pre-existing bodies, as if it were a law that _must_ work itself out,
whatever the consequences. Such a process will now and then defy
prudence, self-respect, duty, even religion,--going its way like a blind
and ruthless law of physics. But if this is to happen the recombining
elements must, of course, have each its specific character; else there
is no affinity and no tragedy.

It is no part of the analogy that the pressure of sex is always and by
its very nature like the attraction of atoms. Aside from the fact that
character consists largely in the steady inhibition of instinct and
passion by the will, there is this momentous difference between atoms or
molecules, on the one hand, and souls on the other: the character of the
atom or molecule is constant, that of the soul is highly variable. There
is no room here for remarks on free will and determinism; suffice it to
say that Goethe does not preach any doctrine of mechanical determinism
in human relations. The scientific analogy must not be pressed too hard.
It is really not important, since after all nothing turns on it.
Whatever interest the novel has it would have if all reference to
chemistry had been omitted. Goethe's thesis, if he can be said to have
one, is simply that character is fate.

He imagines a middle-aged man and woman, Edward and Charlotte, who are,
to all seeming, happily united in marriage. Each has been married before
to an unloved mate who has conveniently died, leaving them both free to
yield to the gentle pull of long-past youthful attachment. Their feeling
for each other is only a mild friendship, but that does not appear to
augur ill, since they are well-to-do, and their fine estate offers them
both a plenty of interesting work. Edward has a highly esteemed friend
called the Captain, who is for the moment without suitable employment
for his ability and energy. Edward can give him just the needed work,