You may, in this case also, justify yourself as having been quite true to nature, but I doubt whether you will be able to do this as regards the "sentimental" demands of your readers; and therefore—in order that nothing should interfere with the reader's acceptance of a scene which is so splendidly motivated and so well worked out—I would advise you to pay some attention to it.
Otherwise, I find everything you do with Mignon, when living as well as when dead, most uncommonly beautiful. This pure and poetic creature is specially and excellently qualified to have so poetical a funeral. In her isolated condition, her mysterious existence, her purity and innocence, she is so truly a representative of the period of life in which she stands that she moves one to a feeling of unmixed sadness and genuine human sorrow, for nothing but pure humanity was manifested in her. That which, in every other individual, would be inconsistent, nay, in a certain sense, revolting, is, in her, sublime and noble.
I should have liked to see the appearance of the Marquis in the family motivated by something more than his mere dilettanteism in art. He is too indispensable to the development, and the need of his interference might easily have been made more conspicuous than the inner necessity. You have yourself spoilt the reader by the arrangement of the rest of your work, and have justified him in making greater demands than can generally be required of novel writers. Could not the Marquis be made an old acquaintance of Lothar or of the Uncle, and his journey hither be more interwoven with the whole?
The end, as well as the whole history of the Harpist, excites the greatest interest. I have already said how excellent I find your thought of deriving the terrible destinies of the Harpist and of Mignon from religious extravagance. The priest's notion of describing a small transgression as monstrous, in order that a great crime—which he will not mention for humanity's sake—may be atoned for by it, is sublime of its kind and a worthy representative of this whole mode of thinking. You might perhaps make Sperate's story a little shorter still, as it comes in at the end where one is prone to hurry impatiently to the goal.
That the Harpist should prove to be Mignon's father, and that you yourself do not mention it or thrust it at the reader, makes the effect all the greater. One is forced to reflect upon the fact oneself, to recall to mind how close in life was the relation which existed between these two mysterious natures, and to look down into an unfathomable depth of fate. But no more for today. My wife wishes to inclose a little note to tell you her impressions of your Eighth Book.
Farewell, my beloved, my esteemed friend! I am deeply moved when I think that that which we otherwise look for and rarely find in the far distance of favored antiquity lies so close to me in you. You need no longer be astonished that there are so few who are capable or worthy of understanding you. The wonderful naturalness, truth, and fluency of your description hide from the common herd of critics every thought of the difficulty, of the grandness of your art, and those who are capable of following the artist, who perceive the means by which the effects have been produced, will feel themselves so averse, so hostile toward the genial power which they there see in action, and find their needy selves in such straits, that they will angrily thrust the work from them, while in their hearts—though with de mauvaise grace—they are certain to be your liveliest worshippers.
GOETHE to SCHILLER Weimar, July 5, 1796.
As soon as I received your first letter I at once sat down to write to you; but verily your two following letters have come to me, in the midst of my truly worldly occupations, like two voices from another world to which I can do naught but listen. Pray continue to refresh and to encourage me! Your suggestions will enable me to finish the Eighth Book as soon as I am able again to take it in hand. I already possess the means to satisfy nearly every one of your suggestions, by which, moreover, even to my mind, the whole work becomes more connected at the points in question, and both truer and more pleasing. Do not become weary of telling me your opinion frankly, and keep the book a week longer. What you require of Cellini I shall meanwhile push forward; I shall also give you a sketch of what I still think of doing to my Eighth Book, and hence the last transcript shall be out of our hands by the beginning of August.
Your letters are now my sole recreation, and you must know how grateful I am to you for having so unexpectedly set my mind at ease about so many points. Farewell, and give my kind greetings to your dear wife.
GOETHE to SCHILLER
March 18, 1799.
I congratulate you with all my heart upon having finished your work; it has given me particular satisfaction, although I have, so to say, but tasted the outside of it, and that on a most disturbed morning. For stage purposes it is quite sufficiently developed; the new motives, which I did not know of, are very good and to the point.
If, at some future time, you could cut off a little from The Piccolomini, both pieces would be a priceless gift to the German stage, and they would have to be given throughout many a long year.
The last piece has, it is true, this great merit, that everything ceases to be political and becomes of purely human interest; nay, the historical element itself is but a light veil through which we have the purely human element shining forth. The effect upon the mind is neither interfered with nor disturbed.
I would certainly close with the monologue by the Princess, for it is, in any case, left to the imagination as to what becomes of her. It might perhaps be well, eventually, to have the Equerry introduced in the first piece.
The close of the whole with the address of the letter is, in reality, frightening, especially considering the tender state of one's feelings at the moment. It is doubtless an exceptional case to conclude with what is terrible after having exhausted all that was capable of rousing fear and pity.
I shall not add more, and can but say that I am delighted at the prospect of enjoying this work with you. I hope still to be able to start on Thursday. You shall know for certain on Wednesday; we will then read the play together, and I intend then to enjoy it in a thoroughly composed state of mind.
Farewell; take a rest now and let us both begin a new life during the vacation. My kind greetings to your dear wife, and think of me.
I do not intend, just yet, to boast of the work extorted from the Muses; it is still a great question whether it is worth anything; in any case, however, it may be regarded as preparatory.
SCHILLER to GOETHE
Jena, March 19, 1799.
I have for long dreaded the moment when I should be rid of my work, much as I wished for the time to come; and, in fact, I do feel my present freedom to be worse than the state of bondage I have hitherto been in. The mass which has formerly drawn and held me to it has now gone, and I feel as if I were hanging indefinitely in empty space. At the same time I feel also as if it were absolutely impossible for me ever to produce anything again; I shall not be at rest till I once more have my thoughts turned to some definite subject, with hope and inclination in view. When I again have some definite object before me, I shall be rid of the feeling of restlessness which at present is also drawing me off from smaller things I have in hand. When you come I mean to lay before you some tragic materials of my own invention, in order that I may not, in the first instance, make a mistake as regards subject. Inclination and necessity draw me toward subjects of pure fancy, not to historical ones, and toward such in which the interest is of a purely sentimental and human character; for of soldiers, heroes, and commanders, I am now heartily tired.
How I envy you your present activity—your latest! You are standing on the purest and sublimest poetic ground, in the most beautiful world of definite figures where everything is ready-made or can be re-made. You are, so to say, living in the home of poetry and being waited upon by the gods. During these last days I have again been looking into Homer, and there have read of the visit of Thetis to Vulcan with immense pleasure. There is, in the graceful description of a domestic visit such as we might receive any day, and in an account of any kind of handicraft, an infinity of material and form, and the Naïve shows the full nature of the Divine.
Your hope of being able to finish the Achilleid by August, or, at least, your believing it to be possible to do so, is to me inconceivable, notwithstanding all the proofs I have myself had of the rapidity with which you get through things, especially as you do not even reckon upon having April for work. I sincerely regret that you will lose this month; perhaps, however, you will be able to preserve your epic mood; if so, be sure not to allow theatrical cares to disturb you. I will gladly relieve you of whatever trouble I can in connection with Wallenstein.
A few days ago Imhof sent me the last two cantos of her poem, which have given me very great pleasure. The development is extremely refined and pure, and is accomplished by simple means and unusual elegance. When you come we will talk it over together.
I herewith return The Piccolomini, and beg you to let me have Wallenstein's Camp, which I wish likewise to have copied out, and shall then, at last, be able to send the three plays to Körner.
The box of groats has been called for and delivered up in your name to a Herr Meyer. You have, no doubt, already received it. Farewell. My wife sends kindest greetings. Tomorrow I hope to hear that we may expect you on Thursday.
SCHILLER to GOETHE
Weimar, July 30, 1800. The cheerful tone of your letter proves to me that things are going well with you in Jena, and I congratulate you that such is the case. I cannot boast the same of myself; the state of the barometer, which is so favorable to you, brings on my spasms, and I do not sleep well. Owing to this state of things, it was very welcome news to me to hear from Körner that he could not undertake the journey. I shall, therefore, not go to Lauchstedt, and shall thus have an unexpected gain in time and also in money; for, much as I should have liked to see him again, it would just at present have been a little inconvenient to me.
I congratulate you upon the progress you have made in your work. The liberty which you appear to be taking with the French original, I look upon as a good sign of the productive state of your mind, and also augur from this that the work will bring us a step further forward than Mahomet did. I am looking forward eagerly to seeing your work and to our discussions upon it.
If you carry out your idea respecting the choruses, we shall be making an important experiment on the stage. My piece, too, will, I hope, be so far advanced by the time you return that I may lay the finished sketch of it before you, in order to assure myself that you approve of it before I set about working it out. During the last few days I have likewise been engaged with the conclusion of my collection of poems. The stanzas on Mahomet I have also had printed in it. If you are curious to see them, Goepferdt could send you sheets R and S as soon as they have been printed off.
Kirms sent me a very welcome today, for which I send you my best thanks.
My wife sends kindest greetings. May you farewell and enjoy the gay variety of entertainments by which you are surrounded in Jena. Mellish passed through here yesterday, and has again taken up his abode in Doernburg. I hear a great deal about the merry life they are leading in Wilhelmsthal, where the proceedings are evidently very Utopian. My sister-in-law met with a serious accident in the carriage, which broke in two; however, she herself was not hurt. Farewell.
GOETHE to SCHILLER
Jena, August I, 1800.
Tancred I laid aside yesterday morning. I have translated—and here and there a little more than this—the close of the second act and the third and fourth acts, with the exception of the close of the two latter. By this means, as I think, I have secured the worthier parts of the piece, to which I shall now have to add something of my own that is life-giving, so that the beginning and the end may become somewhat fuller than the original. The choruses will be very appropriate; however, I shall nevertheless have to act very cautiously so as not to injure the whole. Still, once being upon the path we have entered, I shall never regret working out and accomplishing this task.
Yesterday I attended to some business matters, and today solved a small difficulty in Faust; if I could remain here another fortnight it should assume quite a different appearance. However, I have unfortunately taken it into my head that my presence is required in Weimar, and I am going to sacrifice my dearest wish to this fancy.
In other ways, also, these last few days have not been unfruitful in many good things. We have long pondered over a Bride in Sorrow. Tieck, in his poetic journal, reminds me of an old marionette play called the Hoellenbraul, which I too remember to have seen in my young days. It is a pendent to Faust, or, rather, to Don Juan. An extremely vain and heartless girl, who has ruined her faithful lover, consents to accept an unknown stranger as her betrothed, and he, in the end, as a devil, carries her off with him—as she deserves. Ought we not to be able to find the idea for a bride in sorrow here—at least in this direction?
I have been reading a treatise of Baader's on the Pythagorean square in nature, or the four quarters of the globe. Whether it be that I have for some years past interested myself more in this species of writing, or that he has contrived to make his intentions clearer, the little work has pleased me and has served me as an introduction to his earlier writings; however, my faculties are still unable to comprehend all of the latter.
A student here, who is engaged with the anatomy of insects, dissected some very neatly and explained them to me, and I have thus made progress in this branch also, partly in knowledge of the subject itself, partly also in the treatment of it.
If a young man like this could have some definite object given him to work at, if only for four months, many very pleasant things might be the result. However, if I can come over here again before the time when certain cater-pillars change into chrysalies, I shall assuredly try to make use of his ability and dexterity. One might, indeed, easily do such things oneself, were it not that they would at once lead one over into an entirely different sphere. On Monday I shall be with you again, and shall have a number of things to bring with me and to relate.
Farewell meanwhile, and hold me in remembrance.
GOETHE to SCHILLER
Ober-Rossla, April 6, 1801.
I wish you all happiness upon your return to Weimar, and hope soon to see you again, either by your coming to pay me a visit or by my again repairing to town.
My stay here suits me very well, partly because I move about in the open air all day, partly because I am drawn down to the common objects of life, and thus there comes over me a certain feeling of nonchalance and indifference such as I have not known for a long time.
With regard to the questions contained in your last letter, I not only agree with your opinion, but go even further. I think that everything that is done by genius as genius, is done unconsciously. A person of genius can also act rationally, with reflection, from conviction, but this is all done, as it were, indirectly. No work of genius can be improved or be freed from its faults by reflection and its immediate results, but genius can, by means of reflection and action, be gradually raised to a degree that in the end shall produce exemplary works. The more genius a century possesses, the more are individual things advanced.
With regard to the great demands now made of the poet, I too am of the opinion that these will not readily call forth a poet. The art of poetry requires of the person who is to exercise it a certain good-natured kind of narrowness enamored of what is Real, behind which lies concealed what is Absolute. Demands made by criticism destroy the innocent, productive state, and give us as genuine poetry—in place of poetry—something that is in fact no poetry at all, as unfortunately we have seen in our own day; and the same is the case with the kindred arts—nay, with Art in its widest sense.
This is my confession of faith, which otherwise does not make any further claims.
I expect much good from your latest work. It is well conceived, and, if you devote sufficient time to it, will round itself off of its own accord. Faust also has meanwhile had something done to it. I hope that soon the only thing wanting in the great gap will be the disputation; this, it is true, will have to be looked upon as a distinct piece of work, and one which will not be accomplished at a moment's notice.
The famous prize-question also has not been lost sight of during these days. In order to obtain an empiric foundation for my observations, I have commenced examining the character of the different European nations. In Link's Travels I have read a good deal more about Portugal, and shall now pass on to Spain. I am daily becoming more convinced how much more limited everything appears when such observations are made from within.
Ritter came to see me for a minute, and has, among other things, directed my attention again to the theory of colors. Herschel's new discoveries, which have been carried further and extended by our young naturalist, are very beautifully connected with that observation which I have frequently told you of—that Bolognian phosphorus does not receive any light on the yellow-red side of the spectrum, but certainly does so on the blue-red side. The physical colors are thereby identified with the chemical colors. The time and care which I have devoted to this subject give me the greatest advantage in judging of new observations, inasmuch as, in fact, I have thought out some new experiments which will carry the matter further still. I foresee that I shall this year write at least two or three chapters more in my theory of colors. I am anxious, some day soon, to show you the latest.
Would you care to come to me on Thursday with Professor Meyer? Please talk this over with him, and I will then write to him more fully on the subject. Meanwhile, farewell.
SCHILLER to GOETHE
Weimar, August 18, 1802.
You can never be inactive, and what you call an unproductive mood most other people would consider time fully occupied. If only some subordinate genius—one of those very persons residing and presiding at the universities—would give the finishing touch to your scientific ideas, collect and edit them fairly, and, in this way, preserve them for the world! For, unfortunately, you yourself will always be putting off this business, because, as I think, what is actually didactic is not a part of your nature. You are, in reality, very well qualified for being appropriated and plundered by others during your own lifetime, as has already happened to you several times and would happen more frequently still if people understood their own advantage better.
If we had become acquainted with each other half a dozen years earlier than we did, I should have had time to master your scientific investigations; I should perhaps have sustained your inclination to give these important subjects their ultimate shape, and, in any case, should have honestly looked after what belonged to you.
I have lately been reading some notices on the elder Pliny, which have astonished me in regard to what a man can accomplish by putting time to good use. Compared with him, even Haller was a time-squanderer. But I am afraid that the immense amount of time he devoted to reading, making quotations and dictating, left him no proper time for independent reflection, and he seems to have applied all the activity of his mind to acquiring knowledge; for on one occasion he called his nephew severely to task for walking up and down the garden without having a book in his hand.
During these last days I have been hard at work with my play, and, moreover, not unsuccessfully; and I have never yet learned so much from any work of my own as from this. It is one I can more readily survey and also more readily manage; besides, it is a more grateful and enjoyable task to make a simple subject rich and full of substance than to limit one that is too rich and broad.
Otherwise, however, a variety of things are at present engaging my thoughts; and, as political affairs may also affect my circumstances, I am awaiting my fate not without anxiety. There are also other things which threaten to drag me out of my old position, and which, therefore, are not agreeable to me.
The repairs I am having made and other arrangements will, I hope, be finished this week; and when you return I shall be able to bid you welcome in a clean and pretty house. Farewell, and let me soon hear that you are coming back to us with a rich gift.
GOETHE to SCHILLER
Jena, December 13, 1803.
It was to be expected that I should be recalled when Madame de Stael came to Weimar. * * * If she comes to pay me a visit, she shall be well received, and, if I know of her coming four-and-twenty hours beforehand, a part of Loder's house shall be furnished for her use; she would find homely fare, but we should really meet and speak to each other, and she could remain as long as she liked. What I have to do here can be done at odd quarters of an hour, and the rest of my time I would place at her disposal; but to drive over in such weather as this, to have to dress, to be at court and in society, is utterly impossible. This I maintain as positively as was ever declared by yourself in similar circumstances.
Take this as a friendly guidance for your actions, for I desire nothing more than actually to see and to become acquainted with this remarkable and highly respected woman, and I wish for nothing so much as that she may care to take this drive of a couple of hours for my sake. On her journey she must have become accustomed to worse fare than she will find here. Arrange and manage these things with your gentle, friendly hand, and send me an express messenger at once, as soon as anything important occurs.
I wish you success in everything that your solitude produces, according as you yourself may wish and desire! I am rowing about in a foreign element, nay, I may say that I am merely paddling about in it, with loss to things without, and without satisfaction from within or toward within. But—as I am always learning more distinctly from Polygnotus and Homer—we have in reality to conceive hell as existing here; thus it may be considered to be also a life. A thousand farewells in a heavenly sense!
SCHILLER to GOETHE
January 14, 1805.
I am very sorry to hear that your having to keep at home is not voluntary on your part. Unfortunately, we are none of us quite strong, and he who is of necessity forced to learn to put up with being ill has the best of it. I am very glad now that I formed a determination and have commenced to occupy myself with a translation; thus these days of misery have, at all events, been put to some use, and I have lived and been active. During the next eight days I shall try to see whether I can put myself into the proper humor for my Demetrius, which, however, I fear I shall not be able to do. If it cannot be managed, I shall have to look up some other semi-mechanical work.
LETTERS TO CHARLOTTE VON LENGEFELD]
Herewith I send you what has been copied out. Tomorrow my Rudolph will get the whole finished.
Would you look over the first sheets, occasionally compare them with the original, and mark in pencil whatever you may have to suggest? I should like to have it ready as soon as possible, and before the rôles are copied out.
If the rôles are commenced day after tomorrow, we could have a reading-rehearsal next Sunday, and there would still be ten days before the thirtieth.
The Duke has given me permission to read the Memoirs of Marmontel, which you now have; therefore, please let me have them when you have finished with them.
The Grand Duchess yesterday again spoke with great interest about your late recital. She is looking forward to seeing and hearing many other things at your house.
Farewell; and let me, too, soon hear from you again. Should you not be in the humor to read the sheets through, please send them back to me, so that I can make use of the time for having them copied out.
SCHILLER to GOETHE
February 22, 1805.
It was pleasant to me to see a few lines in your handwriting, and it has again awakened my belief in the return of the old state of things—which I have at times quite despaired of. The two severe attacks which I have had within the space of seven months have shaken my system to its very foundation, and I shall have difficulty in recovering my strength.
It is true that my present attack seems to have been merely the general epidemic that is going about, but the fever in my case was so great, and it seized me when I was already in such a weak state, that I feel as if I had arisen from a most severe illness, and find it specially difficult to struggle against a certain listlessness which is the worst trouble in my case.
I am anxious to hear whether you have yet sent off the manuscript of Rameau. Goeschen has not written anything about it to me, and, in fact, for the last fortnight I have not heard of anything that is going on in the world.
I trust that things may daily and hourly improve with you and with me too, so that we may soon see each other in gladness.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 64: Permission The Macmillan Co., New York, and G. Bell &
Sons, Ltd., London.]
[Footnote 65: Les Bijoux Indiscrets.]
[Footnote 66: Goethe's Wilhelm Meister.]
[Footnote 67: A publisher in Berlin]
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