, "Marriage has made me love her more romantically, deeper, infinitely more than before." And so, with the brightest prospects, they set up their household in the pleasant town of Meiningen.

.

All this, we suppose, is exactly as it should be; and, as henceforth Paul's life was for the most part prosperous and peaceful, there needs be little further said, in this place, respecting his fortunes or condition. After several changes of residence, he finally settled in Baireuth; and the remaining chief events of his life were the books which he produced and published. Shortly after his marriage, "Titan" was completed, after being ten years in progress; and not much later, in 1803, appeared the "Flegeljahre," a work whose title Mr. Carlyle thinks may be freely translated "Wild Oats." Besides these, and the works already named in the course of our narrative, Richter's principal works are:-"Vorschule der Aesthetik" (Introduction to Esthetics); "Levana" (a Discourse on Education), translated into English; "Leben Fibels" (Life of Fibel); "Nicholaus Margraf;" "Katzenberger's Badereise" (Katzenberger's Journey to the Bath); "Schmelzle's Reise nach Flätz" (Schmelzle's Journey to Flätz); "A Eulogy on

Charlotte Corday;" and "Jean Paul's Letters and Future History."

Most of Richter's works belong to the class of novels and romances; but they must not be judged of by our English notions of the nature of such productions. Speaking of " Hesperus" and "Titan," Mr. Carlyle remarks:"There is solid metal enough in them to fit out whole circulating libraries, were it beaten into the usual filligree; and much which, attenuate it as we might, no quarterly subscriber could well carry with him." From the same writer we subjoin a few additional sentences, which will serve, better than anything we could present, to give a general notion of the most prominent and peculiar characteristics of Richter's genius:

"We defy the most careless or prejudiced reader to peruse these works without an impression of something splendid, wonderful, and daring. Richter has been called

an intellectual Colossus; and, in truth, it is somewhat in this light that we view him. His faculties are all of gigantic mould; cumbrous, awkward in their movements; large and splendid, rather than harmonious or beautiful; yet joined in living union; and of force and compass altogether extraordinary. He has an intellect vehement, rugged, irresistible; crushing in pieces the hardest problems; piercing into the most hidden combinations of things, and grasping the most distant: an imagination vague, sombre, splendid, or appalling; brooding over the abysses of Being; wandering through Infinitude; and summoning before us, in its dim religious light, shapes of brilliancy, solemnity, or terror: a fancy of exuberance literally unexampled,-for it pours its treasures with a lavishness which knows no limit; hanging, like the sun, a jewel on every grass-blade; and sowing the earth at large with orient pearl. But deeper than all these lies Humour, the ruling quality with Richter; as it were the central fire that pervades and vivifies his whole being. He is a humourist from his inmost soul: he thinks as a humourist; he feels, imagines, acts as a humourist. Sport is the element in which his nature lives and works,—a tumultuous element for such a nature, and wild work he makes in it! A Titan in his sport as in his earnestness, he oversteps all bound, and riots without law or measure. He heaps Pelion upon Ossa, and hurls the universe together and asunder like a case of playthings.

It is an infinite masquerade: all nature is gone forth mumming in the strangest guises.

"Yet the anarchy is not without its purpose these vizards are not mere hollow masks; there are living faces under them; and this mumming has its significance. Richter is a man of mirth, but he seldom or never condescends to be a merry-andrew. Nay, in spite of its extravagance, we should say that his humour is, of all his gifts, in

trinsically the finest and most genuine. It has such witching turns; there is something in it so capricious, so quaint, so heartfelt. From his Cyclopian workshop, and its fuliginous limbecs, and huge unwieldy machinery, the little shrivelled, twisted Figure comes forth at last, so perfect and so living, to be for ever laughed at and for ever loved! Wayward as he seems, he works not without forethought: like Rubens, by a single stroke, he can change a laughing face into a sad one. But in his smile itself a touching pathos may lie hidden, a pity too deep for tears. He is a man of feeling, in the noblest sense of the word, for he loves all living with the heart of a brother; his soul rushes forth, in sympathy with gladness and sorrow, with goodness or grandeur, over all creation. Every gentle and generous affection; every thrill of mercy; every glow of nobleness, awakens in his bosom a response; nay, strikes his spirit into harmony; a wild music, as of windharps, floating round us in fitful swells; but soft sometimes, and pure and soul-entrancing, as the song of angels! Aversion itself with him is not hatred: he despises much, but justly; with tolerance also, with placidity, and even a sort of love. Love, in fact, is the atmosphere he breathes in ; the medium through which he looks. His is the spirit which gives life and beauty to whatever it embraces.'

This, of course, is no complete estimate of Richter's literary powers and performances; but it may serve to indicate their quality and substance, just as a piece of broken marble might be exhibited to show the nature of the material in a quarry. Any one desirous of undertaking the study of Richter's writings, could not do better than begin by reading the whole of Mr. Carlyle's criticisms upon them in the two first volumes of his "Miscellanies." Here, at any rate, our restricted space forbids us to enter further into the subject; and, with respect to Richter's outward history, there is but little more to tell.

It was in the year 1805 that he took up his residence at Baireuth; and there he continued to live for the next

twenty years. "Little city of my habitation," said he, "which I belong to on this side the grave!' During these years children grew up around him, and in the eyes of their mother he saw his own content and happiness reflected. A man of the simplest habits and wishes, he was satisfied with simple pleasures; and, in the exercise of his vocation, he was ever distinguished by the most exemplary and unwearied diligence. "I hold my duty," said he, "not to lie in enjoying or acquiring, but in writing,-whatever

time it may cost, whatever money may be forborne,-nay, whatever pleasure; for example, that of seeing Switzerland, which nothing but the sacrifice of time forbids." And again, he says: "A poet, who presumes to give poetic delight, should contemn, and willingly forbear, all enjoyments, the sacrifice of which affects not his creative powers, that so he may delight a century and a whole people." Richter uniformly took the highest and the noblest view of his literary calling. He exercised it solely for the edification and improvement of humanity. As the days of his pilgrimage advanced towards their decline, he could calmly consider them, and say, " When I look at what has been made out of me, I must thank God that I paid no heed to external matters, neither to time nor toil, nor profit nor loss. The thing is there, and the instruments that did it I have forgotten; and none else knows them. In this wise, has the unimportant series of moments been changed into something higher that remains." He was

not without some troubles in his latter years; but these did not long disturb the magnanimity and sereneness of his soul. Whatsoever befel, he bore with a stoical and patient steadfastness, cheerfully seeking what help was to be had; and when no hope, or chance of help, was left, still cheerfully submitting to his lot. Finally, as is the universal fate of mortals, he died; and saw the shining of the sun no more, nor the green earth, with its streams and flowers, nor the sadness or the joy of human faces. "I have described so much," he had said, "and I depart without ever seeing Switzerland, and the ocean, and so many other sights; but the ocean of eternity I shall in no case fail to see!" On that remote and unimaginable deep, he went forth from the shores of time, on the 11th of November, 1825. The same grand voyage, Reader, you and I must some day embark upon; may we, in the meanwhile, remember that there is a God above us, and strive to work out our destination here with fidelity and manfulness !

DR. CHALMERS.

FEW modern names have been longer, or more honourably, before the world than that of Dr. Thomas Chalmers. As an orator, a theologian, and the leading

spirit of one of the most remarkable ecclesiastical revolutions of modern times, the records of his life fill a large space in the domestic history of his country and his age; whilst, as a philosopher, he rendered incalculable service, by the mingled originality and sobriety of his speculations, to the cause of moral and social science. All the features of his character were strongly developed

the acuteness of his intellect, the thorough independence of his judgment, the indomitable resolution of his will, the untiring and restless activity, which seemed a pervading law of his being, his exquisite conscientiousness, simplicity, and candour. Such were the qualities that rendered him the great, good man of public life; whilst the tenderness of his affection, and the constancy of his friendship, made him beloved and revered in the narrower circle of private associations. His influence was largely felt whilst he was an actor in our midst, and his great deeds of virtue and benevolence live after him.

Anstruther, a small fishing town on the south-east coast of the county of Fife, was his birthplace. It was one of a little nest of trading communities, which had long flourished on a profitable, though to a large extent contraband, traffic with Holland, France, and Spain, and on a considerable exportation of malt and salt to England. With the simultaneous decay of both these branches of commerce, the prosperity of these little towns rapidly waned; but a new source of distinction was reserved for them; and Kirkcaldy, Largo, and Anstruther, separated from each other only by a few miles of coast, will be remembered in history as the birthplace of great names-Adam Smith, Sir John Leslie, and Thomas Chalmers.

Mr. John Chalmers, and his wife Elizabeth, held a respectable position in the society of eastern Anstruther. On Friday, the 17th of March, 1780, a sixth child, and fourth son, was added to their household. The father communicated the agreeable intelligence to his brother, and added, "The little fellow is named Tom-I wish him as good a man as his name-father" (Mr. Thomas Ballardie, his uncle). The child throve and waxed strong.

The boyhood of most illustrious men is found to furnish some indications of those great qualities for which they