No More Learning

My loved, my lover,
His trials over
In yonder world, returns to me in this!
BLESSED BOYS
[Approaching in hovering circles]
With mighty limbs he towers
Already above us;
He, for this love of ours,
Will richlier love us.
Early were we removed,
Ere Life could reach us;
Yet he hath learned and proved,
And he will teach us.
THE PENITENT
[Formerly named Margaret]
The spirit choir around him seeing,
New to himself, he scarce divines
His heritage of new-born Being,
When like the Holy Host he shines.
Behold, how he each band hath cloven
The earthly life had round him thrown,


## p. 6421 (#403) ###########################################


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6421
And through his garb, of ether woven,
The early force of youth is shown!
Vouchsafe to me that I instruct him!
Still dazzles him the Day's new glare.
MATER GLORIOSA
Rise thou to higher spheres! Conduct him,
Who, feeling thee, shall follow there!
DOCTOR MARIANUS
[Prostrate, adoring]
Penitents, look up, elate,
Where she beams salvation;
Gratefully to blessed fate
Grow, in re-creation!
Be our souls, as they have been,
Dedicate to thee!
Virgin Holy, Mother, Queen,
Goddess, gracious be!
CHORUS MYSTICUS
All things transitory
But as symbols are sent:
Earth's insufficiency
Here grows to Event:
The Indescribable,
Here it is done:
The Woman Soul leadeth us
Upward and on!
MIGNON'S LOVE AND LONGING
From Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship. Carlyle's Translation
NOTH
OTHING is more touching than the first disclosure of a love
which has been nursed in silence; of a faith grown strong
in secret, and which at last comes forth in the hour of
need and reveals itself to him who formerly has reckoned it of
small account. The bud which had been closed so long and
firmly was now ripe to burst its swathings, and Wilhelm's heart
could never have been readier to welcome the impressions of
affection.



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GOETHE
She stood before him, and noticed his disquietude. "Master! "
she cried, "if thou art unhappy, what will become of Mignon? "
"Dear little creature," said he, taking her hands, "thou too art
part of my anxieties. I must go hence. " She looked at his eyes,
glistening with restrained tears, and knelt down with vehemence
before him. He kept her hands; she laid her head upon his
knees, and remained quite still. He played with her hair, patted
her, and spoke kindly to her. She continued motionless for a
considerable time. At last he felt a sort of palpitating movement
in her, which began very softly, and then by degrees, with in-
creasing violence, diffused itself over all her frame. "What ails
thee, Mignon? " cried he; "what ails thee? " She raised her lit-
tle head, looked at him, and all at once laid her hand upon her
heart, with the countenance of one repressing the utterance of
pain. He raised her up, and she fell upon his breast; he pressed
her towards him, and kissed her. She replied not by any press-
ure of the hand, by any motion whatever. She held firmly
against her heart; and all at once gave a cry, which was accom-
panied by spasmodic movements of the body. She started up,
and immediately fell down before him, as if broken in every
joint. It was an excruciating moment! "My child! " cried he,
raising her up and clasping her fast,-"my child, what ails thee?
The palpitations continued, spreading from the heart over all the
lax and powerless limbs; she was merely hanging in his arms.
All at once she again became quite stiff, like one enduring the
sharpest corporeal agony; and soon with a new vehemence all
her frame once more became alive, and she threw herself about
his neck, like a bent spring that is closing; while in her soul, as
it were, a strong rent took place, and at the same moment a
stream of tears flowed from her shut eyes into his bosom. He
held her fast. She wept, and no tongue can express the force
of these tears. Her long hair had loosened, and was hanging
down before her; it seemed as if her whole being was melting
incessantly into a brook of tears. Her rigid limbs were again
become relaxed; her inmost soul was pouring itself forth; in the
wild confusion of the moment, Wilhelm was afraid she would
dissolve in his arms, and leave nothing there for him to grasp.
He held her faster and faster. "My child! " cried he, "my child!
thou art indeed mine, if that word can comfort thee. Thou art
mine! I will keep thee, I will never forsake thee! " Her tears
continued flowing. At last she raised herself; a faint gladness


## p. 6423 (#405) ###########################################

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6423
shone upon her face. "My father! " cried she, "thou wilt not
forsake me? Wilt be my father? I am thy child! "
Softly, at this moment, the harp began to sound before the
door; the old man brought his most affecting songs as an even-
ing offering to our friend, who, holding his child ever faster in
his arms, enjoyed the most pure and undescribable felicity.
"KNOW'ST thou the land where citron-apples bloom,
And oranges like gold in leafy gloom,
A gentle wind from deep-blue heaven blows,
The myrtle thick, and high the laurel grows?
Know'st thou it then?
'Tis there! 'Tis there,
O my true loved one, thou with me must go!
"Know'st thou the house, its porch with pillars tall?
The rooms do glitter, glitters bright the hall,
And marble statues stand, and look each one:
What's this, poor child, to thee they've done?
Know'st thou it then?
'Tis there! 'Tis there,
O my protector, thou with me must go!
"Know'st thou the hill, the bridge that hangs on cloud?
The mules in mist grope o'er the torrent loud,
In caves lie coiled the dragon's ancient brood,
The crag leaps down, and over it the flood:
Know'st thou it then?
'Tis there! 'Tis there
Our way runs: O my father, wilt thou go? "
Next morning, on looking for Mignon about the house, Wil-
helm did not find her, but was informed that she had gone out
early with Melina, who had risen betimes to receive the ward-
robe and other apparatus of his theatre.
After the space of some hours, Wilhelm heard the sound of
music before his door. At first he thought it was the harper
come again to visit him; but he soon distinguished the tones of
a cithern, and the voice which began to sing was Mignon's.
Wilhelm opened the door; the child came in, and sang him the
song we have just given above.
The music and general expression of it pleased our friend
extremely, though he could not understand all the words. He


## p. 6424 (#406) ###########################################

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GOETHE
made her once more repeat the stanzas, and explain them; he
wrote them down, and translated them into his native language.
But the originality of its turns he could imitate only from afar:
its childlike innocence of expression vanished from it in the pro-
cess of reducing its broken phraseology to uniformity, and com-
bining its disjointed parts. The charm of the tune, moreover,
was entirely incomparable.
She began every verse in a stately and solemn manner, as if
she wished to draw attention towards something wonderful, as if
she had something weighty to communicate. In the third line, her
tones became deeper and gloomier; the "Know'st thou it then? "
was uttered with a show of mystery and eager circumspectness;
in the "'Tis there! 'Tis there! " lay a boundless longing; and her
"With me must go! " she modified at each repetition, so that now
it appeared to entreat and implore, now to impel and persuade.
On finishing her song for the second time, she stood silent for
a moment, looked keenly at Wilhelm, and asked him, "Know'st
thou the land? " "It must mean Italy," said Wilhelm: "where
didst thou get the little song? " "Italy! " said Mignon, with an
earnest air. "If thou go to Italy, take me along with thee; for
I am too cold here. " "Hast thou been there already, little
dear? " said Wilhelm. But the child was silent, and nothing more
could be got out of her.
WILHELM MEISTER'S INTRODUCTION TO SHAKESPEARE
From Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship. Carlyle's Translation
“H^
AVE you never," said Jarno, taking him aside, "read one of
Shakespeare's plays? "
"No," replied Wilhelm: "since the time when they be-
came more known in Germany, I have myself grown unacquainted
with the theatre; and I know not whether I should now rejoice
that an old taste and occupation of my youth, has been by
chance renewed. In the mean time, all that I have heard of
these plays has excited little wish to become acquainted with
such extraordinary monsters, which appear to set probability and
dignity alike at defiance. "
"I would advise you," said the other, "to make a trial, not-
withstanding: it can do one no harm to look at what is extraordi-
nary with one's own eyes. I will lend you a volume or two; and


## p. 6425 (#407) ###########################################

GOETHE
6425
you cannot better spend your time than by casting everything
aside, and retiring to the solitude of your old habitation, to look
into the magic lantern of that unknown world. It is sinful of
you to waste your hours in dressing out these apes to look more
human, and teaching dogs to dance. One thing only I require,-
you must not cavil at the form; the rest I can leave to your
own good sense and feeling. "
The horses were standing at the door; and Jarno mounted
with some other cavaliers, to go and hunt. Wilhelm looked after
him with sadness. He would fain have spoken much with this
man who though in a harsh, unfriendly way, gave him new
ideas,-ideas that he had need of.
Oftentimes a man, when approaching some development of his
powers, capacities, and conceptions, gets into a perplexity from
which a prudent friend might easily deliver him. He resembles
a traveler, who, at but a short distance from the inn he is to
rest at, falls into the water: were any one to catch him then
and pull him to the bank, with one good wetting it were over;
whereas, though he struggles out himself, it is often at the side
where he tumbled in, and he has to make a wide and weary cir-
cuit before reaching his appointed object.
Wilhelm now began to have an inkling that things went for-
ward in the world differently from what he had supposed. He
now viewed close at hand the solemn and imposing life of the
great and distinguished, and wondered at the easy dignity which
they contrived to give it. An army on its march, a princely
hero at the head of it, such a multitude of co-operating warriors,
such a multitude of crowding worshipers, exalted his imagination.
In this mood he received the promised books; and ere long, as
may be easily supposed, the stream of that mighty genius laid
hold of him and led him down to a shoreless ocean, where he
soon completely forgot and lost himself.
Wilhelm had scarcely read one or two of Shakespeare's plays,
till their effect on him became so strong that he could go no
further. His whole soul was in commotion. He sought an
opportunity to speak with Jarno; to whom, on meeting with him,
he expressed his boundless gratitude for such delicious entertain-
ment.
"I clearly enough foresaw," said Jarno, "that you would not
remain insensible to the charms of the most extraordinary and
most admirable of all writers. "


## p. 6426 (#408) ###########################################

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GOETHE
"Yes! " exclaimed our friend: "I cannot reconect that any
book, any man, any incident of my life, has produced such im-
portant effects on me, as the precious works to which by your
kindness I have been directed. They seem as if they were per-
formances of some celestial genius descending among men, to
make them by the mildest instructions acquainted with them-
selves. They are no fictions! You would think, while reading
them, you stood before the inclosed awful Books of Fate, while
the whirlwind of most impassioned life was howling through the
leaves, and tossing them fiercely to and fro. The strength and
tenderness, the power and peacefulness of this man, have so
astonished and transported me, that I long vehemently for the
time when I shall have it in my power to read further. "
"Bravo! " said Jarno, holding out his hand, and squeezing our
friend's. "This is as it should be! And the consequences which
I hope for will likewise surely follow. "
"I wish," said Wilhelm, "I could but disclose to you all that
is going on within me even now. All the anticipations I have
ever had regarding man and his destiny, which have accompanied
me from youth upwards often unobserved by myself, I find de-
veloped and fulfilled in Shakespeare's writings. It seems as if
he cleared up every one of our enigmas to us, though we cannot
say, Here or there is the word of solution.
His men appear
like natural men, and yet they are not. These, the most myste-
rious and complex productions of creation, here act before us as
if they were watches, whose dial-plates and cases were of crystal,
which pointed out according to their use the course of the hours.
and minutes; while at the same time you could discern the com-
bination of wheels and springs that turn them. The few glances
I have cast over Shakespeare's world incite me, more than any-
thing beside, to quicken my footsteps forward into the actual
world, to mingle in the flood of destinies that is suspended over
it; and at length, if I shall prosper, to draw a few cups from
the great ocean of true nature, and to distribute them from off
the stage among the thirsting people of my native land. "


## p. 6427 (#409) ###########################################

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6427
WILHELM MEISTER'S ANALYSIS OF HAMLET
From Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship >
SE
EEING the company so favorably disposed, Wilhelm now hoped
he might further have it in his power to converse with them
on the poetic merit of the pieces which might come before
them. "It is not enough," said he next day, when they were
all again assembled, "for the actor merely to glance over a dra-
matic work, to judge of it by his first impression, and thus with-
out investigation to declare his satisfaction or dissatisfaction with
it. Such things may be allowed in a spectator, whose purpose it
is rather to be entertained and moved than formally to criticize.
But the actor, on the other hand, should be prepared to give a
reason for his praise or censure: and how shall he do this if he
have not taught himself to penetrate the sense, the views, and
feelings of his author? A common error is, to form a judgment
of a drama from a single part in it; and to look upon this part
itself in an isolated point of view, not in its connection with the
whole. I have noticed this within a few days so clearly in my
own conduct, that I will give you the account as an example, if
you please to hear me patiently.
"You all know Shakespeare's incomparable Hamlet': our
public reading of it at the Castle yielded every one of us the
greatest satisfaction. On that occasion we proposed to act the
piece; and I, not knowing what I undertook, engaged to play
the Prince's part. This I conceived that I was studying, while
I began to get by heart the strongest passages, the soliloquies,
and those scenes in which force of soul, vehemence, and elevation
of feeling have the freest scope; where the agitated heart is
allowed to display itself with touching expressiveness.
"I further conceived that I was penetrating quite into the
spirit of the character, while I endeavored as it were to take
upon myself the load of deep melancholy, under which my proto-
type was laboring, and in this humor to pursue him through the
strange labyrinths of his caprices and his singularities. Thus
learning, thus practicing, I doubted not but I should by-and-by
become one person with my hero.
"But the farther I advanced, the more difficult did it become
for me to form any image of the whole, in its general bearings;
till at last it seemed as if impossible. I next went through the
entire piece, without interruption; but here too I found much


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GOETHE
that I could not away with. At one time the characters, at
another time the manner of displaying them, seemed inconsistent;
and I almost despaired of finding any general tint, in which I
might present my whole part with all its shadings and varia-
tions. In such devious paths I toiled, and wandered long in
vain; till at length a hope arose that I might reach my aim in
quite a new way.
"I set about investigating every trace of Hamlet's character,
as it had shown itself before his father's death: I endeavored to
distinguish what in it was independent of this mournful event;
independent of the terrible events that followed; and what most
probably the young man would have been, had no such thing.
occurred.
"Soft, and from a noble stem, this royal flower had sprung
up under the immediate influences of majesty; the idea of moral
rectitude with that of princely elevation, the feeling of the good
and dignified with the consciousness of high birth, had in him
been unfolded simultaneously. He was a prince, by birth a
prince; and he wished to reign, only that good men might be
good without obstruction. Pleasing in form, polished by nature,
courteous from the heart, he was meant to be the pattern of
youth and the joy of the world.
"Without any prominent passion, his love for Ophelia was a
still presentiment of sweet wants. His zeal in knightly accom-
plishments was not entirely his own; it needed to be quickened
and inflamed by praise bestowed on others for excelling in them.
Pure in sentiment, he knew the honorable-minded, and could
prize the rest which an upright spirit tastes on the bosom of a'
friend. To a certain degree, he had learned to discern and value
the good and the beautiful in arts and sciences; the mean, the
vulgar was offensive to him: and if hatred could take root in his
tender soul, it was only so far as to make him properly despise
the false and changeful insects of a court, and play with them.
in easy scorn. He was calm in his temper, artless in his con-
duct, neither pleased with idleness nor too violently eager for
employment. The routine of a university he seemed to continue
when at court. He possessed more mirth of humor than of
heart; he was a good companion, pliant, courteous, discreet, and
able to forget and forgive an injury, yet never able to unite
himself with those who overstept the limits of the right, the
good, and the becoming.


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"When we read the piece again, you shall judge whether I
am yet on the proper track. I hope at least to bring forward
passages that shall support my opinion in its main points. "
This delineation was received with warm approval; the com-
pany imagined they foresaw that Hamlet's manner of proceeding
might now be very satisfactorily explained; they applauded this
method of penetrating into the spirit of a writer. Each of them
proposed to himself to take up some piece, and study it on these
principles, and so unfold the author's meaning.
Loving Shakespeare as our friend did, he failed not to lead
round the conversation to the merits of that dramatist. Ex-
pressing, as he entertained, the liveliest hopes of the new epoch
which these exquisite productions must form in Germany, he ere
long introduced his 'Hamlet,' who had busied him so much of
late.
Serlo declared that he would long ago have played the piece,
had this been possible, and that he himself would willingly en-
gage to act Polonius. He added with a smile, "An Ophelia too
will certainly turn up, if we had but a Prince. »
Wilhelm did not notice that Aurelia seemed a little hurt at
her brother's sarcasm. Our friend was in his proper vein, be-
coming copious and didactic, expounding how he would have
'Hamlet' played. He circumstantially delivered to his hearers
the opinions we before saw him busied with; taking all the
trouble possible to make his notion of the matter acceptable,
skeptical as Serlo showed himself regarding it. "Well then," said
the latter finally, "suppose we grant you all this, what will you
explain by it? "
"Much, everything," said Wilhelm. "Conceive a prince such
as I have painted him, and that his father suddenly dies. Ambi-
tion and the love of rule are not the passions that inspire him.
As a king's son, he would have been contented; but now he is
first constrained to consider the difference which separates a sov-
ereign from a subject. The crown was not hereditary; yet a
longer possession of it by his father would have strengthened the
pretensions of an only son, and secured his hopes of the succes-
sion. In place of this, he now beholds himself excluded by his
uncle, in spite of specious promises, most probably forever. He
is now poor in goods and favor, and a stranger in the scene
which from youth he had looked upon as his inheritance. His
temper here assumes its first mournful tinge. He feels that now


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GOETHE
he is not more, that he is less, than a private nobleman; he
offers himself as the servant of every one; he is not courteous
and condescending, he is needy and degraded.
"His past condition he remembers as a vanished dream. It
is in vain that his uncle strives to cheer him, to present his sit-
uation in another point of view. The feeling of his nothingness
will not leave him.
"The second stroke that came upon him wounded deeper,
bowed still more. It was the marriage of his mother. The
faithful tender son had yet a mother, when his father passed
away. He hoped in the company of his surviving, noble-minded
parent, to reverence the heroic form of the departed; but his
mother too he loses, and it is something worse than death that
robs him of her. The trustful image which a good child loves
to form of its parents is gone. With the dead there is no help;
on the living no hold. She also is a woman, and her name is
Frailty, like that of all her sex.
"Now first does he feel himself completely bent and orphaned;
and no happiness of life can repay what he has lost. Not reflect-
ive or sorrowful by nature, reflection and sorrow have become
for him a heavy obligation. It is thus that we see him first enter
on the scene.
I do not think that I have mixed aught foreign
with the piece, or overcharged a single feature of it. "
Serlo looked at his sister and said, "Did I give thee a false
picture of our friend? He begins well; he has still many things
to tell us, many to persuade us of. " Wilhelm asseverated loudly
that he meant not to persuade but to convince; he begged for
another moment's patience.
"Figure to yourselves this youth," cried he, "this son of
princes; conceive him vividly, bring his state before your eyes,
and then observe him when he learns that his father's spirit
walks; stand by him in the terrors of the night, when the ven-
erable ghost itself appears before him. A horrid shudder passes
over him; he speaks to the mysterious form; he sees it beckon
him; he follows it, and hears. The fearful accusation of his
uncle rings in his ears; the summons to revenge, and the pier-
cing oft-repeated prayer, Remember me!
"And when the ghost has vanished, who is it that stands be-
fore us? A young hero panting for vengeance? A prince by
birth, rejoicing to be called to punish the usurper of his crown?
No! trouble and astonishment take hold of the solitary young


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6431
man; he grows bitter against smiling villains, swears that he will
not forget the spirit, and concludes with the significant ejacula-
tion:
«The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right! '
"In these words, I imagine, will be found the key to Hamlet's
whole procedure. To me it is clear that Shakespeare meant, in
the present case, to represent the effects of a great action laid
upon a soul unfit for the performance of it. In this view the
whole piece seems to me to be composed. There is an oak-tree
planted in a costly jar, which should have borne only pleasant
flowers in its bosom; the roots expand, the jar is shivered.
"A lovely, pure, noble, and most moral nature, without the
strength of nerve which forms a hero, sinks beneath a burden
which it cannot bear and must not cast away. All duties are
holy for him; the present is too hard. Impossibilities have been
required of him, not in themselves impossibilities, but such for
him. He winds, and turns, and torments himself; he advances
and recoils; is ever put in mind, ever puts himself in mind; at
last does all but lose his purpose from his thoughts; yet still
without recovering his peace of mind. "
Aurelia seemed to give but little heed to what was passing;
at last she conducted Wilhelm to another room, and going to the
window, and looking out at the starry sky she said to him, “You
have still much to tell us about Hamlet; I will not hurry you;
my brother must hear it as well as I; but let me beg to know
your thoughts about Ophelia. "
>>>>
"Of her there cannot much be said," he answered; "for a few
master strokes complete her character. The whole being of
Ophelia floats in sweet and ripe sensation. Kindness for the
Prince, to whose hand she may aspire, flows so spontaneously,
her tender heart obeys its impulses so unresistingly, that both
father and brother are afraid; both give her warning harshly and
directly. Decorum, like the thin lawn upon her bosom, cannot
hide the soft, still movements of her heart; it on the contrary
betrays them. Her fancy is smit; her silent modesty breathes
amiable desire; and if the friendly goddess Opportunity should
shake the tree, its fruit would fall. "
"And then," said Aurelia, "when she beholds herself forsaken,
cast away, despised; when all is inverted in the soul of her crazed


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GOETHE
lover, and the highest changes to the lowest, and instead of the
sweet cup of love he offers her the bitter cup of woe - ”
"Her heart breaks," cried Wilhelm; "the whole structure of
her being is loosened from its joinings; her father's death strikes
fiercely against it; and the fair edifice altogether crumbles into
fragments. "
Serlo, at this moment entering, inquired about his sister; and
looking in the book which our friend had hold of, cried, "So
you are again at 'Hamlet'? Very good! Many doubts have
arisen in me, which seem not a little to impair the canonical
aspect of the piece as you would have it viewed. The English
themselves have admitted that its chief interest concludes with
the third act; the last two lagging sorrily on, and scarcely unit-
ing with the rest: and certainly about the end it seems to stand
stock still. "
"It is very possible," said Wilhelm, "that some individuals of
a nation which has so many masterpieces to feel proud of, may
be led by prejudice and narrowness of mind to form false judg
ments; but this cannot hinder us from looking with our own
eyes, and doing justice where we see it due. I am very far
from censuring the plan of 'Hamlet': on the other hand, I be-
lieve there never was a grander one invented; nay, it is not
invented, it is real. "
"How do you demonstrate that? " inquired Serlo.
"I will not demonstrate anything," said Wilhelm; "I will
merely show you what my own conceptions of it are. "
Aurelia rose up from her cushion, leaned upon her hand, and
looked at Wilhelm; who, with the firmest assurance that he was
in the right, went on as follows:
"It pleases us, it flatters us to see a hero acting on his own
strength; loving and hating as his heart directs him; undertaking
and completing; casting every obstacle aside; and at length at-
taining some great object which he aimed at. Poets and histo-
rians would willingly persuade us that so proud a lot may fall to
man. In 'Hamlet' we are taught another lesson: the hero is
without a plan, but the piece is full of plan. Here we have no
villain punished on some self-conceived and rigidly accomplished
scheme of vengeance: a horrid deed occurs; it rolls itself along
with all its consequences, dragging guiltless persons also in its
course; the perpetrator seems as if he would evade the abyss
which is made ready for him, yet he plunges in, at the very
―――――
0
•
P
in


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6433
point by which he thinks he shall escape and happily complete
his course.
"For it is the property of crime to extend its mischief over
innocence, as it is of virtue to extend its blessings over many
that deserve them not; while frequently the author of the one or
of the other is not punished or rewarded at all. Here in this
play of ours, how strange! The Pit of Darkness sends its spirit
and demands revenge; in vain! All circumstances tend one
way, and hurry to revenge; in vain! Neither earthly nor infer-
nal thing may bring about what is reserved for Fate alone. The
hour of judgment comes: the wicked falls with the good; one
race is mowed away, that another may spring up. "
After a pause, in which they looked at one another, Serlo
said: "You pay no great compliment to Providence, in thus
exalting Shakespeare; and besides, it appears to me that for the
honor of your poet, as others for the honor of Providence, you
ascribe to him an object and a plan which he himself had never
thought of. "
"Let me also put a question," said Aurelia. "I have looked
at Ophelia's part again; I am contented with it, and conceive.
that under certain circumstances I could play it.
But tell me,
should not the poet have furnished the insane maiden with
another sort of songs? Could not one select some fragments out
of melancholy ballads for this purpose? What have double
meanings and lascivious insipidities to do in the mouth of such a
noble-minded person? "
"Dear friend," said Wilhelm, "even here I cannot yield you
one iota.
In these singularities, in this apparent impropriety, a
deep sense is hid. Do we not understand from the very first
what the mind of the good soft-hearted girl was busied with?
Silently she lived within herself, yet she scarce concealed her
wishes, her longing; the tones of desire were in secret ringing
through her soul; and how often may she have attempted, like
an unskillful nurse, to lull her senses to repose with songs
which only kept them more awake? But at last, when her self-
command is altogether gone, when the secrets of her heart are
hovering on her tongue, that tongue betrays her; and in the
innocence of insanity she solaces herself, unmindful of king or
queen, with the echo of her loose and well-beloved songs, 'To-
morrow is Saint Valentine's Day,' and 'By Gis and by Saint
Charity. '
XI-403


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GOETHE
"I am much mistaken," cried he, "if I have not now dis-
covered how the whole is to be managed; nay, I am convinced
that Shakespeare himself would have arranged it so, had not
his mind been too exclusively directed to the ruling interest, and
perhaps misled by the novels which furnished him with his
materials. »
"Let us hear," said Serlo, placing himself with an air of
solemnity upon the sofa; "I will listen calmly, but judge with
rigor. »
"I am not afraid of you," said Wilhelm; "only hear me. In
the composition of this play, after the most accurate investiga-
tion and the most mature reflection, I distinguish two classes of
objects. The first are the grand internal relations of the persons
and events, the powerful effects which arise from the characters
and proceedings of the main figures: these, I hold, are individ-
ually excellent, and the order in which they are presented can-
not be improved. No kind of interference must be suffered to
destroy them, or even essentially to change their form. These
are the things which stamp themselves deep into the soul;
which all men long to see, which no one dares to meddle with.
Accordingly, I understand, they have almost wholly been retained.
in all our German theatres.
"But our countrymen have erred, in my opinion, with regard
to the second class of objects which may be observed in this
tragedy: I allude to the external relations of the persons, where-
by they are brought from place to place, or combined in vari-
ous ways by certain accidental incidents. These they have looked
upon as very unimportant; have spoken of them only in passing,
or left them out altogether. Now indeed it must be owned
that these threads are slack and slender; yet they run through
the entire piece, and bind together much that would otherwise
fall asunder, and does actually fall asunder when you cut them
off, and imagine you have done enough and more if you have
left the ends hanging.
"Among these external relations I include the disturbances
in Norway, the war with young Fortinbras, the embassy to his
uncle, the settling of that feud, the march of young Fortinbras
to Poland, and his coming back at the end; of the same sort are
Horatio's return from Wittenberg, Hamlet's wish to go thither,
the journey of Laertes to France, his return, the dispatch of
Hamlet into England, his capture by pirates, the death of the
I
I


## p. 6435 (#417) ###########################################

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6435
two courtiers by the letter which they carried. All these circum-
stances and events would be very fit for expanding and length.
ening a novel; but here they injure exceedingly the unity of
the piece, particularly as the hero had no plan,- and are in
consequence entirely out of place. "
"For once in the right! " cried Serlo.
"Do not interrupt me," answered Wilhelm; "perhaps you
will not always think me right. These errors are like temporary
props of an edifice; they must not be removed till we have built
a firm wall in their stead. My project therefore is, not at all to
change those first-mentioned grand situations, or at least as much
as possible to spare them, both collectively and individually; but
with respect to these external, single, dissipated, and dissipating
motives, to cast them all at once away, and substitute a solitary
one instead of them. "
"And this? " inquired Serlo, springing up from his recumbent
posture.
"It lies in the piece itself," answered Wilhelm, "only I em-
ploy it rightly. There are disturbances in Norway. You shall
hear my plan and try it.
"After the death of Hamlet the father, the Norwegians, lately
conquered, grow unruly. The viceroy of that country sends his
son Horatio, an old school friend of Hamlet's, and distinguished
above every other for his bravery and prudence, to Denmark, to
press forward the equipment of the fleet, which under the new
luxurious King proceeds but slowly. Horatio has known the
former King, having fought in his battles, having even stood in
favor with him; a circumstance by which the first ghost scene
will be nothing injured. The new sovereign gives Horatio audi-
ence, and sends Laertes into Norway with intelligence that the
fleet will soon arrive, whilst Horatio is commissioned to acceler-
ate the preparation of it; and the Queen, on the other hand, will
not consent that Hamlet, as he wishes, should go to sea along
with him. "
-
"Heaven be praised! " cried Serlo; "we shall now get rid of
Wittenberg and the university, which was always a sorry piece
of business. I think your idea extremely good: for except these
two distant objects, Norway and the fleet, the spectator will not
be required to fancy anything: the rest he will see; the rest takes
place before him; whereas his imagination, on the other plan, was
hunted over all the world. "


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GOETHE
"You easily perceive," said Wilhelm, "how I shall contrive to
keep the other parts together. When Hamlet tells Horatio of
his uncle's crime, Horatio counsels him to go to Norway in his
company, to secure the affections of the army, and return in war-
like force. Hamlet also is becoming dangerous to the King and
Queen; they find no readier method of deliverance than to send
him in the fleet, with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to be spies
upon him: and as Laertes in the mean time comes from France,
they determine that this youth, exasperated even to murder,
shall go after him. Unfavorable winds detain the fleet; Hamlet
returns: for his wandering through the church-yard perhaps some.
lucky motive may be thought of; his meeting with Laertes in
Ophelia's grave is a grand moment, which we must not part
with. After this, the King resolves that it is better to get quit
of Hamlet on the spot: the festival of his departure, the pre-
tended reconcilement with Laertes, are now solemnized; on
which occasion knightly sports are held, and Laertes fights with
Hamlet. Without the four corpses I cannot end the piece; not
one of them can possibly be left. The right of popular election
now again comes in force, and Hamlet gives his dying voice for
Horatio. "
"Quick! quick! " said Serlo; "sit down and work the piece;
your plan has my entire approbation; only do not let your zeal
for it evaporate.
Wilhelm had already been for some time busied with trans-
lating Hamlet; making use, as he labored, of Wieland's spirited
performance, by means of which he had first become acquainted
with Shakespeare. What in Wieland's work had been omitted he
replaced; and he had at length procured himself a complete ver-
sion, at the very time when Serlo and he finally agreed about
the way of treating it. He now began, according to his plan, to
cut out and insert, to separate and unite, to alter and often to
restore; for satisfied as he was with his own conception, it still
appeared to him as if in executing it he were but spoiling the
original.
So soon
as all was finished, he read his work to Serlo and
the rest. They declared themselves exceedingly contented with
it; Serlo in particular made many flattering observations.
"You have felt very justly," said he, among other things,
"that some external circumstances must accompany this piece;
but that they must be simpler than those which the great poet


## p. 6437 (#419) ###########################################

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6437
has employed. What takes place without the theatre what the
spectator does not see, but must imagine for himself-is like a
background, in front of which the acting figures move. Your
large and simple prospect of the fleet and Norway will very
much improve the piece; if this were altogether taken from it,
we should have but a family scene remaining; and the great
idea, that here a kingly house by internal crimes and incongru-
ities goes down to ruin, would not be presented with its proper
dignity. But if the former background were left standing, so
manifold, so fluctuating and confused, it would hurt the impres-
sion of the figures. "
Wilhelm again took Shakespeare's part: alleging that he wrote
for islanders, for Englishmen, who generally, in the distance,
were accustomed to see little else than ships and voyages, the
coast of France and privateers; and thus what perplexed and
distracted others was to them quite natural.
Serlo assented; and both of them were of opinion that as the
piece was now to be produced upon the German stage, this more
serious and simple background was the best adapted for the Ger-
man mind.
The parts had been distributed before: Serlo undertook Polo-
nius; Aurelia undertook Ophelia; Laertes was already designated
by his name; a young, thick-set, jolly new-comer was to be
Horatio; the King and the Ghost alone occasioned some perplex-
ity. For both of these was no one but Old Boisterous remaining.
Serlo proposed to make the Pedant King; but against this our
friend protested in the strongest terms. They could resolve on
nothing.
Wilhelm also had allowed both Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
to continue in his piece. "Why not compress them into one? »
said Serlo. "This abbreviation will not cost you much. "
"Heaven keep me from such curtailments! " answered Wil-
helm; "they destroy at once the sense and the effect. What
these two persons are and do it is impossible to represent by
one. In such small matters we discover Shakespeare's greatness.
These soft approaches, this smirking and bowing, this assenting,
wheedling, flattering, this whisking agility, this wagging of the
tail, this allness and emptiness, this legal knavery, this ineptitude
and insipidity,- how can they be expressed by a single man?
There ought to be at least a dozen of these people if they could
be had, for it is only in society that they are anything; they are


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6438
GOETHE
society itself; and Shakespeare showed no little wisdom and dis
cernment in bringing in a pair of them. Besides, I need them
as a couple that may be contrasted with the single, noble, excel-
lent Horatio. "
THE INDENTURE
From Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
Α
RT is long, life short, judgment difficult, opportunity transient.
To act is easy, to think is hard; to act according to our
thought is troublesome. Every beginning is cheerful; the
threshold is the place of expectation. The boy stands astonished,
his impressions guide him; he learns sportfully, seriousness comes
on him by surprise. Imitation is born with us; what should be
imitated is not easy to discover. The excellent is rarely found,
more rarely valued. The height charms us, the steps to it do
not; with the summit in our eye, we love to walk along the
plain. It is but a part of art that can be taught; the artist
needs it all. Who knows it half, speaks much and is always
wrong; who knows it wholly, inclines to act and speaks seldom
or late.
The former have no secrets and no force; the instruc-
tion they can give is like baked bread, savory and satisfying for
a single day; but flour cannot be sown, and seed corn ought not
to be ground. Words are good, but they are not the best. The
best is not to be explained by words. The spirit in which we act
is the highest matter. Action can be understood and again rep-
resented by the spirit alone. No one knows what he is doing
while he acts aright; but of what is wrong we are always con-
scious. Whoever works with symbols only is a pedant, a hypo-
crite, or a bungler. There are many such, and they like to be
together. Their babbling detains the scholar; their obstinate
mediocrity vexes even the best. The instruction which the true
artist gives us opens the mind; for where words fail him, deeds.
speak. The true scholar learns from the known to unfold the
unknown, and approaches more and more to being a master.


## p. 6439 (#421) ###########################################

GOETHE
6439
THE HARPER'S SONGS
From 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
HAT notes are those without the wall,
"WHAT Across the portal sounding?
Let's have the music in our hall,
Back from its roof rebounding. "
So spoke the king: the henchman flies;
His answer heard, the monarch cries,
«< Bring in that ancient minstrel. »
"Hail, gracious king, each noble knight!
Each lovely dame, I greet you!
What glittering stars salute my sight!
What heart unmoved may meet you!
Such lordly pomp is not for me,
Far other scenes my eyes must see:
Yet deign to list my harping. "
The singer turns him to his art,
A thrilling strain he raises;
Each warrior hears with glowing heart
And on his loved one gazes.
The king, who liked his playing well,
Commands, for such a kindly spell,
A golden chain be given him.
"The golden chain give not to me:
Thy boldest knight may wear it,
Who 'cross the battle's purple sea
On lion breast may bear it;
Or let it be thy chancellor's prize,
Amid his heaps to feast his eyes,-
Its yellow glance will please him.
"I sing but as the linnet sings,
That on the green bough dwelleth;
A rich reward his music brings,
As from his throat it swelleth :
Yet might I ask, I'd ask of thine
One sparkling draught of purest wine
To drink it here before you. "
He viewed the wine, he quaffed it up:
"O draught of sweetest savor!


## p. 6440 (#422) ###########################################

6440
GOETHE
O happy house, where such a cup
Is thought a little favor!
If well you fare, remember me,
And thank kind Heaven, from envy free,
As now for this I thank you. "
WHO never ate his bread in sorrow,
Who never spent the darksome hours
Weeping and watching for the morrow,-
He knows ye not, ye gloomy Powers.
To earth, this weary earth, ye bring us,
To guilt ye let us heedless go,
Then leave repentance fierce to wring us;
A moment's guilt, an age of woe!
MIGNON'S SONG
From Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
UCH let me seem, till such I be;
SUCH
Take not my snow-white dress away!
Soon from this dusk of earth I flee,
Up to the glittering lands of day.
There first a little space I rest,
Then wake so glad, to scenes so kind;
In earthly robes no longer drest,
This band, this girdle left behind.
And those calm shining sons of morn,
They ask not who is maid or boy;
No robes, no garments there are worn,
Our body pure from sin's alloy.
Through little life not much I toiled,
Yet anguish long this heart has wrung,
Untimely woe my blossoms spoiled:
Make me again forever young!


## p. 6441 (#423) ###########################################

GOETHE
6441
PHILINA’S SONG
From Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
ST
ING me not with such emotion
How the night so lonesome is;
Pretty maids, I've got a notion
It is the reverse of this.
For as wife and man are plighted,
And the better half the wife,
So is night to day united,-
Night's the better half of life.
Can you joy in bustling daytime,-
Day, when none can get his will?
It is good for work, for haytime;
For much other it is ill.
But when in the nightly glooming,
Social lamp on table glows,
Face for faces dear illuming,
And such jest and joyance goes;
When the fiery pert young fellow,
Wont by day to run or ride,
Whispering now some tale would tell O,—
All so gentle by your side;
When the nightingale to lovers
Lovingly her songlet sings,
Which for exiles and sad rovers
Like mere woe and wailing rings;
With a heart how lightsome-feeling
Do ye count the kindly clock,
Which, twelve times deliberate pealing,
Tells you none to-night shall knock!
Therefore, on all fit occasions,
Mark it, maidens, what I sing:
Every day its own vexations,
And the night its joys will bring.


## p. 6442 (#424) ###########################################

6442
GOETHE
B
PROMETHEUS
LACKEN thy heavens, Jove,
With thunder-clouds,
And exercise thee, like a boy
Who thistles crops,
With smiting oaks and mountain-tops:
Yet must leave me standing
My own firm earth;
Must leave my cottage, which thou didst not build,
And my warm hearth,
Whose cheerful glow
Thou enviest me.
I know naught more pitiful
Under the sun, than you, gods!
Ye nourish scantily
With altar taxes
And with cold lip-service,
This your majesty ;-
Would perish, were not
Children and beggars
Credulous fools.
When I was a child,
And knew not whence or whither,
I would turn my 'wildered eye
To the sun, as if up yonder were
An ear to hear to my complaining —
A heart, like mine,
On the oppressed to feel compassion.
Who helped me
When I braved the Titans' insolence?
Who rescued me from death,
From slavery?
Hast thou not all thyself accomplished,
Holy-glowing heart?
And, glowing, young, and good,
Most ignorantly thanked
The slumberer above there?
I honor thee! For what?
Hast thou the miserie's lightened
Of the down-trodden?


## p. 6443 (#425) ###########################################

GOETHE
6443
Hast thou the tears ever banished
From the afflicted?