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JOHANN WOLFGANG GOETHE was born at Frankfort-on-the-Main on the 28th of August, 1749.

His grandfather, Frederick George Goethe, who sprang from a family belonging to the working class, and was himself a tailor, made his way, in the latter part of the seventeenth century, from Artern on the Unstrut to Frankfort. Here he settled, and, early in the eighteenth century, took as his second wife a handsome widow of thirty-seven, Cornelia Schelhorn, the owner of the inn, “Zum Weidenhof.” Frederick George is said to have been a man of pleasant manners and a skilful musician. His second wife was in every way worthy of him, an energetic and kindly woman, with all the gracious qualities evoked in generous natures by prosperous circumstances. They had three children, of whom Johann Kaspar, Goethe’s father, born on the 27th of July, 1710, was the youngest.

Johann Kaspar Goethe was sent to school at Coburg, where he heard of the death of his father and only brother. Afterwards he studied law at the Universities of Leipsic and Giessen, and took the degree of Doctor of Jurisprudence. He practised for some time at the imperial chamber at Wetzlar, and then travelled in Italy. Finally he returned for life to Frankfort, where he lived with his mother in a house she had bought in a street called the Hirschgraben. His mother’s fortune made it unnecessary for him to accept any fixed appointment, and during the reign of the Emperor Charles VII. he attained a position of considerable dignity by securing the title of an imperial councillor (Rath). He was somewhat pedantic, capable of vehement outbursts of anger, but honest to the core; and he combined with a sound knowledge of law, a real love for art and literature. He had given much attention to Italian, and was an ardent student of Tasso, his favourite author.

On the 20th of July, 1748, when he had reached the mature age of thirty-eight, he married Catharine Elizabeth, the daughter of Johann Wolfgang Textor, the chief magistrate of Frankfort, grandson of an eminent jurist of the same name who received the office of first syndic of Frankfort in 1690. Catharine Elizabeth was only seventeen years old at the time of her marriage. She was bright and pretty, fond of music and poetry, and remarkable for her power of inventing the kind of tales that fascinate children. Her new home was in the house of her mother-in-law, with whom she was able to live on the most friendly terms. Her husband loved her warmly, and, although she made no profession of romantic attachment to him, she responded to his feeling with sincere affection and respect.

Goethe was their first-born child, and after him came his sister Cornelia, who was fifteen months younger than he. There were several other children, but none of them lived long enough to influence Goethe. To his sister he was devoted, and, as years passed on, there were few things in the world so precious to him as her love and sympathy. She was of a thoughtful temper, loyal and affectionate, and in her brother’s youth no one had half so much control over his restless and fiery spirit.

Like his mother, Goethe had brown hair and dark, lustrous eyes, the penetrating glance of which, from childhood to old age, never failed to impress those who met him. He was a vigorous and active child, and at an early age gave evidence of a highly imaginative temperament. His grandmother’s house consisted of two old houses joined in one, and the thought of its dark passages and corners often filled him with dismay in the night-time, and made sleep impossible. From a room in the back part of the house, where the children were allowed to play in the summer, there was a charming view, with wide gardens in the foreground, and, beyond the city walls, a fertile valley stretching towards Höchst. Goethe himself has described how he used to sit at the window of this room and watch thunderstorms and sunsets, and how the spectacle of nature, combined with the sight of children playing in the gardens and the sound of balls rolling and ninepins falling, often filled him with a feeling of solitude and a vague sense of longing.

The children spent much time with their old grandmother, who loved them dearly. On the Christmas before her death she delighted them by providing a puppet-show setting forth the story of David and Goliath. This puppet-show made a great impression on Goethe, and afterwards he was permitted to find out the secret of its working and to dress up the figures for new representations.

When Goethe was in his sixth year, his grandmother died; and soon afterwards his father carried out a plan he had long cherished, that of rebuilding the house to suit the wants of his family. The work was carefully superintended by the elder Goethe himself, and the house was transformed to a handsome, convenient dwelling, with well-lighted rooms tastefully decorated. He had an excellent collection of books, and they were now properly arranged in his study. His pictures, most of which were by Frankfort artists, were also brought together in a room fitted up for their reception, and the walls of the passages were adorned with maps and engravings. He had brought back with him from Italy many fine specimens of Venetian glass, bronzes, ancient weapons, and other artistic objects. In the new house these treasures were put in cabinets, and no pains were spared to secure that they should be effectively displayed. A room on the top floor, looking out upon the street, was set apart for Goethe.

During the latter part of the time when the house was being rebuilt, Goethe and his sister were sent to live with relatives, and it was during this period that he began to have some knowledge of his native place. As the town in which the Emperors were elected and crowned, Frankfort held a position of high honour among the free imperial cities of Germany. Within its old walls and gates it still retained, in its architecture and customs, many traces of the troubled, picturesque life of the Middle Ages. Even in childhood Goethe delighted to walk about its quaint streets, and afterwards he made himself familiar with every link that was known to connect the town with the events of past times. He liked to see the gilt weathercock on the bridge of the Main gleam in the sunshine, and to watch the arrival of boats laden with goods for the market. On market-days there was always a bustling, lively crowd on the space around St. Bartholomew’s church, and Goethe found it a source of endless amusement to push his way among the throng and to note the odd humours of buyers and sellers. In later years he had an especially vivid recollection of the spring and autumn fairs, when the town was full of visitors, and serious business was associated with all sorts of noisy popular entertainments.

The council-house, then, as now, called the Römer, had a strong fascination for Goethe. He never forgot his first visit to the imperial hall in this famous building, where the emperors dined on the occasion of the coronation festival. Here he saw half-length portraits of many of the old emperors, and what he heard about them set his imagination at work to call up graphic pictures of the great events of Germany’s stirring, splendid history. He examined with keen interest the Golden Bull of Charles IV., and this naturally led to his visiting the grave of Günther of Schwarzburg, Charles’s rival, in St. Bartholomew’s church. Growing up amid such scenes and associations, Goethe naturally acquired a decided taste for the study of history and antiquities.

Much thought and care were devoted by the elder Goethe to the education of his children. He himself took the work in hand, but for special subjects he called in the aid of private tutors, from whom Goethe and his sister received lessons in association with the children of some neighbouring families. Goethe’s father and tutors were astonished at the ease and rapidity with which he mastered the most difficult tasks. Nothing seemed to be too hard for him. It was often, however, in childhood, a relief to escape from his father’s rigid discipline, and to enjoy a little talk with his mother, who was always ready to feed his imagination with tales of adventure in fairyland. He contrived, too, to read a good many books—among others, German translations of “Robinson Crusoe,” and Lord Anson’s “Voyage Round the World.” Among his father’s books were the works of Fleming, Canitz, Haller, Hagedorn, Gellert, and other German poets, and he found much in them to awaken and foster his love of poetry. Klopstock’s “Messiah,” the first three cantos of which had been published the year before Goethe’s birth, was not thought to be good enough for a place in a select library, for Goethe’s father, like many another critic of the eighteenth century, held that rhyme was essential to poetry. Goethe and his sister were delighted to receive secretly the loan of a copy from an old friend of the family who regularly read it, as a pious exercise, once a year in Passion Week. They learned by heart some of the most striking passages, which they often recited to one another. One Saturday evening, when their father was being shaved, they sat behind the stove, and repeated in whispers a wild dialogue between Satan and Adramelech. Cornelia became more and more excited as the dialogue went on, and at last, forgetting her father’s presence, she uttered in a loud voice the words, “How am I crushed!” The barber was so startled that the contents of the lather-basin were dashed on the Herr Rath’s breast. Strict inquiry was made, and Klopstock’s epic was at once ignominiously banished from the house.

Of greater influence on Goethe than any of the more formal works he read at this early stage, were the badly-printed folk-books, which he bought in great numbers. They suggested to him many a strange and romantic tale, and it may have been one of them that introduced him for the first time to the story of Faust.

About the time of his seventh birthday, the civilized world was stirred to its depths by the outbreak of the Seven Years’ War. Goethe’s maternal grandfather, Textor, sided with the Austrians. His father, on the contrary, was an enthusiastic adherent of Frederick the Great, and would not listen to a word against his hero. This difference of opinion led to serious family quarrels, and Goethe, who, of course, took his father’s view, was astonished to hear the language used about the great Prussian king by his grandfather, for whose sayings he had always had unbounded reverence. Rather more than two years after the beginning of the struggle, the people of Frankfort were made to realize with painful vividness some of the more disagreeable aspects of war, for by an act of treachery on the part of the civic authorities, the French, the allies of Austria, were allowed to station a body of troops in the city. To the horror of Goethe’s father, he was told that he would have to receive into his house a French officer called Thorane, for whom it was necessary to provide good quarters. In vain the indignant councillor protested against this arrangement. The decision was final, and he had nothing for it but to give up to the intruder the rooms on his first floor, which he had decorated and furnished at so great a cost, and with so much care. Count Thorane was a cultivated gentleman, with all the courtesy of his class; and he was anxious to cause as little annoyance as possible to his host. He could not, however, prevent the coming and going of many persons who had to see him on military business, and the result was that the most orderly household in Frankfort was thrown into dire confusion. This was aggravated by the fact that Thorane, who was much pleased with some of Dr. Goethe’s pictures, invited various artists to the house to execute a large number of commissions for him, and Goethe’s room had to be given up to them as a studio. Frau Goethe, whose cheerfulness was not easily quenched, made the best of unpleasant circumstances, and tried to mitigate some of the inconveniences of her position by learning French; but her husband was irreconcilable, and became more and more embittered against the French in general, and against Count Thorane in particular.

Goethe, although sorry for his father, was delighted on his own account by the new turn of affairs. The monotony of life was broken by a great excitement, and every day brought with it some fresh and unexpected pleasure. His frankness, brightness, and geniality won Thorane’s heart, and they became excellent friends. Goethe was especially interested in the proceedings of the artists who had taken possession of his room, and with their aid he began with zeal to practise drawing, in which he acquired considerable skill. He learned to speak French fluently, and was charmed to have an opportunity of hearing French plays, many of which were now acted in Frankfort. Thus, at a most impressionable age, he passed under a wholly new and stimulating set of influences, and it was the recollection of these influences that made it impossible for him, long afterwards, to join the majority of his countrymen in vague and indiscriminate abuse of the great French people, to whose civilization he owed some of the best impulses of his life.

In 1761, after more than two years of almost constant irritation, Goethe’s father got rid of his troublesome guest, but the French did not quit Frankfort until the end of the following year, when the Seven Years’ War was about to close. Goethe’s father celebrated the conclusion of the Treaty of Hubertusburg by presenting his wife with a gold snuff-box, on the lid of which, set with diamonds, was an allegorical picture of Peace. Goethe had often to go to the goldsmith to urge him to make progress with this piece of work, and he took full advantage of the chance of having long talks with a craftsman who had much to tell him that was full of interest. This was thoroughly characteristic of Goethe, who found almost any subject attractive when he could get information about it from some one practically familiar with its details.

Lessons had been sadly interrupted during Thorane’s stay in the house. After his departure they were resumed with double vigour. Goethe had already a good knowledge of Latin, Italian, and French, and some knowledge of Greek. To these languages he now added English, and he also made considerable progress in Hebrew. For the exercises he had to write for his father he often chose the form of dialogue; and one elaborate exercise he designed as a series of letters, the various correspondents writing from different parts of the world and in different languages. It was in connection with these letters that he began the study of Hebrew, as one of the correspondents wrote in Jew-German, for a thorough mastery of which a knowledge of Hebrew seemed to be necessary.

In his twelfth year Goethe was confirmed. Even before this time he had had, in a childlike way, many a serious reflection about the supreme subjects of human thought and interest. The earthquake at Lisbon in 1755 had led him, child as he was, to ask how such disasters were to be reconciled with God’s infinite love. Shortly afterwards he took to his room a red lacquered music-stand, which he used as an altar, piling on it various objects representative of nature, and placing on the top a fine porcelain dish, in which were some pastiles that emitted, in burning, a sweet fragrance. These pastiles he lighted by means of a burning-glass which caught the rays of the rising sun; and so he sought to express reverence for aspects of the Divine essence which, he thought, were not sufficiently recognized in the ordinary religious services. He was a great reader of the Bible, and was especially attracted by the early chapters of the Book of Genesis, which transported him into an ideal world full of grave and strangely picturesque figures. The tales of this part of the Bible acquired for him, of course, fresh significance and beauty, when he was able to read them in the original Hebrew.

In 1764, when Joseph II. was elected and crowned King of the Romans, Goethe had an opportunity of seeing, at Frankfort, some of the splendid ceremonies connected with a coronation. He was then in his fifteenth year, and already he was passing through an experience which had opened a new world of joy and longing. He had fallen violently in love with a pretty girl called Gretchen, who was two or three years older than himself, and did not belong to his own class of society. On the evening of coronation-day, when the town was brilliantly illuminated, they strolled through the streets together, and on parting from him at the door of her mother’s house she honoured him for the first and last time by kissing his forehead.

Goethe had made the acquaintance of Gretchen through some comrades of his, with whom he would certainly not have been allowed to consort had his father known of his association with them. One of them, with Goethe’s aid, secured employment in a public office; and in this position he was guilty of some offence which exposed him to severe penalties. When the affair came to be investigated, Goethe’s name was mentioned in connection with it, and to his dismay, on the morning after the coronation, he had to make a clean breast of all that had been going on, including the story of his love for Gretchen. This put an end to his first romance, and for days he remained in his room, overwhelmed with grief and shame.

His, however, was too elastic a spirit to be long incapable of rebound. A friend in whom he had confidence came to his help, and with this wise counsellor he turned from thoughts of love to the study of ancient philosophy. The two together took long walks in the surrounding country, where Goethe drew sketches of scenery, which had the good fortune to please his father. And so his wounded pride and affection were quickly healed, although the incident had made so deep an impression upon him that half a century afterwards, when he wrote his autobiography, he could not recall it without a certain bitterness.

By this time Goethe’s father had decided that he was to enter the legal profession, and had begun to prepare him for future work by reading with him various law books. Goethe offered no objection, but he was already dimly conscious of some of the impulses which were to bring him to the front rank among the great names of the world; and he resolved that during his university career his energies should be devoted not to law, but to literature. In 1765, shortly after his sixteenth birthday, he said farewell to his family, and started for Leipsic, where he was to study.

He was now a handsome and vigorous youth, with comparatively wide intellectual interests; and his good looks, high spirits, and lively talk made him a universal favourite. His childhood and boyhood had been as happy as those of any great poet have ever been, and all the circumstances of his life had been favourable to natural mental growth. He had given ample evidence of quick perception, eager curiosity, and a remarkable power of penetrating to the secrets of subjects that interested him; and his great creative faculty had at least made preliminary efforts to reveal itself. Even in early boyhood he had so large a share of his mother’s gift of story-telling that groups of companions delighted to gather around him to hear his entrancing tales. He had also written many verses, the themes chosen for two of his more ambitious productions being Christ’s descent into hell and the story of Joseph and his brethren. Just before he quitted Frankfort he almost completed “Belshazzar,” a tragedy written in imitation of Klopstock’s “Solomon.” In composing this tragedy he was stimulated by a wish for the approval of some unknown beauty, whose sway over him had succeeded that of Gretchen. Never, perhaps, was there a poet more susceptible than Goethe to feminine influence, and the thorough comprehension of this deeply significant fact is essential to any true appreciation of his genius and character.