neglect of the history of art, prevents her | limited indeed as are our powers of fash-
from perceiving all that her uncle per- ioning it, and fortunately limited for crea-
ceives, she cannot fail to discover here tures such as we are. He learns that only
something closely akin to moral culture. through definiteness can strength be at-
"You are altogether right," observes the tained or service be rendered; "the safe
uncle, "and we see from this that those plan is always to do the task that lies near-
do not act well who, in a solitary, exclu- est to us. And now he becomes con-
sive manner, follow moral cultivation by nected with a group of persons who, like
itself. On the contrary, it will be found the count and the baron, are of high sta-
that he whose spirit strives after inward tion, and raised above the necessity of
and moral culture has every reason, at the common toil, and yet each has taken upon
same time, to improve his sentient and himself or herself a share in the labor and
perceptive powers, that so he may not run the responsibilities of life, each toils with
the risk of sinking from his moral height, unwearying earnestness in some field of
by giving way to the enticements of an ill-well-directed, practical activity. Lothario,
regulated fancy, and degrading his moral as long as he lived for an abstract idea,
nature by allowing it to take delight in cared little for the human relations which
tasteless baubles, if not in something were nearest to him and which ought to
worse."
The pious niece could not sus- have been dearest; he contracted debts,
pect that the speaker was levelling at her; quarrelled with his uncle, left his sisters
but neither could she avoid the recollec- to themselves, despised the obvious duties
tion of the insipidities in some of the spir- of life. In America he fancied that he
itual songs that used to edify her; nor might accomplish something. And then
help feeling that much of the imagery came his discovery of the truth: "I will
which she associated with her religious return, and in my house, amid my fields,
ideas would have found little favor with among my people, I will say, Here, or no-
her uncle. Until now she had known no where, is America." He manages his
other mode of singing than the usual style estate, rigidly insisting on his servants do-
of rendering hymns practised by good ing each man his proper work; his land
folk whose pious emotions are little dis- increases in value, his income is aug-
turbed by hoarse or discordant pipes. mented. "And shall I," he says, "alone
Here in her uncle's hall she has the pleas- enjoy this growing benefit? Shall not
ure of listening to devotional songs in the those who labor with me and for me par-
Latin language arranged for eight voices. take, in their degree, of the advantages
The music "seemed to originate in the which expanding knowledge and a period
deepest feelings of the most accomplished of progress are procuring for us?" Were
human beings; without pretending it better that he should part with his for-
to edify, they elevated and made me happy tune in a fit of fantastic benevolence, and
in the most spiritual manner. She has seek for some new imaginary duties?
in a measure learned her uncle's lesson; Such a sacrifice were, after all, but a self-
he has not once troubled the purity of her ish mode of relieving himself from the
faith or disturbed the harmony of nature burden of daily service, a sacrifice made,
to which she has attained; but he has as it were, in despair. Better by far is
added something to her spiritual culture. the active sacrifice implied in the stead-
As she is about to take her departure he fast administration of his wealth and in-
gives her the cross of her order beautifully fluence at once for his own good and the
wrought and hanging upon a large bril-good of others. Here is a worthy ex-
liant, the noblest stone in his collection; ample for William, that bird of paradise
it is a symbol signifying that the religious with soiled and draggled plumes, whose
spirit gains, not loses, by an association
with what is beautiful, and that the more
completely we bring into harmonious ac-
tion all the higher powers of our nature,
the richer and the more excellent will be
the result.

...

When Wilhelm Meister finally abandons the stage, he has uprooted from his imagination the chief illusion which led him astray. He begins to perceive that true human happiness and human worth are to be attained by right dealing with the real stuff of life, which lies near to our hand,

feet have never yet touched the earth.

And at this fortunate moment William's long-lost son is found. This, indeed, Goethe declares, is something to live for better than the dreams of stage-struck youth. "How zealously he contemplated repairing what had been neglected, restoring what had fallen! He no longer looked upon the world with the eyes of a bird of passage; a building was no longer to him as a grove hastily put together and withering before one quits it. Everything that he proposed commencing was to be

completed for his boy; everything that he erected was to last for several generations. In this sense his apprenticeship was ended; with the feelings of a father he had acquired all the virtues of a citizen." He has lost his mere individuality, and with it his absorbing desire for his individual culture. His son has bound him to the whole human race.

But William, while he is about to accept loyally the bond of life and cheerfully acknowledge its limitations, is not to degrade into a Philistine. Werner, his former young companion of the counting house, now appears at the age of forty

He

sentative of the joys and duties of life: And around are sculptured forms reprethe mother pressing her infant to her bosom; the bearded man playing with his the maiden with her pitcher by the well; little son; the bridegroom and the bride; the king invoking the gods at the altar as "The honest man seemed rather to have he solemnizes some great alliance of peoretrograded than advanced. He was much leaner than of old; ples. In this hall the body of Mignon is his peaked face ap-afterwards laid-youth resting here by peared to have grown sharper, his nose the side of age, the old man and the child longer; brow and crown had lost their hair; the voice, clear, eager, shrill; the as companions in death. But it is not of hollow breast and stooping shoulders, the death that the chorus sings. After the sallow cheeks, announced indubitably that due of sorrow and of tears is given, the voices of the invisible singers and of the a melancholic drudge was there." talks of his bourgeois household; the bright-robed boys raise a chant not of death, but life: women are satisfied and happy, never short of money; half their time they spend in dressing, the other half in showing themselves when dressed; they are as domestic as a reasonable man could wish. "My boys are growing up prudent youths. Boys. Up, we turn back into life. 1 see them in my mind's eye already sit-day give us labor and pleasure, till the eventing writing, reckoning, running, trading, ing brings us rest, and the sleep of night retrucking; each of them as soon as possi- freshes us. ble shall have a business of his own.' for recreation when the day's work is over, Werner can while away the evening with cards. It is not such a home of material abundance and spiritual indigence that could content Wilhelm Meister.

As

The voice of life and love is heard in these closing chapters of the romance, summoning its hero to the duty and the joy of wise living. But there also sounds in them the voice of death. In the house, modest and yet enobled with dignity and beauty, where William is to find the highest happiness of his future life, is a spacious passage leading to a door, in the Egyptian fashion, before which lie two granite sphinxes. Within is a place of tombs, the Hall of the Past, where lies the body of the former owner of the mansion. All is planned and contrived so as to produce a feeling of cheerful serenity. Here are no grim emblems of death; here is no grinning skeleton, dart in hand, or bearing a scroll with the familar legend," Memento mori." Yet death is here remembered, not thrust out of view, and this Hall of the Past might as justly be named Hall of the Present and the Future.

Chorus. Children, turn back into life!

Your tears let the fresh air dry, which plays upon the winding waters. Fly from Night! Day and Pleasure and Continuance are the lot of the living.

Let the

Chorus. Children, hasten into life! In the pure garments of beauty may Love meet you with heavenly looks and with the wreath of immortality!

We have travelled far from the disorderly vagabondage of the poor gipsies of the stage, far from the riot and racket and folly and vain dilettantism of the aristocratic gathering at the castle before we are permitted to hear such strains of life and death as these.

One thing is still lacking to William the love and helpful companionship of a noble woman. And in the company of men and women, to which he is now introduced, there are two, Theresa and Natalia, of whom one is surely to take her place by his side. Which of the two is best qualified to be his true helpmate? Theresa delights in much serving; her motions are all with a purpose and alert; nothing, however minute, escapes her clear blue eyes. She manages her own property in the country, and superintends the large estate of her old neighbor who cannot see to it himself. She, if any one ever has been such, is practical and definite; from her earliest youth the store-room,

We have now traced the story of Wilhelm Meister in the sense in which, it seems to me, Goethe intended that it should be understood. On its artistic faults I have not cared to dwell; the imperfect construction, the longueurs, the somewhat absurd device of the secret society, the theatrical preparation of the poor little body of the dead Mignon, and other matters of offence are sufficiently obvious. As to the alleged immoral tone in which Goethe treats of the relations of men and women, we constantly feel that he had none of that quick, indignant spirit of purity, which feels a soil as if it were a wound. His men can act with baseness or live in careless license, as Lothario has acted and lived, and yet, like Lothario, can leave their baser selves behind, and suffer meanwhile no keen compunctious visitings. But at least there is the figure of the uncle in the "Confessions" to condemn all base and ignoble pleasure by showing us the higher purposes of existence. And as we look back over the book we feel how Mariana's shameful ways, and that error of girlish abandonment, which half cleansed her careless life, and the conscienceless frivolity of Philina, and Mignon's hopeless brooding passion, and the countess's transitory love-in-idleness, each and all stand convicted and condemned by the pure and generous affection of Natalia. There are readers, and among them I find some of the best of readers, who refuse to dwell among ill or doubtful company in a book, even for sake of a subsequent moral gain. And there are other readers who, sensibly or insensibly, get more evil from such doubtful company than they can get good from any of the larger meanings of a book. Let readers of both those classes turn away from "Wilhelm Meister," and let them include in their well-justified private index expurgatorius not this only but many other great works of literature.

the granaries, the fields, have been her | have attained a happiness which I have chosen province. Her firewood is sawed not deserved, and which I would not to the precise length and exactly split change for anything in life." and piled; her tubs are of the cleanest and are ranged each in its precise place; everything needed for convenience, cheerfulness, durability, is at hand. And she is most successful in her bringing up of little ones entrusted to her care, such children as promise to be lively, serviceable housewives. With her William would possess a secure, terrestrial life, order in prosperity, courage in adversity. But while she is perfect in the moral virtues, she is deficient in spiritual graces. "Instead of faith she has insight, instead of love she has steadfastness, instead of hope she has trust." Natalia's occupation is that of educating a number of little girls, especially those who show a fine and gentle nature, and guiding their minds to what is good. Theresa breaks in her pupils, Natalia forms them. In her presence William feels that she has the power to form him for higher things and build up not his fortune but his spirit. Her peculiar gift is that of discovering the wants of others, and of satisfying those wants; satisfying them not by money but in a higher way, for all her gifts are distributed in kind. She has a firm faith in the wise governance of life by law and order: "I could almost venture to assert," she says, "that it is better to be wrong by rule than to be wrong with nothing but the fitful caprices of our nature to impel us hither and thither; and in my way of viewing men there always seems to be a void in their nature, which cannot be filled up except by some decisive and clearly settled law." For the beauty of nature, for the charms of art, she cares but little; all her concern is for the needs of men and women. It was Goethe's intention to have drawn with careful detail the figure of Natalia-that of the woman whose life is one happy, harmonious, active self-surrender; unfortunately the portrait is a somewhat slight and hasty one. Still we can clearly divine his intention. William, With one remark on "Wilhelm Meisthe lover of the ideal, could not be quite ter's Wanderjahre" I must end. It is happy with a Theresa. But Natalia will Goethe's express opinion that William's know his wants and supply them; she will way of buying experience at a high price guide him to obedience to the true law of in the market is a way, if possible, to be his nature. And it is to Natalia that his avoided. With some men it is indeed fate is entrusted. All is well that ends inevitable. If one is wrapped round with well. Truly may the sprightly Friedrich illusions, as William was, there is nothing say to him: "To my mind thou resemblest for it but that life should rudely strip them Saul, the son of Kish, who went out to off. But far better is it if, by early trainseek his father's asses, and found a king- ing, pure and true, we can avert such dom." "I know not the worth of a king- harsh necessity. Accordingly in "Wildom," answered William, "but I know I helm Meister's Wanderjahre," a pendant

to the "Apprenticeship," Goethe sets | years, or with Brown, who is a chronic forth an ideal of education for children invalid with a temper to match, and who which shall serve, as far as may be, to really ought to be sent for. But after lying make them true men, sane, vigorous, here for weeks, between asleep and awake, frank, laborious, helpful to themselves "to cease upon the midnight with no and to others, clear-souled, and, therefore, pain," seemed no such very hard fate; or, clear-sighted, reverential, and religious. at all events, I had learnt to face it with Above all else reverence which Shake- tolerable indifference. I had no dear speare names "the angel of the world' ones to leave behind me, wherein, as all presides over their spirits; reverence for medical testimony is agreed, lies the rub. what is above us, reverence for what is "In an immense experience," writes a around us, reverence for what is beneath great physician, "I have never seen us; and, arising from these three rever-patient distressed at dying, though often ences, the fourth and last self-reverence. at the prospect of parting with those dear All selfish isolation is rendered as impos- to him." For, indeed, men are not so sible, in this school of education, as it is sure as they would have us believe of unnatural. In union with his equal, each meeting with them again. boy grows up into a man, who, à serviceI canable member of the great community of men, can courageously meet life and death. EDWARD Dowden.

From The Cornhill Magazine.
THE EAVESDROPPER.

AN UNPARALLELED EXPERIENCE.

PART I.

CHAPTER I.

IN BED.

I HAD been very ill, some people (I know) had said “ "dying,' " for many days. Upon the whole I had been inclined to agree with them. It had neither pleased nor displeased me to do so; a pretty sure sign that my case was serious.

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey

This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind? inquires the poet; to which I answer, "A good many people, and especially those who are half dead already." When we are very ill it does not seem worth while to prolong the unequal contest which Nature herself seems to be waging against us. "What must be, must be; and please, nurse, give me some more barley water.' There is no subject upon which more rubbish has been written than on the thoughts of sick men. When the destroyer seizes us in health and strength and, like a policeman addressing a criminal, exclaims, "You come along with me," the case is quite different. We resent his brutality exceedingly, and above all his obstinacy in refusing bail. There must be, we think, some mistake somewhere; he is confusing us with Jones, our senior by ten

a

Well, that has been spared me. not say I have neither kith nor kin, but such as I have are very distant relatives, and they have always maintained their distance with fine judgment and excellent taste. One may love one's cousin as well as anybody else, but to love him because he is my cousin - because my uncle (whom I never liked) married my aunt (whom I positively disliked) is a most illogical deduction. For my part I am indebted to nobody save for my existence, a thing as I have reason to believe about to slip away from me, and one moreover which I don't think was even so much as

in the mind of the donors. In times like
these one must be excused for taking a
practical view of matters. My parents
would doubtless have provided for me if
they could, but it was out of their power.
If it be true that Heaven helps them who
help themselves, Providence befriended
me. I could say of myself, indeed, if I
were going to stay in it, that I am well-to-
do in the world. If it be asked how I
made my money
- but nobody does ask
when one has got it; it is only when one
has lost it, or never had any, that folks are
curious and sympathetic. ("How could
you be such a fool? How the deuce do
you manage to get along?" and so on.)
I say if you ask, however, I must tell the
truth; with men in my condition there
are few reserves, little false pride, and no
delicacy whatever. I made my money by
literature.

Many will say "Impossible!" and I admit that the operation is difficult very different from an operation in the city, though so much smaller but, nevertheless, I accomplished it. I had not, indeed, made what is somewhat pompously called "an honored name for myself, but I had made a name that was honored by, after all, the most important person in any