Life of Johann Wolfgang Goethe

by James Sime

Goethe’s lyrical poems, too, many of which were written during this period, have a freshness and a lightness of touch which Schiller himself felt to be unapproachable. Whatever may be thought of Goethe as a dramatist or a writer of romance, there never has been, and never can be, any dispute as to his greatness as a lyrical poet. The secret of the unfading charm of his lyrics lies chiefly in their truth and spontaneity. Goethe never sought to express in writings of this kind what he himself did not feel; but if a strong feeling took possession of his mind, he could not rest until it found lyrical utterance. And in passing into form in verse, his feeling lost all that was accidental or of merely passing interest; its expression became the reflection, not of one man’s experience only, but of the ever-recurring experience of humanity. There are few elements of the inward life that Goethe does not touch in his lyrics, and all that he approaches is within the scope of his art. The German language, often so harsh and obscure, has in these perfect products of his genius an exquisite softness, richness, and transparency. Goethe, who knew well the difficulties it presented, found in it an organ equally fitted for the lightest play of fancy and the loftiest flights of the imagination.

In 1797 Goethe visited Switzerland for the third time, and enjoyed heartily a long holiday with his friend Meyer, who had been in Italy collecting materials for a work which they thought of writing in common. This work, in which they proposed to show the relation of Italian art to the physical features of the country and to its social and political development, was never begun; but Goethe’s studies for it gave a fresh impetus to his enthusiasm for art, and for years one of the objects he had most at heart was to communicate his enthusiasm to an ever widening circle among the educated classes of Germany. In 1798 he started an art journal called “Die Propyläen” (the German form of [Greek: ta propylaia], The Gateway); but the public had little interest in the questions with which it dealt, and after the appearance of four numbers the enterprise had to be abandoned. Another result of Goethe’s labours in connection with art was his masterly book on “Winckelmann und sein Jahrhundert” (“Winckelmann and his Century”), published in 1805. In this work, to which contributions were made by Meyer and the great Homeric scholar Wolf, Goethe offered a magnificent tribute to the memory of the writer who, by his insight and learning, had opened the way to a true appreciation of the artistic achievements of the ancient world.

Among other prose writings of this period may be mentioned Goethe’s translation of the autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini, a task undertaken for the Horen; and “Rameaus Neffe” (“Rameau’s Nephew”), a translation of what is, on the whole, the most powerful of Diderot’s works. “Le Neveu de Rameau” had not yet been printed, and Goethe’s rendering was made from a manuscript which had come into Schiller’s hands. A more searching study of the baser possibilities of human nature has never, perhaps, been written, and Goethe faithfully reproduced it with all its original force and vividness.

Schiller occupied himself for several years, at intervals, with his great drama “Wallenstein.” The mass of his materials made it hard for him to see his way to an adequate treatment of the subject; but in 1798, having discussed his scheme thoroughly with Goethe, he was able to arrive at a final decision as to its form. The Prelude, “Wallensteins Lager” (“Wallenstein’s Camp”), in the extraordinary vividness of which there are unmistakable marks of Goethe’s influence, was represented for the first time at the Weimar Theatre in October, 1798. “The Piccolomini” was given early in 1799; and soon afterwards the entire work, including “Wallenstein’s Death,” was performed, a night being devoted to each of its three parts. Goethe, as the director of the theatre, worked hard to secure that full justice should be done to his friend’s masterpiece, and his disinterested efforts were crowned with what was then considered unparalleled success.

The effect of this triumph was that Schiller resolved not only to devote himself almost exclusively to dramatic work, but to transfer his residence from Jena to Weimar, where he would have the advantage of being near the theatre, and possess unlimited opportunities of intercourse with Goethe. Before the end of 1799 this plan was carried out, and all the benefits Schiller hoped to derive from it were realized. Goethe and he became, if possible, more intimate friends than ever, and never tired in their efforts to make the Weimar Theatre a great centre for the creation of a truly national stage. They were virtually joint directors, but Goethe retained, of course, supreme control.

This was the most brilliant period in the history of Weimar, for it was now the home of four famous writers, Goethe, Schiller, Herder, and Wieland. Herder died in 1803, and during his last years he became bitter and morose, so that, to Goethe’s intense regret, he brought to an end the relations which had formerly been a source of so much happiness to both. With Wieland, who survived Herder ten years, Goethe remained on friendly terms to the last.

The great philosophical movement of Germany was now in full progress. It began with the publication, in 1781, of Kant’s “Critique of Pure Reason,” and was continued in different directions, first by Fichte, then by Schelling, and afterwards by Hegel and Schopenhauer. Goethe was not so fascinated as Schiller by the suggestions which were being offered by so many fine minds for the solution of the highest problems; but he was too keenly alive to every kind of intellectual influence to allow any deep current of contemporary thought to escape his notice. He read with profound interest the second of Kant’s great works, “The Critique of Judgment,” and thoroughly mastered Fichte’s system of ideas as expounded in the “Wissenschaftslehre” (“Theory of Knowledge”). He was still more strongly attracted by Schilling, in whose philosophy he found much that accorded with his own conceptions of Nature. Fichte and Schelling were for several years professors at Jena, and Goethe, to whom they owed their appointments, had many opportunities of discussing with them the questions to the study of which they had devoted their lives.

Another important movement, closely connected with the philosophical ideas of Fichte and Schelling, began at this time to arrest attention. It was the movement which led to the formation of the Romantic School. The critical leaders of this school, August and Frederick Schlegel, were both for a while lecturers at the University of Jena, where they exercised a powerful influence through their literary journal, The Athenæum. With them, and with Tieck and Novalis, Goethe, always anxious to encourage young writers who seemed to give indications of genius, sought to maintain the most friendly relations. He even caused to be represented on the Weimar stage two rather crude plays, “Ion” and “Alarcos,” the former by August Schlegel, the latter by Frederick Schlegel. The writers of the Romantic school ultimately diverged widely from Goethe’s methods, but all that was really vital in their teaching had already been embodied in his works, and it was chiefly from him that they originally derived the best and most fruitful of their impulses.

In the winter of 1803-4 Madame de Staël paid her famous visit to Weimar. Goethe did not fail to do due honour to so distinguished a guest, but, like Schiller, he was soon fatigued by her restless curiosity and endless talk. He interested her the more deeply because she could not but see that the air of patronage with which she had been disposed to meet him was wholly out of place. For no other German writer did she conceive so strong a respect.

Meanwhile, Schiller, quickened by Goethe’s unfailing sympathy, had been producing in rapid succession the great plays of his last years—“Mary Stuart,” “The Maid of Orleans,” “The Bride of Messina,” and “William Tell.” Goethe had at this period, so far as the drama was concerned, no corresponding period of activity. In 1800 and 1801 he produced only translations of Voltaire’s “Mahomet” and “Tancred.” He was working, however, at an important poetical drama, “Die Natürliche Tochter” (“The Natural Daughter”). This drama was intended to be the first member of a trilogy dealing with the ideas on which the French Revolution had been compelling all the world to reflect. The trilogy was to represent the overthrow and re-establishment of an ancient monarchy, its overthrow being due to corrupt government, its re-establishment to the frank recognition of popular rights. The only part of the scheme he succeeded in working out was “Die Natürliche Tochter,” in which we are permitted to see some of the abuses that were to have led to revolution. The facts on which the idea of the play was based Goethe found in the “Mémoires historiques de Stéphanie Louise de Bourbon Conti,” published at Paris in 1797. Eugenie, the heroine, is the natural daughter of a duke, the uncle of the king; and the question on which the interest depends is whether she shall allow herself to be publicly acknowledged as one in whose veins there is royal blood, or whether she shall remain, as she has been educated, in seclusion. Fascinated by the charm of a lofty social position, she decides to claim the rights which the king, at her father’s intercession, is willing to confer upon her. Then she becomes a victim of treachery and violence. Of all Goethe’s plays this is the one in which he allows the idea of necessity to exercise the most rigid control over the development of the action. The circumstances being such as are described, there is no way of escape from the consequences of Eugenie’s decision; all is ordered in accordance with an inevitable law. The characters, therefore, have no very distinct individuality. They are so completely subordinated to the general scheme that only the heroine receives a special name. The other characters appear simply as the King, the Duke, the Secretary, and so forth. The play, if we estimate it from the point of view selected by Goethe, is one of great power; but had he devoted himself to works of this kind he could never have shown the true character of his genius. His strength lay in the development, not of plot, but of character.