CHAPTER VII. THE CLOSING SCENES. THE spring of 1830 found Goethe in his eighty-first year, busy with Faust, writing the preface to Carlyle's Life of Schiller, and deeply interested in the great philosophical contest which was raging in Paris, between Cuvier and Geoffroy St. Hilaire, on the question of Unity of Composition in the Animal Kingdom. This question, one of the most important and profound of all the questions which are agitated in Biology, which lies indeed at the bottom of almost all speculation on Development, had for very many years been answered by Goethe in the spirit which he now saw Geoffroy St. Hilaire advocating; and it was to him a matter of keen delight to observe the world of science earnestly bent on a solution of the question. The anecdote which M. Soret narrates in the supplemental volume to Eckermann's conversations, is very characteristic. Monday, 1st August, 1830. The news of the Revolution of July reached Weimar to-day, and set every one in commotion. I went in the course of the afternoon to Goethe. "Now," exclaimed he, as I entered, "what do you think of this great event? The volcano has come to an eruption; everything is in flames." "A frightful story," I answered; "but what could be expected otherwise under such notoriously bad circumstances and with such a ministry, than that the whole would end in the expulsion of the royal family." "We do not appear to understand each other, my good friend," said Goethe; "I am not speaking of those people, but of something quite different. I am speaking of the contest so important for science between Cuvier and Geoffroy St. Hilaire, which has come to an open rupture in the Academy." This expression of Goethe's was so unexpected that I did not know what to say, and for some minutes was perfectly at a standstill. "The matter is of the highest importance," he continued; "and you can form no conception of what I felt at the intelligence of the séance of the 19th July. We have now in Geoffroy a powerful and permanent ally. I see how great must be the interest of the French scientific world in this affair; because, notwithstanding the terrible political commotion, the sèance of the 19th July, was very fully attended. However, the best of it is that the synthetic manner of looking at Nature, introduced by Geoffroy into France, cannot be kept back any longer. From the present time Mind will rule over Matter in the scientific investigations of the French. There will be glances of the great maxims of creation—of the mysterious workshop of God! Besides, what is all intercourse with Nature, if we merely occupy ourselves with individual material parts, and do not feel the breath of the spirit which prescribes to every part its direction, and orders or sanctions every deviation by means of an inherent law! I have exerted myself in this great question for fifty years. At first I was alone, then I found support, and now at last to my great joy I am surpassed by congenial minds."' Those familiar with the grand conception of Nature which lies at the bottom of this doctrine of Unity of Composition, will, even if they reject the doctrine, understand its fascination for poetical minds. Indeed another great artist, then in the early prime of genius and success, who had no scientific training, and no special knowledge, but only a love of great ideas and a sincere desire to penetrate into the spirit of Nature, was also led to take the interest of a partisan in Geoffroy St. Hilaire's doctrine. I allude to George Sand. There is a letter from her to Geoffroy, printed where no one would ever think of seeking for it,* which is too curious to be passed over. An extract or two may well stand here in parallel to the passage just quoted from Goethe: 'Je ne vous dirai point que vous avez vaincu la science et le génie de C. (Cuvier), je dis seulement que j'ai peut-être assez bien compris la discussion pour savoir de quel côté se portent mes sympathies et ma confiance. En cela je ne crois pas être influencé par les bontés que vous avez cues pour moi; mais il y a quelque chose de plus grand, de plus hardi, de plus sincère et (permettez moi de parler la langue de ma profession) de plus poétique dans vos larges vues sur ce que nous appelons la création. . . . Ce que je puis vous assurer c'est que l'œuvre de vos sept jours est une pensée large et magnifique, et qu'elle jette à bas la génèse de C. pour quiconque déteste le mesquin dans les arts. Mais pardonnez moi ces façons de parler; vous savez que devant un tableau d'Apelle un cordonnier ne vit que le soulier, et si jugea-t-il assez ce soulier. . . . Il y a déjà long temps qu'ayant non pas lu, mais entendu raisonner de vos idées dans le public, je m'étais tellement passionné pour votre nouveau plan de l'univers, que j'avais écrit quelques pages vraiment absurdes, comme peut l'être la traduction d'une langue qu'on ne sait point. . . . Sur ce, pardonnez moi, monsieur, d'être un disciple si indigne, mais sachez bien * In L'Histoire de la Gènèration de l'Homme, by Grinaud de Caux and Martin de St. Ange. Paris: 1837, p. 430. que je me prosterne devant les savants comme devant les pères spirituels du genre humain. Eux seuls entraînent les siècles et font avancer l'intelligence de notre race dans ses voies lentes et pénibles. Les hommes d'action marchent à leur suite sans le savoir, et, subissant l'influence mystérieuse, font les lois humaines dans une sorte de rapport avec les lois divines pénétrées par les savants.' In this final sentence George Sand indicates Goethe's own view of the superior importance of such an event as the discussion between Geoffroy and Cuvier, to the more noisy but intrinsically less remarkable event, the Revolution of July; a view which will be accepted by most philosophers, and rejected by all politicians. Goethe was not content with expressing in conversation his sense of its importance; he also commenced the writing of his celebrated review of the discussion, and finished the first part in September. In November another great affliction smites him: it is the last he has to bear: the news arrives that his only son, who had a little while before gone to Italy in failing health, had died in Rome on the 28th of October. The sorrowing father strove, as usual, to master all expression of emotion, and to banish it by restless work. But vain was the effort to live down this climbing sorrow. The trial nearly cost him his life. A violent hæmorrhage in the lungs was the result. He was at one time given over; but he rallied again, and set once more to work, completing the Autobiography and continuing Faust. Ottilie von Goethe, the widow of his son, and his great favorite, devoted herself to cheer his solitude. She read Plutarch aloud to him; and this, with Niebuhr's Roman History, carried him amid the great pageantries of the past, where his antique spirit could wander as among friends. Nor was the present disregarded. He read with the eagerness of youth whatever was produced by remarkable writers, such as Béranger, Victor Hugo, Delavigne, Scott, or Carlyle. He received the homage of Europe; his rooms were constantly brightened by the presence of illustrious visitors, among whom the English were always welcome. Rambling over the wild moors, with thoughts oftentimes as wild and dreary as those moors, the young Carlyle, who had been cheering through his struggling sadness, and strengthened for the part he was to play in life, by the beauty and the wisdom which Goethe had revealed to him, suddenly conceived the idea that it would be a pleasant and a fitting thing if some of the few admirers in England forwarded to Weimar a trifling token of their admiration. On reaching home, Mrs. Carlyle at once sketched the design of a seal to be engraved: the serpent of eternity encircling a star, with the words ohne Hast ohne Rast (unhasting, unresting), in allusion to the wellknown verses Wie das Gestirn, Aber ohne Rast, Drehe sich jeder Um die eigne Last. 'Like a star, unhasting, unresting, be each one fulfilling his God-given hest.' Fifteen English admirers subscribed to have a handsome seal made, on the golden belt of which was engraved : To the German Master: From friends in England: 28th August, 1831. This letter accompanied it. To the Poet Goethe, on the 28th August, 1831. 'SIR,-Among the friends, whom this so interesting Anniversary calls round you, may we English friends, in |