entered on the interests of a man. Herder was there, whose reputation
as a man of letters and a scholar, in after times, was to be in that
great second class which would have been the first class but that
there Goethe reigned alone. Herder was at Strasburg to undergo an
operation for the benefit of his eyes. Goethe made his acquaintance,
which ripened into friendship, and Herder's influence on the young
Apollo was of the very best. Goethe remained in Strasburg from April,
1770, till August, 1771. He made the acquaintance of Frederike Brion,
whose father was pastor of the little village of Sesenheim. Frederike
was a fair, sweet girl of sixteen, and Goethe was for the time deeply
interested in her; but she was to him little more than a child, and
when he left Strasbourg she was soon forgotten. But she never forgot,
and years after died unwedded. Goethe was now writing, with the
versatility and the enthusiasm which marked all his literary work.
Something or somebody acquainted him with the history of Goetz von
Berlichingen, a name then little known, to which this young student
has given its distinction.
We do not understand Goethe nor the enthusiasm with which Germany
welcomed his earliest printed work, if we do not see how it was
connected with the hatred of conventionalism and of mere authority,
which in the German language was called _Sturm und Drang_.[11] In
after life Goethe had none too much of enthusiasm for radical
reformers. But as a young man, he breathed the atmosphere of his time.
In the same way, in the year 1773, Schiller, a boy only fourteen years
old, was writing verses which in 1778 he wrought into "The Robbers,"
appealing to all the enthusiasm for liberty in young Germany.
[Footnote 11: No one has translated this phrase well into
English. Mrs. Humphry Ward suggests "storm and stress."
_Drang_ is the origin of our word _throng_, and implies the
pressure, rush, and common purpose of a crowd.]
[Illustration: Goethe and Frederike.]
In the years which we are following, the young men of America were
solving the political questions and preparing for the military
struggles of the American Revolution. France was in the glow of hope
which made even Louis XVI. himself suppose that a golden age was come
again for Frenchmen. In England the protest against form and authority
showed itself in signs as easily read as the letters of Junius and the
Wilkes riots in London. The autocracy attempted by poor George III.,
in an attempt which cost him America, was only the most absurd
imitation of the despotism of Louis XIV. In Germany, the revolt
against the traditions of the past showed itself in the new outburst
of national literature. Young men were sick of the sway of France and
the French language, to which Frederick even had been so subservient.
In all senses Frederick was now a very old lion--and there were those
who said he had lost his teeth. To be German, to write and read
German, to recall German memories, and to throw off conventional
restraints of whatever kind--such was the drift and determination of
the movement which received the excellent title of the "Sturm und
Drang."
Soon after Goethe left Strasburg he printed his play of "Goetz von
Berlichingen." The hero is a true character of history. He was born
about the year 1480 and died in 1562. His life had been published in
1731, and Goethe made the drama on the lines of the true history. The
play defies all the "unities" of the French drama, like the plays of
Shakespeare, whom all the young Germans were reading with enthusiasm;
and the action passes from place to place, and from year to year, just
as the author chooses. The whole tendency of the drama is
revolutionary, and as _Goetz_ dies, his last words are: "Freedom!
Freedom!" His wife cries, "Only above, above with thee! The world is a
prison-house." His sister says, "Gallant and gentle! Woe to this age
that has lost thee!" And the last words of the play are: "And woe to
the future that cannot know thee."
With such an appeal to all the fresh young life of Germany, the young
author comes before the world. His play is received with enthusiasm
and, at the first step, his genius is recognized by his countrymen.
Before it was published, he had returned to Frankfort, having in a way
satisfied his father's wishes by his legal studies, and his career for
his future calling is to begin in a residence at Weslar. This was the
seat of the Court of Appeal of the old German Empire. How far justice
was really promoted, may be seen from the single statement that, while
the docket of cases was twenty thousand behindhand in 1772, only sixty
decisions were made in a year. In what was called praxis or practice,
the young Goethe was placed in a "circumlocution office" like Weslar.
There is something ludicrous in the position, so absurd is it. To take
Schiller's capital figure, it is indeed Pegasus in harness.
It happened that in this formal residence, he became intimately
acquainted with Charlotte Buff and a young man named Kestner, to whom
she was betrothed. They were fond of him, he of them, and he shared in
the hospitalities of their new home after they were married. In the
simple life of Kestner and Charlotte Buff and in the suicide of a
young man named Jerusalem, whom they all knew, he found the details
for the picture of life described in his celebrated novel called the
"Sorrows of Young Werther," the novel most remarkable perhaps of
modern times, if its influence on literature and society be regarded.
In the characters of the book, Werther, Lotte, and Albert show traits
which were at once recognized as belonging to Goethe, Charlotte Buff,
and Kestner. But it must not be understood that the intricate
"elective affinities" of the novel really describe the personal
relations of the three. To young readers it may be said that the
transfer of the scientific term "elective affinity," from the new
chemistry of that time, to the language of the affections, was first
made in this book. It was afterward dwelt upon in the novel called
"Elective affinities." The phrase has long since been used, now in
ridicule and now seriously, quite as much in discussions of the
working of the human heart as to express the relations of acids and
alkalies.
It would be very hard to persuade the young people of to-day to read
"The Sorrows of Werther." It would be hard to make them understand
that for a generation of men, from 1774, when it was published, until
this century was well advanced, people of sense and real feeling
regarded it as a central and important book, which they valued because
it had awakened them and given them strength. The English critics,
when at last they found there was such a book, were content to laugh
at its exaggerated sentiment. In truth, as Carlyle has well said,
"'Werther' expressed the dim-rooted pain under which thoughtful men
were languishing." Europe responded to "Werther," because, even in its
sentimental languishing, it expressed this pain. America was finding
another method of expressing her dissatisfaction in 1774. And it may
be doubted whether from that day to the end of the century, a copy of
the "Sorrows of Werther" was heard of in the United States, unless
indeed the Baroness Riedesel soothed with it the more physical sorrows
of the bivouacs of Saratoga, or the barracks of her captivity.
"Goetz von Berlichingen" and "Werther" made the young Goethe one of
the foremost men in German literature. That theory of his boyhood,
that he was to be a lawyer or jurisconsult, could be maintained no
longer even by his father. The distinguished men of letters of Germany
made his acquaintance, and it may be said that their company lifted
him, very fortunately, from the petty society of persons inferior to
him, among whom he was a dictator. As early as 1774 Goethe had
conceived the idea of "Faust," and when Klopstock visited him at
Frankfort, in that year, Goethe read to him some fragments of that
poem.
The popularity of "Werther" was such that it was read by people of all
ranks. Among the rest, the young Duke of Saxe-Weimar, Karl August,
then only nineteen years old, conceived a great admiration for Goethe,
and in 1774, on a visit to Frankfort, with his bride, he invited the
young author to his little court at Weimar. Johann Goethe, the father,
had the pride of a magistrate of a free city, and had no fancy for a
part so poor as that which Voltaire had played, within his memory, at
the court of King Frederick. But the office was tempting to the young
author, and he accepted the invitation. This ended in his receiving
from the duke a home at Weimar and recognized position. To those who
study the inducements and encouragements of authorship, it is
interesting to know that through all the success, before the public
and with the booksellers, of "Goetz von Berlichingen" and "Werther,"
neither book had paid back to Goethe the money he had spent for their
publication. Fame, and fame only, had been, thus far, his reward.
He went to Weimar as the friend of its young sovereign, who was just
entering on a career which may fairly be called illustrious. Weimar
was and is "more like a village bordering a park than a capital with a
court, having all courtly environments." The representation it gave of
the formalities, the "fuss and feathers" of a court, was on the most
minute scale. But with a certain pride, well understood, a German
historian has said, that after Berlin there is no one of the countless
courts of Germany of which the nation is so proud. Such pride is born
from the distinction which this grand duke, Karl August, gave to it,
by calling into what was called his service, such men as Klopstock,
Wieland, Goethe, and Schiller. This grand duke was himself a
remarkable man for one "in his unfortunate position." He now owes all
the place he has in history to the fortunate decision by which he
offered to Goethe a home in the little city of Weimar, when he was
himself a boy.
After a gay, not to say wild, introduction to the little social circle
of this funny little court, Goethe settled down quite seriously to the
work which belonged to a member of the administration. He had accepted
the post of Counsellor of the Home Department, with a seat in the
council. This carried with it a yearly salary of about nine hundred of
our dollars. And in the modest habits of that little court this seems
to have been regarded as a competency. With this income it is certain
that Goethe kept house, fulfilled the demands which etiquette made on
his position, and remitted a sixth part of his money to a poor,
broken-winded, and apparently worthless author, whose very name is
unknown, who maintained with him a begging correspondence.
Goethe proved himself a thorough man of business in the discharge of
his official duties. His interest in science made him study the
administration of the mines of the duchy with care and in detail, and
when, afterward, he gave up other official cares, he retained the
administration of the Department of the Mines. To persons studying his
style it is worthy of remark, that the best habits of a man of affairs
may be noted all through his work, whether scientific, speculative,
poetical, or indeed, in whatever form it takes. There is never
anything which a critic of our time would call "gush," or "padding,"
or "slip-slop." He advances on his purpose, whatever that purpose is,
with the directness of an engineer pressing the attack of a fortress,
or of an architect making the specifications for a building.
Meanwhile, for the relaxation or diversion of life, there was a
passion, more or less real, which bound him to the Baroness von Stein,
the wife of the Master of the Horse; there was the direction of the
theatre and music of the court, and occasional journeys, generally
incognito, with the Duke Karl August. A favorite entertainment was in
private theatricals, which were indeed the rage in the little circle.
The duchess acted, and everybody, even of the highest rank, was glad
to be enrolled in the troupe, which was directed by Goethe. Eager for
the applauses of other audiences than the favored circle at Weimar,
the company went about, almost like a troupe of gypsies, from one to
another of the country homes of the neighborhood. In all our modern
ridicule of the Duchy of Pompernickel, and the like, it is hard to
find anything more absurd than these accounts of the best way which
the leaders of the state found for the occupation of their time, and
for the edification of their people. The private theatricals of this
court, however, will be long remembered, because the rollicking
experiences of these parties, which were a sort of picnics in a
courtly style, give the framework, or machinery for the story of
"Wilhelm Meister."
This famous and remarkable book was begun soon after Goethe went to
Weimar. But it was not published until 1795, after Goethe had spent
more than a year in Italy, a period which marked a crisis in his life.
In ten months' hard study of painting in Rome, he satisfied himself,
at last, that he should never be a painter. It seems strange now to
say, that until then, he had diligently nursed the hope that as a
painter he should achieve great success. In Italy he looked at the
petty court of Weimar from a point distant enough to see it in its
true relations and perspective. He measured his own powers as a man
does who is removed from the petty detail of small official duty. And
he returned to Weimar in 1788, determining wisely to give the rest of
his life to science and literature. The "determination" proved to be a
determination. And from this time, his life as a master of the thought
of his time may be said to begin.
He had received from the grand duke a title of nobility, and from that
time he is "von Goethe," instead of "Goethe" simple, without that
prefix of dignity. On his return from Italy he gave up all his
official work, except the direction of the mines and of the theatre.
It is interesting to remember that Goethe thus directed the work of
the mines in which Luther's father had been a workman. His interest in
natural science made him hold this position; and his charge of the
theatre was almost a matter of course in such a court as that of
Weimar. He was, however, relieved from the presidency of the council
and from the direction of the War Department. The duke retained for
him a place in the council "whenever his other affairs allowed him to
attend." It must be remembered that all such appointments were made
wholly at the wish of the duke, who was the absolute monarch of this
little state, until he gave to his people a liberal constitution in
1816.
It will be convenient to American readers to remember that the size of
the duchy is about the same as that of the State of Rhode
Island--about fourteen hundred square miles. In Goethe's time, the
population was less than a million. The city of Weimar had about ten
thousand inhabitants. To Weimar Goethe returned, resolved to give his
life, from that time forward, to science and literature. Before the
Italian journey he had done so in large measure. But after his return,
relieved from almost all duties of administration, he brings forward
finished works, with untiring enthusiasm, on many different lines,
many of which are among the masterpieces of the time. Schiller had
come to Weimar in 1794. Goethe and he had met before. There were
differences between these men so great that in some lines they had no
sympathy. All the more is it to the credit of both, that each
appreciated the other and that they lived and worked together as
friends. When Schiller proposed the literary journal called _The
Hours_, Goethe co-operated in the plan most cordially. And so long as
Schiller lived, their friendship was to each a great blessing. Their
statues, representing them hand in hand, commemorate this friendship
to this day.
The closing books of "Wilhelm Meister" were written in Italy, and
after Goethe's return, and the book was published in 1795. Goethe had
long since outlived the extravagance of sentimentalism which
overflowed in "Werther." He had himself ridiculed it in a little
farce, much laughed at at the time. And if "Wilhelm Meister" were
taken merely as a story, it would be found quite free from such
extravagances. The story, however, is simply the framework for
criticism on art, on literature, and especially for what may be called
studies on education. The criticism on "Hamlet" has been called the
best of the thousands upon thousands of which "Hamlet" has been the
subject. No book of Goethe's has had, or has held, the interest of the
great world of "general readers," as "Wilhelm Meister," "Faust" not
excepted.
"Hermann and Dorothea" appeared in 1797, and was one of the most
serious of the efforts by which Goethe and Schiller both gave
themselves to create a German drama worthy of the German people. In
1790 a new theatre had been built at Weimar, and Goethe became in fact
the manager. He was not satisfied with writing plays to be performed
there; he actually supervised the performances, and gave to the detail
of such management much of his time for many years. So long as
Schiller lived the two were closely connected in all such enterprises,
and Goethe's practical connection with the theatre led him, perhaps,
to attempt the dramatic form of composition more often than he would
otherwise have done.
In 1799 Walter Scott, then only twenty-five years of age, published in
Edinburgh his translation of "Goetz von Berlichingen."
It must be remembered that all this time Goethe is pursuing his
studies of Physical Science. His little book called "Morphologie,"
published in 1788, immediately after his return from Italy, is a
simple, unaffected, practical, statement of the law of growth of
plants, which, though suggested before, had quite escaped the
attention of the botanists of repute. When it was published, it seems
to have been pushed aside as the fanciful dream of a poet. In truth,
it is a book which might be given to-day to a learner, as one of the
most elegant and simple illustrations of what is now meant by
evolution in nature. From the humble resources of a common garden
Goethe finds material to show how whorls of leaves appear as blossoms;
how calyx passes into corolla; how leaves of the corolla become
stamens and pistils. After a generation the botanists were willing
enough to accept the statement, and Goethe lived long enough to see it
accepted as the foundation of the Botanical Science of his time.
The critics are apt to call "Faust" his greatest work. The first part
was published in 1805, the second in 1831. Quite too much _finesse_
has been wasted on endeavors to discover his purpose in the poem. It
will live, not from any discovery of his purpose, but because of the
intensity with which it presents the different characters. It will
command and control men all the more, because they do not find in it
the skeleton of what is called an artistic or scientific literary
plan. It is impossible, in the limited range of this article, even to
name the several works, many of them of great importance, of the last
half of his life. With his assiduous industry, so assiduous that he
was never satisfied, perhaps, unless he was at work, he edited an art
journal, _Kunst und Alterthum_, from 1816 to 1828. In a thousand
methods of publication he sent out poems, dramas, novels, and
pamphlets. He had the satisfaction of knowing that Europe and America
regarded him as the first author of his time.
Goethe married, in 1806, Christiana Vulpius, who had been employed as
a servant in his family. She died in the year 1816. He seems to have
really lamented her death.
His old age was serene. The jubilee of his arrival in Weimar was
celebrated with great enthusiasm, on November 7, 1825. All through the
last years of his life he was receiving tokens of admiration from all
parts of the world. They gratified his vanity, and satisfied his
pride.
He died on March 22, 1832. His last words have been well remembered;
"More light!"
[Signature of the author.]
SIR WALTER SCOTT
By W. C. TAYLOR, LL.D.
(1771-1832)
[Illustration: Scott in Childhood.]
The life of an author who took no active part in public affairs, but
sent forth from his own fireside those marvels of imagination which
have afforded delight and instruction to millions, furnishes interest
of a different kind from the biographies of those whose names are
associated with great events. We look more to the man than to his age;
we endeavor to trace the circumstances by which his mind was moulded
and his tastes formed, and we feel anxious to discover the connection
between his literary and his personal history and character. There
have been few authors in whose career this connection was more
strongly apparent than in Sir Walter Scott; his life is, to a great
extent, identified with his writings, and this appears to be the
source of that feeling of truth and reality which is forced upon us
while perusing his fictions. He was born at Edinburgh, August 15,
1771. His father was one of that respectable class of attorneys
called, in Scotland, writers to the signet, and was the original from
whom his son subsequently drew the character of Mr. Saunders Fairford,
in "Redgauntlet." His mother was a lady of taste and imagination. An
accidental lameness and a delicate constitution procured for Walter a
more than ordinary portion of maternal care, and the influence of his
mother's instructions was strongly impressed on his character. In
early childhood he was sent for change of air to the country seat of
his maternal grandfather, where he first developed his extraordinary
powers of memory by learning the traditionary legends of border
heroism and chivalry, which used to be recited at the fireside on a
winter's evening. His early taste for the romantic was a little
checked when he returned to Edinburgh, in his eighth year, for his
father was rather a strict adherent to forms, and looked upon poetry
and fiction as very questionable indulgences. The discovery of a copy
of Shakespeare, and an odd volume of Percy's "Relics," enabled him to
resume his favorite pursuits, though the hours he devoted to them were
stolen from sleep. He was sent at an early age to the high-school of
Edinburgh, but was not particularly distinguished in the regular
course of study. His companions, however, soon discovered his
antiquarian tastes, and his passionate love for old tales of chivalry
and old chronicles scarcely less romantic; he became noted, too, for
reciting stories of his own invention, in which he introduced a
superabundance of the marvels of ancient superstition, with a
plentiful seasoning of knight-errantry. He even pursued his favorite
subject into the continental languages, and by his own exertions
enabled himself to peruse the works of Ariosto and Cervantes in their
original form.
After a brief residence at the university he was indented as an
apprentice to his father in 1786. Though the daily routine of drudgery
in an attorney's office must have been painful to a young man of
ardent imagination, he did not neglect any of the tasks which his
father imposed, and he thus formed habits of method, punctuality, and
laborious industry, which were important elements of his future
success. But in the midst of these duties he did not lose sight of the
favorite objects of his study and meditation. He made frequent
excursions into the lowland and highland districts in search of
traditionary lore; his investigations led him to the cottage of the
peasant as frequently as to the houses of the better class, and his
frank manners secured him a favorable reception from all.
In 1792 he changed his profession for that of an advocate, but did not
obtain much practice at the Scottish bar. His first publication was a
translation from the German; Buerger's wild romantic ballads captivated
his youthful imagination, and his version of them proved that he
entered deeply into the spirit of the original. Soon afterward he
contributed some pieces to Lewis' "Tales of Wonder," which are almost
the only fragments of that work which have escaped oblivion. At last,
in 1802, he gave to the world the two first volumes of his "Border
Minstrelsy," printed by his old schoolfellow, Ballantyne; its literary
merits were enhanced by the beauty of its typographical execution, and
its appearance made an epoch in Scottish literary history. The
ballads of this collection had been very carefully edited, while the
notes contained a mass of antiquarian information relative to border
life, conveyed in a beautiful style, and enlivened with a higher
interest than poetic fiction. This work at once obtained an extensive
sale, and its popularity was increased by the appearance of the third
volume, containing various imitations of the old ballad by Mr. Scott,
in which the feelings and character of antiquity were faithfully
preserved, while the language and expression were free from the
roughness of obsolete forms. The copyright of the second edition was
sold to the Messrs. Longman for L500, but the great extent of the sale
made the bargain profitable.