from his own neck a small golden key and gave it to Johannes. The king told him that it belonged to a golden casket which contained a precious treasure, but where the casket was the king could not tell; "but," he concluded, "only seek diligently, be firm and true, and all will go well with you."

So far from all going well, Johannes discovered soon that this gift was the beginning of sorrows. The disciple of nature found all his new sensibilities jarred and hurt by contact with the rough world. He got into trouble at home and at school, and was continually oppressed with anxiety lest his key should be discovered and taken from him. He had hung it round his neck, and for the time it was safe; but Saturday was bath night, and then what could he do? Friday evening came, and Johannes was sitting by his window thinking and thinking how to hide his treasure, when the air seemed stirred by fluttering wings, the scent of the lilies of the valley breathed around him, and on the window-sill, close to his elbow, sat Windekind. Johannes confided his anxieties about the key, and, after they had spent a merry night in the woods together, they buried it beneath the roots of a wild hedge-rose on the dunes. It was a relief to know that the key was safe, but when Johannes awoke in his bed next morning, and found no sign to reassure his faith, he felt very lonely and desolate, and when next Windekind summoned him he left his home and his father and Presto at his bidding, and never returned to them again.

One day Windekind spoke of the Great Light whence all men come, but whom they now no longer know.

"Do you mean God?" asked Johannes, shyly.

"God?" and Windekind's deep eyes laughed softly. "I know what you think about, Johannes, when you hear

that name. You think of the chair by your bed where you used to say that long evening prayer, of the green silk curtains in your pew at church, of the capital letters in your Bible . . . of discordant singing and foul atmosphere. What you mean by this name, Johannes, is a ludicrous travesty of the truth-a big petroleum lamp instead of the sun."

"But what is the Great Light called then, Windekind, and to whom should I pray?"

"Johannes, if there were an answer to your question you would no more understand it than an earth-worm the music of the spheres. Nevertheless, I will teach you how to pray."

And they flew away together beyond woods and dunes towards a high range of hills behind which lay the sea.

A long, white, downy edge of foam encircled the wide expanse like an ermine border on a blue velvet robe. Johannes gazed in long rapt silence; he felt as if the great portals of the universe were flung wide, and his little soul were absorbed in the first rays of eternity.

"Thus must you pray," said Windekind.

But the human mind has never been able to find complete satisfaction in second causes; mere phenomena, however beautiful and awe-inspiring, fail to satisfy its ultimate desires, desires which are always and everywhere yearning after a knowledge of the power behind phenomena. To attain this men will renounce everything that yields them merely sensuous gratification, in the pursuit of this knowledge they will spurn delights and live laborious days, and, like little Johannes, they will forsake the flower-crowned poet, however dearly he may be loved, to toil with the alchemist and philosopher. In Van Eeden's parable Johannes's next adventure is his meeting with Wistik, the wisest of the kobolds, a little gray

To Wistik, however, and his philosophy Johannes gave a very divided allegiance; instead of devoting himself heartily to the search for the book in which the cause of all things was written, plain and distinct, he went and fell in love with a little human girl, and would have spent the rest of his days in dalliance with her had not Wistik spurred his flagging zeal. After one of these reminders he confided to his friend Robinetta the object of his search, and when he spoke of a wonderful book which explained the why and wherefore of everything in the world, she imagined, like the well brought up maiden that she was, that she knew all about it, and promised that next morning Johannes should know too.

The scene which follows is characteristic of the author's attitude towards conventional religion, and that narrow conception of God which limits divine revelation to one age and to one book. In an ugly room with an ugly carpet a number of black-coated men were seated around a table; their voices were harsh and their sharp eyes shone as they gloated over their expected convert. But when Johannes saw the familiar volume, and was informed that therein lay the way of life, he said, sadly, that this could not be the book of his quest, for if so there would be peace and concord among men, and there was not. The gentlemen in the black coats had no arguments to oppose to this statement which, indeed, was unanswerable, therefore one of them, who was Robinetta's father, accused the little sceptic of impiety, and forbade him ever to set foot in the house again. Being thus cast out from men, Johannes turned to his fairy friends, but Wistik only chided him for his "human clumsiness," and the heathroses said proudly that they did not speak to men.

To minds perplexed by metaphysical subtleties the certainties of the exact sciences afford unspeakable relief. Here we deal with facts, with sensible realities, and even if the horizon is more limited than of old, it is no small comfort to find firm, unshifting ground beneath our feet. Men who are wearied with the search after the unknowable and the infinite gladly take refuge in the study of zoophytes and amoeba. The emotional state which accompanies this intellectual attitude is one of pessimism, in which annihilation is regarded as the supreme good and the blind Wille zu leben as the great curse of humanity. It is this phase of thought and feeling which is typified in Johannes's last experiment.

As Johannes sat and wept over the loss of Robinetta, a sharp, scornful voice

accosted him. "Well, friend, what are you sitting there and howling about?" and then a little wizened man with thin legs and a big head introduced himself as Pluizer (the Cynic), and said that he knew an astonishing number of things-in fact, almost everything. He knew all about Windekind and Wistik, and acknowledged that they were very clever people-only they didn't exist and he knew all about the key and the casket, and promised to help Johannes to find out everything for which he had so long sought. He then carried Johannes away from the dunes, and they took up their abode together in a large town.

"Look, how fast all the people are walking," continued Pluizer. "You can see they are all looking for something, can't you? The funny part of it is that hardly one of them knows exactly what he is looking for. When they have searched a while some one comes up to them called Hein."

"Who is that?" asked Johannes.

"O! a good friend of mine, I'll introduce you to him one of these days. Then Hein says, 'Are you looking for me?' But to that people nearly always reply, 'O no, I don't want you.' But Hein answers, There is nothing else to find except me!' and they have to be content with Hein."

Johannes understood that he spoke of death..

"Shall I find nothing, Pluizer, nothing else besides-?"

"Yes, you certainly will find Hein some day, but not yet, only keep seeking."

"But the book, Pluizer, you will let me find the book?"

"Now who knows? I haven't said no. We must look and look. We at any rate know what we are looking for, that much Windekind taught us."

hannes's first impulse was to rush forward and loosen the cords which were cutting the flesh of the poor bunny to the bone, but he felt his hands seized from behind and both Pluizer and the Doctor stared at him in amazement. Pluizer then introduced the new pupil and made excuses for his rude behavior.

"My dear boy," said the Doctor, "you seem too tender-hearted to begin just yet; however this is the first time, and that is always a little trying. But you must understand we are men and not animals, and the welfare of humanity and the advancement of science are well worth a few rabbits."

"You hear," said Pluizer, "Science and Humanity!"

"The man of science," continued the Doctor, "stands high above all other men. But he must renounce the little weaknesses of other men for the sake of one great object, Science. Do you desire to be such a man? Is that your vocation, boy?"

Johannes hesitated. "I want to find the book," he said, "that Wistik told me about."

The Doctor looked asked, "Wistik?"

puzzled and

He

But Pluizer said quickly, "He does wish it, Doctor, I know he does. seeks the highest wisdom, he wants to know the essential being of things." Johannes nodded. Yes, so far as he understood that was his aim.

"Well, then, you must be strong, JoIn hannes, not childish and pitiful. that case I will help you; but consider, it must be all or nothing."

And Johannes helped with trembling hands to bind the loosened cords round the paws of the rabbit.

Pluizer took Johannes to place him under the tuition of Doctor Cypher. They found the great man alone in his study, busily vivisecting a rabbit. Jo

heads seemed no wider than a finger's breadth, into great factories full of the hum of machinery, and into small, close rooms where Johannes could hardly

breathe. Nightfall came at last, the tall old houses seemed to lean against one another in weary sleep, and Pluizer told Johannes of all the pain that was endured behind those walls, of the bitter struggle for existence that went on, without pause or pity; he told him everything that was most sordid, base and low, and then grinned with pleasure to see how pale and silent his pupil had become. But in one house brilliant lights were shining, and a procession of carriages stood before the door. Inside a grand ball was going on, and Johannes thought he had never seen anything more beautiful. But Pluizer, who would not leave one pleasant delusion untouched, bade him look a little further than "the end of his nose." looked round and saw the pale form of Death standing close behind him.

He

The powerful scene which follows is almost too ghastly for description. Pluizer takes Johannes to the cemetery of the town, and there, with the earthworm for their guide, they explore the graves, they bore through the coffins and crawl over the faces of corpses, while Pluizer improves the occasion by teaching contempt even for the dead. The next day Johannes began his studies with Doctor Cypher, and, though everything he learnt ran to figures, he enjoyed his wonderful lessons in botany and zoology; everything seemed to him so delicately adjusted, so eloquent of plan and design. But Pluizer scoffed at the purposive arrangements of plants which even a bee could destroy, at the waste of seeds and blossoms, and told Johannes that this designer of his must be a precious bungler, for it took men all their time to patch up his bad work. Then the boy's pleasure in his studies died away, and nothing pleased him any more except sleep, where thought and pain were both alike forgotten. He went on working, however, in a dogged, mechanical way, though the more he VII. 384

LIVING AGE.

sought the light the darker his life became. Memories of Windekind disturbed him, but when he asked Pluizer whether the elf had ever existed he replied, "Never. There is nothing in the world but men and figures." Then Johannes knew that he had been deceived.

Slowly the long winter passed away, and one bright spring morning Doctor Cypher announced that he had to go and visit a sick person, and that Johannes and Pluizer must accompany him. It was a warm sunny day, and from the windows of the train Johannes watched the white butterflies flitting over the flowery meadows and the wide green fields with their plumy grass and grazing cattle. Then suddenly he felt a thrill run through him, for there before his eyes lay the billowy dunes. Next came the woods. carpeted with dark-green moss and flecked with patches of sunshine, and that fragrance in the air was the scent. of birch saplings and fir needles. The last part of the journey was performed on foot, but as they walked through the wood Johannes could not help looking behind him now and then, for he fancied that he saw the tall, pale figure of Hein, with whom he had grown familiar in the streets of the city. path became more and more familiar as they proceeded, until, at last, Johannes perceived that they had reached his old home. Slowly they mounted the stairs into his father's room, Hein following close upon their heels, and there behind the bed-curtains lay the earnest, kindly face that he so well remembered. Now it was pale and weak, and no sound escaped the lips but a low moaning. The doctor turned towards his patient, and the boy took up his position by the window and tried to think. But Pluizer would not leave him for a moment in peace; he stood over him and taunted him with his grief, and teased him about his foolish

The

dreams and his childish imaginations, interrupting himself to repeat, "Hark! the moaning is getting weaker and weaker, and the sooner it is over the better." This illness was a strange case, it seemed, which even Doctor Cypher did not understand. The eyes of the uninvited guest were fixed upon the clock, and the groans came fainter and lower, until Death turned towards the bed and raised his hand-then all was still. The suspense of the last hours of listening was over, and Joharnes felt himself falling into a dark and fathomless void. He heard the Doctor quit the room, saying that he left the rest to Pluizer, but still he could not move nor speak. But when he saw Pluizer take a knife and approach the bed, then, at last, he roused himself, and, before the Cynic could reach the body, he had placed himself in front of him. "No," he said, and his voice sounded deep like a man's. He had never opposed Pluizer before; now they met in a mortal struggle, and Johannes learnt how strong his enemy was. The sight of the glittering knives gave him courage; he had seen them before and knew what they meant; his breath began to fail, his eyes grew dim, but still he held on. Then slowly resistance ceased, muscles relaxed, and he found hands empty. When he looked up Pluizer had vanished, only Death sat by the bed..

his his

"That was well done, Johannes," he said.

"Will he come back again?" whispered Johannes.

Death shook his head. "Never. He who has once defied him never sees him again."

"And Windekind, shall I see Windekind again?"

"I alone can bring you to Windekind. It is through me alone that you can find the book."

"Then take me with you, now that I

have no one left to me. I don't want to stay any longer."

Again Death shook his head. "You love men, Johannes; you didn't know it, but you have always loved them. You must be a good man; it is a fine thing to be a good man."

Then the tall, dark form walked out into the sunshine, and Johannes laid his head on the bed and wept.

Some hours passed, and still the boy continued to weep, until he heard a clear voice calling, "Child of the Sun, Child of the Sun." That must be Windekind, he thought; no other being had ever called him by that name. Again the voice! sweeter and clearer than ever. He felt constrained to leave the dark room and look out at the beautiful sunset. The evening was peaceful as prayer, and Johannes felt the mood return in which Windekind had bidden him pray. In the distance a speck of azure moved between the trees, and the boy hastened to follow it. But, quickly as he ran, he could not keep up with that flutter of blue, and when he had climbed the last ridge of the dunes there was nothing to be seen but a boat far out at sea. At one end stood Windekind, and something golden glittered in his hand, and at the other end Johannes thought he discerned the dim figure of Death.

As he stood and watched the boat a still more wonderful sight met his gaze. Down the pathway of the water came a human form, treading calmly on the glowing waves; his face was pale and his deep eyes were full of tender sad

ness.

"Who are you?" asked Johannes. "Are you a man?"

"A man, and more than a man," was the reply.

"Are you Jesus, God?"

"Speak not the names," said the figure. "Once they were holy and pure as priestly garments, and precious as life-giving bread, but they have been