ression,
about its [248] ultimate grace. Its eager, excited spirit will have
strength, the grotesque, first of all--the trees shrieking as you tear
off the leaves; for Jean Valjean, the long years of convict life; for
Redgauntlet, the quicksands of Solway Moss; then, incorporate with this
strangeness, and intensified by restraint, as much sweetness, as much
beauty, as is compatible with that. Energique, frais, et
dispos--these, according to Sainte-Beuve, are the characteristics of a
genuine classic--les ouvrages anciens ne sont pas classiques parce
qu'ils sont vieux, mais parce qu'ils sont energiques, frais, et dispos.
Energy, freshness, intelligent and masterly disposition:--these are
characteristics of Victor Hugo when his alchemy is complete, in certain
figures, like Marius and Cosette, in certain scenes, like that in the
opening of Les Travailleurs de la Mer, where Deruchette writes the name
of Gilliatt in the snow, on Christmas morning; but always there is a
certain note of strangeness discernible there, as well.

The essential elements, then, of the romantic spirit are curiosity and
the love of beauty; and it is only as an illustration of these
qualities, that it seeks the Middle Age, because, in the over-charged
atmosphere of the Middle Age, there are unworked sources of romantic
effect, of a strange beauty, to be won, by strong imagination, out of
things unlikely or remote.

Few, probably, now read Madame de Stael's [249] De l'Allemagne, though
it has its interest, the interest which never quite fades out of work
really touched with the enthusiasm of the spiritual adventurer, the
pioneer in culture. It was published in 1810, to introduce to French
readers a new school of writers--the romantic school, from beyond the
Rhine; and it was followed, twenty-three years later, by Heine's
Romantische Schule, as at once a supplement and a correction. Both
these books, then, connect romanticism with Germany, with the names
especially of Goethe and Tieck; and, to many English readers, the idea
of romanticism is still inseparably connected with Germany--that
Germany which, in its quaint old towns, under the spire of Strasburg or
the towers of Heidelberg, was always listening in rapt inaction to the
melodious, fascinating voices of the Middle Age, and which, now that it
has got Strasburg back again, has, I suppose, almost ceased to exist.
But neither Germany, with its Goethe and Tieck, nor England, with its
Byron and Sc