Olik] .CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARV 3 1924 062 545 433 Om tlBRARX B CmCULAIlON DATE DUE flPl^bsaffin IC/^^ 4mtm BBr jgj^.-4 r l-hb z .-' Jb ^Pr raiB -7 V M7?r*? -9 gQQg — ^ae _ A fMMMk ■**«fc 41IG ji 2007 GAYLORD PRINTED IN U.SA Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924062545433 Production Note Cornell University Library pro- duced this volume to replace the irreparably deteriorated original. It was scanned using Xerox soft- ware and equipment at 600 dots per inch resolution and com- pressed prior to storage using CCITT Group 4 compression. The digital data were used to create Cornell's replacement volume on paper that meets the ANSI Stand- ard Z39. 48-1984. The production of this volume was supported in part by the Commission on Pres- ervation and Access and the Xerox Corporation. Digital file copy- right by Cornell University Library 1992. CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THIS BOOK IS ONE OF A COLLECTION MADE BY BENNO LOEWY I854-I9I9 ANA BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY GOETHE'S ELECTIVE AFFINITIES WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY VICTORIA C. WOO boston: D. W. NILES, No. 8 BROMFIELD STREET. :872. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S71, by D. W. NILES, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. INTRODUCTION. At the request of Mr. D. W. Niles, publisher, Boston, I have re-read, having read with pleasure and profit in my early life, the " Elective AflSnities " of Goethe, an English translation of which Mr. Nilcs proposes to jjublish for the use of the American public ; and he does me the honor to think that my views of the value of the. book may contribute some- what to its success among us at this time. It is very true that ideas of social freedom iind of in- evitable law governing the action of human affections are rapidly spreading in the world, at this day, and that I may have done something to aid their growth. Perhaps my name may not, therefore, be inappropri- ately associated with this reproduction of the work of the greatest Genius of Germany, the first who 3 iv Introduction. promulgated the thought that there is a chemistry of the mind, and that " Elective Affinities " are as powerful and legitimate in the realm of human sen- timent as in the realm of matter. If this fundamental thought of the man who has proved to be the seer or prophet of Science in so many other things, is also a scientific truth, the fact cannot be appreciated by the world too soon, nor its immense sweep of consequences be too clearly fore- seen and provided for. It will affect the whole scope of morals and social order, whether we accept it in our theories or not, and the less hurtfuUy and the more beneficently, in proportion as we thorough- ly study and understand the subject. Themes of freedom on all subjects form the staple public sentiment of the world in this age. A doc- trine like that of Goethe's is, therefore, eminently calculated to make progress even unconciously in this century. Indeed, I think that if there is any objection whatever, which will be felt to the really chaste and simple tale of this great writer, as it shall be read by the American public of to-day, it will be, that it is too nuld and unpronounced, rather than on Introduction. v account of its radicalism. It may not be sufficiently spiced oc high-seasoned either with adventxire, or with audacity of speculation to suit the already stimu- lated palates of our modern and progressive commu- nity. Indeed, it strikes me almost ludicrous, that the translator has shrunk from appending his name to the work, if he has done so from any idea that its dan- gerous views might tend to impair his reputation. The tale is, in a word, of the simple construction and genial and moderate character of the " Vicar of Wakefield" rather than in the exciting style of Dickens' Christmas Carols ; but, everywhere, the interest is skilfully kept up, and the subtle insinua- tion of a great revolutionary doctrine pervades the whole, and to the thoughtful reader makes the chief point of interest. Doctrines, however, which are here merely insinuated and illustrated by allusions to science, are now so openly expounded and advo- cated that a portion of the community will regard the great German as too conservative, while yet, doubtless, to the great mass of readers, the radical element mny startle, and in some instances offend. But in any event Genius has its prerogatives, and vi Inteoduction'. the genius of Goethe is incontestable and uncontes- ted. The American public is entitled to know what this great leader of modern thought, one of the founders of Comparative Anatomy, has thought on the more recondite subject of the Chemistry of Mind. The question is not, in the first instance, whether his views were right or wrong, true or false ; but simply, What were they? and in none of his works is that question so effectively answered as in "Elective Affinities." Undoubtedly, he shocked the age he lived in, both by his writings and by his life, even in Germany, where the puritanical element has always had less sway than it has had among us ; but noAv, if the book runs any risk of a failure to com- mand the public interest, it will be as I have said, for the opposite reason, that it may be thought not radical and outspoken enough. But even this cir- cumstance adds a new ground of interest in the fact that it presents vividly the opportunity to compare two or three successive generations in respect to the growth of opinion upon a most important subject, and the comparison prepares the mind for the still Inteoduction. vii more radical change which the next few years will inevitably produce. It is well to learn not to be shocked or astounded by any of the events which the impending progress of humanity presents, and especially at this epoch ; for all of the signs of the times concur to indicate that we are entering upon the most revolutionary period in human society, not it is to be hoped of the old style and blind sort, but revolution in respect to opinions and general institutions. Victoria C. Woodhull. 15 Uast S8th St., New York, November, 1871. ELECTIVE AFFINITIES. PART I. CHAPTER I. EDWARD — so we sliall call a wealthy nobleman in the prime of life — had been spending several hours of a fine April morning in his nursery-garden budding the stems of some young trees with cuttings which had been recently sent to him. He had finished what he was about, and having laid his tools together in their box, was complacently surveying his work, when the gardener came up and complimented his master on his industry. " Have you seen my wife anywhere?" inquired Ed- ward, as he moved to go away. " My lady is alone yonder in the new grounds," said the man; "the summer-house which she has been mak- ing on the ]'0ck over against the castle is finished to-day, and really it is beautiful. It cannot fail to please your grace. The view from it is perl'ect : — the village at youi feet ; a little to your right the church with its tower, which you can just see over ; and directly opposite you, the castle and the garden." " Quite true," replied Edward ; " I can see the people at work a few steps from where I am standing." 2 Goethe's " And then, to the right of the church again," continued the gardener, "is the opening of the valley; and you look along over a ransre of wood and meadow fai- into the dis- tance. The steps up the rock, too, are excellently ar- ranged. My gracious lady understands these things ; it is a pleasure to work under her." " Go to her," said Edward, " and desire her to be so good as to wait for ine there. Tell her I wish to see this new creation of hers, and enjoy it with her." The gardener went rapidly off, and Edward soon fol- lowed. Descending the terrace, and stopping as he passed to look into the hot-houses and the forcing-pits, he came presently to the stream, and thence, over a narrow bridge, to a place where the walk leading to the summer- house branched off in two directions. One path led across the churchyard, immediately up the face of the rock. The othei', into which he struck, wound away to the left, with a more gradual ascent, through a pi-etty shrubber)'. Where the two paths joined again, a seat had been made, where he stopped a few moments to rest; and then, following the now single road, he found himself, after scrambling along among stops and slopes of all sorts and kinds, conducted at last through a narrow more or less steep outlet to the summer-house. Charlotte was standing at the door to receive her hus- band. She made him sit down where, without moving, he could command a view of the different landscapes through the door and window — these serving as frames, in which they were set like ])icturcs. Spring was coming on ; a rich, beautiful life would soon everywhere be bursting; and Edward spoke of it with delight. " There is only one thing which I should observe," he added, "the summer-house itself is rather small." Elective Affinities. 3 "It is large enough for you and mc, at any rate," an- swered Charlotte. " Certainly," said Edward ; " there is room for a third, too, easily." " Of course ; and for a fourth also," replied Charlotte. " For larger parties we can contrive other places.'' "Now that we are here by ourselves, with no one to disturb us, and in such a pleasant mood," said Edward, " it is a good opportunity for rae to tell you that I have for some time had something on my mind, about which I have wished to speak to you, but have never been able to muster up my courage." " I have observed that there has been something of the sort," said Charlotte. "And even now," Edward went on, "if it were not for a letter which the post brought me this morning, and whicli obliges me to come to some resolution to-day, I should very likely have still kept it to myself." " What is it, then ? " asked Charlotte, turning affection- ately towards him. " It concerns our friend the Captain," answered Ed- ward; "you know the unfortunate position in which he, like many others, is placed. It is through no fault of his own; but you may imagine how painfiil it must be for a person with his knowledge and talents and accomplish- ments, to find himself without employment. I — I will not hesitate any longer with what I am wishing for him. I should like to have him here with us for a time." " We must think about that," replied Charlotte ; " it should be considered on more sides than one." " I am quite ready to tell you what I have in view," returned Edward. " Through his last letters there is a prevailing tone of despondency ; not that he is really in 4 Goetde's any want. He knows thoroughly well how to limit his expenses; and I have taken care for everything absolute- ly necessary. It is no distress to him to accept obligations from me; all our lives we have been in the habit of bor- rowing from and lending to each other; and we could not tell, if wc would, how our debtor and creditor ac- count stands. It is being without occupation which is really fretting him. The many accomplishments which he has cultivated in himself, it is his only pleasure — in- deed, it is his passion — to be daily and hourly exercising for the benefit of others. And now, to sit still, with his arms folded ; or to go on studying, acquiring, and acquir- ing, when he can make no use of what he already pos- sesses; — my dear creature, it is a painful situation; and alone as he is, he feels it doubly and trebly." " But I thought," said Charlotte, "that he hai had offers from many different quarters. I myself wrote to numbers of my own friends, male and female, for him ; and, as I have reason to believe, not without effect." " It is true," replied Edward ; but these very offers — these various proposals — have only caused him fresh em- barrassment. Not one of them is at all suitable to such a person as he is. He would have nothing to do ; he would have to sacrifice himself, his time, his purposes, his whole method of life ; and to that he cannot bring himself The more I think of it all, the more I feel about it, and the more anxious I am to see him here with us." "It is very beautiful and amiable in you," answered Charlotte, " to enter with so much sympathy into your friend's position ; only you must allow me to ask you to think of yourself and of me, as well." " I have done that," replied Edward. " For ourselves, we can have nothing to expect from his presence with us, Elective Affinities. 5 except pleasure and advantage. I ■will say nothing of tlie expense. In any case, if he came to us, it would be but small ; and you know he will be of no inconvenience to us at all. He can have his own rooms in the right wing of the castle, and everything else can be arranged as simply as possible. What shall we not be thus doing for him ! and how agreeable and how profitable may not his so- ciety prove to us ! I have long been wishing for a plan of the property and the grounds. He will see to it,, and get it made. You intend yourself to take the manage- ment of the estate, as soon as our present steward's teim is expired ; and that, you know, is a serious thing. His various information will be of immense benefit to us; I feel only too acutely how much I require a person of this kind. The country people have knowledge enough, but their way of imparting it is confused, and not always hon- est. The students from the towns and universities ai-e sufficiently clever and orderly, but they are deficient in personal experience. From my friend, I can promise my- self both knowledge and method, and hundreds of other circumstances I can easily conceive arising, affecting you as well as me, and from which I can foresee innumerable advantages. Thank you for so patiently listening to me. Now, do you say what you think, and say it out fi-eely and fully ; I will not interrupt you." " Very well," replied Charlotte ; " I will begin at once with a general observation. Men think most of the im- mediate — the present ; and rightly, their calling being to do and to work. Women, on the other hand, more of how things hang together in life ; and that rightly too, because their destiny — the destiny of their families — is bound up iu this interdependence, and it is exactly this which it is their mission to promote. So now let us cast 6 G'oetiie's a glance at our present and our past life; and you will acknowledge that the invitation of the Captain docs not fall in so entirely with our purposes, our plans, and our arrangements. I will go back to those happy days of our earliest intercourse. We loved each other, young as we then were, with all our hearts. Wc were parted : you from me — your father, from an insatiable desire of wealth, choosing to marry you to an elderly and rich lady ; I from you, having to give my hand, without any especial motive, to an excellent man, whom I respected, if I did not love. We became again fi-ee — you first, your poor mother at the same time leaving you in pos- session of your large fortune ; I later, just at the time when you returned from abroad. So we met once more. We spoke of the past; we could enjoy and love the rec- ollection of it ; we might have been contented in each other's society, to leave things as they were. You were urgent for our marriage. I at first hesitated. We were about the same age; but I as a woman had grown older than you as a man. At last I could not refuse you what you seemed to think the one thing you cared for. All the discomfort which you had ever experienced, at court, in the army, or in travelling, you were to recover from at my side; you would settle down and enjoy life; but only with me for j'our companion. I settled my daughter at a school, where she could be more completely educated than would be possible in the retirement of the country ; and I placed my niece Ottilie there with her as well, who, perhaps, would have grown up better at home with mc, under my own care. This was done with your consent, merely that we might have our own lives to ourselves — merely that we might enjoy undisturbed our so-long- wished-for, so-long-delayed happiness. We came here Elective Affinities- 7 and settled ourselves. I undertook the domestic part of the menage, you the out-of-doors, and the general con- trol. My own principle has been to meet your wishes in everything, to live only for you. At least, let us give ourselves a fair trial how far in this way we can be enough for one another." " Since the interdependence of things, as you call it, is j'our especial element," replied Edward, "one should either never listen to any of your trains of reasoning, or make up one's mind to allow you to be in the right ; and, indeed, you have been in the right up to the present day. The foundation which we have hitherto been laying for ourselves, is of the true, sound sort ; only, are we to build nothing upon it? is nothing to be developed out of it ? All the work we have done — I in the garden, you in the park — is it all only for a pair of hennits ? " " Well, well," replied Charlotte, " very well. What we have to look to is, that we introduce no alien element, nothing which shall cross or obstruct us. Remember, our plans, even those which only concern our amusements, depend mainly on our being together. You were to read to me, in consecutive order, the journal which you made Avhcn you were abroad. You were to take the opportu- nity of arranging it, putting all the loose matter connected with it in its place; and with me to work with you and help you, out of these invaluable but chaotic leaves and sheets to pui together a complete thing, whicli should give pleasure to ourselves and to others. I promised to assist you in transcribing ; and we thought it would be so pleasant, so delightful, so charming, to tra\'el over in rec- ollection the world which we were unable to see together. The beginning is already made. Then, in the evenings, you have taken up your flute again, accompanying me 8 Goethe's on the piano, while of visits backwards and forwards among the neighborhood, there is abundance. For my part, I have been promising myself out of all this the first really happy summer I have ever thought to spend in my life." " Only I cannot see," replied Edward, rubbing his fore- head, "how, through every bit of this which you have been so sweetly and so sensibly laying before me, tbo Captain's presence can be any interruption; I should rather have thought it would give it all fresh zest and life. He was my companion during a part of my travels. He made many observations from a different point of view from mine. We can put it all together, and so make a charmingly complete work of it." "Well, then, I will acknowledge openly," answered Charlotte, with some impatience, " my feeling is against this plan. I have an instinct v/hich tells me no good will come of it." " You women are invincible in this way," replied Ed- ward. " You are so sensible, that there is no answering you, then so affectionate, that one is glad to give way to you ; full of feelings, which one cannot wound, and full of forebodings, which terrify one." " I am not superstitious," said Charlotte ; " and I care nothing for these dim sensations, merely as such ; but in general they are the result of unconscious recollections of happy or unhappy consequences, which we have experi- enced as following on our own or others' actions. Noth- ing is of greater moment. In any state of things, than the intervention of a third person. I have seen friends, bi'othors and sisters, lovers, husbands and wives, whose relation to each other, through the accidental or inten- tional introduction of a third person, has been altogether Elective Affinities. 9 changed — whose -whole moral condition has been inver- ted by it." " That may very well be," replied Edward, " with peo- ple who live on without looking where they are going ; but not, surely, with persons whom experience has taught to understand themselves." " That understanding ourselves, my dearest husband," insisted Charlotte, "is no such certain weapon. It is very often a most dangerous one for the person who bears it. And out of all this, at least so much seems to arise, that we should not be in too great a hurry. Let me have a few days to think ; don't decide." " As the matter stands," returned Edward, " wait as many days as we will, we shall still be in too great a hurry. The arguments for and against are all before us; all we want is the conclusion^ and as things are, I think the best thing we can do is to draw lots." " I know," said Charlotte, " that in doubtful cases it is your way to leave them to chance. To me, in such a serious matter, this seems almost a crime." " Then what am I to write to the Captain ? " cried Ed- ward ; " for write I must at once." " Write him a kind, sensible, sympathizing letter," an- swered Charlotte. " That is as good as none at all," replied Edward. " And there are many cases," answered she, "-in which we are obliged, and in which it is the real kindness, rather to write nothing than not to write." 10 Goethe's CHAPTER II. EDWARD was alone in his room. The repetition of the incidents of his life from Charlotte's lips; the repesentation of their mntual situation, their mutual pur- poses ; had worked him, sensitive as he was, into a very pleasant state of mind. While close to her — while in her presence — he had felt so happy, that he had thought out a warm, kind, but quiet and indefinite epistle which he would send to the Captain. When, however, he had settled himself at his writing-table, and taken up his friend's letter to read it over once more, the sad condition of this excellent man rose again vividly before him. The feelings which had been all day distressing him again awoke, and it appeared impossible to him to leave one whom he called his friend in such painful embarrassment. Edward was unaccustomed to deiiy himself anything. "The only^chiTd, and consequently the spoilt child, of wealthy parents, who had persuaded him into a singular, but highly advantageous marriage with a lady far older than himself; and again by her petted and indulged in every possible way, she seeking to reward his kindness to her by the utmost liberality ; after her early death his own master, travelling independently of every one, equal to all contingencies and all changes, with desires never excessive, but multiple and various — free-hearted, gener- ous, brave, at times even noble — what was there in the world to cross or thwart him? Hitherto, everything had gone as he desired ! Charlotte had become his ; he had won her at last, with an obsti- nate, a romantic fidelity; and now he felt himself, for Elective Affinities. 11 the first time contradicted, crossed in his wishes, when those wishes were to invite to liis home the friend of his youth — just as he was longing, as it were, to throw open his whole heart to him. He felt annoyed, impatient ; he took up liis pen again and again, and as often threw it down again, because he could not make up his mind what to write. Against his wife's wishes he would not go ; against her expressed desire he could not. Ill at ease as he was, it would have been impossible for him, even if he had wished, to write a quiet, easy letter. The most natural thing to do, was to put it off. In a few words, he begged his friend to forgive him for having left his letter unanswered; that day he was unable to write circumstantially ; but shortly, he hoped to be able to tell him what he felt at greater length. The next day, as they were walking to the same spot, Charlotte took the opportunity of bringing back the conver- sation to the subject, perhaps because she knew that there is no surer way of rooting out any plan or purpose, than by often talking it over. It was what Edward was wishing. He expressed him- self in his own way;, kindly and sweetly. For although, sensitive as he waSj^ hej|amed~ up readily'— although the vehemence with which he desired anythiiig~made him pressing, and his obstinacy made him impatient — his words were so softened by his wish to spare the feelings of those to whom he was speaking, that it was impossible not to be charmed, even when one most disagreed, with him. This morning, he first contrived to bring Charlotte into the happiest humor, and then so disarmed her with the graceful turn which he gave to the conversation, that she cried out at last : 12 Goethe's " You are determined that what I refused to the hus- band you will make me grant to the lover. At least, my dearest," she continued, " I will acknowledge that your wishes, and the wunnth and sweetness with which you express them, have not left me untouched, have not left me unmoved. You drive me to make a confession ; — till now, I too have had a concealment from you ; I am in exactly the same position with you, and I have hitherto been putting the same restraint on my inclination which I have been exhorting you to put on yours." "Glad am I to hear that," said Edward. "In the married state, a difference of opinion now and then, I see, id no bad thing; we learn something of one another by it." "You are to learn at present, then," said Charlotte, " that it is with me about Ottilie as it is with you about the Captain. The dear child is most uncomfortable at the school, and I am thoroughly uneasy about her. Luciana, my daughter, born as she is for the world, is there training hourly for the world ; languages, history, everything that is taught there, she acquires with so much ease that, as it were, she learns them off at sight. She has quick natural gifts, and an excellent memory; one may almost say that she forgets everything, and in a moment calls it .ill back again. She distinguishes herself above every one at the school with the freedom of her carriage, the grace of her movement, and the elegance of her address, and with the inborn royalty of nature makes herself the queen of the little circle there. The superior of the establishment regards her as a little divinity, who, under her hands, is shaping into excellence, and who will do her honor, gain her reputation, and bring her a large increase of pupils; the first pages of this good lady's let- Elective Affinities. 13 ters, and her monthly notices of progress, are for ever hymns about the excellence of such a child, which I have to translate into my own prose ; while her concluding sentences about Ottilie are nothing but excuse after ex- cuse — attempts at explaining how it can be that a girl in other respects growing up so lovely seems coming to nothing, and shows neither capacity nor accomplishment. This, and the little she has to say beside, is no riddle to me, because I can see in this dear child the same charac- ter as that of her mother, who was my own dearest friend ; who grew up with myself, and whose daughter, I am cer- tain, if I had the care of her education, would form into an exquisite creature. " This, however, has not fallen in with our plan, and as one ought not to be picking and pulling, or for ever intro- ducing new elements among the conditions of our life, I think it better to bear, and to conquer as I can, even the unpleasant impression that my daughter who knows very well that poor Ottilie is entirely dependent upon us, does not refrain from flourishing her own successes in her fice, and so, to a certain extent, destroys the little good which we have done for her. Who are well trained enough never to wound others by a parade of their own advan- tages '? and who stands so high as not at times to suffer under such a slight ? In trials like these, Ottilie's character is growing in strength, but since I have clearly known the painfulness of her situation, I have been thinking over all possible ways to make some other arrangement. Every hour I am expecting an answer to my own last letter, and then I do not mean to hesitate any more. So, my dear Edward, it is with me. We have both, you see, the same sorrows to bear, touching both our hearts in the same point. Let us bear them together, since we neither of us can press our own against the other." 14 Goethe's "-^e_jTe_strasge_ja:eatiiresJ' said Edward, smiling. " If we can only put out of sight anything which troubles us, we fancy at once we have got rid of it. We can give up much in the large and general ; but to make sacriticus in little things is a demand to which we are rarely equal. So it was with ray mother — as long I lived with her, while a boy and a young man, she could not bear to let me be a moment out of her sight. If I was out later than usual in my ride, some misfortune must have hap- pened to me. If I got wet through in a shower, a fever was inevit.able. I travelled ; I was absent from her alto- gether ; and, at once, I scarcely seemed to belong to her. If we look at it closer," he continued, " we are both act- ing very foolishly, very culpably. Two very noble natures, both of which have the closest claims on our affection, we are leaving exposed to pain and distress, merely to avoid exposing ourselves to a chance of danger. If this is not to be called selfish, what is ? You take Ottilie. Let me have the Captain ; and, for a short period, at least, let the trial be made." " We might venture it," said Charlotte, thoughtfully, " if the danger were only to ourselves. But do you think it prudent to bring Ottilie and the Captain into a situation where they must necessarily be so closely intimate ; the Captain, a man no older than yourself, of an age (I am not saying this to flatter you) when a man becomes first capable of love and first deserving of it, and a girl of Ottilie's attractiveness ? " " I cannot conceive how you can raise Ottilie so high," replied Edward. " I can only explain it to myself by sup- posing her to have inherited your affection for her mother. Pretty she is, no doubt. I remember the Captain observ- ing it to me, when we came back last yeaj-, and met her Elective Affinities. 15 at your aunt's. Attractive she is, — she has particularly pretty eyes; but I do not know that she made the slight- est impression upon me." "That was quite proper in you," said Charlotte, " seeing that I was there; and, although she is much younger than I, the presence of your old friend has so many charms for you, that you overlooked the promise of the opening beauty. It is one of your ways ; and that is one reason why it is so pleasant to live with you." Charlotte, openly as she appeared to be speaking, was keeping back something, nevertheless ; which was that at the time when Edward came fi rst b ack from abroad, she had purposelj_throwiL.Qttnie in his way, to secureTrfpas- slble, so desirable a^natch for, her .protege e. For of hefc. self, at that time, in connection Hitli_EdSfard,_she never thought at all. The Captain, also, had a hint given to him to draw Edward's attention to her ; but the latter, who was clinging determinately to his early affection for Charlotte, looked neither right nor left, and was only happy in the feeling that it was at last- wLthin-Jiis power Ja obtain for himself the one happiness which he so earnestly desired ; and which a series of incidents had appeared to have placed for ever beyond his reach. They were on the point of descending the new grounds, in order to return to the castle, when a servant came hastily to meet them, and, with a laugh on his face, called up from below, " Will your grace be pleased to come quickly to the castle ? The Hen- Mittler has just galloped into the court. He shouted to us, to go all of us in search of you, and we were to ask whether there was need, ' whether there is need,' he cried after us, 'do you hear ? but be quick, be quick.' " "The odd fellow," exclaimed Edward. "But has he 16 Goethe's not come at the right time, Charlotte ? Tell him, there is need — grievous need. He must alight. See his horse taken care of. Take him into the saloon, and let him have some luncheon. We shall be with him immediately." " Let us take the nearest way," he said to his wife, and struck into the path across the churchyard, which he usually avoided. He was not a little sui-prised to find here, too, traces of Charlotte's delicate hand. Sparing, as far as possible, the old monuments, she had contrived to level it, and lay it carefully out, so as to make it appear a pleasant spot on which the eye and the imagination could equally repose with pleasure. The oldest stones had each their special honor assigned them. They were ranged according to their dates along the wall, either leaning against it, or let into it, or however it could be contrived ; and the string-course of the church was thus variously ornamented. Edward was singularly affected as he came in upon it through the little wicket ; he pressed Charlotte's hand, and tears started into his eyes. But these were very soon put to flight, by the appearance of their singular visitor. This gentleman had declined sitting down in the castle ; he had ridden straight through the village to the church- yard gate ; and then, halting, he called out to his friends. " Are you not making a fool of me ? Is there need, really ? If there is, I can stay till mid-day. But don't keep me. I have a great deal to do before night." " Since you have taken the trouble to come so far," cried Edward to him, in answer, " you had better come through the gate. We meet at a solemn spot. Come and see the variety which Charlotte has thrown over its sadness." " Inside there," called out the rider, " come I neither Elective Apfinitibs. 17 on horseback, nor in carriage, nor on foot. These here rest in peace : with them I have nothing to do. One day I shall be carried in feet foremost. I must bear that as I can. — Is it serious, I want to know ? " " Indeed it is," cried Charlotte, " right serious. For the first time in our married lives, we are in a strait and diffi- culty, from which we do not know how to extricate our- selves." " You do not look as if it were so," answered he. " But I will believe you. If you are deceiving me, for the future you shall help yourselves. Follow me quickly, my horse will be none the worse for a rest." The three speedily found themselves in the saloon to- gether. Luncheon was brought in, and Mittler told them what that day he had done, and was going to do. This eccentric person had in early life been a clergyman, and had distinguished himself in his office by the never-resting activity with which he contrived to make up and put an end to quarrels; quan-els in families, and quarrels be- tween neighbors ; first among the individuals immediately about him, and afterwards among whole congregations, and among the country gentlemen round. While he was in the ministry, no married couple were allowed to sepa- rate ; and the district courts were untroubled with either cause or process. A knowledge of the law, ho was well aware, was necessary to him. He gave himself with all his might to the study of it, and very soon felt himself a match for the best trained advocate. His circle of activ- ity extended wonderfully, and people were on the point of inducing him to move to the Residence, where he would find opportunities of exercising in the higher circles what he had begun in the lowest, when he won a considerable sum of money in a lottery. With this, he bought himself 1* 18 Goethe's a small property. He let the ground to a tenant, and made it the centre of his operations, with the fixed de- termination, or rather in accordance with his old customs and inclinations, never to enter a house where there was no dispute to make up, and no help to be given. People who wei-e superstitious about names, and about what they imported, maintained that it was his being called Mittler which drove him to take upon himself this strange em- ployment. Luncheon was laid on the table, and the stranger then solemnly pressed his host not to wait any longer with the disclosure which he had to make. Immediately after refreshing himself he would be obliged to leave them. Husband and wife made a circumstantial confession ; but scarcely had he caught the substance of the matter, when he started angrily up from the table, rushed out of the saloon, and ordered his horee to be saddled instantly. " Either you do not know me, you do not understand me," he cried, " or you ai-e sorely mischievous. Do you call this a quarrel ? Is there any want of help here ? Do you suppose that I am in the world to give advice f Of all occupations which man can pursue, that is the most foolish. Every man must be his own counsellor, and do what he cannot let alone. If all go well, let him be happy, let him enjoy his wisdom and his fortune ; if it go ill, I am at hand to do what I can for him. The man who desires to be rid of an evil knows what he wants ; but the man who desires something better than he has got is stone blind. Yes, yes, laugh as you will, he is playing blindman's-bufi"; perhaps ho gets hold of something, but the question is what he has got hold of Do as you will, it is all one. Invite your friends to you, or let them be, it is all the same. The most prudent plans I have seen Elective Affinities. 19 miscarry, and the most foolish succeed. Don't split your brains about it ; and if, one way or the other, evil comes of what you settle, don't fret ; send for me, and you shall be helped. Till which time, I am your humble servant." So saying, he sprang on his horse,- without waiting the arrival of the coffee. r ■' " Here you see," said Charlotte, " the small service a I third person can be, when things are off their balance between two persons closely connected ; we are left, if pos- [jible, more confused and more uncertain than we were." They would both, probably, have continued hesitating some time longer, had not a letter arrived from the Captain, in reply to Edward's last. He had made up his mind to accept one of the situations which had been offered him, although it was not in the least up to his mark. He was to share the ennui of certain wealthy per- sons of rank, who depended on his ability to dissipate it, Edward's keen glance saw into the whole thing, and he pictured it out in just, sharp lines. " Can we endure to think of our friend in such a posi- tion ? " he cried ; " you cannot be so cruel, Charlotte." " That strange Mittler is right after all," replied Charlotte ; " all such undertakings are ventures ; what will come of them it is impossible to foresee. New elements introduced among us may be fruitful in fortune or in misfortune, without our having to take credit to ourselves for one or the other. I do not feel myself firm enough to oppose you further. Let us make the experiment ; only one thing I will entreat of you — that it be only for a short time. You must allow me to exert myself more than ever, to use all my influence among all my connections, to find him some position which will satisfy him in his cvn way." 20 Goethe's Edward poured out the warmest expressions of grati- tude. He hastened, with a light, happy heart, to write off his proposals to his friend. Charlotte, in a postscript, was to signify her approbation with her own hand, and unite her own kind entreaties with his. She wrote, with a rapid pen, pleasantly and affectionately, but yet with a sort of haste which was not usual with her ; and, most unlike herself, she disfigured the paper at last with a blot of ink, which put her out of temper, and which she only made worse with her attempts to wipe it away. Edward laughed at her about it, and, as there was still room, added a second postscript, that his friend was to see from this symptom the impatience with which he was ex- pected, and measure the speed at which he came to them by the haste in which the letter was written. The messenger was gone; and Edward thought he could not give a more convincing evidence of his grati- tude, than by insisting again and again that Charlotte should at once send for Ottilie from the school. She s.aid she would think about it ; and, for that evening, induced Edward to join with her in the enjojinent of a little mu- sic. Charlotte played exceedingly well on the piano, Edward not quite so well on the flute. He had taken a great deal of pains with it at times ; but he was without the patience, without the perseverance, which are requi- site for the completely successful cultivation of such a talent; consequently, his part was dpne unequally, some pieces well, only perhaps too quickly — while with others he hesitated, not being quite familiar with them ; so that, for any one else, it would have been difficult to have gone through a duet with him. But Charlotte knew how to manage it. She held in, or let herself be run away with, and fulfilled in this way the double part of a skilful co".- Elective Affinities. 21 ductor and a prudent housewife, who are able always to keep right on the whole, although particular passages will now and then fall out of order. CHAPTER III. THE Captain came, having previously written a most sensible letter, which had entirely quieted Charlotte's apprehensions. So much clearness about himself, so just an understanding of liis own position and the position of his friends, promised everything which was best and happiest. The conversation of the first few hours, as is generally the case with friends who have not met for a long time, was eager, lively, almost exhausting. Towards evening, Charlotte proposed a walk to the new grounds. The Captain was delighted with the spot, and observed every beauty which had been first brought into sight and made enjoyable by the new walks. He had a practised eye, and at the same time one easily satisfied ; and although he knew very well what was really valuable,he never, as so many persons do, made people who were showing him things of their own uncomfortable, by requiring more than the circumstances admitted of, or by mentioning anything more perfect, which he remembered having seen else- where. When they arrived at the summer-house, they found it dressed out for a holiday, only, indeed, with artificial flowers and evergreens, but with some pretty bunches of 22 Goethe's . natural corn-ears among them, and other field and garden fruit, so as to do credit to the taste which had arranged them. " Although ray hushand does not like in general to have his birthday or christening-day kept," Charlotte said, " he will not object to-day to these few ornaments being ex- l)en