This room was the realm of Cornelia Goethe, who was only 15 months younger than her brother. The siblings grew up close, like twins, and were also given instruction together, something unusual for a girl at the time.

In addition to a bed, you must imagine a writing desk here, at which Cornelia wrote her numerous letters.

In 1773 Cornelia married the lawyer and writer Johann Georg Schlosser, a friend of her brother. She moved with him to Emmendingen, a small country town on the edge of the Black Forest. The marriage was unhappy, and Cornelia suffered bouts of depression. She died in 1777 at the age of 26 after the birth of her second child. Goethe had last seen his sister in 1775 when he spent a few days in Emmendingen on his way to Switzerland.

Goethe, who was very close to his sister, writes in Poetry and Truth:

Her lovely figure was an advantage, but her facial features were not, for although they expressed kindness, intelligence, and sympathy distinctly enough they were somewhat lacking in regularity and grace. [...] She had a firm, not easily subdued character, a sympathetic and sympathy-seeking soul, superior cultivation of mind, excellent knowledge, as well as talents, mastery of several languages, and a skilled pen, so that, had she only been well favored on the outside, she would have been counted among the most sought-after women of her time.

Goethe: From My Life. Poetry and Truth, part 4 , book 18

In a letter in the summer of 1773 to her actress friend Sophie von La Roche Cornelia Goethe wrote:

Yesterday evening was one of the loveliest in my life, and who do you think made it so? None other than our dear Dümeix, who threw a splendid party in his garden – the garden you know, my dear friend. Imagine the lonely, dark, quiet paths all lit up, the most delightful night in the world, with music and a table laden refreshing food and drink. I thought I was in an enchanted castle. I can’t say how often I wished you and your dear Max were there. That would have made our happiness complete. If I were capable of expressing it in words, I would describe all the romantic scenes for you: how the lights were hidden by the leaves of the grapevines; how we saw none, but the glow of all; how the fruit trees hung down into our midst and were bathed in a very strange light, not only from the night outside, but also from the light within; how a solemn quiet filled the wooded property and the music had the most pleasant effect of all. But I cannot and will not. It would fill your mind with pictures that would not do justice to the matter at all.

Cornelia Goethe to Sophie von La Roche on 12 August 1773 (Goethe-Jb 28)