Late in his life, in 1933, Yeats read Sons and Lovers, The Rainbow, and Women in Love “with excitement,” and found the love story of Lady Chatterley's Lover “noble.” In Lawrence he found an ally “directed against modern abstraction”; and he considered that, with Joyce, Lawrence had “almost restored to us the Eastern simplicity.” A hatred of Abstraction; a fearless plunge into the mire of human existence; an anti-intellectual stance (which was almost at times a pose); and a mythopoeic conception of art and life: these Yeats and Lawrence shared, whatever their differences—which were considerable. And what they shared accounts in part for their similar response to Goethe's Wilhelm Meisler and that hero's search for experience: it was, they felt, guided too dominantly by intellectual choices. In 1928 Lawrence wrote to Aldous Huxley that he thought “Wilhelm M eisler … amazing as a book of peculiar immorality, the perversity of intellectualised sex, and the utter incapacity for any development of contact with any other human being, which is peculiarly bourgeois and Goethian.” Yeats remarked that Goethe, a man “in whom objectivity and subjectivity were intermixed,” could “but seek … [Unity of Being] as Wilhelm Meister seeks it intellectually, critically, and through a multitude of deliberately chosen experiences.” He insisted that “true Unity of Being … is found emotionally, instinctively, by the rejection of all experience not of the right quality, and by the limitation of its quantity.” But for Yeats, the poet, it was less problematic than for Lawrence, the novelist, to crusade against Abstraction and Intellection: the poem had its gnomic power to snap meaning at you in an instant of time; the novel had somehow to have people and a story —and a world in which both could occur.