The Autobiography of Goethe

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.

Commotion in the Book-Trade.

Nevertheless a general commotion had arisen among the German authors. They compared their own very moderate, if not poor condition, with the wealth of the eminent booksellers; they considered how great was the fame of a Gellert, of a Rabener, and in what narrow domestic circumstances an universally esteemed German poet must struggle on, if he did not render life easy by some other calling. Even the mediocre and lesser minds felt a strong desire to see their situation improved, – to make themselves free of the publishers.

Now Klopstock came forward and offered his "Republic of Letters" (Gelehrte-Republik) for subscription. Although the latter cantos of the Messiah, partly on account of their subject, partly on account of the treatment, could not produce the same effect as the earlier ones, which, themselves pure and innocent, came into a pure and innocent time, the same respect was always maintained for the poet, who, by the publication of his odes, had drawn to himself the hearts, minds, and feelings of many persons. Many well-thinking men, among whom were several of great influence, offered to secure payment beforehand. This was fixed at a Louis d'or, the object being, it was said, not so much to pay for the book, as on this occasion to reward the author for his services to his country. Now every one pressed forward; even youths and young girls, who had not much to expend, opened their saving-boxes; men and women, the higher and the middle classes, contributed to this holy offering; and perhaps a thousand subscribers, all paying in advance, were collected. Expectation was raised to the highest pitch, and confidence was as great as possible.

After this, the work, on its appearance, was compelled to experience the strangest result in the world; it was, indeed, of important value, but by no means universally interesting. Klopstock's thoughts on poetry and literature were set forth in the form of an old German Druidical republic; his maxims on the true and false were expressed in pithy laconic aphorisms, in which, however, much that was instructive was sacrificed to the singularity of form. For authors and littérateurs, the book was and is invaluable; but it was only in this circle that it could be useful and effective. He who had thought himself followed the thinker; he who knew how to seek and prize what was genuine, found himself instructed by the profound, honest man; but the amateur, the general reader, was not enlightened, – to him the book remained sealed; and yet it had been placed in all hands; and while every one expected a perfectly serviceable work, most of them obtained one from which they could not get the smallest taste. The astonishment was general, but the esteem for the man was so great, that no grumbling, scarcely a murmur, arose. The young and beautiful part of the world got over their loss, and now freely gave away the copies they had so dearly purchased. I received several from kind female friends, but none of them have remained with me.

This undertaking, which was successful to the author, but a failure to the public, had the ill consequence, that there was now no further thought about subscriptions and prepayments; nevertheless the wish had been too generally diffused for the attempt not to be renewed. The Dessau publishing-house now offered to do this on a large scale. Learned men and publishers were here, by a close compact, to enjoy, both in a certain proportion, the hoped-for advantage. The necessity, so long painfully felt, again awakened a great confidence; but this could not last long; and after a brief endeavour the parties separated, with a loss on both sides.

Combination of young poets.

However, a speedy communication among the friends of literature was already introduced. The Musenalmanache55 united all the young poets with each other; the journals united the poet with other authors. My own pleasure in production was boundless; to what I had produced I remained indifferent; only when, in social circles, I made it present to myself and others, my affection for it was renewed. Moreover, many persons took an interest in both my larger and smaller works, because I urgently pressed every one who felt in any degree inclined and adapted to production, to produce something independently, after his own fashion, and was, in turn, challenged by all to new poetising and writing. These mutual impulses, which were carried even to an extreme, gave every one a happy influence in his own fashion; and from this whirling and working, this living and letting-live, this taking and giving, which was carried on by so many youths, from their own free hearts, without any theoretical guiding-star, according to the innate character of each, and without any special design, arose that famed, extolled, and decried epoch in literature, when a mass of young genial men, with all that audacity and assumption which is peculiar to their own period of youth, produced, by the application of their powers, much that was good, and by the abuse of these, much ill-feeling and mischief; and it is, indeed, the action and reaction which proceeded from this source, that form the chief theme of this volume.

In what can young people take the highest interest, how are they to excite interest among those of their own age, if they are not animated by love, and if affairs of the heart, of whatever kind they may be, are not living within them? I had in secret to complain of a love I had lost; this made me mild and tolerant, and more agreeable to society than in those brilliant times when nothing reminded me of a want or a fault, and I went storming along completely without restraint.

Frederica's answer to a written adieu rent my heart. It was the same hand, the same tone of thought, the same feeling, which had formed itself for me and by me. I now, for the first time, felt the loss which she suffered, and saw no means to supply it, or even to alleviate it. She was completely present to me; I always felt that she was wanting to me and, what was worst of all, I could not forgive myself for my own misfortune. Gretchen had been taken away from me; Annette had left me; now, for the first time, I was guilty I had wounded the most beautiful heart to its very depths; and the period of a gloomy repentance, with the absence of a refreshing love, to which I had grown accustomed, was most agonising, nay, insupportable. But man will live; and hence I took an honest interest in others; I sought to disentangle their embarrassments, and to unite what was about to part, that they might not have the same lot as myself. They were hence accustomed to call me the "confidant," and on account of wandering about the district, the "wanderer." In producing that calm for my mind, which I felt under the open sky, in the valleys, on the heights, in the fields and in the woods, the situation of Frankfort was serviceable, as it lay in the middle between Darmstadt and Hamburg, two pleasant places, which are on good terms with each other, through the relationship of both courts. I accustomed myself to live on the road, and, like a messenger, to wander about between the mountains and the flat country. Often I went alone, or in company, through my native city, as if it did not at all concern me, dined at one of the great inns in the High-street, and after dinner went further on my way. More than ever was I directed to the open world and to free nature. On my way I sang to myself strange hymns and dithyrambics, of which one entitled "The Wanderer's Storm-song" (Wanderer's Sturmlied) still remains. This half-nonsense I sang aloud, in an impassioned manner, when I found myself in a terrific storm, which I was obliged to meet.

My heart was untouched and unoccupied; I conscientiously avoided all closer connexion with ladies, and thus it remained concealed from me, that, inattentive and unconscious as I was, an amiable spirit was secretly hovering round me. It was not until many years afterwards, nay, until after her death, that I learned of her secret heavenly love, in a manner that necessarily overwhelmed me. But I was innocent, and could purely and honestly pity an innocent being; nay, I could do this the more, as the discovery occurred at an epoch when, completely without passion, I had the happiness of living for myself and my own intellectual inclinations.

At the time when I was pained by my grief at Frederica's situation, I again, after my old fashion, sought aid from poetry. I again continued the poetical confession which I had commenced, that by this self-tormenting penance I might be worthy of an internal absolution. The two Marias in Götz von Berlichingen and Clavigo, and the two bad characters who play the part of their lovers, may have been the results of such penitent reflections.

Skating.

But as in youth one soon overcomes mental wounds and diseases, because a healthy system of organic life can rise up for a sick one, and allow it time to grow healthy again, corporeal exercises, on many a favourable opportunity, came forward with very advantageous effect; and I was excited in many ways to man myself afresh, and to seek new pleasures of life and enjoyments. Riding gradually took the place of those sauntering, melancholy, toilsome, and at the same time tedious and aimless rambles on foot; one reached one's end more quickly, merrily, and commodiously. The young people again introduced fencing, but in particular, on the setting-in of winter, a new world was revealed to us, since I at once determined to skate, – an exercise which I had never attempted, – and, in a short time, by practice, reflection, and perseverance, brought it as far as was necessary to enjoy with others a gay, animated course on the ice, without wishing to distinguish myself.

For this new joyous activity we were also indebted to Klopstock, – to his enthusiasm for this happy species of motion, which private accounts confirmed, while his odes gave an undeniable evidence of it. I still exactly remember that on a cheerful frosty morning I sprang out of bed, and uttered aloud these passages: —

"Already, glad with feeling of health,Far down along the shore, I have whiten'dThe covering crystal."How does the winter's advancing daySoftly illumine the lake! The night has eastThe glittering frost, like stars, upon it."

My hesitating and wavering resolution was fixed at once, and I flew straight to the place where so old a beginner might with some degree of propriety make his first trial. And, indeed, this manifestation of our strength well deserved to be commended by Klopstock, for it is an exercise which brings us into contact with the freshest childhood, summons the youth to the full enjoyment of his suppleness, and is fitted to keep off a stagnant old age. We were immoderately addicted to this pleasure. To pass thus a splendid Sunday on the ice did not satisfy us, we continued our movement late into the night. For as other exertions fatigue the body, so does this give it a constantly new power. The full moon rising from the clouds, over the wide nocturnal meadows, which were frozen into fields of ice; the night-breeze, which rustled towards us on our course; the solemn thunder of the ice, which sank as the water decreased; the strange echo of our own movements, rendered the scenes of Ossian just present to our minds. Now this friend, now that, uttered an ode of Klopstock's, in a declamatory recitative; and if we found ourselves together at dawn, the unfeigned praise of the author of our joys broke forth: —

"And should he not be immortal,Who found for us health and joysWhich the horse, though bold in his course, never gave,And which even the ball is without?"

Such gratitude is earned by a man who knows how to honour and worthily to extend an earthly act by spiritual incitement.

And thus, as children of talent, whose mental gifts have, at an early period, been cultivated to an extraordinary degree, return, if they can, to the simplest sports of youth, did we, too, often forget our calling to more serious things. Nevertheless this very motion, so often carried on in solitude – this agreeable soaring in undetermined space – again excited many of my internal wants, which had, for a time, lain dormant; and I have been indebted to such hours for a more speedy elaboration of older plans.

The darker ages of German history had always occupied my desire for knowledge and my imagination. The thought of dramatizing Götz von Berlichingen, with all the circumstances of his time, was one which I much liked and valued. I industriously read the chief authors; to Datt's work, De Pace Publica, I devoted all my attention; I had sedulously studied it through, and rendered those singular details as visible to me as possible. These endeavours, which were directed to moral and poetical ends, I could also use in another direction, and I was now to visit Wetzlar. I had sufficient historical preparation; for the Imperial Chamber had arisen in consequence of the public tranquillity, and its history could serve as an important clue through the confused events of Germany. Indeed, the constitution of the courts and armies gives the most accurate insight into the constitution of every empire. Even the finances, the influence of which are considered so important, come much less under consideration; for if the whole is deficient, it is only necessary to take from the individual what he has laboriously scraped together, and thus the state is always sufficiently rich.

What occurred to me at Wetzlar is of no great importance, but it may inspire a greater interest, if the reader will not disdain a cursory history of the Imperial Chamber, in order to render present to his mind the unfavourable moment at which I arrived there.

History of the Imperial Chamber.

The lords of the earth are such, principally because they can assemble around them, in war, the bravest and most resolute, and in peace, the wisest and most just. Even to the state of a German emperor belonged a court of this kind, which always accompanied him in his expeditions through the empire. But neither this precaution, nor the Suabian law, which prevailed in the south of Germany, nor the Saxon law, which prevailed in the north, – neither the judges appointed to maintain them, nor the decisions of the peers of the contending parties, – neither the umpires recognised by agreement, nor friendly compacts instituted by the clergy, – nothing, in short, could quiet that excited chivalric spirit of feuds which had been roused, fostered, and made a custom among the Germans, by internal discord, by foreign campaigns, by the crusades especially, and even by judicial usages. To the emperor, as well as to the powerful estates, these squabbles were extremely annoying, while, through them, the less powerful became troublesome to each other, and if they combined, to the great also. All outward strength was paralysed, while internal order was destroyed; and besides this, a great part of the country was still encumbered with the Vehmgericht, of the horrors of which a notion may be formed, if we think that it degenerated into a secret police, which, at last, even fell into the hands of private persons.

Many attempts to steer against these evils had been made in vain, until, at last, the estates urgently proposed a court formed from among themselves. This proposal, well-meant as it might have been, nevertheless indicated an extension of the privileges of the estates, and a limitation of the imperial power. Under Frederic III. the matter is delayed; his son Maximilian, being pressed from without, complies. He appoints the chief judge, the estates send the assistants. There were to be four-and-twenty of them; but, at first, twelve are thought sufficient.