at the best education is often to discover these very simple
truths for oneself, and learn to see how much there is in commonplaces.
For those who have grown old in the world are never weary of telling us
that the further we go, the more we shall find, in general, that the
same things will happen to us as have happened to others; and it will
then be our advantage if we have the same reflections, best of all if we
come of ourselves to the same conclusions, as the wisest of those who
have gone before us; next best, if we can really and intelligently
follow in the footsteps of their thought.

But although the matter of Goethe's sayings is not original in the sense
of being new to the world--while it was original for him, since he
discovered it for himself and on his own path, their manner is something
new, and their range is unparalleled. Take any other set of maxims you
will, nowhere is there so wide an outlook, nowhere so just an estimate
of human difficulties, nowhere an aim at once so lofty and so
practicable. Nowhere is there a larger, stronger, healthier, more
tolerant view of life and the world, or an atmosphere clearer of the
mists that too often obscure and distort our vision. And in their
expression, nowhere is there so little of the besetting sin to sacrifice
truth to effect. Goethe has none of the shallow malice and uncharitable
candour that with writers of an earlier age passed for the practical
wisdom of every day; and we need only contrast his maxims with the
similar work of La Rochefoucauld, Helvetius, and Chamfort, admirable as
they may be in their exposure of human selfishness, to determine on
which side is the greater service to mankind. How different the views of
the world taken by how many writers!--the secret of it all is that the
men themselves are different.

It was said of Goethe that his heart, which few knew, was as great as
his intellect, which all knew. Certainly his writings and not least his
maxims are a profound example of the truth that in the last resort it is
moral rather than intellectual qualities that make great literature. It
is not to be denied that much may be done by a mere facility of style, a
command of words, a fine taste, a wide acquaintance with the turns and
resources of language; but in the end the effect is produced by the man
himself, his character and his strength. To the strenuous, earnest man,
like Goethe, the world offers a stirring spectacle and provides a great
oppo