Bettina
having been, in truth, twenty-two years of age when she first visited
Goethe. Yet while this important circumstance abates much of the wonder
with which we once read her thoughts and confessions, they really become
all the more valuable as studies in human nature when we learn that they
are the exhalations of a heart in full flower, and one upon which the
dews of morning should not linger. The poet had reached the age of sixty
when this tide of tender sentiment, original ideas, and enthusiastic
admiration began to flow in upon him. Their first interview, as Bettina
describes it, with singular freedom, in one of the letters to Goethe's
mother, will be found a useful key, though perhaps not a complete one,
by which to interpret the glowing passion which gushed from her pen.
That the poet was pleased with the homage of this sweet, graceful, and
affectionate girl, and drew her on to the revealing of her whole nature,
is readily perceived. But when we inquire, To what end? we should
remember, that, like Parrhasius, Goethe was before all things an artist;
and furthermore, the correspondence of time will show that from this
crowning knowledge the "Elective Affinities" sprang. It may be that her
admiration was for his genius alone; if so, she chose love's language
for its wealth of expression. Were it so received, it could not but be
regarded as a peerless offering, for she was certainly a kindred spirit.
There are many rare thoughts and profound confessions in these letters,
which would have commanded the praise of Goethe, had they been written
by a rival; and coming, as they did, from a devotee who declared that
she drew her inspiration from him alone, they must have filled his soul
with incense, of which that burned by the priest in the temple of the
gods is only an emblem. To be brief and compendious on this book, it
appears to be a heart unveiled. German critics throw some doubts on the
literal veracity of the book; but it belongs at any rate to the better
class of the _ben trovati_, and among its leaves, the dreamer, the
lover, and the poet will find that ambrosial fruit on which fancy loves
to feed, but whose blossoms are so generally blasted by the common air
that only the few favored ones have had their longings for it appeased.
In imagination, at least, Bettina partook of this banquet, and had the
genius to wreak on words the emotions which swept through her heart.

_Sir Rohan's Ghost._ A Romance. Boston: J.