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the agreeable, nay profound, impression her beauty and grace made upon him.[1] Lenz, who was the rival of Goethe in poesy, aspired to rival him as a lover. He carried the power of self-delusion so far as to assert that Frederika was as much in love with him as he with her. Poor Lenz, whose extravagances shortly afterwards culminated in insanity, was a passionate student of English literature and admirer of the English character. In proof of the high esteem in which he held our literature of the last century, it may be added that he borrowed from Salzmann for Frederika's perusal a translation of Fielding's "Tom Jones"! We shall give in its right place Frederika's account, as reported by Goethe, of Lenz's eccentric conduct in Sesenheim.
After Lenz's courtship Frederika had many other offers of marriage, but she refused them all, saying that "the heart which had once been Goethe's should never belong to any one else." The bud which had turned so confidingly towards the treacherous sun of Goethe's love refused to unfold its charms beneath other influences. And in this her fate distinguishes itself from that of the other young women whose misfortune as well as "distinction" it was to attract the beautiful, but dangerous, youth. Annette, as we have said, threw him off and married another; Charlotte was virtually, if not formally, plighted before Goethe saw her; there is no reason to suppose that Lili ever suffered much from the rupture with her betrothed: she married happily in Strasburg; but Frederika, by her obstinate celibacy, showed how worthy she was to have shared Goethe's fate, and at the same time made the story of her life a tragical protest in behalf of the moral rights of her sex.
How different was Goethe's conduct! After a short period of remorse, which he endeavoured to assuage by melancholy wanderings in the country around Frankfort, he found consolation in new flirtations. In the summer of 1772 we find him making love to Charlotte Buff of Wetzlar, who, most fortunately for her, was already betrothed, and whose healthy nature, as described in "The Sorrows of Werther," enabled her to resist Goethe's dangerous fascination.[2] After failing in this attempt to ruin the relation between Charlotte and his friend Kestner, he sailed down the Rhine and in Ehrenbreitstein forgot Charlotte while under the influence of Maximiliana la Roche's bright eyes. By the next year Miss la Roche has become Madame Brentano of Frankfort, and Goethe, who was so averse to marriage, seems to have taken kindly to an intrigue. In December, 1774, he meets Lili (Elizabeth Schönemann), another young lady of 16 years of age, and is solemnly betrothed to her, but long before 1775 had come to a close, the relation to Lili was capriciously broken off. In Weimar he at last reaches a haven. He sees the Baroness von Stein, a married lady living with her husband on her husband's estate. She is nearly seven years older than Goethe, and has given birth to a numerous progeny. Goethe is received as a guest, and departs as a lover. He is more constant to the mature married lady and woman of the world than to Frederika and Lili. Only in 1788, after his return from Italy and after his acquaintance with the baroness had lasted twelve years, did she appear too old in his eyes. Perhaps, too, he had grown ashamed of the peculiar tie and preferred not to renew it after his return to Weimar. From this time commences his connection with Christiane Vulpius, which, though not worthy of his better nature, contrasts favourably in a moral point of view with that which preceded it. He was not blessed as a father. But one of his children outlived infancy. His only son, though inheriting some of his father's genius, inherited also both his father's and his mother's strong sensual impulses. He lived rakishly and died a rake's death. The great poet outlived his only son. Surely there was a just Nemesis in all this!
As a man of the world, Goethe forgot Frederika soon after he quitted Strasburg, but as a man of letters his memory was truer, his conscience tenderer. In the characters of Weisslingen in the drama of "Götz von Berlichingen," and of Clavigo in the play of that name, both faithless lovers, he confesses that he represents himself in his relation to Frederika. In the drama of the "Geschwister," written in 1776, he puts into the mouth of another unfaithful lover the following plaint:—"Thou liest heavy upon me and art just, retributive Fate! Why dost thou stand there, and thou too, just for the moment. Forgive ye me! Have I not suffered for it? Forgive! It is of long standing! I have suffered immeasurably. I seemed to love ye—I thought I loved ye; with thoughtless attentions I opened your hearts and made you miserable." With these literary penances he thought, doubtless, to make full atonement and quiet his conscience. Most remarkable of all testimonies to his contrition as a man of letters is that of his secretary, Kröntner, to whom, when sixty-three years of age, he dictated the part of the Autobiography which touched upon Frederika. Goethe usually