write him a letter, enclosing his old album-leaf, recalling their
early meeting, telling how sacredly the memory of him had been
enshrined in her soul, and begging him to counsel and console her in
her great distress. The character of the letter was such, revealing a
spirit so rich, high, and pure, that the generous nature of Humboldt
was much moved. He at once replied with great kindness and wisdom,
and with oars of practical aid. Thus began a correspondence which
lasted until his death, twenty years later, during the whole of which
period they only met twice for a brief time. Charlotte's portion of
the correspondence, which is clot published--so affectionately
reverential, so transparently sincere and trustful, evidently gave
the great scholar and statesman extreme pleasure, a most varied
stimulus. His letters reveal the fragrant warmth of his heart, the
rare virtues and treasures of his soul, his saintly wisdom, in a most
attractive manner. They were prized by Charlotte as the religion and
sanctuary of her existence, and left to be given to the world as a
holy bequest after her death. An interesting fact in the character of
Charlotte, often noticed in these letters, and full of fruits in her
life, is that she always had an intense desire to have a friend in
the fullest sense of the word--a desire which was early heightened by
the repeated enthusiastic perusal of Richardson's "Clarissa Harlowe."
This dream had many partial realizations--the most complete and
lasting in Humboldt. Rarely has any relation of individuals been so
original, and awakened so much interest, as that between Goethe and
his child-friend Bettine. In publishing their correspondence, many
years after its close, Bettine prefaces it with the remark: "This
book is for the good, and not for the bad." She foresaw how the bad
would misinterpret it, yet felt that she could afford to defy their
incompetent construal. She loved Goethe to idolatry--her whole soul
vibrating beneath the power of the possession; but the ideality of
the passion, in her naive and spontaneous nature, was a perfect
safeguard from evil. Under this spell, all her rich, unquestioning
ardors of reverence and fondness were as sacredly guided as the
movements of Mignon, dancing blindfold amidst the eggs, with never a
false step. Goethe's conduct towards the trustful and impassioned
girl was exceedingly discreet, in its mingled kindness and wisdom. He
felt the sweetness of her worship; he