Behind the author, behind the poet, behind the world-renowned genius, a not unreasonable curiosity seeks the original man, the human individual, as he walked among men, his manner of being, his characteristics, as shown in the converse of life.  In what soil grew the flowers and ripened the fruits which have been the delight and the aliment of nations?  In proportion, of course, to the eminence attained by a writer,—­in proportion to the worth of his works, to their hold on the world,—­is the interest felt in his personality and behavior, in the incidents of his life.  Unfortunately, our knowledge of the person is not always proportioned to the lustre of the name.  Of the two great poets to whom the world’s unrepealable verdict has assigned the foremost place in their several kinds, we know in one case absolutely nothing, and next to nothing in the other.  To the question, Who sung the wrath of Achilles and the wanderings of the much-versed Odysseus? tradition answers with a name to which no faintest shadow of a person corresponds.  To the question, Who composed “Hamlet” and “Othello”? history answers with a person so indistinct that recent speculation has dared to question the agency of Shakspeare in those creations.  What would not the old scholiasts have given for satisfactory proofs of the existence of a Homer identical with the author of the Iliad and the Odyssey?  What would not the Shakspeare clubs give for one more authentic anecdote of the world’s great dramatist?

Of Goethe we know more—­I mean of his externals—­than of any other writer of equal note.  This is due in part to his wide relations, official and other, with his contemporaries; to his large correspondence with people of note, of which the documents have been preserved by the parties addressed; to the interest felt in him by curious observers living in the day of his greatness.  It is due in part also to the fact that, unlike the greatest of his predecessors, he flourished in an all-communicating, all-recording age; and partly it is due to autobiographical notices, embracing important portions of his history.

Two seemingly opposite factors—­limiting and qualifying the one the other—­determined the course and topics of his life.  One was the aim which he proposed to himself as the governing principle and purpose of his being,—­to perfect himself, to make the most of the nature which God had given him; the other was a constitutional tendency to come out of himself, to lose himself in objects, especially in natural objects, so that in the study of nature—­to which he devoted a large part of his life—­he seems not so much a scientific observer as a chosen confidant, to whom the discerning Mother revealed her secrets.

In no greatest genius are all its talents self-derived.  Countless influences mould our intellect and mould our heart.  One of these, and often one of the most potent, is heredity.  Consciously or unconsciously, for good or for evil, physically and mentally, the father and mother are in the child, as indeed all his ancestors are in every man.