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.