Oken first announced his discovery? and Why did not Oken make the charge of plagiarism during Goethe's lifetime? The first question may be answered from Goethe's own works. In a note entitled Das Schädelgerüst aus sechs Wirbelknochen auferbaut, after alluding to his recognition first of three and subsequently of six vertebræ in the skull, which he spoke of among his friends, who set to work to demonstrate it if possible, he says: "In the year 1807 this theory appeared tumultuously and imperfectly before the public, and naturally awakened great disputes and some applause. How seriously it was damaged by the incomplete and fantastic method of exposition History must relate." This criticism of the exposition will be understood by everyone who has read Oken, and who knows Goethe's antipathy to metaphysics.* In his Tag und Jahres Hefte he mentions that while he was working out this theory with his two friends, Riemer and Voigt, they brought him, with some surprise, the news that this idea had just been laid before the public in an academic programme, "a fact," he adds, "which they, being still alive, can testify". Why did not Goethe claim priority? "I told my friends to keep quiet, for the idea was not properly worked out in the programme; and that it was not elaborated from original observations would be plain to all scientific men. I was frequently besought to speak plainly on the subject; but I was firm in my silence."

I confess this evidence carries complete conviction to my mind. It was published many years before Oken made his charge, and it accused him in the most explicit terms of having prematurely disclosed an idea Goethe was then elaborating with the assistance of his friends. Nor was this all. It appealed to two honourable and respected men, then living,

* So also Cuvier's antipathy to this exposition made him blind to the profound truth which lived behind it.

as witnesses of the truth. Oken said nothing when the question could have been peremptorily settled by calling upon Voigt and Riemer. He waited till death rendered an appeal impossible. He says, indeed, that he made no answer to the first passage I have cited, because he was not named in it, and he "did not wish to involve himself in a host of disagreeables". But this is no answer to the second passage. There he is named as plainly as if the name of Oken were printed in full; and not only is he named, but Goethe's friends speak of Oken's coming forward with Goethe's idea as a matter which "surprised" them.

Having answered the question: Why Goethe was silent? I leave to those interested in Oken's character to answer the question: Why was Oken silent during the lifetime of the man whom he accused ?*

To conclude this somewhat lengthy chapter on the Scientific Studies, it must be stated that, for the sake of bringing together his various efforts into a manageable whole, I have not attended strictly to Chronology. Nor have I specified the various separate essays he has written. They are all to be found collected in his works. My main object has been to show what were the directions of his mind; what were his achievements and failures in Science; what place Science filled in his life, and how false the supposition is that he was a mere dabbler, playing with science as an artist. What Buffon says of Pliny may truly be said of Goethe, that he had cette facilité de penser en grand qui multiplie la science; and it is only as a thinker in these great departments that I claim a high place for him.

* A friend of Oken's suggests the answer:-It was because the Hegelians began to accuse Oken of having stolen the idea from Goethe, that in irritation at this charge he wrote the article in the Isis to which I have referred.

CHAPTER XI.

THE CAMPAIGN IN FRANCE.

WE now return to the narrative, some points of which have been anticipated in the preceding chapter. In 1790 Goethe undertook the government of all the Institutions for Science and Art, and busied himself with the arrangement of the Museums and Botanical Gardens at Jena. In March of the same year he went once more to Italy to meet the Duchess Amalia and Herder in Venice. There he tried in science to find refuge from troubled thoughts. Italy on a second visit seemed, however, quite another place to him. "He had a vision of his own, ah! why should he undo it?" Such impressions are not twice inspired. He began to suspect there had been considerable illusion in the charm of his first visit. The Venetian Epigrams, if compared with the Roman Elegies, will indicate the difference of his mood. The yearning regret, the fulness of delight, the newness of wonder which give their accents to the Elegies, are replaced by sarcasms and the bitterness of disappointment. It is true that many of these epigrams were written subsequently, as their contents prove, but the mass of them are products of the Venetian visit. Something of this dissatisfaction must be attributed to his position. He

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was ill at ease with the world. The troubles of the time, and the troubles of his own domestic affairs, aggravated the dangers which then threatened his aims of self-culture, and increased his difficulty in finding that path in science and art whereon the culture of the world might be pursued.

In June he returned to Weimar. In July the Duke sent for him at the Prussian Camp in Silesia, "where, instead of stones and flowers, he would see the field sown with troops." He went unwillingly, but compensated himself by active researches into "stones and flowers," leaving to the Duke and others such interest as was to be found in soldiers. He lived like a hermit in the camp, and began to write an essay on the development of animals, and a comic opera!

In August they returned. The Duchess Amalia and Herder, impatient at "such waste of time over old bones," plagued him into relinquishing osteology, and urged him to complete Wilhelm Meister. He did not, however, proceed far with it. The time was past; and to disprove Newton was a more imperious impulse. In 1791, which was a year of quiet study and domestic happiness for him, the Court Theatre was established. He undertook the direction with delight. In a future chapter we shall follow his efforts to create a national stage; and by bringing them before the eye in one continuous series, save the tedious repetition of isolated details. In July the Duchess Amalia founded her "Friday Evenings." In her palace, between the hours of five and eight, the Duke, the Duchess Luise, Goethe and his circle, with a few favoured friends from the court, assembled to hear some one of the members read a composition of his own. No sort of etiquette was maintained. Each member, on entering, sat down where he pleased. Only for the Reader was a distinct place allotted. One night Goethe read them the genealogy of Cagliostro, which

he had brought from Italy; another night he gave them a lecture on Colours; Herder read on Immortality; Bertuch on Chinese Colours and English Gardens; Böttiger on the Vases of the Ancients; Hufeland on his favourite theme of Longevity; and Bode read fragments of his translation of Montaigne. When the reading was over, they all approached a large table in the middle of the room, on which lay some engravings or some novelty of interest, and friendly discussion began. The absence of etiquette made these reunions delightful.

The mention of Cagliostro in the preceding paragraph recalls Goethe's comedy Der Gross Kophta, in which he dramatized the story of the Diamond Necklace. It had originally been schemed as an opera; Reichardt was to have composed the music; and if the reader happens to have waded through this dull comedy, he will regret that it was not made an opera, or anything else except what it is. One is really distressed to find such productions among the writings of so great a genius, and exasperated to find critics lavish in their praise of a work which their supersubtle ingenuity cannot rescue from universal neglect. I will not occupy space with an analysis of it.

And now he was to be torn from his quiet studies to follow the fortunes of an unquiet camp. The King of Prussia and the Duke of Brunswick at the head of a large army invaded France, to restore Louis XVI to his throne, and save Legitimacy from the sacrilegious hands of Sanscullotism. France, it was said, groaned under the tyranny of factions, and yearned for deliverance. The emigrants made it clear as day that the allies would be welcomed by the whole nation; and the German rulers willingly lent their arms to the support of Legitimacy. Karl August, passionately fond of the army, received the command of a Prussian regiment. And Goethe, passionately fond of Karl August, followed him into the field.