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do so to afford Ottilie an opportunity of supplying the place of the child she has been the means of losing, with another of whom Edward may be fond. And with this answer the Captain betakes himself to his principal.
Ottilie, however, has some conscience left, and objects to marry Edward, though her love to him is great as ever. Many pages, and much fine writing are bestowed on the heroism of her behaviour. She has a meeting with Edward at an inn, where she stops, on her way back to the boarding-school, where she had resolved to devote herself to the education of young ladies on what principles it is needless to enquire. The consequence of this interview, which consisted of vows and protestations on one side, and of absolute silence on the other, is, that she gets into the carriage in which she came, and returns to the castle, Edward following her on horseback; and so, after an absence of more than a year, the dramatis personæ are reunited in the scene of their first appearance.
And now comes the death scene; a subject which seems peculiarly agreeable to Goethe, and which he therefore describes with all his heart. Think, Mr North, of the eloquence of Charlotte and the Captain conjoined to the prayers and entreaties of Edward himself, being of no avail against the inflexible resolution of the pure and innocent Ottilie! She persists, in spite of all they can say, in maintaining a profound silence; and in eating in her own room; the mention of which peculiarity suggests dim images of coming evil to the attentive reader. In fact, she starves herself to death, except that the finishing blow is struck by a meddling old gentleman delivering in her presence a very inopportune lecture on the sanctity of the seventh commandment. The whole neighbourhood is struck dumb with grief at the death of the youthful saint, and great care is required to hinder the common people from worshipping her relics. A dark cloud of sorrow and regret settles heavily over the castle; and at last Edward is found dead. To the very last, sir, the diseased moral sense of Goethe and his admirers sees no impropriety in the whole transaction. The lovers are lamented as if their attachment had been as innocent as that of Paul and Virginia, and the strange eventful history concludes, after describing the burial of Edward, next to his beloved in these words: "So the lovers rest near each other! Peace hovers over the scene of their repose. Bright-clothed angel forms look down on them from the vault, and oh! what a blessed moment will that be when they shall awaken together!"
What do you think now, of what I began with, Mr North? But, before you decide, remember, my dear sir, that the state of manners described here is the same exactly as we trace in all the works of the same author. His Willielm Meister—his Young Werther—all agree in representing the most appalling laxity of morals as universal in the land. In heaven's name, is the man a libeller of his father-land as well a corrupter of youth? But no, sir, the universal popularity of his novels, the herd of imitators he has given rise to, the silence of his own countrymen on the subject of his false representations of life and manners, are too convincing proofs that he holds the mirror up to nature.
On this occasion- I have said nothing of the absurdly exaggerated claims which are made every day on behalf of German originality. What I have limited myself to, has been the character of the people, as seen in their every-day literature.—And, what a view we have had!—Phaugh!—I must have an "eke" just to put the taste out of my mouth. Sugar, if you please;—hold—hold—and now, Mr North, I will favour you with a song.—Hear, hear, hear!