ut a struggle; and
unchanged in death his countenance retained the same pleasant
expression, that it exhibited during life.

Thus died our author before he had finished his nine-and-twentieth
year. In him we may alike love and admire his extensive knowledge and
his philosophical genius, as well as his poetical talents. With a
spirit much in advance of his times, his country might have promised
itself great things of him, had not an untimely death cut him off. Yet
his unfinished writings have already had their influence; many of his
great thoughts will yet inspire futurity; and noble minds and deep
thinkers will be enlightened and set on fire by the sparks of his
spirit.

Novalis was slender and of fine proportions. He wore his light brown
hair long, hanging over his shoulders in flowing locks, a style less
singular then than now; his brown eye was clear and brilliant, and his
complexion, particularly his forehead, almost transparent. His hands
and feet were rather too large, and had something awkward about them.
His countenance was always serene and benignant. To those, who judge
men by their forwardness, or by their affectation of fashion or
dignity, Novalis was lost in the crowd; but to the practised eye he
appeared beautiful. The outlines and expression of his face resembled
very much those of St. John, as he is represented in the magnificent
picture of A. Duerer, preserved in Nuremberg and Muenchen.

His speech was clear and vivacious. "I never saw him tired," says
Tieck, "even when we continued together till late at night; he only
stopped voluntarily to rest, and then read before he fell asleep." He
knew not what it was to be tired, even in the wearisome companionship
of vulgar minds; for he always found some one, who could impart some
information to him, useful, though apparently insignificant. His
urbanity and sympathy for all made him universally beloved. So skilful
was he in his intercourse with others, that lower minds never felt
their inferiority. Although he preferred to veil the depths of his mind
in conversation, speaking, however, as if inspired, of the invisible
world, he was yet merry, as a child, full of art and frolic, giving
himself wholly up to the jovial spirit prevailing in the company. Free
from self-conceit or arrogance, a stranger to affectation or
dissimulation, he was a pure, true man; the purest, loveliest spirit,
ever tabernacled in the flesh.

His chief studies for many years were phi