'_May_, 1833.--As to German, I have done less than I hoped, so
much had the time been necessarily broken up. I have with
me the works of Goethe which I have not yet read, and am
now engaged upon "Kunst and Alterthum," and "Campagne in
Frankreich." I still prefer Goethe to any one, and, as I
proceed, find more and more to learn, and am made to feel that
my general notion of his mind is most imperfect, and needs
testing and sifting.
'I brought your beloved Jean Paul with me, too. I cannot yet
judge well, but think we shall not be intimate. His infinitely
variegated, and certainly most exquisitely colored, web
fatigues attention. I prefer, too, wit to humor, and daring
imagination to the richest fancy. Besides, his philosophy
and religion seem to be of the sighing sort, and, having some
tendency that way myself, I want opposing force in a favorite
author. Perhaps I have spoken unadvisedly; if so, I shall
recant on further knowledge.'
And thus recant she did, when familiar acquaintance with the genial
and sagacious humorist had won for him her reverent love.