[Illustration: GOETHE]
John Wolfgang von Goethe was born at Frankfort, August 28, 1749, and
died at Weimar, March 22, 1832, aged eighty-two years and seven months.
He was a sickly child, and consequently participated but little in
children’s pastimes. Youth--melancholy, or early habits of reflection,
and an independence on others for amusement or formation of opinions
were thus generated, which, operating on his exquisite organization,
contributed to make him the master-spirit of his age. Thus, in his
autobiography and diary, it is highly instructive to mark the effect of
the various circumstances in which he was placed, on his train of
thought. Events, which on most children’s minds “are only reflected as
on looking-glasses but make no impression,” produced an effect on him of
which the influence was never effaced. The coronation of Joseph II. at
Frankfort, the annual mass, and the noble old city itself, with its
associations of feudalism and German art, are portrayed by him seventy
years after the feelings they had excited, with all the vividness of
yesterday’s impressions. It is probable that no one ever possessed such
acute sensibility as Goethe. He could “hang a thought on every thorn.”
Goethe’s father was a man of easy circumstances, and of some literary
merit: he had a great love for the fine arts, and had made a small
collection of objects of virtù in his travels through Italy. All this
worked on the young poet, and at eight or nine years old he wrote a
short description of twelve pictures, portraying the history of Joseph.
At fifteen years of age he went to the university of Leipsic, where he
studied law; he took the degree of doctor at Strasbourg. In 1768 he left
Leipsic, and after a short tour settled for some time in Alsace, where
the beautiful Gretchen won his heart, and obtained for herself in Faust
and Egmont, a more lasting monument than brass. On leaving Alsace, he
returned home; but soon left it again to practise in the Imperial
Chamber at Wezlar. Here he witnessed the tragical event that gave rise
to his romance of the Sorrows of Werter. In 1775, he went to Weimar, on
an invitation from the Grand Duke, and remained there till the end of
his life, loaded with all the honours a German sovereign could bestow,
ennobled, a privy councillor, and for many years of his life prime
minister; “a treatment of genius hitherto unknown in the annals of
literature, or of Mecaenaship; and a splendid exception to the
indifference with which rulers generally regard intellectual
excellence.”
In 1786, Goethe travelled in Italy, from whence he went to Sicily, and
then returned to Rome, where he gave himself ardently up to the study of
antiquities. At the end of three years he returned to his own country,
and settled at Weimar, which was then called the Athens of Germany. Here
were at that time a number of celebrated men, at the head of whom were
Goethe, Wieland, and Schiller. In this congenial society, Goethe resided
till his death. A view of his house, with an account of an interview
with the poet, about five years since, by Dr. Granville, will be found
in _The Mirror_, vol. xviii. After the deaths of Wieland and Schiller,
the reputation of Goethe greatly increased. To form some idea of the
sort of worship that was paid to him in his own country, in his
lifetime, it is only necessary to read the chapter of Madame de Staël’s
_Germany_, dedicated to that subject. The admirers of Goethe formed a
sort of sect, a body amongst themselves, over whom, says Madame de
Staël, the influence of Goethe was really incomprehensible. Among the
honours paid to him by the illustrious men of Europe, must not be
forgotten the tribute of Napoleon. When the Congress of Erfurt was held,
Napoleon wished to see Goethe, with whom he conversed for some time, and
at the close of the conversation he gave the poet the decoration of the
Legion of Honour. In 1825, a splendid bronze medal was struck by order
of the Grand Duke, and presented to Goethe, to commemorate the fiftieth
year of the poet’s residence at his court.
As Goethe wrote every sort of poem, from the simple ballad to the epic,
and from a proverb to a tragedy, a mere list of his works would occupy
some columns. His first appearance in print was in the annuals and
literary journals. But his Gotz of the Iron Hand, published with his
name in 1773, and his Werther, in the year after, called at once the
attention of his country to the young master-mind. The influence of
these two works on the literature of Germany was electric. Hosts of
imitators sprung up among the fruitful fry of small authors, and
flourished until Goethe himself, by his wit, his irony, and his
eloquence, put an end to the sickly sentimentalism, which he had first
called into action. Gotz and Werther alone survive the creations of
which they formed the nucleii. Such a production as the first, indeed,
at the age of twenty-three, at once placed Goethe at the head of his
country’s literature, a place which he preserved undisputed to the hour
of his death.
We have referred to the multitudinous nature of the works of Goethe.
Their variety was proportionate to their number. It has been well
observed that “his mind never seems to have grown old, but to have
presented a new phasis at each stage of his existence.” Not satisfied by
taking his rank amongst the first poets of his time, his ardent genius
led him to study all the different branches of literature, physical
science, natural history, and the fine arts. He alike delighted in the
imaginative beauty of poetry, and the abstrusest problems in
science--the romantic and the real--the creative fancy and unwearied
research of a truly great mind. It is, however, a matter of regret that
Goethe was no politician. The character of his mind would not lead the
observer to expect this feature. “A chilling scepticism, as to the
progressive improvement of man, runs through all his writings, and, of
course, prevented all attempts to make human institutions more
productive of human happiness.” Nevertheless, it may be urged, that
social amelioration may be effected by other means than by direct
problems of political economy, unfashionable as the doctrine may sound.
Chateaubriand has eloquently written “there is nothing beautiful, sweet,
or grand in life, but in its mysteries.” Goethe probably entertained a
kindred sentiment. Thus, the calculator may reckon him “behind the age,”
or his favourite views of human improvement.
Goethe remained single till his fifty-eighth year, when he married his
housekeeper, by whom he had a family. His affection for his son, who
died about two years since, was unbounded. After his death, Goethe was
but the shadow of that which he once had been. To his daughter-in-law he
was indebted for that tenderness and assiduity which soothed his
declining years. When upwards of eighty years of age, he meditated
literary projects with the vigour and enthusiasm of youthful genius.
Indeed, his constitution was unimpaired, and seemed to promise some
years of life: his death therefore excited at Weimar, a feeling of
surprise as well as sorrow.
The last moments of Goethe were those of an unbroken mind--a bright
light waning and glimmering out. He had not the slightest presentiment
of his death. About a week before, he caught cold, which brought on a
catarrh. It was thought that his powerful constitution was unattacked.
He conversed with great serenity, particularly upon his theory of
colours, which so powerfully occupied his mind to the last moment of his
existence. On the evening of March 21, he explained to his daughter the
conditions of the peace of Basle; desired that the children should be
taken to the theatre; and said that he was much better; he requested
that Salvandy’s Sixteen Months might be handed to him, although his
physician had forbidden him all laborious occupation; but the doctor
having gone out for a few moments, he ordered lights to be brought, and
attempted to read. Not being able to do so, he held the book for some
moments before him, and then said, “Well, let us do at least as the
Mandarins do:” he fell asleep, and his slumbers appeared light and
refreshing. Next day he conversed cheerfully with his daughter, his
grandchildren, and some friends. “At seven o’clock he desired his
daughter to bring him a portfolio, to enable him to illustrate some
phenomena of colouring, and he began with his right hand to trace some
characters in the air. Towards ten o’clock he ceased almost entirely to
speak, held firmly between his own the hand of his daughter who was by
his side, and turned his eyes, already half-closed, towards her with an
expression of tenderness: with her other hand she supported his head on
a pillow until he breathed his last, without convulsion or
suffering.”[5] His daughter closed the fine eyes of the poet, and
summoning her children to behold their grandfather for the last time,
she rushed from the chamber of death, and gave vent to a flood of grief.
Another account states that Goethe growing weaker and weaker, his hand
dropped on his knee, where it still moved as if in the act of writing,
till the angel of death summoned him.
[5] Monthly Magazine, July.
The remains of the poet, after lying in state in the hall of his mansion
for five hours, were deposited, on March 26, in the grand ducal family
vault at Weimar near to those of Schiller. On the same day, the theatre
which had been closed from respect to his memory, was opened with the
representation of his Tasso. An epilogue was composed for the occasion
by Chancellor Muller, the intimate friend of Goethe. Its last stanza
produced a profound impression upon the audience:--“The spot where great
men have exercised their genius remains for ever sacred. The waves of
time silently efface the hours of life; but not the great works which
they have seen produced. What the power of genius has created, is
rarified like the air of the Heavens,--its apparition is fugitive,--its
works are eternal.”
Goethe has left several MSS. for publication. Among them is a volume of
his early life in Weimar, a volume of poems, the second part of “Faust,”
interesting letters, &c.
* * * * *