Life of Johann Wolfgang Goethe

by James Sime

CHAPTER X.

AFTER his wife’s death Goethe became anxious that arrangements should be made for the marriage of his son August, who had for some time had an official appointment at Weimar. Goethe’s choice fell upon Ottilie von Pogwisch, a handsome, clever girl, the granddaughter of a lady for whom he had much regard. August was of opinion that a better wife could not have been selected for him, and so they were married on the 17th of June, 1817. Goethe laughingly warned Ottilie that she was never to contradict her husband, and that if she ever wanted to have the rapture of a quarrel, she must come and have it out with him. They occupied the top floor of Goethe’s house, the rooms of which had been carefully prepared and furnished for them; and by and by they received as a permanent inmate of their home Ottilie’s sister Ulrica. Two children were born of the marriage, and his grandsons were to Goethe an inexhaustible source of delight.

Much as Goethe had done for the Weimar Theatre, the business connected with it had often been an occasion of trouble and annoyance, due chiefly to the intrigues of the actress Fräulein Jagemann, who had great influence over the Grand Duke. Early in 1817 it was decided, in opposition to Goethe’s wishes, that the birthday of the Grand Duchess should be celebrated by the representation of one of Kotzebue’s plays. The performance was a failure, and Goethe handed in his resignation of the directorship. He was persuaded to withdraw it, but later in the year, when, in deference to Fräulein Jagemann, the Grand Duke sanctioned the representation of a play in which a leading part was to be taken by a dressed-up poodle, Goethe felt that it was impossible for him to retain a position in which his authority was disregarded. From this time he confined himself exclusively, in his official duties, to the control of institutions for the promotion of science and art. He devoted attention especially to the University of Jena, the prosperity of which he had missed no opportunity of furthering ever since his settlement at Weimar.

Goethe, who seemed to have the secret of eternal youth, carried with him into middle life and old age much of the fresh vivacity of his early years. He was especially remarkable for his sensitiveness to feminine influence. While writing the “Wahlverwandtschaften” he had been strongly attracted by the beauty, thoughtfulness, and amiability of Wilhelmine Herzlieb, the foster-daughter of the wife of Herr Frommann, a bookseller at Jena, at whose house he was a frequent and welcome guest. Some of Wilhelmine’s qualities were reproduced in Ottilie, the lovely and pathetic figure who is overtaken by so sad a fate in the “Wahlverwandtschaften.” At the time when most of the poems in the “West-Oestlicher Divan” were written, he had a still more cordial relation with Marianne, the fascinating wife of his friend Geheimerath von Willemer, of Frankfort. In 1814 and 1815 he had much pleasant talk with Marianne in her home, and in 1815 she and her husband spent some happy days with him at Heidelberg. Marianne was not only a handsome woman, of a sound and affectionate character, but had a touch of poetic genius. She followed with warm interest and sympathy Goethe’s progress in the composition of the poems of the “Divan.” Some of them were addressed to her, and she responded with original verses, of which Goethe thought so highly that he interwove them with his own work.

Goethe’s relations to Wilhelmine Herzlieb and Marianne Willemer were much the same as Dr. Johnson’s relations to Frances Burney and Mrs. Thrale. Both women interested him, appealed to his imagination, and liked him as heartily as he liked them; and, as a poet and a German, he could give warm expression to his regard for them without running the slightest risk of being misunderstood by either. When he sent to Frau Willemer the exquisite little lyric, “Nicht Gelegenheit macht Diebe,” and she, as Suleika, replied with the equally beautiful poem, “Hochbeglückt in deiner Liebe,” they would have been astonished and dismayed had any one been stupid enough to suppose that, so far as their relations to one another were concerned, either set of verses represented more than a light and delicate play of fancy.

Afterwards, however, Goethe passed through a deeper experience. This was his love for Ulrica von Levezow, whom he met with her mother, an old friend of his, at Marienbad in 1822, when he was in his seventy-third year. Goethe was charmed by the beautiful maiden, and loved her as ardently as if he had been fifty years younger. In the following year he met her again with her mother at the same place, and the fascination she exerted over him was so obvious that gossips began to talk of an approaching betrothal. When Ulrica left Marienbad, Goethe felt sadly depressed. He found relief, however, while listening to the playing of the Polish pianist, Madame de Szymanowska, and then he was able to give in the fine poem “Aussöhnung” (“Reconciliation”) full expression to his sense of what seemed for the moment his recovered freedom. It cost Goethe a hard struggle to overcome this late-flowering passion. He was determined that it should be mastered, and in the end succeeded in suppressing it.

On the 3rd of September, 1825, the fiftieth anniversary of the Grand Duke’s accession was celebrated. Goethe was deeply moved by the memories which crowded in upon him on this occasion. It was arranged that early in the morning a cantata should be sung in front of the Roman House, in the Park, where the Grand Duke was staying; and, while this was being done, Goethe entered, anxious to be the first to congratulate the sovereign he had served so well. The Grand Duke took Goethe’s hands in his own, and said, “To the last breath together!” About two months afterwards the fiftieth anniversary of Goethe’s arrival at Weimar was also celebrated. The Grand Duke presented him with a gold medal struck for the occasion, and expressed in a letter all that he felt about the magnificent services Goethe had for half a century rendered to himself and his people. By the Grand Duke’s order, a copy of this letter was posted on a wall opposite Goethe’s house. Seeing a crowd, Goethe sent a friend to find what was interesting them. “That is he!” cried Goethe, when he learned what had been done. In the evening “Iphigenie” was represented, and the town was brilliantly illuminated.

Goethe was saddened, almost beyond the power of expression, by the death of the Grand Duke in 1828, and that of the Grand Duchess in 1830. He had been associated with them so long, and had loved them, and been loved by them, so truly, that their death, in the first moments of grief, seemed like the breaking-up of all that had made life valuable. Happily, he had every reason to be satisfied with his relations with the young Grand Duke and Grand Duchess. They looked up to him with reverence, and delighted to do him honour.

In his home Goethe had much wearing anxiety and distress. His son August, although endowed with many good qualities, was of a wayward and uncertain temper, and at last took to hard drinking. He loved his father deeply, but even Goethe’s influence was not strong enough to deliver him from this hideous tyranny. In 1830 he went to Italy, and he died at Rome on the 27th of October. It was found that he had been suffering from malformation of the brain.

In 1821 a student at Göttingen, Johann Peter Eckermann, submitted a copy of his poems to Goethe, with a sketch of his life; and Goethe, as was his wont on such occasions, sent a friendly answer. Two years afterwards Eckermann, encouraged by this reply, despatched a manuscript to Goethe, begging that he would forward it to Cotta. On the 10th of June, 1823, an interview took place, and Eckermann made so good an impression that Goethe gave him some work to do, and ultimately made him his secretary. The result was that many years afterwards the world received Eckermann’s “Conversations with Goethe.” Eckermann was not, like Boswell, a great artist, and Goethe does not live in his book as Johnson lives in Boswell’s. Nevertheless, these “Conversations” present a most striking picture of Goethe in old age, and it is impossible to read them without feeling that they bring us into contact with an intellect and character of superb quality. Almost every subject interests Goethe, as he is here revealed; and on all matters, from the humblest to the most lofty, about which he expresses an opinion, he has something to say that indicates a mind fresh, vigorous, and richly stored with the fruits of a life of thought, action, and study. Above all, the reader is impressed by the noble feeling of humanity that pervades his utterances. Goethe has seen as much of the world as it is given to men to see; yet in his judgments there is no trace of a bitter or querulous temper. He is mild, serene, and helpful.