thesis was tinctured with alarming sentiments which savored of Rousseau. The faculty felt itself justified in stamping such dangerous doctrines with its disapproval. This was not what the old gentleman in Frankfort had looked forward to, and it is presumable that the reception he gave his son, when he returned in 1771 to the city of his fathers, was not over-cordial. He was probably not wise enough to see that he himself was to blame for having compelled the boy to devote himself to a study for which he had neither taste nor inclination.

An incident of Goethe's life in Strassburg, which greatly influenced his literary activity, was his meeting with Frederika Brion, the daughter of the parson at Sesenheim. The parsonage was about six hours' journey from the city, and Goethe was in the habit of visiting there with his friend Weyland, who was a relative of the family. The parson was a plain, God-fearing man, who went about in dressing-gown and slippers and with a long pipe in his mouth. His daughters, Salome and Frederika, were what the daughters of country clergymen are apt to be-nice, domestic girls, who would make charming wives for almost anybody who would have the good sense to propose to them. Frederika was pretty, and moreover she had an unfortified heart. She possessed a few artless accomplishments-such as playing and singing-but when she was to display these before company, everything went wrong. Her portrait, as drawn by Goethe in his autobiography, is one of the loveliest things in German lit

erature. Her simple talk and strictly practical interests, far removed from all sentimentality, seemed to be in perfect accord with her little "tip-tilted nose" and her half-rustic Alsatian costume. It is obvious that she appealed to Goethe's artistic nature; that he gloried in the romantic phases of his simple life at the parsonage. He had already then the keenest appreciation of what one might call the literary aspect of his experiences. He knew at once, and probably anticipated in spirit, how they would look in a book. But he was at the same time an inflammable youth, whose heart was readily touched through the medium of his fancy. By degrees, as he established himself in the favor of every member of the Brion family, his relation to Frederika became that of a lover. The father and the mother accepted him in this capacity, and Frederika herself was overflowing with deep and quiet happiness. By an unlucky chance, however, the two Brion sisters were invited to spend some time with friends in Strassburg. Goethe was charmed at the prospect. But, strange to say, torn out of the idyllic frame in which he had been wont to see her, Frederika seemed no longer so miraculous. She needed the rural parsonage and the yellow wheat-fields for a setting; amid the upholstered furniture and gilded conventionalities of the city she seemed only a simple-hearted country girl, perhaps a little deficient in manners. From that time the charm was broken. Frederika returned to her home; Goethe, too, soon left Strassburg. Freder

ika waited for him month after month, but he did not come. He lacked courage to tell her of the changed state of his feelings, and left her to pine away between hope and cruel disappointment. A serious illness was the result, which came near ending her life. Eight years later Goethe, then a worldrenowned man, revisited Sesenheim and found her yet unmarried. She was as frank and friendly as ever, but her youthful gayety was gone; she was pale, hushed, and subdued. She made no allusion to the relation which had once existed between them, but she conducted him silently to the arbor in the garden where they had spent so many rapturous hours together. There they sat down and talked of indifferent things; but many strange thoughts arose in the minds of both.

Frederika died of consumption in 1813.

After his return to Frankfort, in 1771, Goethe made an earnest effort to please his father by laying the foundation of a legal practice. The counsellor himself aided him in every possible way, looked up his authorities, and acted as a private referee in doubtful questions. For all that, it was literature and not law which filled Goethe's mind and fashioned his visions of the future. In the intervals of business he paid visits to the city of Darmstadt, where he made the acquaintance of Herder's fiancée, Caroline Flachsland, and of Merck, who became his model for Mephistopheles. It was an interesting society which he here encountered, a society animated by an exalted veneration for poetic and intel

lectual achievements and devoted to a kind of emotional extravagance-an artificial heightening of every fine feeling and sentiment. Caroline Flachsland and her circle, recognizing Goethe's extraordinary endowment, and feeling, perhaps, doubly inclined in his favor by his handsome exterior, accepted him, as it were, on trust, and honored him for what he was going to do rather than for anything which he had actually accomplished. His love affair with Frederika, which was here sentimentally discussed, also added to the interest with which he was regarded. A man who is known to have broken many hearts is naturally invested with a tantalizing charm to women who have yet hearts/ to be broken. At all events the great expectations which were entertained of him in the Darmstadt circle, stimulated him to justify the reputation which had been thrust upon him. In 1772 he published the drama, "Götz von Berlichingen," which at one stroke established his position as the foremost among German poets. It must be remembered, however, that Germany had at that time no really great poet. Lessing was, indeed, alive, and had written dramas which, in point of theatrical effectiveness and brilliancy, were superior to "Götz." But Lessing disclaimed the title of poet, and his prominence as a critic and a polemic defender of rationalism overshadowed, in the minds of his contemporaries, his earlier activity in the service of the muses. Moreover, it is not to be denied that "Götz," with all its crudity of construction, is a

warmer and more full-blooded production than any of the plays which Lessing had written for the purpose of demonstrating the soundness of his canons of dramatic criticism.

"Götz" is a somewhat chaotic performance, obviously written in imitation of Shakespeare. It violates, whether purposely or not, every law of dramatic construction. It is a touching and poetical story, displaying psychological insight and vigorous characterization. But it takes a nimble fancy to keep up with the perpetual changes of scene; and even the tendency and morale of the piece are open to criticism. Goethe enlists the reader's sympathies in behalf of the law-breaker, whose sturdy manhood and stubborn independence bring him into conflict with the state. Götz, in spite of his personal merits, represents the wild and disorderly individualism of the Middle Ages, at war with the forces of order and social progress, represented by the Emperor and the free cities. Therefore it is scarcely proper to apostrophize him as the martyr of a noble cause.

In "Götz" Goethe deals, secondarily, with faithlessness as a psychological problem. He practically assigns to himself the part of the villain, Weisslingen, who from sheer weakness, "possessing no resolution either for good or for ill," breaks the heart of a noble young girl. But Weisslingen is faithless not because of any sinister delight in breaking hearts, but because he lacks the courage to be true, when he falls under the spell of a more dazzling and