When I began to lay before Merck many proposals as to the way in which I should set about this task, he laughed at me, and asked what was the meaning of this perpetual writing and rewriting? The thing, he said, by this means, becomes only different, and seldom better; one must see what effect one thing produces, and then again try something new. "Be in time at the hedge, if you would dry your linen."[4] he exclaimed, in the words of the proverb; hesitation and delay only make uncertain men. On the other hand, I replied to him that it would be unpleasant to me to offer to a bookseller a work on which I had bestowed so much affection, and perhaps to receive a refusal as an answer; for how would they judge of a young, nameless, and also audacious author? As my dread of the press gradually vanished, I had wished to see printed my comedy Die Mitschuldigen, upon which I set some value, but I found no publisher inclined in my favour.
Here the technically mercantile taste of my friend was at once excited. By means of the Frankfort Zeitung (Gazette), he had already formed a connexion with learned men and booksellers, and therefore he thought that we ought to publish at our own expense this singular and certainly striking work, and that we should derive a larger profit from it. Like many others, he used often to reckon up for the booksellers their profit, which with many works was certainly great, especially if one left out of the account how much was lost by other writings and commercial affairs. Enough, it was settled that I should procure the paper, and that he should take care of the printing. Thus we went heartily to work, and I was not displeased gradually to see my wild dramatic sketch in clean proof-sheets; it looked really neater than I myself expected. We completed the work, and it was sent off in many parcels. Before long a great commotion arose everywhere; the attention which it created became universal. But because, with our limited means, the copies could not be sent quick enough to all parts, a pirated edition suddenly made its appearance. As, moreover, there could be no immediate return, especially in ready money, for the copies sent out, so was I, as a young man in a family whose treasury could not be in an abundant condition, at the very time when much attention, nay, much applause was bestowed upon me, extremely perplexed as to how I should pay for the paper by means of which I had made the world acquainted with my talent. On the other hand, Merck, who knew better how to help himself, entertained the best hopes that all would soon come right again; but I never perceived that to be the case.
Goetz von Berlichingen.
Through the little pamphlets which I had published anonymously, I had, at my own expense, learned to know the critics and the public; and I was thus pretty well prepared for praise and blame, especially as for many years I had constantly folio wed up the subject, and had observed how those authors were treated, to whom I had devoted particular attention.
Here even in my uncertainty, I could plainly remark how much that was groundless, one-sided, and arbitrary, was recklessly uttered. Now the same thing befel me, and if I had not had some basis of my own, how much would the contradictions of cultivated men have perplexed me! Thus, for instance, there was in the German Mercury a diffuse, well-meant criticism, composed by some man of limited mind. Where he found fault, I could not agree with him,—still less when he stated how the affair could have been done otherwise. It was therefore highly gratifying to me, when immediately afterwards I found a pleasant explanation by Wieland, who in general opposed the critic, and took my part against him. However, the former review was printed likewise; I saw an example of the dull state of mind among well-informed and cultivated men. How, then, would it look with the great public!
The pleasure of talking over such things with Merck, and thus gaining light upon them, was of short duration, for the intelligent Landgravine of Hesse-Darmstadt took him with her train on her journey to Petersburg. The detailed letters which he wrote to me gave me a farther insight into the world, which I could the more make my own as the descriptions were made by a well-known and friendly hand. But nevertheless I remained very solitary for a long time, and was deprived just at this important epoch of his enlightening sympathy, of which I then stood in so much need.
Just as one embraces the determination to become a soldier, and go to the wars, and courageously resolves to bear danger and difficulties, as well as to endure wounds and pains, and even death, but at the same time never calls to mind the particular cases in which those generally anticipated evils may surprise us in an extremely unpleasant manner,—so it is with every one who ventures into the world, especially an author; and so it was with me. As the great part of mankind is more excited by a subject than by the treatment of it, so it was to the subject that the sympathy of young men for my pieces was generally owing. They thought they could see in them a banner, under the guidance of which all that is wild and unpolished in youth might find a vent; and those of the very best brains, who had previously harboured a similar crotchet, were thus carried away. I still possess a letter—I know not to whom—from the excellent and, in many respects, unique Bürger, which may serve as an important voucher of the effect and excitement which was then produced by that phenomenon. On the other side, some men blamed me for painting the club-law in too favourable colours, and even attributed to me the intention of bringing those disorderly times back again. Others took me for a profoundly learned man, and wished me to publish a new edition, with notes, of the original narrative of the good Götz;—a task to which I felt by no means adapted, although I allowed my name to be put on the title to the new impression. Because I had understood how to gather the flowers of a great existence, they took me for a careful gardener. However, this learning and profound knowledge of mine were much doubted by others. A respectable man of business quite unexpectedly pays me a visit. I find myself highly honoured by this, especially as he opens his discourse with the praise of my Götz von Berlichingen, and my good insight into German history, but I am nevertheless astonished when I remark that he has really come for the sole purpose of informing me that Götz von Berlichingen was no brother-in-law to Franz von Sichingen, and that therefore by this poetical matrimonial alliance I have committed a great historical error. I sought to excuse myself by the fact, that Götz himself calls him so, but was met by the reply, that this is a form of expression which only denotes a nearer and more friendly connexion, just as in modern times we call postilions "brothers-in-law,"[5] without being bound to them by any family tie. I thanked him as well as I could for this information, and only regretted that the evil was now not to be remedied. This was regretted by him also, while he exhorted me in the kindest manner to a further study of the German history and constitution, and offered me his library, of which I afterwards made a good use.
Goetz von Berlichingen.
A droll event of the sort which occurred to me was the visit of a bookseller, who, with cheerful openness, requested a dozen of such pieces, and promised to pay well for them. That we made ourselves very merry about this may be imagined; and yet, in fact, he was not so very far wrong, for I was already greatly occupied in moving backwards and forwards from this turning-point in German history, and in working up the chief events in a similar spirit—a laudable design, which, like many others, was frustrated by the rushing flight of time.
That play, however, had not solely occupied the author, but while it was devised, written, rewritten, printed, and circulated, other images and plans were moving in his mind. Those which could be treated dramatically had the advantage of being oftenest thought over and brought near to execution; but at the same time was developed a transition to another form, which is not usually classed with those of the drama, but yet has a great affinity with them. This transition was chiefly brought about by a peculiarity of the author, which fashioned soliloquy into dialogue.