Of my _Faust_ there is much and little to say; at a peculiarly happy time the apothegm occurred to me:

"If bards ye are, as ye maintain; Now let your inspiration show it."

And through a mysterious psychological turn, which probably deserves investigation, I believe that I have risen to a type of production which with entire consciousness has brought forth that which I myself still approve of--though perhaps without being able ever again to swim in this current--but which Aristotle and other prose-writers would even ascribe to a sort of madness. The difficulty of succeeding consisted in the fact that the second part of _Faust_--to whose printed portions you have possibly devoted some attention--has been pondered for fifty years in its ends and aims, and has been elaborated in fragmentary fashion, as one or the other situation occurred to me; but the whole has remained incomplete.

Now, the second part of _Faust_ demands more of the understanding than the first does, and therefore it was necessary to prepare the reader, even though he must still supply bridges. The filling of certain gaps was obligatory both for historical and for aesthetic unity, and this I continued until at last I deemed it advisable to cry:

"Close ye the wat'ring ca.n.a.l; to their fill have the meadows now drunken."

And now I had to take heart to seal the st.i.tched copy in which printed and unprinted are thrust side by side, lest I might possibly be led into temptation to elaborate it here and there; at the same time I regret that I cannot communicate it to, my most valued friends, as the poet so gladly does.

I will not send my _Metamorphosis of Plants_, translated, with an appendix, by M. Soret, unless certain confessions of life would satisfy your friendship. Recently I have become more and more entangled in these phenomena of nature; they have enticed me to continue my labors in my original field, and have finally compelled me to remain in it. We shall see what is to be done there likewise, and shall trust the rest to the future, which, between ourselves, we burden with a heavier task than would be supposed.

From time to time let us not miss on either side an echo of continued existence.

G.

GOETHE TO WILHELM VON HUMBOLDT

Weimar, March 17, 1832.

After a long, involuntary pause I begin as follows, and yet simply on the spur of the moment. Animals, the ancients said, were taught by their organs. I add to this, men also, although they have the advantage of teaching their organs in return.

For every act, and, consequently, for every talent, an innate tendency is requisite, working automatically, and unconsciously carrying with itself the necessary predisposition; yet, for this very reason, it works on and on inconsequently, so that, although it contains its laws within itself, it may, nevertheless, ultimately run out, devoid of end or aim.

The earlier a man perceives that there is a handicraft or an art which will aid him to attain a normal increase of his natural talents, the more fortunate is he. Moreover, what he receives from without does not impair his innate individuality. The best genius is that which absorbs everything within itself, which knows how to adapt everything, without prejudicing in the least the real fundamental essence--the quality which is called character--so that it becomes the element which truly elevates that quality and endows it throughout so far as may be possible.

Here, now, appear the manifold relations between the conscious and the unconscious. Imagine a musical talent that is to compose an important score; consciousness and unconsciousness will be related like the warp and the woof, a simile that I am so fond of using. Through practice, teaching, reflection, failure, furtherance, opposition, and renewed reflection the organs of man unconsciously unite, in a free activity, the acquired and the innate, so that this process creates a unity which sets the world in amaze. This generalization may serve as a speedy reply to your query and as an explanation of the note that is herewith returned.

Over sixty years have pa.s.sed since, in my youth, the conception of Faust lay before me clear from the first, although the entire sequence was present in less detailed form. Now, I have always kept my purpose in the back of my mind and I have elaborated only the pa.s.sages that were of special interest to me, so that gaps remain in the second part which are to be connected with the remainder through the agency of a uniform interest. Here, I must admit, appeared the great difficulty of attaining through resolution and character what should properly belong only to a nature voluntarily active. It would, however, not have been well had this not been feasible after so long a life of active reflection, and I let no fear a.s.sail me that it may be possible to distinguish the older from the newer, and the later from the earlier; which point, then, we shall intrust to future readers for their friendly examination.

Beyond all question it will give me infinite pleasure to dedicate and communicate these very serious jests to my valued, ever thankfully recognized, and widely scattered friends while still living, and to receive their reply. But, as a matter of fact, the age is so absurd and so insane that I am convinced that the candid efforts which I have long expended upon this unusual structure would be ill rewarded, and that, driven ash.o.r.e, they will lie like a wreck in ruins and speedily be covered over by the sand-dunes of time. In theory and practice, confusion rules the world, and I have no more urgent task than to augment, wherever possible, what is and has remained within me, and to redistill my peculiarities, as you also, worthy friend, surely also do in your castle.

But do you likewise tell me something about your work. Riemer is, as you doubtless know, absorbed in the same and similar studies, and our evening conversations often lead to the confines of this specialty.

Forgive this delayed letter! Despite my retirement, there is seldom an hour when these mysteries of life may be realized.

GOETHE'S CORRESPONDENCE WITH ZELTER

TRANSLATED BY FRANCES H. KING

LETTER 512

Weimar, July 28, 1803.

I have followed you so often in my thoughts that unfortunately I have neglected to do so in writing. Just a few lines today, to accompany the inclosed page. Of Mozart's Biography I have heard nothing further, but I will inquire about it and also about the author. Your beautiful Queen made many happy while on her journey, and no one happier than my mother; nothing could have caused her greater joy in her declining years.

Do write me something about the performance of The _Natural Daughter_, frankly and without consideration for my feelings. I have a mind anyhow to shorten some of the scenes, which must seem long, even if they are excellently acted. Will you outline for me sometime the duties of a concert conductor, so much, at all events, as one of our kind needs to know in order to form a judgment of such a man, and in case of need, to be able to direct him? Madame Mara sang on Tuesday in Lauchstaedt; how it went off I do not yet know. For the songs which I received through Herr von Wolzogen I thank you mostly heartily in my own name and in the name of our friends. It was no time to think of producing them. I hope soon to send you the proof-sheets of my songs, and I beg you to keep them secret at first, until they have appeared in print.

_Inclosure_

You now have the _Bride of Messina_ before you in print and as you learn the poet's intentions from his introductory essay, you will know better how to appreciate what he has done, and how far you can agree with him. I will, regarding your letter, jot down my thoughts on the subject; we can come to an understanding in a few words.

[Ill.u.s.tration: K. F. ZELTER, E. A. Seemann]

In Greek tragedy four forms of the chorus are found, representing four epochs. In the first, between the songs in which G.o.ds and heroes are extolled and genealogies, great deeds, and monstrous destinies are brought before the imagination, a few persons appear and carry the spectator back into the past. Of this we find an approximate example in the _Seven before Thebes_ of, _Eschylus_. Here, therefore, are the beginnings of dramatic art, the old style. The second epoch shows us the chorus in the ma.s.s as the mystical, princ.i.p.al personage of the piece, as in the _Eumenides_ and _Supplicants_. Here I am inclined to find the grand style. The chorus is independent, the interest centres in it; one might call this the Republican period of dramatic art; the rulers and the G.o.ds are only attendant personages. In the third epoch it is the chorus which plays the secondary part; the interest is transferred to the families, and the members and heads who represent them in the play, with whose fate that of the surrounding people is only loosely connected. Then, the chorus is subordinate, and the figures of the princes and heroes stand preeminent in all their exclusive magnificence.

This I consider the beautiful style. The pieces of Sophocles stand on this plane. Since the crowd is forced merely to look on at the heroes and at fate, and can have no effect on either their special or general nature, it takes refuge in reflection and a.s.sumes the office of an able and welcome spectator. In the fourth epoch the action withdraws more and more into the sphere of private interests, and the chorus often appears as a burdensome custom, as an inherited fixture. It becomes unnecessary, and therefore, as a part of a living poetic composition, it is useless, wearisome, and disturbing; as, for example, when it is called upon to guard secrets in which it has no interest, and things of that sort.

Several examples are to be found in the pieces of Euripides, of which I will mention _Helen_ and _Iphigenia in Tauris_.

From all this you will see that, for a musical reconstruction of the chorus, it would be necessary to make experiments in the style of the first two epochs; and this might be accomplished by means of quite short oratorios.

LETTER 553

Weimar, June 1, 1805.

Since writing to you last, I have had few happy days. I thought I should die myself, and instead I lose a friend,[33] and with him the half of my being. I would really begin a different mode of life, but for one of my years there is no way of doing that. I only look straight ahead of me each day, and do the thing nearest to me without thinking of the consequences.

But as people in every loss and misfortune try to find a pretext for amus.e.m.e.nt, I have been urgently solicited in behalf of our theatre, and on many other sides, to celebrate on the stage the memory of the departed one. I wish to say nothing further on the subject, except that I am not disinclined to it, and all I would ask of you now is whether you are willing to a.s.sist me in the matter; and, first, whether you would furnish me with your motet--"Man lives," etc., about which I have read in the _Musical Review_, No. 27; also whether you would either compose some other pieces of a solemn character, or else select and make over to me some musical pieces already composed--the style of which I will indicate later--as a foundation for appropriate compositions. As soon as I know your real opinion on the subject, you shall receive further details.

Your beautiful series of little essays on orchestra organization I have left lying around till now, and the reason is that they contained a sort of satire on our own conditions.

Now Reichard wishes them for the _Musical Review_. I hunt them up again, look them over, and I feel that I really could not deprive the Intelligence Page of our _Literatur-Zeitung_ of them. Some of our conditions here have changed, and, after all, a man may surely be allowed to censure those things which he did not try to hinder.

Privy Councillor Wolf of Halle is here at present. If only I could hope to see you also here this year! Would it not be possible for you to come to Lauchstaedt the end of July, so as to help, there on the spot, in the preparation and performance of the above-mentioned work?

Think it over and only tell me there is a possibility of it; we shall then be able to devise the means of bringing it to pa.s.s.

LETTER 606

Weimar, October 30, 1808.

The world of art is just now too much run down for a young man to be able to realize exactly where he stands. People always search for inspiration everywhere but in the place where it originates, and if they do once catch sight of the source, then they cannot find the path leading to it. Therefore I am reduced to despair by half a dozen of the younger poetic spirits, who, though endowed with extraordinary natural talent, will scarcely accomplish much that I can ever take pleasure in.

Werner, Ochlenschlaeger, Arnim, Brentano and others are still working and practising at their art, but everything they do is absolutely lacking in form and character. Not one of them can understand that the highest and only operation of nature and art is the creation of form, and in the form, detail, so that each single thing shall become, be, and remain something separate and important. There is no art in letting your talent go to suit your humor and convenience.

The sad part of it is that the humorous, because it has no support and no law within itself, sooner or later degenerates into melancholy and bad temper. We have been forced to experience the most horrible examples of this in Jean Paul (see his last production in the _Ladies' Calendar_) and in Gorres (see his _Specimens of Writing_). Moreover, there are always people enough to admire and esteem that sort of thing, because the public is always grateful to every one who tries to turn its head.

Will you be obliging enough, when you have a quarter of an hour's spare time, to sketch for me, in a few rough lines, the aberrations of our youthful musicians? I should like to compare them with the errors of the painters; for a man must once for all set his heart at rest about these things, execrate the whole business, stop thinking about the culture of others, and employ the short time that remains to him on his own works.

But even while I express myself thus disagreeably, I must, as always happens to good-natured bl.u.s.terers, contradict myself immediately, and beg you to continue your interest in Eberwein at least until Easter; for then I will send him to you again. He has acquired great confidence in you, and great respect for your inst.i.tution, but unhappily even that does not mean much with young people. They still secretly think it would also be possible to produce something extraordinary by their own foolish methods. Many people gain some comprehension that there is a goal, but they would like very much to reach it by loitering along mazy paths.

You have been sufficiently reminded of us throughout this month by the newspapers. It was worth much to be present in person at these events. I also came in for a share of the favorable influence of such an unusual constellation. The Emperor of France was very gracious to me. Both Emperors decorated me with stars and ribbons, which we desire in all modesty thankfully to acknowledge. Forgive me for not writing you more about the latest events. You must have already wondered when you read the papers that this stream of the great and mighty ones of earth should have rolled on as far as Weimar, and even over the battlefield of Jena. I cannot refrain from inclosing to you a remarkable engraving. The point where the temple is placed, is the farthest point toward the north-east reached by Napoleon on this tour. When you visit us, I will place you on the spot where the little man with the cane is shown parceling off the world.

LETTER 640