As "Werther" and "Wilhelm Meister" belong to the earlier and
to the middle periods of Goethe's literary activity, so the
following selections fall naturally into the last division of
his life. The death of Schiller in 1805 had given a blow to
his affections which even his warm relationship with other
friends could not replace, and hereafter he begins to
concentrate more and more upon himself to the completion of
those works which he had had in mind and preparation through
so many years, the greatest of which was to be the "Faust." In
"Poetry and Truth from My Own Life," which appeared in
1811-14, he was actuated by the desire of supplying some kind
of a key to the collected edition of his works that had been
published in 1808; and whatever faults, or errors, it may
contain as a history, as a piece of writing it is finely
characteristic of the ease and simplicity of his later style.
_I.--Birth and Childhood_
On August 28, 1749, at midday, I came into the world at
Frankfort-on-Maine. Our house was situated in a street called the
Stag-Ditch. Formerly the street had been a ditch, in which stags were
kept. On the second floor of the dwelling was a room called the
garden-room, because there they had endeavoured to supply the want of a
garden by means of a few plants placed before a window. As I grew older,
it was there that I made my somewhat sentimental retreat, for from
thence might be viewed a beautiful and fertile plain.
When I became acquainted with my native city, I loved more than anything
else to promenade on the great bridge over the Maine. Its length, its
firmness, and fine aspect rendered it a notable structure. And one liked
to lose oneself in the old trading town, particularly on market days,
among the crowd collected about the church of St. Bartholomew. The
Römerberg was a most delightful place for walking.
My father had prospered in his own career tolerably according to his
wishes; I was to follow the same course, only more easily and much
further. He had passed his youth in the Coburg Gymnasium, which stood as
one of the first among German educational institutions. He had there
laid a good foundation, and had subsequently taken his degree at
Giessen. He prized my natural endowments the more because he was himself
wanting in them, for he had acquired everything simply by means of
diligence and pertinacity.
During my childhood the Frankforters passed a series of prosperous
years, but scarcely, on August 28, 1756, had I completed my seventh
year, when that world-renowned war broke out, which was also to exert
great influence upon the next seven years of my life. Frederick II. of
Prussia had fallen upon Saxony with 60,000 men. The world immediately
split into two parties, and our family was an image of the great whole.
My grandfather took the Austrian side, with some of his daughters and
sons-in-law; my father leaned towards Prussia, with the other and
smaller half of the family; and I also was a Prussian in my views, for
the personal character of the great king worked on our hearts.
As the eldest grandson and godchild, I dined every Sunday with my
grandparents, and the event was always the most delightful experience of
the week. But now I relished no morsel that I tasted, because I was
compelled to listen to the most horrible slanders of my hero. That
parties existed had never entered into my conceptions. I trace here the
germ of that disregard and even disdain of the public which clung to me
for a whole period of my life, and only in later days was brought within
bounds by insight and cultivation. We continued to tease each other till
the occupation of Frankfort by the French, some years afterwards,
brought real inconvenience to our homes.
The New Year's Day of 1759 approached, as desirable and pleasant to us
children as any preceding one, but full of import and foreboding to
older persons. To the passage of French troops the people had certainly
become accustomed; but they marched through the city in greater masses
on this day, and on January 2 the troops remained and bivouacked in the
streets till lodgings were provided for them by regular billeting.
Siding as my father did with the Prussians, he was now to find himself
besieged in his own chambers by the French. This was, according to his
way of thinking, the greatest misfortune that could happen to him. Yet,
could he have taken the matter more easily, he might have saved himself
and us many sad hours, for he spoke French well, and it was the Count
Thorane, the king's lieutenant, who was quartered on us. That officer
behaved himself in a most exemplary manner, and if it had been possible
to cheer my father, this altered state of things would have caused
little inconvenience.
During this French occupation I made great progress with the French
language. But the chief profit was that which I derived from the
theatre, for which my grandfather had given me a free ticket. I saw many
French comedies acted, and became friendly with some of the young people
connected with the stage. From the first day of the military occupation
there was no lack of diversion; plays and balls, parades and marches
constantly attracted our attention.
_II.--A Romantic Episode_
After the French occupation we children could not fail to feel as if the
house were deserted. But new lodgers came in, Chancery-Director Moritz
and his family being received in this capacity. They were quiet and
gentle, and peace and stillness reigned. About this time a long-debated
project for giving us lessons in music was carried into effect. It was
settled that we should learn the harpsichord. And as we also received
lessons from a drawing-master, the way to two arts was thus early enough
opened to me.
English was also added to my studies; and as on my own account I soon
felt that I ought to know Hebrew, my father allowed the rector of our
gymnasium to give me private lessons. I studied the Old Testament no
longer in Luther's translation, but in the literal version of Schmid. I
also paid great attention to sermons at church, and wrote out many that
I heard, doing this in a style that greatly gratified my father.
At this time my first romantic experience occurred. I fell under the
enchantment of Gretchen, a beautiful girl who waited on me and some
comrades at a restaurant. The form of that girl followed me from that
moment on every path. At church, during the long Protestant service, I
gazed my fill at her. I wrote her love-letters, which she did not
resent. The first propensities to love in an uncorrupted youth take
altogether a spiritual direction. Nature seems to desire that one sex
may by the senses perceive goodness and beauty in the other. And thus to
me, by the sight of this girl, a new world of the beautiful and
excellent had arisen. But my friendship for this maiden being discovered
by my father, a family disturbance ensued which plunged me into illness.
I had been ordered to have nothing to do with anyone but the family.
My sorrow was deepened as I slowly recovered by the addition of a
certain secret chagrin, for I plainly perceived that I was watched. It
was not long before my family gave me a special overseer. Fortunately,
it was a man whom I loved and valued. He had held the place of tutor in
the family of one of our friends, and his former pupil had gone to the
university. This friend, in skillful conversations, began to make me
acquainted with the secrets of philosophy. He had studied at Jena under
Daries, and had acutely seized the relations of that doctrine, which he
now sought to impart to me.
After a time I took to wandering about the mountain range, and thus
visited Homburg, Kronenburg, Wiesbaden, Schwalbach, and reached the
Rhine. But the time was approaching when I was to go to the university.
My mind was quite as much excited about my life as about my learning. I
grew more and more conscious of an aversion from my native city. I never
again went into Gretchen's quarter of it, and even my old walls and
towers had become disagreeable.
_III.--University Life_
I had always had my eye upon Göttingen, but my father obstinately
insisted on Leipzig. I arrived in that handsome city just at the time of
the fair, from which I derived particular pleasure, being specially
attracted by the inhabitants of eastern countries in their strange
dresses. I commenced to study under Böhme, professor of history and
public law, and Gellert, professor of literature. The reverence with
which Gellert was regarded by all young people was extraordinary.
Much has been written about the condition of German literature at that
time. I need only state how it stood towards me. The literary epoch in
which I was born was developed out of the preceding one by opposition.
Foreign influences had previously predominated, but in this epoch the
German sense of freedom and joy began to stir itself. Göttsched,
Lessing, Haller, and, above all, Wieland, had produced works of genius.
The venerable Bengel had procured a decided reception for his labours on
the Revelation of St. John, from the fact that he was known as an
intelligent, upright, God-fearing, blameless man. Deep minds are
compelled to live in the past as well as the future.
Plunging into literature on my own account, I at this period wrote the
oldest of my extant dramatic labours, "The Lover's Caprice," following
it with "The Accomplices." I had seen already many families ruined by
bankruptcies, divorces, vice, murders, burglaries, and poisonings, and,
young as I was, I had often, in such cases, lent a hand for help and
preservation. Accordingly, these pieces were written from an elevated
point of view, without my having been aware of it. But they could find
no favour on the German stage.
My health had become somewhat impaired, though I did not think I should
soon become apprehensive about my life. I had brought with me from home
a certain touch of hypochondria, and a chronic pain in my breast,
induced by a fall from horseback, perceptibly increased, and made me
dejected. By an unfortunate diet I destroyed my powers of digestion, so
that I experienced great uneasiness, yet without being able to embrace a
resolution for a more rational mode of life. Besides the epoch of the
cold-water bath, the hard bed slightly covered, and other follies
unconditionally recommended, had begun, in consequence of some
misunderstood suggestions of Rousseau, under the idea of bringing us
nearer to nature and delivering us from the corruption of morals.
One night I awoke with a violent hemorrhage, and for several days I
wavered between life and death. Recovery was slow, but nature helped me,
and I appeared to have become another man, for I had gained a greater
cheerfulness of mind than I had known for a long time, and I was
rejoiced to feel my inner self at liberty. But what particularly set me
up at this time was to see how many eminent men had undeservedly given
me their affection, among them being Dr. Hermann Groening, Horn, and,
above all, Langer, afterwards librarian at Wolfenbüttel, whose
conversation so far blinded me to the miserable state I was in that I
actually forgot it.
The confidence of new friends develops itself by degrees. The religious
sentiments, the affairs of the heart which relate to the imperishable,
are the things which both establish the foundation and adorn the summit
of friendship. The Christian religion was wavering between its own
historically positive base and a pure deism, which, grounded on
morality, was in its turn to lay the foundation of ethics. Langer was of
the class who, though learned, yet give the Bible a peculiar preeminence
over other writings. He belongs to those who cannot conceive an
immediate connection with the great God of the universe; a mediation,
therefore, was necessary for him, an analogy to which he thought he
could find everywhere, in earthly and heavenly things. Grounded as I was
in the Bible, all that I wanted was merely the faith to explain as
divine that which I had hitherto esteemed in human fashion. To a
sufferer, delicate and weak, the Gospel was therefore welcome.
I left Leipzig in September, 1768, for my native city and my home, where
my delicate appearance elicited loving sympathy. Again sickness ensued,
and my life was once more in peril, chiefly through a disturbed, I might
even say, for certain moments, destroyed digestion. But a skillful
physician helped me to convalescence. In the spring I felt so much
stronger that I longed to wander forth again from the chambers and spots
where I had suffered so much. I journeyed to beautiful Alsace and took
up lodgings on the summer-side of the fish-market in Strasburg, where I
designed to continue my studies in law. Most of my fellow-boarders were
medical students, and at table I heard nothing but medical
conversations.
I was thus easily borne along the stream, and at the beginning of the
second half-year I attended lectures on chemistry and anatomy. Yet this
dissipation and dismemberment of my studies were not enough, for a
remarkable political event secured for us a succession of holidays.
Marie Antoinette was to pass through Strasburg on her way to Paris, and
the solemnities were abundantly prepared. In the grand saloon erected on
an island in the Rhine I saw a specimen of the tapestries worked after
Raffaele's cartoons, and this sight was for me a very decided influence,
for I became acquainted with the true and the perfect on a large scale.
_IV.--Fascinating Friendship_
The most important event at this period, and one that was to have the
weightiest consequences for me, was my meeting with Herder. He
accompanied on his travels the Prince of Holstein-Eutin, who was in a
melancholy state of mind, and had come with him to Strasburg. Herder was
singular, both in his personal appearance and also in his demeanour. He
had somewhat of softness in his manner, which was very suitable and
becoming, without being exactly easy. I was of a very confiding
disposition, and with Herder especially I had no secrets; but from one
of his habits--a spirit of contradiction--I had much to endure.
Herder could be charmingly prepossessing and brilliant, but he could
just as easily turn an ill-humoured side forward. He resolved to stay in
Strasburg because of a complaint in one of his eyes of the most
irritating nature, which required a tedious and uncertain operation, the
tear-bag being closed below. Therefore he separated from the prince and
removed into lodgings of his own for the purpose of the operation. He
confided to me that he intended to compete for a prize offered at Berlin
for the best treatise on the origin of language. His work, written in a
very neat hand, was nearly completed. During the troublesome and painful
cure he lost none of his vivacity, but he became less and less amiable.
He could not write a note to ask for anything without scoffing rudely
and bitterly, generally in sardonic verse.
Herder contributed much to my culture, yet he destroyed my enjoyment of
much that I had loved before, and especially blamed me in the strongest
manner for the pleasure I took in Ovid's "Metamorphoses." I most
carefully concealed from him my interest in certain subjects which had
rooted themselves within me, and were little by little moulding
themselves into poetic form. These were "Goetz von Berlichingen" and
"Faust." Of my poetical labours, I believe I laid before him "The
Accomplices," but I do not recollect that on this account I received
from him either correction or encouragement.
At this epoch of my life took place a singular episode. During a
delightful tour in beautiful Alsace, round about the Vosges, I and two
fellow-students halted for a time at the house of a Protestant
clergyman, pastor in Sesenheim. I had visited the family previously.
Herder here joined us, and during our readings in the evenings
introduced to us an excellent work, "The Vicar of Wakefield." With the
German translation, he undertook to make us acquainted by reading it
aloud.
The pastor had two daughters and a son. The family struck me as
corresponding in the most extraordinary manner to that delineated by
Goldsmith. The elder daughter might be taken for Olivia in the story,
and Frederica, the younger, for Sophia, while, as I looked at the boy, I
could scarcely help exclaiming, "Moses, are you here, too?" A Protestant
country clergyman is, perhaps, the most beautiful subject for a modern
idyl; he appears, like Melchizedek, as priest and king in one person.
Between me and the charming Frederica a mutual affection sprang up. Her
beautiful nature attracted me irresistibly, and I was happy beyond all
bounds at her side. For her I composed many songs to well-known
melodies. They would have made a pretty book; a few of them still
remain, and may easily be found among the others. But we were destined
soon to part. Such a youthful affection, cherished at random, may be
compared to a bombshell thrown at night, which rises with a soft,
brilliant light, mingles for a moment with the stars, then, in
descending, describes a similar path in the reverse direction, and at
last brings destruction where it terminates its course.
_V.--Among the Jurists_
In 1772 I went to Wetzlar, the seat of the Reichskammergericht, or
Imperial Chamber. This was a kind of court of chancery for the whole
empire; and I went there in order to gain increased experience in
jurisprudence. Here I found myself in a large company of talented and
vivacious young men, assistants to the commissioners of the various
states, and by them was accorded a genial welcome.
To one of the legations at Wetzlar was attached a young man of good
position and abilities, named Jerusalem, whose sad suicide soon
afterwards resulted through an unhappy passion for the wife of a friend.
On this history the plan of "The Sorrows of Werther" was founded. The
effect of this little book was great, nay, immense, and chiefly because
it exactly hit the temper of the times. For as it requires but a little
match to blow up an immense mine, so the explosion which followed my
publication was mighty from the circumstances that the youthful world
had already undermined itself; and the shock was great because all
extravagant demands, unsatisfied passions, and imaginary wrongs, were
suddenly brought to an eruption.
At this period I usually combined the art of design with poetical
composition. Whenever I dictated, or listened to reading, I drew the
portraits of my friends in profile on grey paper in white and black
chalk. But feeling the insufficiency of this copying, I betook myself
once more to language and rhythm, which were much more at my command.
How briskly, how joyously, I went to work with them will appear from the
many poems which, enthusiastically proclaiming the art of nature and the
nature of art, infused, at the moment of production, new spirit into me
as well as in my friends.
At this epoch, and in the midst of these occupations, I was sitting one
evening with a struggling light in my chamber, when there entered a
well-formed, slender man, who announced himself by the name of Von
Knebel. Much to my satisfaction, I learned that he came from Weimar,
where he was the companion of Prince Constantin. Of matters there I had
already heard much that was favourable; for several strangers who had
come from Weimar assured us that the widowed Duchess Amalia had gathered
round her the best men to assist in the education of the princes, her
sons; that the arts were not only protected by this princess, but were
practised by her with great diligence and zeal.
At Weimar was also one of the best theatres of Germany, which was made
famous by its actors, as well as by the authors who wrote for it. When I
expressed a wish to become better acquainted with these persons and
things, my visitor replied, in the most friendly manner possible, that
nothing was easier, since the hereditary prince, with his brother, the
Prince Constantin, had just arrived in Frankfort, and desired to see and
know me.
I at once expressed the greatest willingness to wait upon them; and my
new friend told me that I must not delay, as their stay would not be
long. I proceeded with Von Knebel to the young princes, who received me
in a very easy and friendly manner.
As the stay of the young princes in Frankfort was necessarily short,
they made me promise to follow them to Mayence. I gave this promise
gladly enough, and visited them. The few days of my stay passed very
pleasantly, for when my new patrons, with whom I enjoyed delightful
conversations on literature, were abroad on visits and banquets, I
remained with their attendants, drew portraits, or went skating. I
returned home full of the kindness I had met with.
* * * * *