MORE than half a century has passed away since Carlyle first reflected in England Goethe's vision of a worldliterature--a literature not of this or that people, nation, and language, but of all peoples, nations, and languages; and on this, as on many other occasions, took the opportunity to commend the work of German over English translators. There can be no doubt but that the idea took far stronger hold of German than of English men of letters, and that the Germans have far outstripped us in the advance to its fulfilment. It is acknowledged that the German love for Shakespeare falls little short of our own, while Dickens and Scott are familiar names in German households, and Molière, Gozzi, and Goldoni, no less than Shakespeare, find constant welcome on the German stage.

In

England, however, the case is very different. It may of course be urged that if Germany can show such names as Goethe, Schiller, Schlegel, and Tieck among the ranks of her translators, we too can adduce Dryden, Pope, Cowper, Shelley, and Coleridge; and some may feel disposed, at the mention of Pope's name, to ask whether no less a person than Swift did not write and congratulate Pope, at the conclusion of his version of Homer, on having done with translations, and secured his freedom from the necessity of misemploying his genius, under which a "rascally world" had laid him. To this it can but be answered that Swift, himself the prime instigator of the rascally world to the exactions which he reprobates, did so write; and it must also be admitted that translations of Homer continue almost annually to be produced, and that the Odes of Horace and Goethe's 'Faust' are almost equal

favourites with English translators. But conceding this much, and also the fact that English versions of many foreign works, from the Agamemnon' of Aschylus to the latest novel of M. Zola, appear and disappear in the course of each it still seems that permayear, nently valuable reproductions of the masterpieces of foreign literature are remarkably scarce. Englishmen of ordinary education can generally name three or four translations of Homer, but not one of Molière.

The reasons for this difference between ourselves and the Germans are for others to show. Many Englishmen will doubtless plead that the existence of a national theatre gives a stimulus to German translators. which in England is unknown; many more will be led by insular prejudice to affirm that the Germans have more to gain than ourselves from foreign literature. But it is not proposed to discuss such questions here. It is, however, possible that a short account of the life of a German translator may not be without interest as throwing some light on the process whereby Germany contrives to make the world's literature her own. The name of this man is, we believe, quite unknown in England; and per haps even in Germany, for reasons that will presently appear, hardly honoured according to his deserts. None the less, however, did he find at the hands of one whose name has reached England, Herr Gustav Freytag, a brief but affectionate biogra phy, from which the story here told has been, by permission, derived.

Wolf, Count Baudissin, then, was born on the 30th of January, 1789. 1 Im Neuen Reich,' 8th and 15th January, 1880.

He came of one of the many families which had fought their way to distinction in the Thirty Years' War; the founder thereof having served in the Swedish, Danish and Saxon armies, and received as reward the estate of Rantzau, close to Kiel in Holstein. The grandfather of Count Wolf also was a major in the Saxon army, but being compelled, through no fault of his own, to quit that service for the Danish, abandoned the profession of war for diplomacy, and became Danish ambassador at the Court of Berlin, finally dying as governor of Copenhagen in 1815.

Wolf's father likewise entered the Danish diplomatic service, and being from this cause continually absent from home, his children, four sons and a daughter, of whom Wolf was the eldest, were left almost entirely to the care of their mother. Wolf was a lively, affectionate boy, with, from the first, an insatiable thirst for knowledge; indeed, when but six years old he wrote a piteous letter to his father, begging him to come home soon, as his mother knew so "dreadfully little." For all this, however, the boy was neither forward nor superficial; he was naturally shy, and this shyness was increased to a painful degree by physical weakness and defective eyesight. Hence, driven in some measure to isolation, he found his dearest companions in his books, and his unwearied industry enabled him to turn that isolation to good account. Further, his mother, even if she knew "dreadfully little," took care that her deficiencies should be supplemented by others; an enthusiastic scholar had charge of Wolf's classical education, and inspired him with a love of Greek and Latin which never perished. Then again, though German systems were followed and German sympathies carefully fostered in the training of the children, yet, according to the fashion of the time, French was the language alike of conversation and correspondence in the family circle-a fashion which, as will be seen, was many

years later not without advantage even to Germany.

Up to the year 1802 the family spent its life between Rantzau and Copenhagen, the former being the summer, the latter the winter residence. For Copenhagen was now substituted the embassy at Berlin—a change of the highest importance to Wolf. True, Berlin had as yet no university, but A. W. Schlegel was delivering his lectures on literature; Iffland had charge of the theatres, and the plays represented were those of Goethe and Schiller; further, in 1803, Fichte began his philosophical lectures, which, as well as those of Schlegel, Wolf constantly attended. He now devoted himself to the study of English, and completed, at the age of fifteen, a translation of 'King Lear,' which was read and approved by Schlegel himself, and even used by Both in his new version of the same play, wherein Wolf's share of the work was not the least successful. Meanwhile he was working, to his father's great satisfaction, at the office of the embassy, copying and even drafting despatches; and for his reward was taken by him from time to time among the great men then assembled at Berlin-Fichte, Schlegel, and even Schiller. Here also he made the acquaintance of Zelter, of no small value and delight to Wolf, who was passionately fond of music.

In 1805 Wolf went with his classical tutor to the University of Kiel, there to study jurisprudence preparatory to a diplomatic career; and in 1806 left Kiel for the University of Göttingen. The journey was a remarkable

one.

On the road the travellers first met the news of Jena, soon confirmed by the appearance of a herd of fugitives from the field, unarmed and demoralised. To the fugitives succeeded quickly a regiment of French cuirassiers, and the carriage was stopped till the column had passed. Still the travellers pushed on; the sympathies of the Baudissins were with Prussia, but Wolf cared little yet for politics, and

his only fear was lest the course of study at Göttingen should be interrupted by the invasion. This fear, however, was not realised, for Göttingen had a champion in Christian Gotlob Heyne, who, by skilful management and good fortune, contrived not only to save the University and the surrounding district, but even to reap active benefit for it from the war. So Göttingen shook her head gravely at the tumult without, and took no further notice. The lectures went on as usual; the students made long excursions on foot as usual; Wolf Baudissin worked with book and pen, if possible, harder than usual. Why not? Are not dons dons all the world over? and is not an university, be it Göttingen or Oxford, the very centre and omphalos of the universe?

"Si fractus illabatur orbis

Impavidam ferient ruina."

But very soon, Göttingen's placidity notwithstanding, Wolf Baudissin became uncomfortable and restless. What business had he studying quietly there with Europe seething round him, and what profit was he to his country or to any one? The thought preyed upon him, and he had at one time serious thoughts of enlisting as a private in a hussar regiment. The news of the bombardment of Copenhagen in 1807 rallied these scattered notions of discontent, and concentrated them into ardent patriotism and intense hatred of England. He found vent for his restlessness in political excitement; concerned as yet only for the plight of his native Denmark, and feeling only as a Dane; but soon to feel as, in the widest sense, a German.

In 1808 he went to the University of Heidelberg for the summer, and returned, after a tour in Switzerland, to Göttingen, in the autumn of the same year. His attention was now given mainly to the study of jurisprudence, but he found time for his beloved music, and for a thorough mastery of Spanish, the fruit whereof was a translation of Don Quixote, made solely for

his own improvement. In the spring of 1809 he paid a visit to Jena, where he had the good fortune to become personally acquainted with Goethe. The latter appears to have treated Baudissin very kindly, and to have inspired him with an admiration even more than Teutonic. One remark Goethe made in speaking of the German nation, which his young visitor had good cause to remember many years later. "We have a noble pile of fuel," said he, "but we want a good grate to hold it all together.” For sixty-two long years was this "grate" making, till its completion was proclaimed from the palace at Versailles.

In the autumn of 1809 Baudissin finally left Göttingen and entered the Danish diplomatic service. He was able to begin his new career among friends and relations; all the higher posts, both of the court and of the government, being then in the hands of the Schleswig-Holstein nobility. Indeed, it was something quite out of the common that the ministry of foreign affairs should be, as it was just at this time, in the hands of a Dane-Rosenkrantz. Baudissin was nominated secretary of legation at Stockholm, where a Count Dernath, his uncle, was ambassador, and arrived in that city in January, 1810. Those were troublous times for Sweden. Little more than a year had passed since Finland had been ceded to Russia; less than a year since a bloodless revolution had deposed King Gustavus and placed King Christian the Thirteenth on the throne; and now, only a few months after Baudissin's arrival, the Duke of Augustenburg, appointed heir to the childless King Christian, was seized with apoplexy while reviewing his regiment, and died in a few hours. Report spread among the people that their favourite had been poisoned; and Baudissin was one of those who saw a leading minister of state, suspected, as one of the obnoxious party of the nobles, to be the murderer, dragged from his coach

it the funeral procession, and torn to pieces by the mob. Intrigue after intrigue followed the death of the heir. The right of electing a new one was vested in the States of Sweden, but with France and Russia both deeply interested in the matter, it was clear that the Swedes would have little chance of exercising a free choice. The majority of the people favoured the election of the deceased prince's brother; the Danish ambassador worked with might and main to bring the crown of Sweden to Denmark; but a subtle French agent was also busy with misrepresentation and other tools of his trade. In a word, Marshal Bernadotte was elected; the French took the oyster, Swede and Dane took each a shell, and the Prince of Ponte Corvo became crown prince and practically regent.

Meanwhile, poor Baudissin was not happy. The frivolous society of Stockholm suited him but ill, his uncle's methods of proceeding little better; he was lonely and miserable, and but for his beloved books would soon have resigned his appointment. In time, indeed, he found congenial friends; but also, which was not so welcome, great cause for anxiety in the political projects of his government and the personal status of his uncle. This

latter was not ill disposed to his Lephew, and a man of more than average ability; but gifted with a fatal love of intrigue, and a still more fatal habit of undervaluing realities, and hearing and seeing those things only which tended to the furtherance of his own projects. He still schemed, notwithstanding Bernadotte's election, to win Sweden for Denmark, basing all his hopes of success on Napoleon, and feeling confident of the support of his own government. The result was an eloquent warning to young Baudissin against excessive diplomatic subtlety. By the autumn of 1811, Count DerLath's longer stay at Stockholm became impossible, and Baudissin was Cominated chargé d'affaires in his place, remaining, as such, the diplomatic

representative of Denmark at Stockholm, until March, 1813. His position was not an easy one. On the one hand his own government, still in possession of Norway and the Duchies, had not relinquished the hope of becoming the great Scandinavian power, and, encouraged by Count Dernath, was strongly inclined to trust to Napoleon's invincibility. On the other, Sweden, equally with Russia and England, earnestly sought the alliance of Denmark, Bernadotte's ambition being the leadership of a Swedo-Danish army; while Russia went so far as to offer a bribe of German territory as Denmark's share in the spoil. It so happened also that Stockholm became the channel through which the powers of the Great Eastern Alliance sought the adherence of Denmark. The Russian ambassador chose to make his offers to Baudissin rather than through his emissary at Copenhagen; and Bernadotte said plainly that he distrusted his own agent at Copenhagen, and preferred to treat with the Danish government through the young chargé d'affaires at Stockholm. Thus, from the autumn of 1812, Swede and Russian bid against each other to gain the Danish Alliance; every offer being made in strictest confidence to Baudissin. A curious position this for a diplomat of but two years' standing and no more than twenty-three years of age, rendered perhaps more easy by the fact that in the main he agreed with those who were pressing him most closely. Already becoming more German than Danish he shrank from the project of Danish opposition to a real German rising, and, in direct contradiction to his uncle, expressed to his government his firm conviction that Denmark's real salvation lay in alliance with the powers of the East. was possibly from a knowledge of his opinions that the Swedish and Russian agents alike determined to address themselves mainly to him; possibly also from a hope that one so young and inexperienced would be more easily man

It

ageable. In this last hope, at any rate, they were deceived, for Baudissin, young as he was, possessed all the best qualities of a diplomatist. To unswerving probity he joined a simple straightforwardness which won him a confidence denied to more tortuous spirits; while a silent attention, innate perception of character, and an extraordinary memory enabled him to appraise that confidence at its true value. And it is sufficiently evident that his worth was duly appreciated even by those who held views diametrically opposed to his own; for the Danish government, heedless though it was of his recommendations, did not fail to compliment him on the manner in which he performed his duties. It was this infatuation at Copenhagen, however, which made his position so difficult and so anxious; and it was a day of relief and rejoicing to him when the news of the retreat from Moscow reached Stockholm. Moreover, as if to complete his satisfaction, there arrived about this time August Wilhelm Schlegel and Madame de Staël, both of whom admitted him to intimacy. Of the latter, indeed, he wrote home with hardly less enthusiasm than he had written of Goethe.

But this was not to last long. In March, 1813, the Danish ministry decided finally to rest the destiny of Denmark on Napoleon; and Baudissin at once destroyed the archives of the embassy and returned to Copenhagen. Here he was well received by his employers; the foreign minister commended him highly, and the king himself, after admitting that every one had the right to his own opinions, expressed great satisfaction with his despatches. This done, Baudissin retired to his relations in the country, not knowing how soon the correctness of his judgment was to be vindicated. No later than in May of the same year he received suddenly a secret message from the foreign minister to repair at once to Copenhagen. Arriving wearied by a long journey at express speed, he learnt from Rosen

krantz that he was to start at once with Minister Kaas on an extra ordinary mission to Dresden, there to conclude an alliance with the Emperor Napoleon. This order came upon him like a thunderclap. In vain he adduced every argument against his employment in the matter, and earnestly begged that the duty might be intrusted to another. The minister answered that it was the king's order; the matter was already settled, and the appointment made by his majesty for particular reasons. In despair Baudissin sought the king himself, and said straight out that his convietions unfitted him for so important a mission. The king's reply was short: "You must go, sir, and I wish you a pleasant journey." Not yet convinced, Baudissin turned to his father, who, as he knew, shared his own opinion as to the policy that should be pursued. But the old diplomatist had been trained in a school of strict discipline: "You have made your protest and can do no more. You must go."

So in another hour he started, crushed and tortured by the feeling that he was little else than a traitor to his country. A dull silent journey must that have been to Minister Kaas, with his young colleague fretting his heart out by his side-at every stage more rebellious against the duty thrust upon him, and more conscious that such rebellion, after yielding so far, had forfeited all claim to be deemed honourable. Nevertheless, the determination that go to Dresden he would not grew stronger on him, so strong at last that even stratagem seemed justifiable to give it effect. and insincerity a virtue when used to uphold a righteous cause. Arrived at Holstein, Baudissin ob tained leave to go for one night to the house of his friend, Count Fritz Reventlow, promising to rejoin his chief the next morning. Count Fritz received him with open arms, and full compassion for his misery; and thus encouraged, Baudissin finally made up his mind to let Minister