“A German named Ruppsecht has sent me, heaven knows why, several Deutsche Gazettes, of all which I understand neither word nor letter. I have sent you the enclosed to beg you to translate to me some remarks, which appear to be Goëthe’s upon Manfred—and if I may judge by two notes of admiration (generally put after something ridiculous by us), and the word ‘hypocondrisch,’ are any thing but favourable. I shall regret this, for I should have been proud of Goëthe’s good word; but I sha’n’t alter my opinion of him, even though be should be savage.
“Will you excuse this trouble, and do me this favour?—Never mind —soften nothing—I am literary proof—having had good and evil said in most modern languages.
