The mother of Goethe, "Frau Aja"

Preface

Frau Aja's claim on the interest of the British Public lies, first and mainly, in her relationship to her great son ; having established this claim, she will be liked for her own hearty sake.

The author of this sketch has borrowed largely and often literally from Goethe's Wahrheit und Dicktungy more guardedly and with the reservation necessary when dealing with Bettina von Arnim from Briefwechsel mit einem Kind. Other sources drawn from are C. Heinemann's Goethe and Goethes Mutter, Goethe s Mother by A. S. Gibbs, Die Briefe der Frau Rath, Koster, and lastly the publications of the Goethe-Gesellschaft, so ably edited by Herr Suphan, must be thankfully mentioned, since without them the present work could never have been contemplated.

It is universally allowed that the subtle beauty of Goethe's poetry eludes translation, being dependent for its rare charm so greatly on grace of form, it is as a jewel torn from a fine setting when presented in a foreign language.

Margaret Reeks 1911

ILLUSTRATIONS

To face page

i. Elizabeth Goethe {Photogravure) Frontispiece

2. Frankfurt -am-Main , 4

3. The Romer, Frankfurt j8

4. The Goethegeburtshaus, before Rebuilding {after

Drawing by Reiffenstein) 3°

5. View from Frau Aja's Garden-Room {after Drawing

by Reiffenstein) 3°

6. The Goethe House, after Rebuilding 56

7. Herr Rath Goethe °4

8. Franqois de Theas, Count de Thoranc (from

9. Scene of the Altercation Between the Herr

Rath and Count de Thoranc (after Drawing by

Reiffenstein) 92

10. Katharina Elizabeth Goethe (from Relief by Melchior) 100

12. "Frau Aja" (Silhouette) 154

13. " Dr. Wolf " (from Painting of Goethe by May) 162

14. The Dowager-Duchess Anna Amalia (A rtist unknown) 206

15. Johann Heinrich Merck 226

16. Frau Aja's Pump 246

17. The Rossmarkt, Frankfurt, Present Day 270

18. The Judengasse (Jew's Street), Frankfurt 276

b

Chapter I

Doch ist Frau Aja auserkohrn in einem guten Zeichen gebohrn.

Frau Aja.

IT is a fact, worth consideration, that each generation has clasped the living hand of the one that went before ; yet, though there is no gap in this human contact, the genuine portraits in the gallery of History are few and far between. Dimly we discern the colossal image of Job, roughed out from human character as by the hand of a Michelangelo. There is the more finished portrait of David. There is the clearcut cameo of Socrates, Plato's faithful handiwork. The perfect beauty of the Divine portrait we have from the evangelists. Cicero, in one tiny, pathetic, unstudied sentence,

* The stars did bless Frau Aja's birth, And gave her cause for joy and mirth. Many good folk she knows and so, She sings In dulci Jubilo.

I A

addressed to his dead daughter, shows us a more intimate glimpse of himself than in his polished orations or in that long homily to his less-loved son.

Homer's features are lost to us ; Shakespeare's are hardly recognisable. In later times, Pepys, with broad, coarse touches and unmistakable likeness, has drawn his own shrewd countenance. Boswell, by minute accuracy, has made his huge hero live. Goethe's portrait of himself, notwithstanding a trace of artificiality — which he has indicated by the Dichtung of his title — is true and lifelike.

But, in the shadow of these masterpieces, sometimes an exquisite sketch is revealed. Beside the portrait of David, we may discern, though not so vividly, Jonathan. Beside the Divine portrait is that most human sketch of Saint Peter ; and there is another sketch, very similar to this, seen with the portrait of Goethe — that of Frau Aja, his mother.

Goethe himself was an adept at characterdrawing. Take, for example, this thumb-nail sketch of Lavater :

" On Sundays, after the sermon, it was his duty as minister to hold the little short-handled velvet bag towards those going out, and to receive the charitable donations with a blessing. This Sunday, for instance, he set himself the task of

* » What will become of my little Tullia ? "

looking at no one, but of taking note only of hands and construing their shape. But not alone did he observe the form of the fingers, the very expression of them as they dropped in the gift did not escape his attention ; he had much to say to me about it afterwards. How instructive and stimulating must such conversations be for me — me who was qualifying as a painter of men."

This is indeed characteristic of the singleminded Lavater, not less characteristic of the mentally versatile Goethe, watching sympathetically, and above all, never forgetful of self-culture.

Goethe, the son she so loved, has put in the first touches of his mother's portrait : she has finished it with her own true hand. To make a flattering ideal of it would be doing her scant justice ; only would we reproduce the wise, strong, tender features, because they are good and pleasant to look upon.

Germany, of course, also France and America possess literary sketches of Goethe's mother. England alone has hitherto published none.

Frau Aja (how she obtained this name will be explained hereafter)* was one of those precious souls who take cheerily whatever Life offers — its good things heartily, its buffets in brave silence.

"I know no fear," she says: "let that come * See p. 155. 3 which I cannot hinder — enjoy the present — and, since I cannot check the spokes of the great wheel, it would be but foolishness to grizzle because one feels oneself too weak."

A very simple, yet very sufficing philosophy, this is the keynote of her whole existence — submission to, nay, cheerful acquiescence in, the inevitable.

Frau Aja, or, to give her actual name, Katharina Elizabeth Textor, was born in the year 1 731 . Her parents were citizens in good position, of that old-world, time-honoured city, Frankfurt-am-Main.

Rich in historic memories was Frankfurt. It had never sunk below the stream of events, but, maintaining a sturdy independence, had always floated on the top of the tide of time. Since 1 147 the scene of the imperial elections, by successive emperors it had been wooed with many privileges and immunities. In 1562 it was chosen as their Kronungstadt, or coronation town. The very names of some of its inhabitants recalled the past. The name Textor was in fact a Latin substitute for Weber, handed down from the affectations of the fifteenth century, from the days when Gerrard was exchanged for Erasmus and bluff Swartzerde took the Greek form Melancthon.

It is, perhaps, not to be regretted that we have no record of Elizabeth's childish sayings and doings, since, in this biographical age, the childish sayings and doings of celebrities are becoming somewhat trite.

Nevertheless, if we accept the very plausible supposition of Eric Smith that the opening conversation in Goethe's Erwin and Elmire was merely his mother's account of her own upbringing, we can form some notion of her childhood.

Olimpia tells her daughter :

" When I was young we knew nothing of all these fine ways, just as we knew nothing of the parade that children are accustomed to nowadays. They let us learn to read and write, and for the rest of the time, all was freedom and joy in our first years. We mixed with children of a lower class without injury to our manners. We were allowed to run wild. Our mothers were not afraid for our frocks, we had no furbelows to tear, no lace to soil, no ribbons to rumple, our cotton frocks could soon be washed. No thin German- French governess followed us about, venting her bad temper on us, presuming to make us as stiff, vain and foolish as herself. It always makes me miserable to see the little wretches of to-day dragged about the streets. It is just like the men at the fair, with whips driving their dogs and apes about on two legs, in troops, dressed up in hooped petticoats and frippery, and paying them out by hard blows, when Nature asserts herself and just for once they drop down and run a leur aise on all fours.

" Elmire. I must say, mamma, you are unfair, you exaggerate, and won't see the good side. What advantages modern education gives us !

" Olimpia. I am glad to hear it ! advantages? I thought the greatest advantage in the world was to be contented. We were when we were young. We played, sprang, made a noise, and were quite big girls when we still enjoyed swinging and playing at ball. . . . Now people bring their children together, sit them round in a circle like ladies, and they have their coffee handed to them, like ladies. In my time they were seated at a table and made comfortable ; now they must be out-and-out ladylike ; and suffer from ladylike ennui, and all the time they are really children at heart, spoilt because, from the very beginning of their lives, they dare not be what they really are.

11 Elmire. All the same, our present way of life requires it ; if we were brought up in the old style, what figures we should cut in society !

" Olimpia. Figures, girl ? the figures your mothers were and of which there is nothing to be ashamed. Don't you think, then, that one could become an agreeable girl, and an upright woman if one had been allowed to be a child ? . . . . I tell you the child's shoes wear out of themselves when they are too short. . . . Indeed the best of our sex that I have known were those who had least education.

" Elmire. But our culture ! Our talents !

" Olimpia. That's just the worst of it, they are no use to you, or they even make you unhappy. We knew nothing of all that nonsense ; we tripped through our songs and minuets on the clavichord, and sang and danced to them. Poor children nowadays are not allowed their singing and dancing to their instruments ; they are trained to play rapidly, and have to execute brilliantly instead of playing simple melodies ; they are tortured instead of being amused ; and what for ? to be brought out ! to be admired ! By whom ? Where ? — by people who don't understand it, or chatter the whole time, or clap heartily at the end, because they want to make a display themselves, that they in their turn may be not listened to, and applauded at the end from habit or ridicule."

History repeats itself: feminine childhood is again asserting its right to "run wild" and romp. The Early Victorian girl, with her prim governess, the correct utterer of "papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes, and prism," is passing.

But what shall we — the claimants of women's education — say to Frau Aja's assertion, "Indeed the best of our sex that I have known were those who had least education ? " If we consider what she meant by education — the showy playing on the clavichord, the singing of songs in bad Italian, the drawing of impossible pictures — then we shall heartily agree with her.

It is well to ascertain clearly what education signifies before introducing it on a large scale and without a wise discrimination. Certainly no good result can be obtained by mere " cramming " ; for it is not in this way that we may draw out each nature to its perfect development and highest capacity. We gather from the foregoing extract that Frau Aja's childhood was free and joyous, the fitting foundation for her blithe, contented womanhood. Of the delightful period of irresponsible girlhood, she had but brief experience, since at seventeen she became a wife, at eighteen a mother.

Her early environment and her temperament were in complete accord. She says in a letter to her son : " Order and quiet were my element, even in my young years," and describing herself to a friend she writes : " Order and quiet are my principal characteristics." Order and quiet were the characteristics of her home.

The old Stammhaus (ancestral house) of the Textor family, standing in the Friedberger Street, — a name in itself suggestive of peace — gave little promise outwardly of the peace within. Nothing was to be seen on approaching it but a massive gateway, flanked on either hand by battlements. The adjoining houses pressed close to this warlike remnant of antiquity, as if seeking protection. But, within, the character of the house changed. A narrow passage gave entrance to a fairly large courtyard surrounded by the irregular buildings which formed the dwelling.

Quiet respectability and family order here reigned supreme. Life was as regular as clockwork ; the midday dinner, the afternoon nap, were essentials ; indeed, the even tenor of day succeeding day gave an impression of eternal monotony. It was as if life had run into a culde-sac and had curled up for a nap there.

The master of this household was well in keeping with it. His grandson — ever open-eyed for the picturesque figures of existence — draws two several sketches of him.

One is of the fine old mayor, seated on his throne-like seat, beneath his Emperor's portrait, in full peruke, long robes, gold chain and all the paraphernalia of office. The other is of the easy citizen tending his flowers and fruit in his old-world garden, garbed in a comfortable dressing-gown with his feet in slippers ; on his hands, to shield them from the thorns, a pair of marvellous leather gloves, slashed, stitched and tasselled. These marvellous gardening gloves were annually renewed at no expense to the wearer ; they were in fact a yearly tribute, received by the Schultheiss, the chief magistrate, as the Emperor's representative, from neighbouring cities grateful for ancient abatement of taxation, and the thrifty old gentleman thus slyly turned useless emblems to practical account.

But at the time of which we write the Schultheiss was yet in the prime of life, a silent, dignified personage, whose daily routine satisfied pleasantly his powers and desires.

His love of "ancient peace" pervaded his surroundings and formed his habits. No modern article or piece of furniture found place in his panelled study. His books were legal works or descriptions of ancient voyages and travels.

Duty ever came first with him. Before he came down to the family breakfast, he had carefully arranged the list of causes for the day and gone through his legal papers.

But, duty done, he was always to be found in his old-world garden, diligently pruning, weeding, watering, from early spring till late autumn, whilst a merry group, a boy and girls, frolicked about him, keeping, however, a respectful distance, with bright keen eyes for the stray nectarines that occasionally came their way, and now and then — when longing threatened to get the better of discretion — scampering off to stuff their mouths with less valued currants or gooseberries.

The mother of the family also accorded with its household peace, a quiet, gentle woman, devoted to her husband, proud of his position, a little shy of sharing his honours, drawing back timidly behind other ladies when she had to take part in State functions, yet not without a quiet courage for domestic emergencies. Her grandson has given us one characteristic glimpse of her also. He tells us that one ni^ht he was awakened by an alarm of fire in the house. It appeared to come from the direction of her bedroom. In some trepidation he hastened thither, to find the old lady of sixty-two already on the alert, calmly helping to collect and remove the plate and valuables. After doing all that was possible, he says, together they quietly awaited the course of Fate.

In this serene home, Elizabeth was eldest daughter, and, as we have said, its peaceful ways were her ways. She took care of the younger children, and, though it is recorded that she was not fond of domestic duties, she probably did her share conscientiously, for it would hardly have been possible to become so good a housewife and mother as Frau Aja eventually was, without going through some practical training ; yet when duty was done, she did like to dress herself with the dainty care which earned her the nickname of " Princess " from mother and sisters, and sit down to her fancy-work or her book in genteel leisure.

What were the books she read ? We would gladly know. German literature offered little at that period. At some time of her life she managed to read a great deal ; even the works of English authors were known to her, but that must have been later.

In one of her letters she gives a specimen of the kind of play popular in her youth.

The scene was a wood ; on the trees hung

ii portraits of ancient heroes. Hermann and his father enter. The father addresses his son thus : 11 Listen, Hermann, and note thoughtfully why thy father has brought thee to this grove. Son ! ! ! when courage and fortune lead thee to high deeds ; then [he turns towards the trees] let these pictures teach thee, — and so on. I have forgotten Hermann's answer," she adds, " for I was only ten when it came out."

Let us hope her books were not after the same pattern, that the mother of the man whose imagination was to fire that of a nation had something better whereon to feed her own. At any rate, if the pages were dull, she would read into them brilliant and romantic histories, for below the quiet stream of her fancy flowed the strong current from which genius was eventually to rise.

Nor was mysticism, that essentially German element, far from this outwardly prosaic family. The silent Schultheiss was himself a dreamer of dreams, a reputed seer into futurity. He confided his visions only to his wife, yet sometimes the children — their young ears pricked for mystery — heard and were duly impressed by their father's dreams.

That the prophet's visions were more shrewd conjecture than supernatural visitations would not occur to his simple household.

One of his dreams alone concerns us, since it caused his eldest daughter an amusing little family triumph.

He had dreamed, and no doubt his wish was father to his thought, that the Schultheiss who held office died, and that from all his brother Sheriffs he was elected successor.

No one except the little princess remembered this dream ; she cherished it in her young ambitious heart, until in course of time the Schultheiss did die. Then Textor was summoned to attend, with the other Sheriffs, the drawing of the golden ball from the bag where it lay with two silver ones, by which primitive method the Mayor of Frankfurt was elected.

As soon as her father was out of the house, Elizabeth ran upstairs, dressed herself in all her best finery, frizzed her hair to the utmost, and stationed herself at the window, so that, when he should return in state attended by a procession of senators and dignitaries, one member of his family? at least, should be in proper array to receive the stately visitors.

Mother and sisters laughed at the " princess." Would it not be time to prepare for the reception when they heard the result of the election ?

" You will soon have to creep behind the curtains," Elizabeth declared, " when they come in their state to congratulate us about father's election, and you are not dressed and your hair is all out of curl."

Then she returned to her watch at the window, and next minute, from her seat, she caught sight of a solemn procession.

11 Here they come," she cried.

The others took one hurried peep ; then fled, leaving the " princess" alone in the parlour to receive the grand personages, who solemnly entered, saluted their new Schultheiss's daughter, presenting her with a little senator doll, dressed in long peruke, with real gold buckles on his shoes, and a collar with tassels of real pearl.

How her sisters must have envied her !

Next in age to Elizabeth, three years younger, came Johanna, a lively little maiden. Whilst Elizabeth stayed patiently at home awaiting the coming of experience, Johanna ran abroad to seek it and fell in with excitement instead. No domestic power, no parental command, could keep the vivacious child in the house, when anything was going on without.

As quite a tiny mite, she one day scrambled with the town children for largess, thrown at some state function, and though only a girl and a small one, managed to get a share. But, alas, as with round delighted eyes and too childish trustfulness she stood gazing on the treasure displayed in her open hands, by a sudden jerk some naughty urchin sent the coins flying, so that she saw her hardly earned booty again a prey to a scrambling mob.

When a little older, she was accustomed to amuse herself by collecting the neglected babies of the town and generally mothering them.

Four years after Johanna, came another sister, Anna Maria ; then, a year younger, the only boy, Johann Jost, followed at an interval of four years by baby Anna Christina, so that the Schultheiss had his quiver full and Elizabeth had plenty of mothering to do for the "arrows."

The existence of the young Textors was by no means a dull one. Their native city, with its fine situation on the River Main, its quaint solemnities, remnants of mediaeval times, and its pageant-loving citizens, was itself full of interest. To begin with, there were the half-yearly fairs instituted in 1330. These took place in April and September. At those times it appeared as if a new and magic town had suddenly sprung up within old Frankfurt, so many were the booths and stalls erected. Bustle and excitement took possession of the staid citizens. Friends and relations came from the country. People of rank flocked in from the neighbourhood. The packing and unpacking of the numerous and varied wares presented to the minds of the spectators a lively picture of the trade of the great world that lay beyond their limited ken.

In letters of a later time, Frau Aja delights to describe the hubbub, in these words, quoted from Goethe's Jahrmarktsfest zu Plundersweilen :

" With us," she writes, " is fair time ! ! ! — Weilmauligte Laffen, Feilschen und gaffen, Gaffen und kauffen, Bestienhauffen. Kinder und Fratzen. Affen und Katzen, u.s.w." The sense of this helter-skelter passage is as follows : " Open-mouthed gabies, higgling and staring, staring and buying, crowds of beasties, children and grotesques, apes and cats." To render the rough motion and tumult of the original is not possible, it is conveyed by the jingle of the harshsounding words.

These fairs were accompanied by quaint old customs, themselves relics of warlike ages : keen traders bringing their wares needed martial escort and then this escort was in its turn an object of suspicion to the burghers, who sallied forth to meet it, to parley with it, and ultimately to decide how near it should be allowed to approach the city walls.

Though the need for such military protection had long since passed away, the semblance of it was perpetuated. The city cavalry rode forth to meet important personages as of yore. They met no longer inimically, but sociably, and, having passed some hours in friendly hospitality, the troops returned late in the evening, perhaps a little uproariously. The townsfolk turned out, not to oppose their entry, but to amuse themselves with their companions' jollity ; the falling night threw into bold relief the torch-lit scene, whilst shadowing its meaner aspects.

Another time-honoured ceremony, wherein the family of the Schultheiss had a more personal interest, was the Pfeifergericht — the Piper's Tribunal.

It took place the day before Lady Day. A portion of the great Imperial hall called the Romer — the council-house — was enclosed, and made a fitting background for the ancient spectacle.

Here on a throne-like seat sat the Schultheiss, in almost regal state, surrounded by the Sheriffs. A pretence was made of carrying on the routine business of the day. Suddenly this was interrupted by a weird piping, as of a magnified Pied Piper. Three musicians appeared, dressed in blue and gold, with their music scores attached to their sleeves, their instruments being a shawm, a sackbut and an oboe. Followed by a mediaeval procession they solemnly entered the hall.

Business ceased, an air of surprise was assumed, as if the interruption came unexpectedly, then amid silence and due respect, the deputies from neighbouring towns presented emblematic gifts to the Schultheiss. Worms, for instance, sent a felt hat; some other locality, a handsome pair of slashed and tasselled gloves. The hat did duty on many successive occasions, the gloves became in one case, as we have seen, the gardening gloves of the Schultheiss.

After the presentation the pipers again blew a blast : then, with mock solemnity, the procession departed as it had come.

Of course in such a scene the young family of the chief actor would be intensely interested and were doubtless duly honoured spectators. Though they would be impressed more by the antique dignity than by the modern absurdity, though they would enjoy their own reflected importance and carry the remembrance of it into their everyday life, yet we may be sure that Elizabeth's sense of humour and Johanna's vivacious gaiety would find plenty to keep them alert.

There were other more rural festivals, which took place in the beautiful outskirts of the city, and would probably be more to the taste of the young Textors, for if those of the town conferred mportance, those of the country were freer from formality and restraint.

In the proximity of Frankfurt lay a large, broad common, distinguished by a sulphur spring.

Goethe in his Hermann and Dorothea has thus described the place :

In that place already for many a century rooted,

Lay, with sward well clothed, a broad and spacious green spot

Close to the village, a field for the games of the neighbouring

country.

Hollow'd below the ground a well lay, under the lime-trees ; When you the steps went down appear'd there benches of

hewn stone Round the source disposed, where live floods constantly welled

forth. Whewell.

This pleasant spot was the scene of one of the rural fetes. Here all the flocks and herds were pastured, whilst the peasants and herdsmen with their sweethearts indulged in dancing, singing, and all the boisterous merrymaking dear to the rustic soul. From out the neighbouring orphanage crept the pale, sickly little ones, to claim a pathetic little share of health and jollity for that one day.

But the crowning fete is that of the vintage. Frankfurt is situated in the midst of the wine country, amongst the rich vineyards of the Rhine valley. The juice of the grape is in the veins of the inhabitants. No one can resist the light gaiety of the wine harvest.

It begins about October 12 and is announced by the public firing of guns. Every man, as he takes up his own private vintage, has a volley fired from his garden. Then the people shout and shout back to each other, so that the joyous echoes reverberate from the hills around.

All day long the workers are gathering, treading out the grapes and filling the vats with the sweet must. Then at the fall of evening all cease working, while fireworks blaze from all corners and crackle and gleam amongst the hills. The honour of the vintage fills the darkening landscape.

The Textor family had a private vineyard and shared duly in the joyous festival of the vintage : shared also the genial, generous nature of their countrymen the wine-growers.

To give a complete idea of the local influences under which Frau Aja grew up, we must mention one other yearly Frankfurt happening, the breaking up of the ice on the River Main. This was no trivial event, for sometimes, as in 1784, it meant a flood and its dire consequences.

It took place about January, though the exact moment was never known beforehand, a circumtance which made it very exciting.

" The old gentleman has now been ice-bound fifteen weeks," Frau Aja once wrote to a friend. 11 It is a terrific sight."

And, again, writing to the Duchess Amalia on March 1, 1784, she thus describes that terrible time :

" Our villages were mostly under water. If it were not for the misfortune, the breaking of the ice was a grand scene — the cracking of the breaking ice — the fearful great masses of ice, which towered themselves up like mountains and rolled over each other with great thunderings — the roaring of the main stream, the thunder of the cannons that bellowed between, to give the town of Maintz the signal that the Main had risen — the tumult of the people, the clatter of the waggons, which had emptied their wares into the merchants' warehouses, altogether it was enough to frighten the stoutest heart."

No wonder that every one, if it happened in the daytime, ran out to see it. On that occasion the water rose in the streets, and even reached the cellars of the houses in the Hirscboraben street, about a quarter of a mile from the river.

We see, then, that Elizabeth Textor's young life suffered in no way from provincial stagnation. Much was always going on in Frankfurt, many men came and went there, and life moved briskly.

She herself thus speaks of her native city : 11 Frankfurt is a curious place, all who pass through it have to pass back."