Citizen of Weickersheim, a small town in the Jaxt district, near Mergentheim.

WOLFGANG WEBER,

Councillor at Hohenlohe, and Director of the Chancery at Neuenstein; according to the custom of the time, translated his family name WEBER into Latin, and called himself TEXTOR.

JOHANN WOLFGANG TEXTOR,

Born at Neuenstein; until 1690, Vice Court Judge and President-Vicar at the Electoral Court of Justice at Heidelberg; afterwards Consul and First Syndic at Frankfort; died there Dec. 27, 1701.

GENEALOGICAL TABLE OF THE GOETHE FAMILY.

FRIEDRICH GEORG GOETHE,

Born Sept. 7, 1657, at Artern, in the county of Mansfeld, where his father was a farrier; from 1687 a citizen and tailor in Frankfort-
on-the-Main; married first, ANNA ELIZABETH LUTZ, a tailor's daughter (died 1700); secondly, May 4, 1705, MRS. CORNELIA SCHELL-
HORN (born Sept. 27, 1668; buried March 28, 1754); died as keeper of the inn Zum Weidenhof at Frankfort; buried Feb. 13, 1730.

WALTHER WOLFGANG V.
GOETHE, born Feb., 1818.

GOETHE, born Sept. 18, Oct., 1827, died 1844. 1820.

Goethe's father, who had studied law in Leipsic and practised it for awhile in Wetzlar, and had travelled in Italy, Holland, and France, so that in those days he appeared an exceptionally cultivated burgher, was a cold, stern, formal, somewhat pedantic, but truth-loving, upright-minded man. He hungered for knowledge; and, although in general of a laconic turn, freely imparted all he learned. In his domestic circle his word was law. Not only imperious, but in some respects capricious, he was nevertheless greatly respected, if little loved, by wife, children, and friends. He is characterised by Krause as ein geradliniger Frankfurter Reichsbürger-" a formal Frankfort citizen" whose habits were as measured as his gait.1 From him the poet inherited the well-built frame, the erect carriage, and the measured movement, which in old age became stiffness, and was construed as diplomacy or haughtiness; from him also came that orderliness and stoicism which have so much distressed those who cannot conceive genius otherwise than as vagabond in its habits. The craving for knowledge, the delight in communicating it, the almost pedantic attention to details, which are noticeable in the poet, are all traceable in the father.

The mother was more like what we conceive as the proper parent for a poet. She is one of the pleasantest figures in German literature, and one standing out with greater vividness than almost any other. Her simple, hearty, joyous, and affectionate nature endeared her to all. She was the delight of children, the favourite of poets and princes. To the last retaining her enthusiasm and simplicity, mingled with great shrewd

1 Perhaps geradliniger might be translated as "an old squaretoes," having reference to the antiquated cut of the old man's clothes. The fathers of the present generation dubbed the stiff coat of their grandfathers, with its square skirts and collars, by the name of magister matheseos, the name by which the Pythagorean proposition is known in Germany.

ness and knowledge of character, Frau Aja as they christened her, was at once grave and hearty, dignified and simple. She had read most of the best German. and Italian authors, had picked up considerable desultory information, and had that "mother wit" which so often in women and poets seems to render culture superfluous, their rapid intuitions anticipating the tardy conclusions of experience. Her letters are full of spirit: not always strictly grammatical; not irreproachable in orthography; but vigorous and vivacious. After a lengthened interview with her, an enthusiast exclaimed, "Now do I understand how Goethe has become the man he is!"1 Wieland, Merck, Bürger, Madame de Staël, Karl August, and other great people sought her acquaintance. The Duchess Amalia corresponded with her as with an intimate friend; and her letters were welcomed eagerly at the Weimar Court.2 She was married at seventeen, to a man for whom she had no love, and was only eighteen when the poet was born.3 This, instead of making her prematurely old, seems to have perpetuated her girlhood. "I and my Wolfgang," she said, " have always held fast to each other, because we were both young together." To him she transmitted her love of

1" Ephemeriden der Literatur," quoted in "Nicolovius über Goethe."

2 A large portion of this correspondence has recently been published ("Briefwechsel von Katharina Elizabeth Goethe," 1871), and amply proves what, from private sources, I had been able to state in the text. The letters, both of the Duchess Amalia and the Frau Rath, are very amusing, very unrestrained, and extremely unlike any other correspondences between the court and the bourgeoisie. Indeed they are not unfrequently more like what one would expect to find two lively grocers writing to each other. There is a free and easy tone which the editor idealises when he says thatthe wash of the Main is heard between the lines, and the vineyards look down on every sentence." It is interesting to see how every one at the court writes to her as "dear mother" and sends her all the gossip of the hour.

3 Lovers of parallels may be reminded that Napoleon's mother was only eighteen when the hero of Austerlitz was born.

story-telling, her animal spirits, her love of everything which bore the stamp of distinctive individuality, and her love of seeing happy faces around her. "Order and quiet," she says in one of her charming letters to Freiherr von Stein, "are my principal characteristics. Hence I despatch at once whatever I have to do, the most disagreeable always first, and I gulp down the devil without looking at him. When all has returned to its proper state, then I defy any one to surpass me in good humour." Her heartiness and tolerance are the causes, she thinks, why every one likes her. "I am fond of people, and that every one feels directlyyoung and old. I pass without pretension through the world, and that gratifies people. I never bemoralise any one always seek out the good that is in them, and leave what is bad to him who made mankind and knows how to round off the angles. In this way I make myself happy and comfortable." Who does not recognise the son in those accents? kindliest of men inherited his loving nature from the heartiest of women.

The

He also inherited from her his dislike of unnecessary agitation and emotion: that deliberate avoidance of all things capable of disturbing his peace of mind, which has been construed as coldness. Her sunny nature shrank from storms. She stipulated with her servants that they were not to trouble her with afflictings news, except upon some positive necessity for the communication. In 1805, when her son was dangerously ill at Weimar, no one ventured to speak to her on the subject. Not until he had completely recovered did she voluntarily enter on it. “I knew it all," she remarked, "but said nothing. Now we can talk about him without my feeling a stab every time his name is mentioned."

In this voluntary insulation from disastrous intelligence, there is something so antagonistic to the notori