THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
lière, Victor Hugo, Tolstoy, that has not had a German translation or reproduction worthy of the original, and in most cases of astonishing fidelity and beauty. Nothing that has appeared in any other language can even in a remote degree be compared with the translation of Homer's “Iliad” and “Odyssey,” by Johann Heinrich Voss; and many German translations of Shakespeare's plays, which at first sight might seem fairly to defy the translator's art, have long been among the wonders of the world of letters. On the other hand, the translations into other languages of the masterpieces of German poetry have almost always been more or less dismal failures. Foremost among the exceptions I would place Bayard Taylor's translation of Goethe's “Faust,” and the translation by Mrs. Frances Hellman of Gottfried Kinkel's little epic, “Tanagra,” which is the most perfect reproduction of foreign poetry in English that I have ever seen. But these exceptions become all the more conspicuous by their rarity.
The extraordinary wealth of German literature in excellent translations—for those translations may well be called a part of German literature—make the study of the German language a matter of special interest to everyone seeking to acquire a truly liberal education. For German literature is not only exceedingly rich in original works in every branch of mental production, which, owing to the imperfection of the translation into other languages, cannot be fully enjoyed except when read in German, but it contains, in its superior translations, an almost complete treasury of all the literature of the world and of all ages, ancient as well as modern.
In Philadelphia I made my first acquaintances. At that period the Quaker, with his broad-brimmed hat, his straight coat, and his standing collar, and the Quakeress, with her gray dress, her white kerchief covering her shoulders, and her poke-
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