CHAPTER XII.

HOME ONCE AGAIN.

A PLEASANT surprise was in store for him on his return to Weimar, in the shape of the house in the Frauenplan, which the Duke had ordered to be rebuilt during his absence. This house, considered a palace in those days, was a very munificent gift. It was not so far advanced in the reconstruction, but that he could fashion it according to his taste; he arranged the splendid staircase: too large for the proportions of the house, but a pleasant reminiscence of Italy.

The passer-by sees through the windows the busts of the Olympian gods, which stand there as symbols of calmness and completeness. On entering the hall, the eye rests upon two noble casts in niches, or rests on the plan of Rome which decorates the wall, and on Meyer's Aurora, which colours the ceiling. The group of Ildefonso stands near the door; and on the threshold, welcome speaks in the word "SALVE". On the first floor we enter the Juno room, so called from the colossal bust of Juno which consecrates it; on the walls are the Loggie of Raphael. To the left of this stands the Reception room; in it is the harpsichord which furnished many a musical evening Hummel played on it, Catalani and Sontag sang to it. Over the doors were Meyer's mythological cartoons; on the walls a copy of Aldobrandi's Wedding, with sketches of the great masters, and etchings. A large cabinet contained the engravings and gems; a side closet the bronze statuettes,

lamps, and vases. On the other side, connected with the Juno room and opposite the Reception room, were three small rooms. The first contained sketches of Italian masters, and a picture by Angelica Kaufmann. The second and third contained various specimens of earthenware, and an apparatus to illustrate the Farbenlehre. A prolongation of the Juno room backwards was the Bust room, with the busts of Schiller, Herder, Jacobi, Voss, Sterne, Byron, etc. To this succeeded, a few steps lower, and opening on the trellised staircase leading to the garden, a small room in which he was fond of dining with a small party. The garden was tastefully laid out. The summer-houses contained his natural-history collections.

But the sanctuary of the house is the study, library, and bed-room. In the rooms just described the visitor sees the tokens of Goethe's position as minister and lover of Art. Compared with the Weimar standard of that day, these rooms were of palatial magnificence; but compared even with the Weimar standard, the rooms into which we now enter are of a more than bourgeois simplicity. Passing through an antechamber, where in cupboards stand his mineralogical collections, we enter the study, a low-roofed narrow room, somewhat dark, for it is lighted only through two tiny windows, and furnished with a simplicity quite touching to behold.* In the centre stands a plain oval table of unpolished oak. No armchair is to be seen,-no sofa,-nothing which speaks of ease. A plain hard chair has beside it the basket in which he used to place his handkerchief. Against the wall, on the right, is a long pear-tree table, with book-shelves, on which stand lexicons and manuals. Here hangs a pincushion, venerable in dust, with the visiting cards, and other trifles which death has made sacred. Here, also, a medallion of Napoleon, with this circumscription: "Scilicet immenso superest ex nomine multum." On the side wall, again, a book-case with some works of poets. On the wall to the left is a long desk of soft wood, at which he was wont to write. On it lie the ori

* I describe it as it tow stands, just as it was on the day of his death.

ginal manuscripts of Götz and the Elegies, and a bust of Napoleon, in milk-white glass, which in the light shimmers with blue and flame colour; hence prized as an illustration of the Farbenlehre. A sheet of paper with notes of contemporary history is fastened near the door, and behind this door schematic tables of music and geology. The same door leads into a bedroom, if bedroom it can be called, which no maid-of-all-work in England would accept without a murmur. It is a closet with a window. A simple bed, an armchair by its side, and a tiny washing-table with a small white basin on it and a sponge, is all the furniture. To enter this room with any feeling for the greatness and goodness of him who slept here, and who here slept his last sleep, brings tears into the eyes and makes the breathing deep.

From the other side of the study we enter the library; which should rather be called a lumber-room of books. Rough deal shelves hold the books, with bits of paper on which are written "philosophy," "history," "poetry," etc., to mark the classification. It was very interesting to look over this collection, and the English reader will imagine the feelings with which I took down a volume of Taylor's Historic Survey of German Poetry, sent by Carlyle, and found, in the piece of paper which marked the place, a bit of Carlyle's own hand-writing.

Such was Goethe's House, during the many years of his occupation. At the time of which we now write, it was of course somewhat different. The pleasure of reconstructing it, and the happiness of being once more at home with Christiane and his boy, able to pursue his studies in peace, were agreeable contrasts with his life in the camp. Meyer had returned from Italy, and came to live with him. Meyer's historical knowledge and true friendship made him very valuable. Optical studies alternated with discussions upon Art.

In this year, 1793, much was studied, but little produced. The comedy of the Bürgergeneral was written, that of the Aufgeregten was commenced, and the Unterhaltungen der Ausgewanderten planned. More important was the version of Reineke Fuchs. All these are products of the French Revolution. The Bürgergeneral is really an amusing little

piece, setting forth the absurdity of loud-mouthed patriotism; but it has greatly incensed all those who are angry with Goethe for not having espoused the cause of the Revolution. It is admitted that there was much in the Revolution which was hollow, foolish, and wicked; but the Revolution was too serious a thing to be treated only with ridicule. I quite agree with this opinion. But when I consider his sentiments and position, it seems to me quite natural that he who neither sympathized with the Revolution, nor absolved the Royalists; who could therefore neither write dithyrambs of freedom nor cries of indignation; who did not fully appreciate the historical importance of the event, and only saw its temporal and personal aspect;-should have taken to Comedy, and to Comedy alone. He did not write invectives; he did not write satires. He saw the comic aspect, and he smiled. As events deepened the shadows of the picture, he, too, became more serious. The Aufgeregten, which was never completed, would have given a complete expression to his political views. Reineke Fuchs was commenced as a relief; it was turned to as an "unholy World-bible," wherein the human race exhibited its unadorned and unfeigned animal nature with marvellous humour, in contrast to the bloody exhibition which the Reign of Terror then offered as a spectacle to the world.

He was now, May 1794, once more to join the army which was besieging Mainz. The narrative, which is also to be found in Mr. Farie's translation, presents him in no new aspect, and may therefore be passed over with this allusion. The city capitulated on the 24th of July, and on the 28th of Augusthis forty-fifth birth-day-he re-entered Weimar; to finish Reineke Fuchs, and to pursue his scientific researches. "I go home," he wrote to Jacobi, "where I can draw a circle round me, in which nothing can enter save Love and Friendship, Science and Art. I will not complain of the past, for I have learnt much that was valuable." Experience is the only schoolmaster; although, as Jean Paul says, "the school-fees are somewhat heavy." Goethe was always willing to pay the fees, if he could but get the instruction.