became acquainted with him. It happened pretty soon at Leipzig,
through Dodd's _Beauties of Shakspeare._ Whatever may be said against
such collections, which give authors in a fragmentary form, they
nevertheless produce many good effects. We are not always so collected
and so ready that we can take in a whole work according to its merits.
Do we not, in a book, mark passages which have an immediate reference
to ourselves? Young people especially, who are wanting in a thorough
cultivation, are laudably excited by brilliant passages; and thus
I myself remember, as one of the most beautiful epochs of my life,
that which is characterised by the above-mentioned work. Those noble
peculiarities, those great sayings, those happy descriptions, those
humorous traits--all struck me singly and powerfully.
Wieland's translation now made its appearance. It was devoured,
communicated and recommended to friends and acquaintances. We Germans
had the advantage that many important works of foreign nations were
first brought over to us in an easy and cheerful fashion. Shakspeare,
translated in prose, first by Wieland, afterwards by Eschenburg, was
able, as a kind of reading universally intelligible, and suitable
to any reader, to diffuse itself speedily, and to produce a great
effect. I revere the rhythm as well as the rhyme, by which poetry first
becomes poetry; but that which is really, deeply, and fundamentally
effective--that which is really permanent and furthering, is that which
remains of the poet when it is translated into prose. Then remains the
pure, perfect substance, of which, when absent, a dazzling exterior
often contrives to make a false show, and which, when present, such an
exterior contrives to conceal. I therefore consider prose translations
more advantageous than poetical, for the beginning of youthful culture;
for it may be remarked that boys, to whom everything must serve as
a jest, delight themselves with the sound of words and the fall of
syllables, and by a sort of parodistical wantonness, destroy the deep
contents of the noblest work. Hence I would have it considered whether
a prose translation of Homer should not be next undertaken, though
this, indeed, must be worthy of the degree at which German literature
stands at present. I leave this, and what has been already said, to
the consideration of our worthy pedagogues, to whom an extensive
experience on this matter is most at command. I will only, in favour
of my proposition, mention Luther's translation of the Bible; for the
circumstance that this excellent man handed down a work, composed
in the most different styles, and gave us its poetical, historical,
commanding didactic tone in our mother-tongue, as if all were cast in
one mould, has done more to advance religion than if he had attempted
to imitate, in detail, the peculiarities of the original. In vain has
been the subsequent endeavour to make Job, the Psalms, and the other
lyrical books, capable of affording enjoyment in their poetical form.
For the multitude, upon whom the effect is to be produced, a plain
translation always remains the best. Those critical translations which
vie with the original, really only seem to amuse the learned among
themselves.
[Side-note: Influence of Shakspeare.]
And thus in our Strasburg society did Shakspeare, translated and
in the original, by fragments and as a whole, by passages and by
extracts, influence us in such a manner, that as there are Bible-firm
(_Bibelfest_) men, so did we gradually make ourselves firm in
Shakspeare, imitated in our conversations those virtues and defects
of his time with which he had made us so well acquainted, took the
greatest delight in his "quibbles,"[6] and by translating them, nay,
with original recklessness, sought to emulate him. To this, the fact
that I had seized upon him above all, with great enthusiasm, did not a
little contribute. A happy confession that something higher waved over
me was infectious for my friends, who all resigned themselves to this
mode of thought. We did not deny the possibility of knowing such merits
more closely, of comprehending them, of judging them with penetration,
but this we reserved for later epochs. At present we only wished to
sympathize gladly, and to imitate with spirit, and while we had so much
enjoyment, we did not wish to inquire and haggle about the man who
afforded it, but unconditionally to revere him.
[Side-note: Lenz.]
If any one would learn immediately what was thought, talked about,
and discussed in this lively society, let him read Herder's essay
on Shakspeare, in the part of his works upon the German manner and
art (_Ueber Deutsche Art und Kunst_), and also Lenz's remarks on the
theatre (_Anmerkungen übers Theater_), to which a translation of
_Love's Labour Lost_ was added.[7] Herder penetrates into the deepest
interior of Shakspeare's nature, and exhibits it nobly; Lenz conducts
himself more like an Iconoclast against the traditions of the theatre,
and will have everything everywhere treated in Shakspeare's manner.
Since I have had occasion to mention this clever and eccentric man
here, it is the place to say something about him by way of experiment.
I did not become acquainted with him till towards the end of my
residence at Strasburg. We saw each other seldom, his company was
not mine, but we sought an opportunity of meeting, and willingly
communicated with each other, because, as contemporary youths, we
harboured similar views. He had a small but neat figure, a charming
little head, to the elegant form of which his delicate but somewhat
flat features perfectly corresponded; blue eyes, blond hair, in
short, a person such as I have from time to time met among northern
youths; a soft and as it were cautious step, a pleasant but not quite
flowing speech, and a conduct which, fluctuating between reserve and
shyness, well became a young man. Small poems, especially his own, he
read very well aloud. For his turn of mind I only know the English
word "whimsical," which, as the dictionary shows, comprises very many
singularities under one notion. No one, perhaps, was more capable
than he to feel and imitate the extravagances and excrescences of
Shakspeare's genius. To this the translation above mentioned bears
witness. He treated his author with great freedom, was not in the least
close and faithful, but he knew how to put on the armour, or rather the
motley jacket, of his predecessor so very well, to adapt himself with
such humour to his gestures, that he was certain to obtain applause
from those who were interested in such matters.
The absurdities of the clowns especially constituted our whole
happiness, and we praised Lenz as a favoured man, when he succeeded in
rendering as follows the epitaph on the deer shot by the princess:--
"Die schöne Princessin schoss und traf
Eines jungen Hirschleins Leben;
Es fiel dahin in schweren Schlaf
Und wird ein Brätlein geben.
Der Jagdhund boll! Ein L zu Hirsch
So wird es denn ein Hirschel;
Doch setzt ein römisch L zu Hirsch
So macht es fünfzig Hirschel.
Ich mache hundert Hirsche draus
Schreib Hirschell mit zwei LLen."[8]
The tendency towards the absurd, which displays itself free and
unfettered in youth, but afterwards recedes more into the background,
without being on that account utterly lost, was in full bloom among us,
and we sought even by original jests to celebrate our great master. We
were very proud when we could lay before the company something of the
kind, which was in any degree approved, as, for instance, the following
on a riding-master, who had been hurt on a wild horse.
"A rider in this house you'll find,
A master too is he,
The two into a nosegay bind,
'Twill riding-master be.
If master of the ride, I wis,
Full well he bears the name,
But if the ride the master is,
On him and his be shame."[9]
About such things serious discussions were held as to whether they were
worthy of the clown or not, whether they flowed from the genuine pure
fool's spring, and whether sense and understanding had at all mingled
in an unfitting and inadmissible manner. Altogether our singular views
were diffused with the greater ardour, and more persons were in a
position to sympathize with them, as Lessing, in whom great confidence
was placed, had, properly speaking, given the first signal in his
_Dramaturgie._
In a society so attuned and excited I managed to take many a pleasant
excursion into Upper Alsace, whence, however, on this very account, I
brought back no particular instruction. The number of little verses
which flowed from us on that occasion, and which might serve to adorn
a lively description of a journey, are lost. In the cross-way of
Molsheim Abbey we admired the painted windows; in the fertile spot
between Colmar and Schlettstadt resounded some comic hymns to Ceres,
the consumption of so many fruits being circumstantially set forth
and extolled, and the important question as to the free or restricted
trade in them being very merrily taken up. At Ensisheim we saw the
monstrous aerolite hanging up in the church, and in accordance with
the scepticism of the time, ridiculed the credulity of man, never
suspecting that such air-born beings, if they were not to fall into our
corn-fields, were at any rate to be preserved in our cabinets.
[Side-note: The Ottilienberg.]
Of a pilgrimage to the Ottilienberg, accomplished with an hundred, nay,
a thousand of the faithful, I still love to think. Here, where the
foundation-wall of a Roman castle still remained, a count's beautiful
daughter, of a pious disposition, was said to have dwelt among
ruins and stony crevices. Near the chapel where the wanderers edify
themselves, her well is shown, and much that is beautiful is narrated.
The image which I formed of her, and her name, made a deep impression
upon me. I carried both about with me for a long time, until at last I
endowed with them one of my later, but not less beloved daughters,[10]
who was so favourably received by pure and pious hearts.
On this eminence also is repeated to the eye the majestic Alsace,
always the same, and always new. Just as in an amphitheatre, let one
take one's place where one will, one surveys the whole people, but sees
one's neighbours the plainest, so it is here with bushes, rocks, hills,
woods, fields, meadows, and districts near and in the distance. They
wished to show us even Basle in the horizon; that we saw it, I will not
swear, but the remote blue of the Swiss mountains even here exercised
its rights over us, by summoning us to itself, and since we could not
follow the impulse, by leaving a painful feeling.
To such distractions and cheerful recreations I abandoned myself the
more readily, and even with a degree of intoxication, because my
passionate connexion with Frederica now began to trouble me. Such a
youthful affection cherished at random, may be compared to a bomb-shell
thrown at night, which rises with a soft brilliant track, mingles
with the stars, nay, for a moment, seems to pause among them, then,
in descending, describes the same path in the reverse direction,
and at last brings destruction to the place where it has terminated
its course. Frederica always remained equal to herself; she seemed
not to think, nor to wish to think, that the connexion would so soon
terminate. Olivia, on the contrary, who indeed also missed me with
regret, but nevertheless did not lose so much as the other, had more
foresight, or was more open. She often spoke to me about my probable
departure, and sought to console herself both on her own and her
sister's account. A girl who renounces a man to whom she has not denied
her affections, is far from being in that painful situation in which a
youth finds himself who has gone so far in his declarations to a lady.
He always plays a pitiful part, since a certain survey of his situation
is expected of him as a growing man, and a decided levity does not suit
him. The reasons of a girl who draws back always seem sufficient, those
of a man--never.
But how should a flattering passion allow us to foresee whither it may
lead us? For even when we have quite sensibly renounced it, we cannot
get rid of it; we take pleasure in the charming habit, even if this is
to be in an altered manner. Thus it was with me. Although the presence
of Frederica pained me, I knew of nothing more pleasant than to think
of her while absent, and to converse with her. I went to see her less
frequently, but our correspondence became so much the more animated.
She knew how to bring before me her situation with cheerfulness, her
feelings with grace, and I called her merits to mind with fervour and
with passion. Absence made me free, and my whole affection first truly
bloomed by this communication in the distance. At such moments I could
quite blind myself as to the future; and was sufficiently distracted
by the progress of time and of pressing business. I had hitherto made
it possible to do the most various things by always taking a lively
interest in what was present and belonged to the immediate moment; but
towards the end all became too much crowded together, as is always the
case when one is to free oneself from a place.
One more event, which happened in an interval, took, from me the last
days. I found myself in a respectable society at a country-house,
whence there was a noble view of the front of the minster, and the
tower which rises over it. "It is a pity," said some one, "that the
whole was not finished, and that we have only one tower." "It is just
as unpleasant to me," answered I, "to see this one tower not quite
completed, for the four volutes leave off much too bluntly; there
should have been upon them four light spires, with a higher one in the
middle where the clumsy cross is standing."
When I had expressed this strong opinion with my accustomed animation,
a little lively man addressed me, and asked, "Who told you so?"
"The tower itself," I replied; "I have observed it so long and so
attentively, and have shown it so much affection, that it at last
resolved to make me this open confession." "It has not misinformed
you," answered he; "I am the best judge of that; for I am the person
officially placed over the public edifices. We still have among our
archives the original sketches, which say the same thing, and which
I can show to you." On account of my speedy departure I pressed him
to show me this kindness as speedily as possible. He let me see the
precious rolls; I soon, with the help of oiled paper, drew the spires,
which were wanting in the building as executed, and regretted that I
had not been sooner informed of this treasure. But this was always to
be the case with me, that by looking at things and considering them, I
should first attain a conception, which perhaps would not have been so
striking and so fruitful, if it had been given ready made.
[Side-note: Strasburg Minster.]
Amid all this pressure and confusion I could not fail to see Frederica
once more. Those were painful days, the memory of which has not
remained with me. When I reached her my hand from my horse, the
tears stood in her eyes, and I felt very uneasy. I now rode along
the footpath towards Drusenheim, and here one of the most singular
forebodings took possession of me. I saw, not with the eyes of the
body, but with those of the mind, my own figure coming towards me,
on horseback, and on the same road, attired in a dress which I had
never worn;--it was pike-grey (_hecht-grau_) with somewhat of gold.
As soon as I shook myself out of this dream, the figure had entirely
disappeared. It is strange, however, that eight years afterwards, I
found myself on the very road, to pay one more visit to Frederica, in
the dress of which I had dreamed, and which I wore, not from choice,
but by accident. However it may be with matters of this kind generally,
this strange illusion in some measure calmed me at the moment of
parting. The pain of quitting for ever the noble Alsace, with all
that I had gained in it, was softened, and having at last escaped
the excitement of a farewell, I found myself on a peaceful and quiet
journey, pretty well recovered.
Arrived at Mannheim, I hastened with great eagerness to see the hall
of antiquities, of which a great boast was made. Even at Leipzig, on
the occasion of Winckelmann's and Lessing's writings, I had heard much
said of those important works of art, but so much the less had I seen
them, for except Laocoön, the father, and the Faun with the crotola,
there were no casts in the academy, and whatever Oeser chose to say to
us on the subject of those works, was enigmatical enough. How can a
conception of the end of art be given to beginners?
Director Verschaffel's reception was kind. I was conducted to the
saloon by one of his associates, who, after he had opened it for me,
left me to my own inclinations and reflections. Here I now stood, open
to the most wonderful impressions, in a spacious, four-cornered, and,
with its extraordinary height, almost cubical saloon, in a space well
lighted from above by the windows under the cornice; with the noblest
statues of antiquity, not only ranged along the walls, but also set up
one with another over the whole area;--a forest of statues, through
which one was forced to wind; a great ideal popular assembly, through
which one was forced to press. All these noble figures could, by
opening and closing the curtains, be placed in the most advantageous
light, and besides this, they were moveable on their pedestals, and
could be turned about at pleasure.
After I had for a time sustained the first impression of this
irresistible mass, I turned to those figures which attracted me
the most, and who can deny that the Apollo Belvidere, with his
well-proportioned colossal stature, his slender build, his free
movement, his conquering glance, carried off the victory over our
feelings in preference to all the others? I then turned to Laocoön,
whom I here saw for the first time in connexion with his sons. I
brought to mind as well as possible the discussions and contests which
had been held concerning him, and tried to get a point of view of my
own; but I was now drawn this way, now that. The dying gladiator long
held me fast, but the group of Castor and Pollux, that precious though
problematical relic, I had especially to thank for my happiest moments.
I did not know how impossible it was at once to account to oneself for
a sight affording enjoyment. I forced myself to reflect, and little
as I succeeded in attaining any sort of clearness, I felt that every
individual figure from this great assembled mass was comprehensible,
that every object was natural and significant in itself.
[Side-note: Antiquities at Mannheim.]
Nevertheless my chief attention was directed to Laocoön, and I
decided for myself the famous question, why he did not shriek, by
declaring to myself that he could not shriek. All the actions and
movements of the three figures proceeded, according to my view, from
the first conception of the group. The whole position--as forcible
as artistical---of the chief body was composed with reference to two
impulses--the struggle against the snakes, and the flight from the
momentary bite. To soften this pain, the abdomen must be drawn in, and
shrieking rendered impossible. Thus I also decided that the younger son
was not bitten, and in other respects sought to elicit the artistical
merits of this group. I wrote a letter on the subject to Oeser, who,
however, did not show any special esteem for my interpretation, but
only replied to my good will with general terms of encouragement. I
was, however, fortunate enough to retain that thought, and to allow
it to repose in me for several years, until it was at last annexed to
the whole body of my experiences and convictions, in which sense I
afterwards gave it in editing my _Propylæa._
After a zealous contemplation of so many sublime plastic works, I was
not to want a foretaste of antique architecture. I found the cast of
a capital of the Rotunda, and do not deny that at the sight of those
acanthus-leaves, as huge as they were elegant, my faith in the northern
architecture began somewhat to waver.
This early sight, although so great and so effective throughout my
whole life, was nevertheless attended with but small results in the
time immediately following. How willingly would I have begun a book,
instead of ending one, with describing it; for no sooner was the door
of the noble saloon closed behind me, than I wished to recover myself
again, nay, I rather sought to remove those forms as cumbersome from
my memory; and it was only by a long circuitous route that I was
brought back into this sphere. However, the quiet fruitfulness is quite
inestimable of those impressions, which are received with enjoyment,
and without dissecting judgment. Youth is capable of this highest
happiness, if it will not be critical, but allows the excellent and the
good to act upon it without investigation and division.
[1] A polemic dissertation written on taking an university
degree.--_Trans._
[2] Medicine.--_Trans._
[3] "Michel" is exactly to the Germans what "John Bull" is to the
English.--_Trans._
[4] "Um den so genannten Pfaffen zu schaden." As we have not the
word for a priest, which exactly expresses the contempt involved in
"Pfaffe," the word "priestcraft" has been introduced.--_Trans._
[5] "Practically clever" is put as a kind of equivalent for the
difficult word "geistreich."--_Trans._
[6] This English word is used in the original.--_Trans._
[7] A complete edition of Lenz's works was published by Tieck in 1828.
In that will be found the essay and play in question, to the last of
which he gives the name _Amor vincit omnia._--_Trans._
[8] The lines in Shakspeare, which the above are intended to imitate,
are the following:--
"The praiseful princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket;
Some say a sore; but not a sore till now made sore with shooting. The
dogs did yell; put L to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket Or pricket,
sore, or else sorel; the people fall a-hooting. If sore be sore, then L
to sore makes fifty sores, O sore L! Of one sore I an hundred make, by
adding but one more L."
Lenz's words, which cannot be rendered intelligibly into English,
furnish an instance of Goethe's meaning, when he commends Lenz as
happily catching the spirit of the original, without the slightest
pretence to accuracy.--_Trans._
[9] The above doggrel is pretty faithful, but it is as well to give the
original.
"Ein Ritter wohnt in diesem Haus; Ein Meister auch daneben; Macht man
davon einen Blumenstrauss So wird's einen Rittmeister geben. Ist er nun
Meister von dem Ritt Führt er mit Recht den Namen; Doch nimmt der Ritt
den Meister mit, Weh ihm und seinem Samen." --_Trans._
[10] By this _daughter_ he means "Ottilie" in the _Elective
Affinities._.--Trans.
TWELFTH BOOK