In an old, many-cornered, and gloomy house at Frankfort-on-the-Main,
upon the 28th of August, 1749, was born the greatest German of his day,
Wolfgang Goethe. The back of the house, from the second story, commanded
a very pleasant prospect over an almost immeasurable extent of gardens
stretching to the walls of the city, but the house itself was gloomy,
being shut in by a high wall. Over these gardens beyond the walls and
ramparts of the city, stretched a long plain, where the young Wolfgang,
serious and thoughtful, was wont to wander and to learn his lessons. He
had the sort of superstitious dread which is usually the inheritance of
children with a poetic nature, and suffered greatly in childhood from
fear. He was obliged by his father, who was a stern and somewhat
opinionated old man, to sleep alone, as a means of overcoming this fear;
and if he tried to steal from his own bed to that of his brothers, he
was frightened back by his father, who watched for him and chased him in
some fantastic disguise. That this did not tend to quiet his nerves may
well be imagined, and it was only through time and much suffering that
he overcame his childish terrors. His mother was a gay, cheerful woman,
much younger than his father, and as she was only eighteen years old
when Wolfgang was born, always said that they were young together. She
had married with little affection for her elderly husband, and it was in
her favorite son that she found all the romance and beauty of her life.
She was a woman of strong character, and presents one of the pleasantest
pictures in German literature. With a warm, genial nature, full of
spirit and enthusiasm, she retained to the last days of her life an
ardent interest in all the things which delighted her in youth. She read
much, thought much, and observed much, for one in her sphere of life,
and many great people who came to know her through her son learned to
value her very highly for herself alone. She corresponded long with the
Duchess Amalia, and her letters were much enjoyed at the Court of
Weimar. Princes and poets delighted to honor her in later life, and her
son was enthusiastic in his devotion to her till the last. She comforted
him through his rather fanciful and fantastic childhood as much as she
could without directly interfering with the discipline of the didactic
father. Goethe and his mother were both taught by this father, who
considered her almost as much of a child as the boy himself. She was
kept busy with writing, playing the clavichord, and singing, as well as
with the study of Italian, in which the father much delighted; and the
boy had grammar, and the Latin classics, and a geography in
memory-verses. The boy soon got beyond his teacher, but without being
well-grounded in anything, and learned, as such children are apt to do,
much more from his own desultory reading than from any instruction which
was given him. In the library were the beautiful Dutch editions of the
Latin classics and many works relating to Roman antiquities and
jurisprudence. There were also the Italian poets, and many books of
travel, and many dictionaries of various languages, and encyclopaedias of
science and art. Through all these the boy searched for himself, and
took what was suited to his taste, astonishing the slow father very
much by his readiness, and soon becoming famous in the neighborhood for
his acquirements. Of course he wrote poetry from the earliest age, and
of course many people predicted his future greatness. Most of all, his
mother believed in him, and watched him with adoring solicitude. His
love for art showed itself very early, and he made friends with artists,
and visited their studios frequently when a mere boy. His father had a
fondness for pictures, and had some good views of Italian scenery and
art in his own house; and it was probably from him that the boy derived
his earliest liking for such things. His passion for the theatre also
made itself known at the earliest age, and gave him his most intense
youthful pleasures.
His taste for natural science was also very strong in early childhood,
and he analyzed flowers, to see how the leaves were inserted into the
calyx, and plucked birds to see how the feathers were inserted in the
wings, when a mere infant, as it appeared to his mother. Indeed, all the
strong tastes of the man showed themselves in a decided manner in this
precocious child, and his hap-hazard training allowed his genius to
develop along its own natural lines in a healthy manner.
He even exhibited at a very youthful period his fatal facility for
falling in love, and naturally enough, with a girl older than himself,
named Gretchen. He was cured of his first passion only by finding out
that the girl regarded him as a child, which filled him with great
indignation. He says:--
"My judgment was convinced, and I thought I must cast her away; but
her image!--her image gave me the lie as often as it again hovered
before me, which indeed happened often enough.
"Nevertheless, this arrow with its barbed hooks was torn out of my
heart; and the question then was, how the inward sanative power of
youth could be brought to one's aid. I really put on the man; and
the first thing instantly laid aside was the weeping and raving,
which I now regarded as childish in the highest degree. A great
stride for the better! For I had often, half the night through,
given myself up to this grief with the greatest violence; so that
at last, from my tears and sobbing, I came to such a point that I
could scarcely swallow any longer; eating and drinking become
painful to me; and my chest, which was so nearly concerned, seemed
to suffer. The vexation I had constantly felt since the discovery
made me banish every weakness.
"It seemed to me something frightful that I had sacrificed sleep,
repose, and health for the sake of a girl who was pleased to
consider me a babe, and to imagine herself, with respect to me,
something very like a nurse."
Poor Goethe! but many a man since has fallen in love with a woman older
than himself, and has afterward felt himself fortunate if he has been
treated as Goethe was. The real unfortunates are the ones who have been
for some reason encouraged in their passion, and married by these mature
women while mere boys. Taking into consideration the welfare of both
parties, there is scarcely a more unfortunate occurrence in life than
such a marriage. Soon after this first love episode Goethe went up to
Leipsic to enter the University. He was sixteen years old, well-favored
by nature, even handsome, and full of sensibility and enthusiasm. But he
appeared to the inhabitants of Leipsic like a being from another world,
on account of the grotesqueness of his costume. His father, who was of
an economical turn of mind, always bought his own cloth, and had his
servants make the clothing for the family. He usually bought good but
old-fashioned materials, and trimmings from some forgotten epoch in the
world's history. These trimmings, of the Paleozoic period or some still
remoter date, together with the unprofessional and antiquated cut of the
garments, made up such a grotesque appearance that Goethe was received
with undisguised mirth wherever he went in Leipsic, until he discovered
what was the matter with his dress. He had not been noticed at home on
this account, and he thought himself very well dressed when he first
arrived in the city; but his chagrin and mortification knew no bounds
when he discovered how he had been laughed at. It was not until he had
visited the theatre and seen a favorite actor throw the audience into
convulsions of laughter by appearing in a costume almost identical with
his own, that he begun to suspect that he was ill-dressed. He went out
and sacrificed his entire wardrobe, in the first tumult of his feelings,
remorselessly leaving no vestige of it remaining, and supplying himself
with a complete new outfit, not so ample as the old but much more
satisfactory. In this act also he will find many sympathizers. Few
things are recalled with more acute mortification than the outfit in
which people leave their early homes, if they are in the country, and
make their first visit to the city. Hundreds of men groan in spirit as
they bring up before themselves the appearance they presented upon that
momentous day. Comparatively few are able to do as Goethe did, and get
rid of the whole vile accoutrement at one stroke. The majority are
obliged, suffer as they may, to wear the obnoxious garments long after
they have discovered their true character. When Goethe had clothed
himself anew he was received with more favor at his boarding-house, and
proceeded immediately to fall in love with the landlady's daughter. The
thought of Gretchen was buried away out of sight, and the thought of
Annette filled his whole heart. This Annette was young, handsome,
sprightly, loving, and agreeable, and he saw her daily in the most
unrestrained manner.