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Updated: June 24, 2025
His father accepted this explanation, and neither knew that Margaret had artfully prepared the way for it. It fitted in too well with their view of feminine nature. In the smoking-room, after dinner, the Colonel put forward the view that Miss Schlegel had jumped it out of devilry.
"Yes," said Jackson, "tell us about Herr Johannes Wilhelm Frederich Von Schmitzswartsschriekelversamanarbeitfrelinghuysen!" Jimmy's good-natured raillery raised a hearty giggle, and Hans joined in it with great gusto. "I think," said Harry Wilson, "Schlegel can make a better story than any of those old fellows, whose names take away your breath when you pronounce them.
She knew the very tones in which he would address her. She was only unprepared for an example of her own visiting-card. "You wouldn't remember giving me this, Miss Schlegel?" said he, uneasily familiar. "No; I can't say I do." "Well, that was how it happened, you see." "Where did we meet, Mr. Bast? For the minute I don't remember." "It was a concert at the Queen's Hall.
And this liberty is the more welcome, because Coleridge, primus inter pares as a critic of any order of literature, is in the domain of Shakespearian commentary absolute king. The principles of analysis which he was charged with having borrowed without acknowledgment from Schlegel, with whose Shakespearian theories he was at the time entirely unacquainted, were in fact of his own excogitation.
He pushed up his goggles and gazed at her, absolutely bewildered. Horror smote her to the heart, for even she began to suspect that they were at cross-purposes, and that she had commenced her mission by some hideous blunder. "Miss Schlegel and myself." he asked, compressing his lips. "I trust there has been no misunderstanding," quavered Mrs. Munt. "Her letter certainly read that way."
So, by the way, with London. I have heard you rail against London, Miss Schlegel, and it seems a funny thing to say but I was very angry with you. What do you know about London? You only see civilization from the outside. I don't say in your case, but in too many cases that attitude leads to morbidity, discontent, and Socialism."
The next Friday evening found all the members of the Cellar-door Club in their places. Will Sampson, the stammering "chairman," was at the top, full of life and fun as ever. Jimmie Jackson, running over with mischief, was by him, then came Tom Miller and John Harlan, while Hans Schlegel and Harry Wilson sat at the bottom.
Those are indeed deserving of gratitude who have comprehended and preserved the character peculiar to the productions of foreign art, in which the brothers Friedrich and August Wilhelm Schlegel have been so eminently successful. Hammer and, after him, Ruckert have also opened the Eastern world to our view. Count Platen, on the other hand, hung fluctuating between the antique Persian and German.
Schlegel, though he too had some touch of genius in him, was half pedant, half coxcomb, and full of intellectual and moral faultiness.
He calls them a kind of National Epic. Marlborough, you recollect, said, he knew no English History but what he had learned from Shakespeare. There are really, if we look to it, few as memorable Histories. The great salient points are admirably seized; all rounds itself off, into a kind of rhythmic coherence; it is, as Schlegel says, epic; as indeed all delineation by a great thinker will be.
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