losophy and physical science.
In the latter he discovered and foretold truths, of which his own age
was in ignorance. In philosophy he principally studied Spinoza and
Fichte; but soon marked out a new path, by aiming to unite philosophy
with religion; and thus what we possess of the writings of the new
Platonists, as well as of the mystics, became very important to him.
His knowledge of mathematics, as well as of the mechanic arts,
especially of mining, was very considerable. But in the fine arts he
took but little interest. Music he loved much, although he knew little
about its rules. He had scarcely turned his attention to painting and
sculpture; still he could advance many original ideas about those arts,
and pronounce skilful judgment upon them.

Tieck mentions an argument with him, concerning landscape painting, in
which Novalis expressed views, which he could not comprehend; but which
in part were realized, by the rich and poetical mind of the excellent
landscape painter, Friedrichs, of Dresden. In the land of Poetry he was
in reality a stranger. He had read but few poets, and had not busied
himself with criticism, or paid much attention to the inherited system,
to which the art of poetry had been reduced. Goethe was for a long
while his study, and Wilhelm Meister his favorite work; although we
should scarcely suppose so, judging from his severe strictures upon it
in his fragments. He demanded from poesy the most everyday knowledge
and inspiration; and it was for this reason, that, as the chief
masterpieces of poetry were unknown to him, he was free from imitation
and foreign rule. He also loved, for this very reason, many writings,
which are not generally highly prized by scholars, because in them he
discovered, though perhaps painted in weak colors, that very informing
and significant knowledge, which he was chiefly striving after.

Those tales, which we in later times call allegories[1] with their
peculiar style, most resemble his stories; he saw their deepest
meaning, and endeavored to express it most clearly in some of his
poems. It became natural for him to regard what was most usual and
nearest to him, as full of marvels, and the strange and supernatural as
the usual and common-place. Thus everyday life surrounded him like a
supernatural story; and that region, which most men can only conceive
as something distant and incomprehensible, seemed to him like a beloved
home. Thus uncorrupted by precedents, he d