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The Autobiography of Goethe
TWELFTH BOOK
Merck – Wetzlar; the Imperial Chamber – Charlotte
The wanderer had now at last reached home, – more healthy and cheerful than on the first occasion, – but still in his whole being there appeared something over-strained, which did not fully indicate mental health. At the very first I put my mother into the position, that, between my father's sincere spirit of order and my own various eccentricities, she was forced to occupy herself with bringing passing events into a certain medium. At Mayence, a harp-playing boy had so well pleased me, that, as the fair was close at hand, I invited him to Frankfort, and promised to give him lodging and to encourage him. In this occurrence appeared once more that peculiarity which has cost me so much in my lifetime, – namely, that I liked to see younger people gather round me and attach themselves to me, by which, indeed, I am at last encumbered with their fate. One unpleasant experience after another could not reclaim me from this innate impulse, which even at present, and in spite of the clearest conviction, threatens from time to time to lead me astray. My mother, clearer than myself, plainly foresaw how strange it would appear to my father, if a musical fair-vagabond went from such a respectable house to taverns and drinking-houses to earn his bread. Hence she provided him with board and lodging in the neighbourhood. I recommended him to my friends; and thus the lad did not fare badly. After several years I saw him again, when he had grown taller and more clumsy, without having advanced much in his art. The good lady, well contented with this first attempt at squaring and hushing up, did not think that this art would immediately become completely necessary to her. My father, leading a contented life amid his old tastes and occupations, was comfortable, like one who, in spite of all hindrances and delays, carries out his plans. I had now gained my degree, and the first step to the further graduating course of citizen-life was taken. My Disputation had obtained his applause; a further examination of it, and many a preparation for a future edition gave him occupation. During my residence in Alsace, I had written many little poems, essays, notes on travel, and several loose sheets. He found amusement in bringing these under heads, in arranging them, and in devising their completion; and was delighted with the expectation that my hitherto insuperable dislike to see any of these things printed would soon cease. My sister had collected around her a circle of intelligent and amiable women. Without being domineering, she domineered over all, as her good understanding could overlook much, and her good-will could often accommodate matters; moreover, she was in the position of playing the confidant, rather than the rival. Of my older friends and companions, I found in Horn the unalterably true friend and cheerful associate. I also became intimate with Riese, who did not fail to practise and try my acuteness by opposing, with a persevering contradiction, doubt and negation to a dogmatic enthusiasm into which I too readily fell. Others, by degrees, entered into this circle, whom I shall afterwards mention; but among the persons who rendered my new residence in my native city pleasant and profitable, the brothers Schlosser certainly stood at the head. The elder, Heronymus, a profound and elegant jurist, enjoyed universal confidence as counsellor. His favourite abode was amongst his books and papers, in rooms where the greatest order prevailed; there I have never found him otherwise than cheerful and sympathising. In a larger society also he showed himself agreeable and entertaining, for his mind, by extensive reading, was adorned with all the beauty of antiquity. He did not, on occasion, disdain to increase the social pleasures by agreeable Latin poems; and I still possess several sportive distiches which he wrote under some portraits drawn by me of strange and generally known Frankfort caricatures. Often I consulted with him as to the course of life and business I was now commencing; and if an hundredfold inclinations and passions had not tom me from this path, he would have been my surest guide.
Nearer to me, in point of age, was his brother George, who had again returned from Treptow, from the service of the Duke Eugene of Würtemberg. While he had advanced in knowledge of the world and in practical talent, he had not remained behindhand in a survey of German and foreign literature. He liked, as before, to write in all languages; but did not further excite me in this respect, as I devoted myself exclusively to German, and only cultivated other languages so far as to enable me, in some measure, to read the best authors in the original. His honesty showed itself the same as ever; nay, his acquaintance with the world may have occasioned him to adhere with more severity and even obstinacy to his well-meaning views.
Merk.
Through these two friends, I very soon became acquainted with Merck, to whom I had not been unfavourably announced by Herder, from Strasburg. This strange man, who had the greatest influence on my life, was a native of Darmstadt. Of his early education I can say but little. After finishing his studies, he conducted a young man to Switzerland, where he remained for some time, and came back married. When I made his acquaintance, he was military paymaster at Darmstadt. Born with mind and understanding, he had acquired much elegant knowledge, especially in modern literature, and had paid attention to all times and places in the history of the world and of man. He had the talent of judging with certainty and acuteness. He was prized as a thorough, decisive man of business, and a ready accountant. With ease he gained an entrance everywhere, as a very pleasant companion for those to whom he had not rendered himself formidable by sarcasms. His figure was long and lean; a sharp prominent nose was remarkable; light blue, perhaps grey eyes, gave something tiger-like to his glance, which wandered attentively here and there. Lavater's Physiognomy has preserved his profile for us. In his character there was a wonderful contradiction. By nature a good, noble, upright man, he had embittered himself against the world, and allowed this morbid whim to sway him to such a degree, that he felt an irresistible inclination to be wilfully a rogue, or even a villain. Sensible, quiet, kind at one moment, it might strike him in the next – just as a snail puts out his horns – to do something which might hurt, wound, or even injure another. Yet as one readily associates with something dangerous when one believes oneself safe from it, I felt so much the greater inclination to live with him, and to enjoy his good qualities, since a confident feeling allowed me to suspect that he would not turn his bad side towards me. While now, by this morally restless mind, – by this necessity of treating men in a malignant and spiteful way, he on one side destroyed social life, another disquiet, which also he very carefully fostered within himself, opposed his internal comfort; namely he felt a certain dilettantish impulse to production, in which he indulged the more readily, as he expressed himself easily and happily in prose and verse, and might well venture to play a part among the beaux esprits of the time. I myself still possess poetical epistles, full of uncommon boldness, force, and Swift-like gall, which are highly remarkable from their original views of persons and things, but are at the same time written with such wounding power, that I could not publish them, even at present, but must either destroy them or preserve them for posterity as striking documents of the secret discord in our literature. However, the fact that in all his labours he went to work negatively and destructively, was unpleasant to himself, and he often declared that he envied me that innocent love of setting forth a subject which arose from the pleasure I took both in the original and the imitation.
For the rest, his literary dilettantism would have been rather useful than injurious to him, if he had not felt an irresistible impulse to enter also into the technical and mercantile department. For when he once began to curse his faculties, and was beside himself that he could not, with sufficient genius, satisfy his claims to a practical talent, he gave up now plastic art, now poetry, and thought of mercantile and manufacturing undertakings, which were to bring in money while they afforded him amusement.
In Darmstadt there was besides a society of very cultivated men. Privy Councillor von Hess, Minister of the Landgrave, Professor Petersen, Rector Wenk, and others, were the naturalized persons whose worth attracted by turns many neighbours from other parts, and many travellers through the city. The wife of the privy councillor and her sister, Demoiselle Flachsland, were ladies of uncommon merit and talents; the latter, who was betrothed to Herder, being doubly interesting from her own qualities and her attachment to so excellent a man.
How much I was animated and advanced by this circle is not to be expressed. They readily heard me read aloud my completed or begun works; they encouraged me, when I openly and circumstantially told what I was then planning, and blamed me when on every new occasion I laid aside what I had already commenced. Faust had already advanced; Götz von Berlichingen was gradually building itself up in my mind: the study of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries occupied me; and the minster had left in me a very serious impression, which could well stand as a background to such poetical inventions.
Paper on German Architecture.
What I had thought and imagined with respect to that style of architecture, I wrote in a connected form. The first point on which I insisted was, that it should be called German, and not Gothic; that it should be considered not foreign, but native. The second point was, that it could not be compared with the architecture of the Greeks and Romans, because it sprang from quite another principle. If these, living under a more favourable sky, allowed their roof to rest upon columns, a wall, broken through, arose of its own accord. We, however, who must always protect ourselves against the weather, and everywhere surround ourselves with walls, have to revere the genius who discovered the means of endowing massive walls with variety, of apparently breaking them through, and of thus occupying the eye in a worthy and pleasing manner on the broad surface. The same principle applied to the steeples, which are not, like cupolas, to form a heaven within, but to strive towards heaven without, and to announce to the countries far around the existence of the sanctuary which lies at their base. The interior of these venerable piles I only ventured to touch by poetical contemplation and a pious tone.
If I had been pleased to write down these views, the value of which I will not deny, clearly and distinctly, in an intelligible style, the paper "On German Architecture, I: M: Ervini a Steinback," would then, when I published it, have produced more effect, and would sooner have drawn the attention of the native friends of art. But, misled by the example of Herder and Hamann, I obscured these very simple thoughts and observations by a dusty cloud of words and phrases, and both for myself and others, darkened the light which had arisen within me. However, the paper was well received, and reprinted in Herder's work on German manner and art.
If now, partly from inclination, partly with poetical and other views, I very readily occupied myself with the antiquities of my country, and sought to render them present to my mind, I was from time to time distracted from this subject by biblical studies and religious sympathies, since Luther's life and deeds, which shine forth so magnificently in the sixteenth century, always necessarily brought me back to the Holy Scriptures, and to the observation of religious feelings and opinions. To look upon the Bible as a work of compilation, which had gradually arisen, and had been elaborated at different times, was flattering to my little self-conceit, since this view was then by no means predominant, – much less was it received in the circle in which I lived. With respect to the chief sense, I adhered to Luther's expression; in matters of detail, I went to Schmidt's literal translation, and sought to use my little Hebrew as well as possible. That there are contradictions in the Bible, no one will now deny. These they sought to reconcile by laying down the plainest passage as a foundation, and endeavouring to assimilate to that those that were contradictory and less clear. I, on the contrary, wished to find out, by examination, what passage best expressed the sense of the matter. To this I adhered, and rejected the rest as interpolated.
For a fundamental opinion had already confirmed itself in me, without my being able to say whether it had been imparted to me, or had been excited in me, or had arisen from my own reflection. It was this, – that in anything which is handed down to us, especially in writing, the real point is the ground, the interior, the sense, the tendency of the work; that here lies the original, the divine, the effective, the intact, the indestructible; and that no time, no external operation or condition, can in any degree affect this internal primeval nature, at least no more than the sickness of the body affects a well-cultivated soul. Thus, according to my view, the language, the dialect, the peculiarity, the style, and finally the writing, were to be regarded as the body of every work of mind; this body, although nearly enough akin to the internal, was yet exposed to deterioration and corruption; as, indeed, altogether no tradition can be given quite pure, according to its nature; nor, indeed, if one were given pure, could it be perfectly intelligible at every following period, – the former on account of the insufficiency of the organs through which the tradition is made, – the latter on account of the difference of time and place, – but specially the diversify of human capacities and modes of thought; for which reason the interpreters themselves never agree.
Hence it is everybody's duty to seek out for what is internal and peculiar in a book which particularly interests us, and at the same time, above all things, to weigh in what relation it stands to our own inner nature, and how far, by that vitality, our own is excited and rendered fruitful. On the other hand, everything external that is ineffective with respect to ourselves, or is subject to a doubt, is to be consigned over to criticism, which, even if it should be able to dislocate and dismember the whole, would never succeed in depriving us of the only ground to which we hold fast, nor even in perplexing us for a moment with respect to our once formed confidence.
Study of the Bible.
This conviction, sprung from faith and sight, which in all cases that we recognise as the most important, is applicable and strengthening, lies at the foundation of the moral as well as the literary edifice of my life, and is to be regarded as a well-invested and richly productive capital, although in particular cases we may be seduced into making an erroneous application. By this notion, the Bible first became really accessible to me. I had, as is the case in the religious instruction of Protestants, run through it several times, nay, had made myself acquainted with it, by way of leaps from beginning to end and back again. The blunt naturalness of the Old Testament, and the tender naïveté of the New, had attracted me in particular instances; as a whole, indeed, it never properly appealed to me; but now the diverse characters of the different books no more perplexed me; I knew how to represent to myself their significance faithfully and in proper order, and had too much feeling for the book to be ever able to do without it. By this very side of feeling I was protected against all scoffing, because I saw its dishonesty at once. I not only detested it, but could even fall in a rage about it; and I still perfectly remember that in my childishly fanatical zeal I should have completely throttled Voltaire, on account of his Saul, if I could only have got at him. On the other hand, every kind of honest investigation pleased me greatly; the revelations as to the locality and costume of the East, which diffused more and more light, I received with joy, and continued to exercise all my acuteness on such valuable traditions.
It is known that at an earlier period I sought to initiate myself into the situation of the world, as described to us by the first book of Moses. As I now thought to proceed stepwise, and in proper order, I seized, after a long interruption, on the second book. But what a difference! Just as the fulness of childhood had vanished from my life, so did I find the second book separated from the first by a monstrous chasm. The utter forgetfulness of a bygone time is already expressed in the few important words, "Now there arose a new king over Egypt, which knew not Joseph." But the people also, innumerable as the stars of heaven, had almost forgotten the ancestor to whom, under the starry heaven, Jehovah had made the very promise which was now fulfilled. I worked through the five books with unspeakable trouble and insufficient means and powers, and in doing this fell upon the strangest notions. I thought I had discovered that it was not our ten commandments which stood upon the tables that the Israelites did not wander through the desert for forty years, but only for a short time; and thus I fancied that I could give entirely new revelations as to the character of Moses.
Even the New Testament was not safe from my inquiries; with my passion for dissection, I did not spare it, but with love and affection I chimed in with that wholesome word, "The evangelists may contradict each other, provided only the gospel does not contradict itself." In this region also I thought I should make all sorts of discoveries. That gift of tongues imparted at Pentecost with lustre and clearness, I interpreted for myself in a somewhat abstruse manner, not adapted to procure many adherents.
Into one of the chief Lutheran doctrines, which has been still more sharpened by the Hernhuters, – namely, that of regarding the sinful principle as predominant in man, – I endeavoured to accommodate myself, but without remarkable success. Nevertheless I had made the terminology of this doctrine tolerably my own, and made use of it in a letter, which, in the character of country pastor, I was pleased to send to a new brother in office. However, the chief theme in the paper was that watchword of the time, called "Toleration," which prevailed among the better order of brains and minds.
Such things, which were produced by degrees, I had printed at my own cost in the following year, to try myself with the public, – made presents of them, or sent them to Eichenberg's shop, in order to get rid of them as fast as possible, without deriving any profit myself. Here and there a review mentions them, now favourably, now unfavourably, – but they soon passed away. My father kept them carefully in his archives, otherwise I should not have possessed a copy of them. I shall add these, as well as some things of the kind which I have found, to the new edition of my works.
Hamann.
Since I had really been seduced into the sybilline style of such papers, as well as into the publication of them, by Hamann, this seems to me a proper place to make mention of this worthy and influential man, who was then as great a mystery to us as he has always remained to his native country. His Socratio Memorabilia was more especially liked by those persons who could not adapt themselves to the dazzling spirit of the time. It was suspected that he was a profound, well-grounded man, who, accurately acquainted with the public world and with literature, allowed of something mysterious and unfathomable, and expressed himself on this subject in a manner quite his own. By those who then ruled the literature of the day, he was indeed considered an abstruse mystic, but an aspiring youth suffered themselves to be attracted by him. Even the "Quiet-in-the-lands," as they were called – half in jest, half in earnest – those pious souls, who, without professing themselves members of any society, formed an invisible church, turned their attention to him; while to my friend Fräulein von Klettenberg, and no less to her friend Moser, the "Magus from the North" was a welcome apparition. People put themselves the more in connexion with him, when they had learned that he was tormented by narrow domestic circumstances, but nevertheless understood how to maintain this beautiful and lofty mode of thought. With the great influence of President von Moser, it would have been easy to provide a tolerable and convenient existence for such a frugal man. The matter was set on foot, nay, so good an understanding and mutual approval was attained, that Hamann undertook the long journey from Königsberg to Darmstadt. But as the president happened to be absent, that odd man, no one knows on what account, returned at once, though a friendly correspondence was kept up. I still possess two letters from the Königsberger to his patron, which bear testimony to the wondrous greatness and sincerity of their author.
But so good an understanding was not to last long. These pious men had thought the other one pious in their own fashion; they had treated him with reverence as the "Magus of the North," and thought that he would continue to exhibit himself with a reverend demeanour. But already in the Clouds, an after-piece of Socratic Memorabilia, he had given some offence; and when he now published the Crusades of a Philologist, on the title-page of which was to be seen not only the goat-profile of a horned Pan, but also on one of the first pages, a large cock, cut in wood, and setting time to some young cockerels, who stood before him with notes in their claws, made an exceedingly ridiculous appearance, by which certain church-music, of which the author did not approve, was to be made a laughing-stock, – there arose among well-minded and sensitive people a dissatisfaction, which was exhibited to the author, who, not being edified by it, shunned a closer connexion. Our attention to this man was, however, always kept alive by Herder, who, remaining in correspondence with us and his betrothed, communicated to us at once all that proceeded from that extraordinary man. To these belonged his critiques and notices, inserted in the Königsberg Zeitung, all of which bore a very singular character. I possess an almost complete collection of his works, and a very important essay on Herder's prize paper concerning the origin of language, in which, in the most peculiar manner, he throws flashes of light upon this specimen of Herder.
I do not give up the hope of superintending myself, or at least furthering, an edition of Hamann's works; and then, when these documents are again before the public, it will be time to speak more closely of the author, his nature and character. In the meanwhile, however, I will here adduce something concerning him, especially as eminent men are still living who felt a great regard for him, and whose assent or correction will be very welcome to me. The principle to which all Hamann's expressions may be referred is this: "All that man undertakes to perform, whether by deed, by word, or otherwise, must proceed from all his powers united; everything isolated is worthless." A noble maxim, but hard to follow. To life and art it may indeed be applied, but in every communication by words, that is not exactly poetic, there is, on the contrary, a grand difficulty; for a word must sever itself, isolate itself, to say or signify anything. Man, while he speaks, must, for the moment, become one-sided; there is no communication, no instruction, without severing. Now since Hamann, once for all, opposed this separation, and because he felt, imagined, and thought in unity, chose to speak in unity likewise, and to require the same of others, he came into opposition with his own style, and with all that others produced. To produce the impossible, he therefore grasps at every element; the deepest and most mystical contemplations in which nature and mind meet each other-illuminating flashes of the understanding, which beam forth from such a contact – significant images, which float in these regions – forcible aphorisms from sacred and profane writers – with whatever else of a humorous kind could be added – all this forms the wondrous aggregate of his style and his communications. If, now, one cannot associate oneself with him in his depths – cannot wander with him on his heights – cannot master the forms which float before him – cannot, from an infinitely extended literature, exactly find out the sense of a passage which is only hinted at – we find that the more we study him, the more dim and dark it becomes; and this darkness always increases with years, because his allusions were directed to certain definite peculiarities which prevailed, for the moment, in life and in literature. In my collection there are some of his printed sheets, where he has cited with his own hand, in the margin, the passages to which his hints refer. If one opens them, there is again a sort of equivocal double light, which appears to us highly agreeable; only one must completely renounce what is ordinarily called understanding. Such leaves merit to be called sybilline, for this reason, that one cannot consider them in and for themselves, but must wait for an opportunity to seek refuge with their oracles. Every time that one opens them one fancies one has found something new, because the sense which abides in every passage touches and excites us in a curious manner.
Personally I never saw him; nor did I hold any immediate communication with him by means of letters. It seems to me that he was extremely clear in the relations of life and friendship, and that he had a correct feeling for the positions of persons among each other, and with reference to himself. All the letters which I saw by him were excellent, and much plainer than his works, because here the reference to time, circumstances, and personal affairs, was more clearly prominent. I thought, however, that I could discern this much generally, that he, feeling the superiority of his mental gifts, in the most naïve manner, always considered himself somewhat wiser and more shrewd than his correspondents, whom he treated rather ironically than heartily. If this held good only of single cases, it applied to the majority, as far as my own observation went, and was the cause that I never felt a desire to approach him.
On the other hand, a kindly literary communication between Herder and us was maintained with great vivacity, though it was a pity that he could not keep himself quiet. But Herder never left off his teazing and scolding; and much was not required to irritate Merck, who also contrived to excite me to impatience. Because now Herder, among all authors and men, seems to respect Swift the most, he was among us called the "Dean," and this gave further occasion to all sorts of perplexities and annoyances.
Nevertheless we were highly pleased when we learned that he was to have an appointment at Bückeburg, which would bring him double honour, for his new patron had the highest fame as a clear-headed and brave, though eccentric man. Thomas Abt had been known and celebrated in this service; his country still mourned his death, and was pleased with the monument which his patron had erected for him. Now Herder, in the place of the untimely deceased, was to fulfil all those hopes which his predecessor had so worthily excited.
The epoch in which this happened gave a double brilliancy and value to such an appointment; for several German princes already followed the example of the Count of Lippe, inasmuch as they took into their service not merely learned men, and men of business, properly so called, but also persons of mind and promise. Thus, it was said, Klopstock had been invited by the Margrave Charles of Baden, not for real business, but that by his presence he might impart a grace and be useful to the higher society. As now the regard felt for this excellent prince, who paid attention to all that was useful and beautiful, increased in consequence, so also was the veneration for Klopstock not a little heightened. Everything that emanated from him was held dear and valuable; and we carefully wrote down his odes and elegies as we could get them. We were therefore highly delighted when the great Land-gravine Caroline of Hesse-Darmstadt made a collection of them, and we obtained possession of one of the few copies, which enabled us to complete our own manuscript collection. Hence those first readings have long been most in favour with us; nay, we have often refreshed and delighted ourselves with poems which the author afterwards rejected. So true it is, that the life which presses forth out of a "fine soul" works with the greater freedom the less it appears to be drawn by criticism into the department of art.
Klopstock, by his character and conduct, had managed to attain regard and dignity, both for himself and for other men of talent; now they were also, if possible, to be indebted to him for the security and improvement of their domestic condition. For the book-trade, in the previous period, had more to do with important scientific books, belonging to the different faculties – with stock-works, for which a moderate remuneration was paid. But the production of poetical works was looked upon as something sacred; and in this case the acceptance or increase of any remuneration would have been regarded almost as simony. Authors and publishers stood in the strangest reciprocal position. Both appeared, accordingly as it was taken, as patrons and clients. The authors, who, irrespectively of their talent, were generally respected and levered by the public as highly moral men, had a mental rank, and felt themselves rewarded by the success of their labours; the publishers were well satisfied with the second place, and enjoyed a considerable profit. But now opulence again set the rich bookseller above the poor poet, and thus everything stood in the most beautiful equilibrium. Magnanimity and gratitude were not unfrequent on either side. Breitkopf and Gottsched lived, all their lives, as inmates of the same house. Stinginess and meanness, especially that of piracy, were not yet in vogue.
