which I will venture to turn thus: : Miss Comedy is a sad flirt,-you may guess From the number who court her, the few she doth bless. CHAPTER VII THE REAL PHILANTHROPIST A STRANGE phantasmagoria is the life he leads at this epoch. His employments are manifold, yet his studies, his drawing, etching, and rehearsing are carried on as if they alone were the occupation of the day. His immense activity, and power of varied employment, scatter the energies which might be consecrated to some great work; but, in return, they give him the varied store of material of which he stood so much in need. At this time he is writing Wilhelm Meister, and Egmont; Iphigenia is also taking shape in his mind. His office gives him much to do; and Gervinus, who must have known how great were the calls upon his time, should have paused ere he threw out the insinuation of "diplomatic rudeness when Goethe answered one of his brother-in-law's letters through his secretary. Surely with a brother-in-law one may take such latitude?1 This man, whose diplomatic coldness and aristocratic haughtiness have formed the theme of so many long tirades, was of all Germans the most sincerely democratic, until the Reign of Terror in France frightened him, as it did others, into more modified opinions. Not only was he always delighted to be with the people, and to share their homely ways, which were consonant with his own simple tastes, but we find him in the confidence of intimacy expressing his sympathy with the people in the heartiest terms. When among the miners he writes to his beloved, "how strong my love has returned upon me for these lower classes! which one calls the lower, but which in God's eyes are assuredly the highest! Here you meet all the virtues combined: Contentedness, 1 Since the text was written, the correspondence with the Frau v. Stein has appeared; and from it we learn that in Switzerland he even dictated sorne letters to her! It could not have been "diplomatic rudeness," inasmuch as he usually wrote to the duke himself through his amanuensis. Moderation, Truth, Straightforwardness, Joy in the slightest good, Harmlessness, Patience-Patience-Constancy in in . I will not lose myself in panegyric!" Again, he is writing Iphigenia, but the news of the misery and famine among the stocking-weavers of Apolda paralyses him. "The drama will not advance a step: it is cursed; the King of Tauris must speak as if no stocking-weaver in Apolda felt the pangs of hunger!" In striking contrast stands the expression of his contempt for what was called the great world, as he watched it in his visits to the neighbouring courts. If affection bound him to Karl August, whom he was forming, and to Luise, for whom he had a chivalrous regard, his eyes were not blind to the nullity of other princes and their followers. "Good society have I seen," runs one of his epigrams, "they call it the 'good' whenever there is not in it the material for the smallest of poems." Gute Gesellschaft hab' ich gesehen; man nennt sie die gute Notably was this the case in his journey with the duke to Berlin, May 1778. He only remained a few days there; saw much, and not without contempt. "I have got quite close to old Fritz, having seen his way of life, his gold, his silver, his statues, his apes, his parrots, and heard his own curs twaddle about the great man." Potzdam and Berlin were noisy with preparations for war. The great king was absent; but Prince Henry received the poet in a friendly manner, and invited him and Karl August to dinner. At table there were several generals; but Goethe, who kept his eyes open, sternly kept his mouth closed. He seems to have felt no little contempt for the Prussian court, and its great men, who appeared very small men in his eyes. "I have spoken no word in the Prussian dominions which might not be made public. Therefore I am called haughty and so forth." Varnhagen intimates that the ill-will he excited by not visiting the literati, and by his reserve, was so great as to make him averse from hearing of his visit in after years. What, indeed, as Varnhagen asks, had Goethe in common with Nicolai, Ramler, Engel, Zellner, and the rest? He did visit the poetess Karschin and the artist Chodowiecki; but from the rest he kept aloof. Berlin 1 Vermischte Schriften, iii. p. 62. was not a city in which he could feel himself at home; and he doubtless was fully aware of the small account in which he was held by Frederick, whose admiration lay in quite other directions. What culture the king had was French, and his opinion of German literature had been very explicitly pro nounced in a work published this year, in which Goetz von Berlichingen was cited as a sample of the reigning bad taste. The passage is too curious to be omitted. "Vous y verrez représenter les abominables pièces de Shakspear traduites en notre langue, et tout l'auditoire se pâmer d'aise en entendant ces farces ridicules, et dignes des sauvages de Canada." That certainly was afflicting to "le bon goût"; but that was not the worst. Shakspeare might be pardoned for his faults, "ca la naissance des arts n'est jamais le point de leur maturité. Mais voilà encore un Goetz de Berlichingen qui parait sur la scène, imitation détestable de ces mauvaises pièces anglaises et le parterre applaudit et demande avec enthousiasme la répétition de ces dégoûtantes platitudes !"1 Thus the two German Emperors, Fritz and Wolfgang, held no spiritual congress; perhaps no good result could have been elicited by their meeting. Yet they were, each in his own sphere, the two most potent men then reigning. Fritz did not directly assist the literature of his country, but his indirect influence has been indicated by Griepenkerl.2 He awoke the Germans from their sleep by the rolling of drums; those who least liked the clang of arms or the "divisions of a battlefield, were nevertheless awakened to the fact that something im portant was going on in life, and they rubbed their sleepy eyes, and tried to see a little into that. The roll of drums has this merit, at all events, that it draws men from thei library table to the window, and so makes them look ou upon the moving, living world of action, wherein the erudite may see a considerable sensation made even by men unable to conjugate a Greek verb in " μι. On returning to Weimar, Goethe occupied himself with various architectural studies, à propos of the rebuilding of the 1 De la Littérature Allemande, p. 46. His opinion of the newly discovered Niebelungen Lied was no less characteristically contemptuous: he declared he would not give such rubbish house-room. 2 Der Kunstgenius der Deutschen Literatur des letzten Jahrhunderts, i. p. 52 8 Dr. George has become famous (or did become so-for, alas! what is tame?) by his shrewd suspicion that Frederick with all his victories could no accomplish that feat of intellectual vigour. Many men still measure greatnes by verbs in M. palace; and commenced those alterations in the Park, which resulted in the beautiful distribution formerly described. But I pass over many details of his activity to narrate an episode which must win the heart of every reader. In these pages it has been evident, I hope, that no compromise with the truth has led me to gloss over faults, or to conceal shortcomings. All that testimony warrants I have reproduced: good and evil, as in the mingled yarn of life. Faults and deficiencies, even grievous errors, do not estrange a friend from our hearts; why should they lower a hero? Why should the biographer fear to trust the tolerance of human sympathy? Why labour to prove a hero faultless? The reader is no valet de chambre incapable of crediting greatness in a robe de chambre. Never should we forget the profound saying of Hegel in answer to the vulgar aphorism ("No man is a hero to his valet de chambre "); namely, "This is not because the Hero is no Hero, but because the Valet is a Valet."1 Having trusted to the effect which the true man would produce, in spite of all drawbacks, and certain that the true man was lovable as well as admirable, I have made no direct appeal to the reader's sympathy, nor tried to make out a case in favour of extraordinary virtue. But the tribute of affectionate applause is claimed now we have arrived at a passage in his life so characteristic of the delicacy, generosity, and nobility of his nature, that it is scarcely possible for any one not to love him, after reading it. Of generosity, in the more ordinary sense, there are abundant examples in his history. Riemer has instanced several,2 but these are acts of kindness, thoughtfulness, and courtesy, such as one expects to find in a prosperous poet. That he was kind, gave freely, sympathised freely, acted disinterestedly, and that his kindness showed itself in trifles quite as much as in important actions (a most significant trait), is known to all persons moderately acquainted with 1 "Nicht aber darum weil dieser kein Held ist, sondern weil jener der Kammerdiener ist."-Philosophie der Geschichte, p. 40. Goethe repeated this as an epigram; and Carlyle has wrought it into the minds of hundreds; but Hegel is the originator. 2 Mittheilungen, vol. i. pp. 102-5. 3 There is lamentable confusion in our estimate of character on this point of generosity. We often mistake a spasm of sensibility for the strength of lovingness-making an occasional act of kindness the sign of a kind nature. Benj. Constant says of himself: "Je puis faire de bonnes et fortes actions; je ne puis avoir de bons procédés." There are hundreds like him. On the other hand, there are hundreds who willingly perform many little acts of kindness and courtesy, but who never rise to the dignity of generosity; these are poor natures, ignorant of the grander throbbings. German literature. But the disposition exhibited in the story I am about to tell is such as few persons would have imagined to be lying beneath the stately prudence and calm self-mastery of the man so often styled "heartless." This is the story: A man (his name still remains a secret) of a strange, morbid, suspicious disposition, had fallen into destitution, partly from unfortunate circumstances, partly from his own fault. He applied to Goethe for assistance, as so many others did; and he painted his condition with all the eloquence of despair. According to the idea I form of you from your letters," writes Goethe, "I fancy I am not deceived, and this to me is very painful, in believing that I cannot give help or hope to one who needs so much. But I am not the man to say, 'Arise, and go further.' Accept the little that I can give, as a plank thrown towards you for momentary succour. If you remain longer where you are, I will gladly see that in future you receive some slight assistance. In acknowledging the receipt of this money, pray inform me how far you can make it go. If you are in want of a dress, greatcoat, boots, or warm stockings, tell me so; I have some that I can spare. Accept this drop of balsam from the compendious medi cine chest of the Samaritan, in the same spirit as it is offered." This was on the 2nd of November 1778. On the 11th he writes again, and from the letter we see that he had resolved to do more than throw out a momentary plank to the shipwrecked man-in fact he had undertaken to support him. "In this parcel you will receive a greatcoat, boots, stockings, and some money. My plan for you this winter is this: "In Jena living is cheap. I will arrange for board and lodging, &c., on the strictest economy, and will say it is for some one who, with a small pension, desires to live in retirement. When that is secured I will write to you; you can then go there, establish yourself in your quarters, and I will send you cloth and lining, with the necessary money, for a coat, which you can get made, and I will inform the rector that you were recommended to me, and that you wish to live in retirement at the University. "You must then invent some plausible story, have your name entered on the books of the University, and no soul will ever inquire more about you, neither Burgomaster no |