but also the scorn and the bitter irony of
Mephistopheles."

In this, and a similar spirit of acknowledgment, Goethe often spoke of
M. Ampere. We took a decided interest in him; we endeavored to picture
to ourselves his personal appearance, and, if we could not succeed in
this, we at least agreed that he must be a man of middle age to
understand the reciprocal action of life and poetry on each other. We
were, therefore, extremely surprised when M. Ampere arrived in Weimar a
few days ago, and proved to be a lively youth, some twenty years old;
and we were no less surprised when, in the course of further
intercourse, he told us that the whole of the contributors of the.
_Globe_, whose wisdom, moderation, and high degree of cultivation we had
often admired, were only young people like himself.

"I can well comprehend," said I, "that a person may be young and may
still produce something of importance--like Merimee, for instance, who
wrote excellent pieces in his twentieth year; but that any one at so
early an age should have at his command such a comprehensive view, and
such deep insight, as to attain such mature judgment as the gentlemen of
the _Globe_, is to me something entirely new."

"To you, in your Heath,"[19] returned Goethe, "it has not been so easy;
and we others also, in Central Germany, have been forced to buy our
little wisdom dearly enough. Then we all lead a very isolated miserable
sort of life! From the people, properly so called, we derive very little
culture. Our talents and men of brains are scattered over the whole of
Germany. One is in Vienna, another in Berlin, another in Koenigsberg,
another in Bonn or Dueseldorf--all about a hundred miles apart from one
another, so that personal contact and personal exchange of thought may
be considered as rarities. I feel what this must be, when such men as
Alexander von Humboldt come here, and in one single day lead me nearer
to what I am seeking and what I require to know than I should have done
for years in my own solitary way."

"But now conceive a city like Paris, where the highest talents of a
great kingdom are all assembled in a single spot, and by daily
intercourse, strife, and emulation, mutually instruct and advance each
other; where the best works, both of nature and art, from all the
kingdoms of the earth, are open to daily inspection; conceive this
metropolis of the world, I say, where every walk over a bridge or
across a square recalls some mighty