in mind that they must return this week to their owner.
You keep me to my promise of giving you some sketch of my pursuits.
I rise a little before five, walk an hour, and then practise on the piano, till seven, when we breakfast.
Next I read French,—Sismondi's Literature of the South of Europe,— till eight, then two or three lectures in Brown's Philosophy.
About halfpast nine I go to Mr. Perkins's school and study Greek till twelve, when, the school being dismissed, I recite, go home, and are rarely to be found combined with such acuteness and discrimination.
His style, though diffuse, is never verbose or overloaded, but beautifully expressive; t is English, too, though he was an accomplished linguist, and wrote much and well in French, Spanish, and Latin.
The latter he used, as he says of the Bishop of Munster, (with whom he corresponded in that tongue,) more like a man of the court and of business than a scholar.
He affected not Augustan niceties, but his expressions are fr
e of it from which he conceives of the whole, shall continually burst forth before him in new and fairer forms.
Let this fresh spiritual youth never grow old within him; let no form become fixed and rigid; let each sunrise bring him new joy and love in his vocation, and larger views of its significance. Fichte.
of Margaret's studies while at Cambridge, I knew personally only of the German.
She already, when I first became acquainted with her, had become familiar with the masterpieces of French, Italian and Spanish literature.
But all this amount of reading had not made her deep-learned in books and shallow in herself; for she brought to the study of most writers a spirit and genius equal or superior,—so far, at least, as the analytic understanding was concerned.
Every writer whom she studied, as every person whom she knew, she placed in his own class, knew his relation to other writers, to the world, to life, to nature, to herself.
Much as they might delight her, they never sw
of perfect liberty.
I could engage, however, to furnish at least two articles on Novalis and Korner.
I trust you will be interested in my favorite Korner.
Great is my love for both of them.
But I wish to write something which shall not only be free from exaggeration, but which shall seem so, to those unacquainted with their works.
I have so much reading to go through with this month, that I have but few hours for correspondents.
I have already discussed five volumes in German, two in French, three in English, and not without thought and examination. * *
Tell —— that I read Titan by myself, in the afternoons and evenings of about three weeks. She need not be afraid to undertake it. Difficulties of detail may, perhaps, not be entirely conquered without a master or a good commentary, but she could enjoy all that is most valuable alone.
I should be very unwilling to read it with a person of narrow or unrefined mind; for it is a noble work, and fit to raise a reader into that h
ver may be the vulgar view of my character, I can truly say, I know not the hour in which I ever looked for the ridiculous.
It has always been forced upon me, and is the accident of my existence.
I would not want the sense of it when it comes, for that would show an obtuseness of mental organization; but, on peril of my soul, I would not move an eyelash to look for it.
When she came to Concord, she was already rich in friends, rich in experiences, rich in culture.
She was well read in French, Italian, and German literature.
She had learned Latin and a little Greek.
But her English reading was incomplete; and, while she knew Moliere, and Rousseau, and any quantity of French letters, memoirs, and novels, and was a dear student of Dante and Petrarca, and knew German books more cordially than any other person, she was little read in Shakspeare; and I believe I had the pleasure of making her acquainted with Chaucer, with Ben Jonson, with Herbert, Chapman, Ford, Beaumont and Fletche
Of her lively description the following record is preserved:—
Gavottes, shawl dances, and all of that kind, are intended merely to exhibit the figure in as many attitudes as possible.
They have no character, and say nothing, except, Look!
how graceful I am!
The minuet is conjugal; but the wedlock is chivalric.
Even so would Amadis wind slow, stately, calm, through the mazes of life, with Oriana, when he had made obeisances enough to win her for a partner.
English, German, Swiss, French, and Spanish dances all express the same things, though in very different ways.
Love and its life are still the theme.
In the English country dance, the pair who have chosen one another, submit decorously to the restraints of courtship and frequent separations, cross hands, four go round, down outside, in the most earnest, lively, complacent fashion.
If they join hands to go down the middle, and exhibit their union to all spectators, they part almost as soon as meet, and disdain not to
The second time, Mr. C. had a dinner-party, at which was a witty, French, flippant sort of man, author of a History of Philosophy, and now writing a Lifis, Dec. 26, 1846.—In Paris I have been obliged to give a great deal of time to French, in order to gain the power of speaking, without which I might as usetully be i desires and needs.
My Essay on American Literature has been translated into French, and published in La Revue Independante, one of the leading journals of Paris; me is always murdered by the foreign servants who announce me. I speak very bad French; only lately have I had sufficient command of it to infuse some of my natural s the costume of Academician, looking as if he had lost, not found, his planet.
French savants are more generally men of the world, and even men of fashion, than thosr men were suffering, because they could not make their wishes known.
Some are French, some German, and many Poles.
Indeed, I am afraid it is too true that there we