determine for ourselves, whether and how far such influence has been
salutary, such reputation merited. That this call will one day be
answered, that Goethe will be seen and judged of in his real character
among us, appears certain enough. His name, long familiar everywhere,
has now awakened the attention of critics in all European countries to
his works: he is studied wherever true study exists: eagerly studied
even in France; nay, some considerable knowledge of his nature and
spiritual importance seems already to prevail there. [Footnote: Witness
/Le Tasse, Drame par Duval,/ and the Criticisms on it. See also the
Essays in the /Globe,/ Nos. 55, 64 (1826).]

For ourselves, meanwhile, in giving all due weight to so curious an
exhibition of opinion, it is doubtless our part, at the same time, to
beware that we do not give it too much. This universal sentiment of
admiration is wonderful, is interesting enough; but it must not lead us
astray. We English stand as yet without the sphere of it; neither will
we plunge blindly in, but enter considerately, or, if we see good, keep
aloof from it altogether. Fame, we may understand, is no sure test of
merit, but only a probability of such; it is an accident, not a
property, of a man; like light, it can give little or nothing, but at
most may show what is given; often it is but a false glare, dazzling the
eyes of the vulgar, lending by casual extrinsic splendour the brightness
and manifold glance of the diamond to pebbles of no value. A man is in
all cases simply the man, of the same intrinsic worth and weakness,
whether his worth and weakness lie hidden in the depths of his own
consciousness, or be betrumpeted and beshouted from end to end of the
habitable globe. These are plain truths, which no one should lose sight
of; though, whether in love or in anger, for praise or for condemnation,
most of us are too apt to forget them. But least of all can it become
the critic to 'follow a multitude to do evil' even when that evil is