abstention and scepticism; but especially with the knowledge of nature in so far as it could not be employed for a religious symbolism. Goethe watched these movements of German culture in his own charecteristic fashion, standing by, gently remonstrating, silent, more and more determined in his own better course. Subsequently Schopenhauer watched then—much of the real world and devilry of the world had been revealed to him, and he spoke of it both rudely all enthusiastically: for this devilry has a beauty of its own! And what was it really that prevented foreigners from cither viewing all this in the same light as Goethe or Schopenhauer saw it, or simply slutting their eyes to it? It was that faint lustre, that mysterious starlight, which formed a halo round this culture. The foreigner said to himself, "This is very remote to us; our sight, lecturing, understanding, enjoyment and valuing are lost here; yet, despite all this, they might be stars! Can the German have secretly discovered some corner of heaven and settled there? We must try and come nearer to the Germans." And they came nearer to them; whereas, not many years later, these selfsame Germans began to divest themselves of this starlight lustre; they knew but too well that they had not been in heaven—but in a cloud.
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Better people.—They tell me that our art appeals to the greedy, insatiable, uncurbed, loathsome, harassed
