different masks of the impulsive Eduard, and the reasonable strongwilled Captain. These characters are drawn from the life, drawn from himself. Considered only as characters in a novel, they are masterly creations. Eduard-weak, passionate, and impatient-still preserves our interest even in his weakest moments. How admirable a touch is that where, in the early uneasiness of his position, he hears of the Captain's having criticized his flute playing, and "at once feels himself freed from every obligation of duty"! It is precisely these passionate natures which leap at any excuse, no matter how frivolous, that may give them the semblance of justification. Charlotte and the Captain stand as representatives of Duty and Reason, in contrast with Ottilie and Eduard, who represent Impulse and Superstition; and Goethe has in the two reasonable beings achieved the rare success of making reason loveable. Two nobler characters it would be difficult to name, without going beyond the circle of reality into that of the ideal.

Rosenkranz has noticed how well the various forms of marriage are represented in this novel. Eduard and Charlotte each tried mariage de convenance; they then tried a marriage of friendship; if the former was unhappy, the latter was not sufficing: it was not the marriage of love. Moreover, in the liaison of the count and the baroness, we see marriage as it is so often found in the world—as a mere convention conventionally respected. Hence the count is painted as a frivolous careless man of fashion, who plays with St. Simonian theories, and thinks marriage ought to be an apprenticeship terminable every five years.

Besides such points, the critic will note admiringly how the characters present themselves in thought, speech, and act, without any description or explanation from the author. The whole representation is so objective, so simple, and the march of the story is so quiet, moving amid such familiar details, that, except in the masterpieces of Mrs. Austin, I know not where to look for a comparison. And if English and French readers sometimes feel a little wearied by the many small details which encumber the march of the story, and irritate

the curiosity, which is impatient for the dénouement, no such weariness is felt by German readers, who enjoy the details, and the purpose which they are supposed to serve. A dear friend of mine, whose criticism is always worthy of attention, thinks that the long episodes which interrupt the progress of the story during the interval of Eduard's absence and return, are artistic devices for impressing the reader with a sense of the slow movement of life; and, in truth, it is only in fiction that the dénouement usually lies close to the exposition. I give this opinion, for the reader's consideration; but it seems to me more ingenious than just. I must confess that the stress Goethe lays on the improvements of the park, the erection of the moss hut, the restoration of the chapel, the making of new roads, etc., is out of all proportion, and somewhat tedious. The original intention was simply to write a novelle, a little tale; and for that there was abundant material. In expanding the novelle into a novel, he has spoiled a masterpiece. *

The style of Die Wahlverwandtschaften is greatly admired by Germans; Rosenkranz pronounces it classical. We must remember, however, that Germany is not rich in works written with the perfection which France and England demand; we must remember, moreover, that most German opinions on Goethe are to be received with the same caution as English opinions about Shakspeare; and bearing these two facts in mind, we shall lend a more willing ear to those native critics who do not regard the style of the Wahlverwandtschaften as classical. It is a delicate point for a foreigner to venture on an opinion in such a case; and if I wrote for Germans, I should simply quote the current verdict; but writing for Englishmen who read German, there may be less temerity in alluding to the signs of age which the style of this novel betrays. Englishmen comparing this prose with the prose of his earlier works, or with the standard of admirable prose

This novel has been translated and published among Goethe's Tales in Mr. Bohn's Standard Library; so that I need not enter into an examination of the episodes, the more so as on such a question the reader's interest, or want of interest, is decisive for him.

and so great a writer must only be measured by the highest standards-will find it often weak, cold, mechanical in the construction of its sentences, and somewhat lifeless in the abstractness of its diction. Just as the actors are for the most part indicated by their social status instead of by their names, i. e. the Captain, the Architect, the Schoolmistress, the Tutor, the Mediator, the Englishmen, the Travelling Companion, the Priest, and the Surgeon; so also are things indicated by abstract terms, the concrete is avoided, and a periphrasis preferred to the direct phrase. There is also a fatiguing recurrence of certain set forms of phrase. Passages of great beauty there are, touches of poetry no reader will overlook. The last chapter is a poem. Its pathos is so simple that one needs to be in robust mood to read it. The page also where Charlotte and the Captain are on the lake together under the faint light of appearing stars, is a poem the music of which approaches that of verse.

Minna Herzlieb, to whom we owe this novel, lived to be a happy wife. Goethe long carried the arrow in his heart. In 1810, he once more gave poetic expression to his experience in an erotic poem, setting forth the conflict of Love and Duty. The nature of this poem, however, prevented its publication, and it still exists only as a manuscript. In this year also he commenced his Autobiography, the first part of which appeared in 1811. The public, anxious for autobiography, received it with a disappointment which is perfectly intelligible; charming as the book is in every other respect, it is tantalizing to a reader curious to see the great poet in his youth.

Before writing this Autobiography he had to outlive the sorrow for his mother's death. She died on the 13th of September 1808, in her 78th year. To the last, her love for her son, and his for her, had been the glory and sustainment of her happy old age. He had wished her to come and live with him at Weimar; but the circle of old Frankfurt friends, and the influence of old habits, kept her in her native city, where she was venerated by all.

CHAPTER IV.

POLITICS AND RELIGION.

ANOTHER Volume would be required to record with anything like fulness the details of the remaining years. There is no deficiency of material. In his letters, and the letters of friends and acquaintances, will be found an ample gleaning; but unhappily the materials are abundant precisely at the point where the interest of the story begins to fade. From sixty to eighty-two is a long period; but it is not a period in which persons and events influence a man; his character, already developed, can receive no new direction. At this period biography is at an end, and necrology begins. For Germans, the details to which I allude, have interest; but the English reader would receive with quite mediocre gratitude a circumstantial narrative of all Goethe did and studied; all the excursions he made; every cold and toothache which afflicted him; every person he conversed with.*

1 may mention however his acquaintance with Beethoven, on account of the undying interest attached to the two names. They were together for a few days at Teplitz, with the most profound admiration for each other's genius. The biographer of Beethoven adds: "But though Beethoven has praised

The period which is included in this Seventh Book occupies no less than 563 pages of Viehoff's Biography; yet, while I have added a great many details to those collected by Viehoff, I do not think any of interest have been omitted.

Goethe's patience with him (on account of his deafness), still it is a fact, that the great poet, and minister, too soon forgot the great composer; and when, in 1823, he had it in his power to render him an essential service with little trouble to himself, he did not even deign to reply to a very humble epistle from our master." This is the way accusations are made; this is the kind of evidence on which they are believed. The only facts here established are, that Beethoven wrote to Goethe, and that Goethe did not reply. Beethoven's letter requested Goethe to recommend the Grand Duke to subscribe to his Mass. It was doubtless very mortifying not to receive a reply: such things always are mortifying, and offended self-love is apt to suggest bad motives for the offence. But a bystander, knowing how many motives may actuate the conduct, and unwilling to suppose a bad motive for which there is no evidence, will at once see that the inferences of Goethe's "not deigning to reply", and of having "forgotten the great composer", are by no means warranted by the facts. We know that Goethe was naturally of an active benevolence; we know that he was constantly recommending to the Grand Duke some object of charitable assistance; we know that he profoundly admired Beethoven, and had no cause to be offended with him; and, knowing this, we must accept any interpretation of the fact of silence in preference to that which the angry Beethoven, and his biographer, have inferred.

To pursue our narrative: The year 1813, which began the War of Independence, was to Goethe a year of troubles. It began with an affliction-the death of his old friend Wieland; which shook him more than those who knew him best were prepared for. Herder; Schiller; the Duchess Amalia; his Mother; and now Wieland,-one by one had fallen away, and left him lonely, advancing in years.

Political

Nor was this the only source of unhappiness. troubles came to disturb his plans. Germany was rising against the tyranny of Napoleon; rising, as Goethe thought, in vain. “You will not shake off your chains," he said to Körner, "the man is too powerful; you will only press them deeper into your flesh." His doubts were shared by many;