The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Iii Part 144

Wilhelm's false relationship to Theresa is admirably conceived, motivated, and worked out, and still more admirably turned to account.

Many a reader will at first be actually alarmed at it, for I can promise Theresa but few wellwishers; all the more beautiful is the way in which the reader is rescued from this state of uneasiness. I cannot imagine how this false relation could have been dissolved more tenderly, more delicately, or more n.o.bly. How pleased Richardson and all his set would have been had you made a scene out of it and been highly indelicate in the display of delicate sentiments! I have but one little objection to raise: Theresa's courageous and determined resistance to the person who wishes to rob her of her lover, even although the possibility is thereby reopened to her of possessing Lothar, is quite in accordance with nature, and is excellent; further, I think there are good reasons for Wilhelm's showing deep indignation and a certain amount of pain at the banterings of his fellowmen and of fate--but it seems to me that he ought to complain less deeply of the loss of a happiness which had already ceased to be anything of the kind to him. In Natalie's presence, as it seems to me, his regained freedom ought to be to him a greater happiness than he allows it to be. I am quite aware of the complication of this state of things and what is demanded by _delicatesse_, but, on the other hand, Natalie may in some measure be said to be hurt by this same _delicatesse_ when, in her presence, Wilhelm is allowed to lament over the loss of Theresa.

One other thing I specially admire in the concatenation of the events is the great good which you have contrived to draw from Wilhelm's already-mentioned false relation to Theresa so as most speedily to bring about the true and desired end, the union of Natalie and Wilhelm. In no other manner could this end have been arrived at so well and so naturally as by the path you have pursued, although this very path threatened to lead from it. It can now be maintained, with the most perfect innocence and purity, that Wilhelm and Natalie belong to each other; and Theresa's letters to Natalie lead up to this beautifully. Such contrivances are of the greatest beauty, for they unite all that could be desired, nay, all that appeared wholly ununitable; they complicate, and yet carry the solution in themselves; they produce restlessness, and yet lead to repose; they succeed in reaching the goal, while appearing to be making every effort to keep from it.

Mignon's death, although we are prepared for it, affects one powerfully and deeply--so deeply, in fact, that many will think you quit the subject too abruptly. This, upon first reading it, was a very decided feeling in my own case; but, on reading it a second time, when surprise had subsided, I felt it less, and yet I fear that you may have, in this, gone a hair's breadth too far. Mignon, before her end, had begun to appear more womanly and softer, and thus to have become more interesting in herself; the repulsive heterogeneity of her nature had relaxed, and with this relaxation some of her impetuosity had likewise disappeared. Her last song, especially, melts one's heart to the most intense sympathy. Hence it strikes one as odd that, directly upon the affecting scene of her death, the doctor should make an experiment upon her corpse, and that this living being should so soon be able to forget the person, merely in order to regard her as the instrument of a scientific inquiry. It strikes one as being equally strange that Wilhelm--who, after all, is the cause of her death, and is aware of it--should at that moment notice the instrument-case and be lost in the recollection of past scenes, when the present should have so wholly absorbed him.

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 n.o.ble.

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 p.r.o.ne 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 ma.s.s which has formerly drawn and held me to it has now gone, and I feel as if I were hanging indefinitely in empty s.p.a.ce. 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 G.o.ds. 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 Nave 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 Korner.

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 Korner 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 a.s.sure 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sume 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.