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SPECIMENS 
 
 FOREIGN f AND ARD LITERATURE. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
SPECIMENS 
 
 OF 
 
 FOREIGN STANDARD LITERATURE. 
 
 EDITED 
 
 By GEORGE RIPLEY. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH GOETHE, 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN 
 OF 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 HILLIARD, GRAY, AND COMPANY. 
 
 M.DCCC.XXXIX. 
 
As wine and oil are imported to us from abroad, so must ripe 
 understanding, and many civil virtues, be imported into our 
 minds from foreign writings ; — we shall else miscarry still, and 
 come short in the attempts of any great enterprise. 
 
 Milton, History of Britain, Book HI. 
 
CONVERSATIONS WITH GOETHE 
 
 IN THE LAST YEARS OF HIS LIFE, 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 
 OF 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 By S. M. FULLER. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 HILLIARD, GRAY, AND COMPANY. 
 
 M.DCCC.XXXIX. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, 
 By Milliard, Gray, and Co. 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 STEREOTYPED AT THE 
 BOSTON TYPE AND STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. 
 
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 This book cannot fail to interest all who are 
 desirous to understand the character and opinions 
 of Goethe, or the state of literary society in Germany. 
 The high opinion which Goethe entertained of Ecker- 
 mann's fidelity, judgment, and comprehension of 
 himself, is sufficiently proved, by his appointing him 
 editor of his Posthumous Works. The light in 
 which this book is regarded by the distinguished 
 circle of which Goethe was the glory, may be seen 
 by a reference to the first volume of Mrs. Jameson's 
 late work, "Winter Studies and Summer Rambles 
 in Canada." 
 
 It is, obviously, a most faithful record. Perhaps 
 there is no instance in which one mind has been 
 able to give out what it received from another, so 
 little colored by its own substance. It is true that 
 the simple reverence, and thorough subordination 
 
viii 
 
 translator's preface. 
 
 to the mind of Goethe, which make Eckermann so 
 transparent a medium, prevent his being of any value 
 as an interpreter. Never was satellite more com- 
 pletely in harmony with his ruling orb. He is merely 
 the sounding-board to the various notes played by 
 the master's hand ; and what we find here is, to all 
 intents and purposes, not conversation, but monologue. 
 A finer book might be made by selections from 
 Goethe's miscellanies ; but here some subjects are 
 brought forward on which he never wrote. The 
 journal form gives an ease and life to the discussion, 
 and what is wanting in fulness and beauty is made 
 up to us by the pleasure we always take in the unpre- 
 meditated flow of thought, and in seeing what topics 
 come up naturally with such a person as Goethe. 
 
 An imperial genius must have not only willing 
 subjects, but good instruments. Eckermann has all 
 the merit of an intelligent minister and a discreet 
 secretary. He is ruled and modelled, but not blinded, 
 by Goethe. When we look at the interesting sketch 
 of his youthful struggles, and see what obligations 
 he owed to Goethe, as well before as after their 
 personal acquaintance, we cannot blame him for his 
 boundless gratitude to the sun which chased away 
 so many clouds from his sky. He seems, indeed, led 
 
translator's preface. 
 
 ix 
 
 onward to be the foster-child and ready helper of 
 this great man, and could not so well have filled 
 this place, if he had kept sufficiently aloof to satisfy 
 our pride. I say our pride, because we are jealous 
 for minds which we see in this state of subordi- 
 nation. We feel it too dangerous to what is most 
 valuable in character; and, rare as independence is, 
 we cannot but ask it from all who live in the light 
 of genius. 
 
 Still, our feeling towards Eckermann is not only 
 kindly, but respectful. He is not ridiculous, like 
 Boswell, for no vanity or littleness sullies his sincere 
 enthusiasm. In these sober and enlightened days, 
 we rebel against man-worship, even though it be hero- 
 worship. But how could this person, so rich in 
 natural gifts, so surrounded by what was bright, 
 beautiful, and courtly, and at so high a point of 
 culture, fail to be overpowering to an obscure youth, 
 whose abilities he had been the chief means of 
 unfolding? It could not be otherwise than that 
 Eckermann should sit at his feet, and live on his 
 bounty. Enough for the disciple to know how to 
 use what he received with thoughtful gratitude. That 
 Goethe also knew how to receive is evident from his 
 correspondences with Zelter, Schiller, and Meyer, — 
 
x translator's preface. 
 
 relations which show him in a better light than 
 this with Eckermann, because the parties were on 
 more equal terms. 
 
 Those letters, or the substance of them, will, some 
 time, be published here. Meanwhile, the book before 
 us has merits which they do not possess. It paints 
 Goethe to us as he was in the midst of his family, and 
 in his most careless or weary hours. Under such cir- 
 cumstances, whatever may be thought of his views, 
 (and they are often still less suited to our public than to 
 that of Germany,) his courteous grace, his calm wisdom 
 and reliance on the harmony of his faith with his 
 nature, must be felt, by the unprejudiced reader, to 
 be beautiful and rare. 
 
 And here it may not be amiss to give some intima- 
 tion (more my present limits do not permit) of the 
 grounds on which Goethe is, to myself, an object of 
 peculiar interest and constant study. 
 
 I hear him much assailed by those among us who 
 know him, some few in his own language, but most 
 from translations of " Wilhelm Meister " and " Faust." 
 These, his two great works, in which he proposed to 
 himself the enigma of life, and solved it after his own 
 
translator's preface. 
 
 xi 
 
 fashion, were, naturally enough, selected, in preference 
 to others, for translating. This was, for all but the 
 translators, unfortunate, because these two, above all 
 others, require a knowledge of the circumstances and 
 character from which they rose, to ascertain their scope 
 and tendency. 
 
 It is sneeringly said, " Those persons who are so 
 fanatical for German literature always say, if you 
 object to any of their idols, that you are not capable 
 of appreciating them." And it is truly, though 
 oftentimes too impatiently, said. The great movement 
 in German literature is too recent to be duly esti- 
 mated, even by those most interested to examine it. 
 The waves have scarce yet ebbed from this new con- 
 tinent, and those who are visiting its shores, see so 
 much that is new and beautiful, that of their many 
 obligations to the phenomenon, the chief is, as yet, 
 that of the feeling of fresh creative life at work there. 
 No wonder that they feel vexed at those who declare, 
 from an occasional peep through a spy-glass, that they 
 see no new wonders for geology ; that they can bota- 
 nize all the flowers, and find nothing worthy of fresh 
 attempts at classification ; and that there are no birds 
 except a few sea-gulls. Would these hasty critics but 
 recollect how long it was before similar movements in 
 
xii 
 
 translator's preface. 
 
 Italy, Spain, France, and England, found their proper 
 place in the thoughts of other nations, they would not 
 think fifty years' investigation too much for fifty years' 
 growth, and would no longer provoke the ire of those 
 who are lighting their tapers at the German torch. 
 Meanwhile it is silly to be in a pet always ; and dis- 
 dainful answers have been recognized as useless since 
 Solomon's time, or earlier. What could have been 
 the reason they were not set aside, while that wise 
 prince lived, once for all ? 
 
 The objections usually made, though not without 
 a foundation in truth, are such as would answer 
 themselves on a more thorough acquaintance with the 
 subject. In France and England there has seemed an 
 approximation, of late, to juster views. Yet, in a recent 
 number of "Blackwood's Magazine," has appeared 
 an article as ignorant (and that is a strong word) as 
 any thing that has ever been written about Goethe. 
 
 The objections, so far as I know them, may be 
 resolved into these classes — 
 He is not a Christian ; 
 He is not an Idealist ; 
 He is not a Democrat ; 
 He is not Schiller. 
 
translator's preface. xiii 
 
 If by Christian be meant the subordination of the 
 intellectual to the spiritual, I shall not deny that with 
 Goethe the reverse was the case. He sought always 
 for unity ; but the want with him was chiefly one of 
 the intellect. A creative activity was his law. He 
 was far from insensible to spiritual beauty in the 
 human character. He has imbodied it in its finest 
 forms ; but he merely put it in, what seemed to him, 
 its place, as the key-stone of the social arch, and paints 
 neither that nor any other state with partiality. Such 
 was his creed as a writer. " I paint," he seems to say, 
 " what I have seen ; choose from it, or take it all, as 
 you will or can." In his love of form Goethe was a 
 Greek ; constitutionally, and by the habit of his life, 
 averse to the worship of sorrow. His God was rather 
 the creative and upholding than the paternal spirit ; his 
 religion, that all his powers must be unfolded ; his faith, 
 " that nature could not dispense with Immortality." 
 In the most trying occasions of his life, he referred to 
 " the great Idea of Duty which alone can hold us 
 upright." Renunciation, the power of sacrificing the 
 temporary for the permanent, is a leading idea in one 
 of his great works, " Wilhelm Meister." The thought 
 of the Catholic Dante is repeated in his other great 
 work, (" Faust,") where Margaret, by her innocence of 
 heart, and the resolute aversion to the powers of dark- 
 
 b 
 
xiv translator's PREFACE. 
 
 ness, which her mind, in its most shattered state, does 
 not forget, redeems not only her own soul, but that of 
 her erring lover. The virgin Ottilia, who immolates 
 herself to avoid the possibility of spotting her thoughts 
 with passion, gives to that much-abused book (Die 
 Wahlverwandtschaften) the pathetic moral of the pic- 
 tures of the Magdalen. His two highest female char- 
 acters, Natalia and Makaria, are representations of 
 beneficence and heavenly wisdom. Iphigenia, by her 
 steadfast truth, hallows all about her, and disarms the 
 powers of hell. Such traits as these may be accumu 
 lated ; yet it remains not the less true that Goethe was 
 not what is called a spiritual writer. Those who can- 
 not draw their moral for themselves had best leave his 
 books alone ; they require the power as life does. 
 This advantage only does he give, or intend to give 
 you, of looking at life brought into a compass con- 
 venient to your eye, by a great observer and artist, and 
 at times when you can look uninterrupted by action, 
 undisturbed by passion. 
 
 He was not an Idealist ; that is to say, he thought 
 not so much of what might be as what is. He did 
 not seek to alter or exalt Nature, but merely to select 
 from her rich stores. Here, indeed, even as an artist, 
 he would always have stopped short of the highest 
 
translator's preface. 
 
 XV 
 
 excellence, if he had not at times been inspired beyond 
 his knowledge and his will. Had his views been dif- 
 ferent, his peculiar powers of minute, searching, and 
 extended observation would have been much injured ; 
 as, instead of looking at objects with the single aim of 
 ascertaining their properties, he would have examined 
 them only to gain from them what most favored his 
 plans. I am well satisfied that "he went the way 
 that God and Nature called him." 
 
 He was an Aristocrat. And, in the present day, hos- 
 tility arises instinctively against one who does not be- 
 lieve in the people, and whose tastes are in favor of a 
 fixed external gradation. My sympathies are with the 
 great onward movement now obvious throughout the 
 civilized world ; my hope is that we may make a fair 
 experiment whether men can be educated to rule 
 themselves, and communities be trusted to choose 
 their own rulers. This is, it seems, the present 
 tendency of the Ages ; and, had I influence, I would 
 not put a straw in the way. Yet a minority is 
 needed to keep these liberals in check, and make 
 them pause upon their measures long enough to know 
 what they are doing ; for, as yet, the caldron of 
 liberty has shown a constant disposition to overboil. 
 The artist and literary man is naturally thrown into 
 
xvi 
 
 translator's preface. 
 
 this body, by his need of repose, and a firm ground to 
 work in his proper way. Certainly Goethe by nature 
 belonged on that side ; and no one, who can under- 
 stand the structure of his mind, instead of judging 
 him by his outward relations, will impute to him 
 unworthy motives, or think he could, being what 
 he was, hold other opinions. And is not this all 
 which is important ? The gates that keep out the 
 water while the ship is building have their place also, 
 as well as the ship itself, or the wind which fills the 
 sails. To be sincere, consistent, and intelligent in 
 what one believes is what is important ; a higher 
 power takes care of the rest. 1 
 
 In reply to those who object to him that he is not 
 Schiller, it may be remarked that Shakspeare was not 
 Milton, nor Ariosto Tasso. It was, indeed, unneces- 
 sary that there should be two Schillers, one being suf- 
 ficient to represent a certain class of thoughts and 
 opinions. It would be well if the admirers of Schiller 
 would learn from him to admire and profit by his friend 
 and coadjutor, as he himself did. 
 
 1 For Goethe's own view of his past conduct, and in his last 
 days, when his life had well nigh become a part of history, see 
 p. 413. 
 
translator's preface. 
 
 xvü 
 
 Schiller was wise enough to judge each nature by its 
 own law, great enough to understand greatness of an 
 order different from his own. He was too well aware 
 of the value of the more beautiful existences to quarrel 
 with the rose for not being a lily, the eagle for not 
 being a swan. 
 
 I am not fanatical as to the benefits to be derived 
 from the study of German literature. I suppose, in- 
 deed, that there lie the life and learning of the century, 
 and that he who does not go to those sources can have 
 no just notion of the workings of the spirit in the 
 European world these last fifty years or more ; but 
 my tastes are often displeased by German writers, even 
 by Goethe — of German writers the most English and 
 most Greek. To cultivate the tastes, we must go to 
 another school ; but I wish that we could learn from 
 the Germans habits of more liberal criticism, and leave 
 this way of judging from comparison or personal pred- 
 ilections. If we must draw parallels, we ought to be 
 sure that we are capable of a love for all greatness as 
 fervent as that of Plutarch's time. Perhaps it may be 
 answered that the comparison between Goethe and 
 Schiller began in G ermany : it did so, but arose there 
 from circumstances with which we have nothing to do. 
 Generally, the wise German criticises with the positive 
 
 b 2 
 
xviii 
 
 translator's preface. 
 
 degree, and is well aware of the danger in using the 
 comparative. 
 
 For the rest, no one who has a higher aim in read- 
 ing German books than mere amusement ; no one who 
 knows what it is to become acquainted with a literature 
 as literature, in its history of mutual influences, diverse 
 yet harmonious tendencies, can leave aside either Schil- 
 ler or Goethe ; but far, far least the latter. It would 
 be leaving Augustus Caesar out of the history of Rome 
 because he was not Brutus. 
 
 Having now confessed to what Goethe is not, I 
 would indicate, as briefly as possible, what, to me, 
 he is. 
 
 Most valuable as a means of balancing the judg- 
 ment and suggesting thought from his antagonism to 
 the spirit of the age. He prefers the perfecting of the 
 few to the slight improvement of the many. He 
 believes more in man than men, effort than success, 
 thought than action, nature than providence. He 
 does not insist on my believing with him. I would 
 go up often into this fortress, and look from its battle- 
 ments, to see how goes the fight below. I need not 
 
translator's preface. 
 
 xix 
 
 fear to be detained. He knows himself too well to 
 ask any thing of another except to know him. 
 
 As one of the finest lyric poets of modern times. 
 Bards are also prophets ; and woe to those who refuse 
 to hear the singer, to tender him the golden cup of 
 homage. Their punishment is in their fault. 
 
 As the best writer of the German language, who has 
 availed himself of all its advantages of richness and 
 flexibility, and added to them a degree of lightness, 
 grace, clearness, and precision, beyond any other 
 writer of his time ; who has, more than any other, 
 tended to correct the fantastic, cumbrous, centipede 
 style indigenous to Germany. 
 
 As a critic, on art and literature, not to be surpassed 
 in independence, fairness, powers of sympathy, and 
 largeness of view. 
 
 As almost the finest observer of his time of human 
 nature, and almost as much so of external nature. He 
 has great delicacy of penetration, and a better tact at 
 selecting objects than almost any who has looked at 
 the time of which I am a child. Could I omit to 
 study this eighty years' journal of my parent's life, 
 
xx translator's preface. 
 
 traced from so commanding a position, by so sure a 
 hand, and one informed by so keen and cultivated 
 an eye ? Where else shall we find so large a mirror, 
 or one with so finely decorated a frame ? 
 
 As a mind which has known how to reconcile indi- 
 viduality of character with universality of thought ; a 
 mind which, whatever be its faults, mied and relied on 
 itself alone ; a nature which knew its law, and revolved 
 on its proper axis, unrepenting, never bustling, always 
 active, never stagnant, always calm. 
 
 A distinguished critic speaks of Goethe as the con- 
 queror of his century. I believe I do not take so 
 admiring a view of the character of Goethe as this, his 
 only competent English critic. I refer to Mr. Carlyle. 
 But so far as attaining the object he himself proposed, 
 a choice of aim, a " wise limitation," and unwearied 
 constancy in the use of means ; so far as leaving behind 
 the limbo of self-questioning uncertainty in which most 
 who would fain think as well as act are wading, and 
 bringing his life into an uninterrupted harmony with 
 his thought, he did indeed conquer. He knew both 
 what he sought and how to seek it — a great matter ! 
 
 I am not a blind admirer of Goethe. I have felt 
 
translator's preface. xxi 
 
 what others feel, and seen what others see. I, too, 
 have been disturbed by his aversion to pain and 
 isolation of heart. I also have looked in vain for the 
 holy and heroic elements. Nor do I believe that 
 any degree of objectivity is inconsistent with a 
 partiality for what is noblest in individual characters. 
 Shakspeare is a proof to the contrary. As a critic, 
 he does not treat subjects masterly. He does not 
 give you, at once, a central point, and make you 
 feel the root of the matter ; but you must read his 
 essays as aggregates of thoughts, rather clustering 
 round than unfolding the subject. In his later years, 
 he lost his architectural vigor ; and his works are built 
 up like the piles in Piranesi's " Visions " of galleries 
 and balconies connected only by cobweb ladders. 
 Many of his works I feel to be fragmentary and 
 inadequate. I am even disposed to deny him the 
 honors most generally awarded him — those of the 
 artist. I think he had the artist's eye, and the artist's 
 hand, but not the artist's love of structure. 
 
 But I will stop here, and wait till the time when 
 I shall have room to substantiate my charges. I 
 flatter myself I have now found fault enough to 
 prove me a worthy critic, after the usual fashion. 
 Mostly, I prefer levelling upwards, in the way recom- 
 
xxii 
 
 translator's preface. 
 
 mended by Goethe in speaking of the merchants he 
 met while travelling. 1 
 
 While it is so undesirable that any man should 
 receive what he has not examined, a far more frequent 
 danger is that of flippant irreverence. Not all that 
 the heavens contain is obvious to the unassisted 
 eye of the careless spectator. Few men are great, 
 almost as few able to appreciate greatness. The 
 critics have written little upon the " Iliad," in all 
 these ages, which Alexander would have thought 
 worth keeping with it in his golden box. Nor 
 Shakspeare, nor Dante, nor Calderon, has as yet 
 found a sufficient critic, though Coleridge and the 
 Schlegels have lived since they did. The greatness 
 of Goethe his nation has felt for more than half a 
 century ; the world is beginning to feel it, but time 
 may not yet have ripened his critic; especially as 
 the grand historical standing point is the only one 
 from which a comprehensive view could be taken 
 of him. 
 
 Meanwhile, it is safer to take off the hat and 
 shout Vivat! to the conqueror who may become 
 
 » See p. 192. 
 
translator's preface. 
 
 xxiii 
 
 a permanent sovereign, than to throw stones and mud 
 from the gutter. The star shines, and that it is 
 with no borrowed light, his foes are his voucher. 
 And every planet is a portent to the world ; but 
 whether for good or ill, only he can know who has 
 science for many calculations. Not he who runs 
 can read these books, or any books of any worth. 
 I am content to describe him in the terms Hamlet 
 thought sufficiently honorable to him he honored 
 most : — 
 
 " He was a man, take him for all in all, 
 We shall not look upon his like again." 
 
 As such, worth our study ; — and more to us than 
 elder great men, because of our own day, and busied 
 most with those questions which lie nearest us. 
 
 With regard to the manner in which the task of 
 translation has been performed, I have been under 
 some disadvantages, which should be briefly mentioned. 
 I thought the book would be an easy one to translate, 
 as, for a book of table-talk, so much greater liberty 
 would be allowed, and so much less care demanded, 
 than for a classical work, or one of science. But 
 the wide range of topics, and the use of coterie 
 technics, have made it more difficult, and less fit for 
 
xxiv translator's preface. 
 
 the amusement of leisure hours, than was expected. 
 Some of these technics I have used as they stood, 
 such as motiv, grandiose, and apprehensio, the last- 
 named of which I do not understand ; the first, Mrs. 
 Jameson has explained, in a note to the " Winter 
 Studies." Generally, my acquaintance with Goethe's 
 works, on the same subjects, makes me confident 
 that I have the thought. 
 
 Then I was unexpectedly obliged, by ill health, 
 to dictate a considerable part of it. I was not 
 accustomed to this way of getting thoughts put upon 
 paper, and do not feel as well satisfied with these 
 pages as with those written by my own hand. I 
 have, however, looked them over so carefully, that 
 I think there can be no inaccuracies of consequence. 
 
 But, besides, — it being found that the two German 
 volumes would not, by any means, make two, yet were 
 too much for one of the present series, — it seemed 
 necessary, in some way, to compress or curtail the 
 book. For this purpose, passages have been omitted 
 relating to Goethe's theory of colors. These contain 
 accounts of experiments made by Eckermann, and 
 remarks of Goethe's suggested by them. As the 
 Farbenlehre is scarcely known here, I thought these 
 
translator's preface. 
 
 XXV 
 
 would not now be interesting, and that, if the work 
 to which they refer should by and by be translated, 
 they might to better advantage be inserted in an 
 appendix. And I was glad to dispense with them, 
 because I have no clear understanding of the subject, 
 and could not have been secure of doing them justice. 
 
 I have also omitted Eckermann's meagre record 
 of his visit to Italy, some discussions about a novel 
 of Goethe's, not yet translated, which would scarcely 
 be intelligible to those who have not read it, and 
 occasionally other passages, which seemed to me 
 expletive, or so local as to be uninteresting. I have 
 also frequently condensed Eckermann's remarks, and 
 sometimes, though more rarely, those of his patron. 
 
 I am aware that there is a just prejudice against 
 paraphrastic or mutilated translations, and that, in 
 this delicate process, I have laid myself open to much 
 blame. But I have done it with such care, that I 
 feel confident the substance of the work, and its 
 essential features, will be found here, and hope, if so, 
 that any who may be acquainted with the original, 
 and regret omissions, will excuse them. These two 
 rules have been observed, — not to omit even such 
 details as snuffing the candles and walking to the 
 
 c 
 
xxvi translator's preface. 
 
 stove, (given by the good Eckermann with that truly 
 German minuteness which, many years ago, so pro- 
 voked the wit of Mr. Jeffrey,) when they seem 
 needed to finish out the picture, either of German 
 manners, or Goethe's relations to his friends or house- 
 hold. Neither has any thing been omitted which 
 would cast either light or shade on his character. I 
 am sure that nothing has been softened or extenuated, 
 and believe that Goethe's manners, temper, and 
 opinions, wear here the same aspect that they do 
 in the original. 
 
 I have a confidence that the translation is, in the 
 truest sense, faithful, and trust that those who find 
 the form living and symmetrical, will not be inclined 
 severely to censure some change in the cut or make 
 of the garment in which it is arrayed. 
 
 Jamaica Plains, May 23, 1839. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE VÜ 
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE 3 
 
 INTRODUCTION 8 
 
 CONVERSATIONS 29 
 
ECKERMANN 
 
ECKERMANN. 
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE 
 
 This collection of Conversations with Goethe takes 
 its rise chiefly from an impulse natural to my mind, 
 to record in writing any part of my experience which 
 strikes me as valuable or remarkable. 
 
 I felt constantly the need of instruction, not only 
 during the earlier stages of my connection with that 
 extraordinary man, but also after I had been living 
 with him for years ; so that I continued to fix my at- 
 tention on the import of his words, and to note them 
 down, that I might continue all my life to use them. 
 
 When I think how rich and full were the communi- 
 cations by which he made me so happy for a period of 
 nine years, and how small a part I retain in writing, I 
 seem to myself like a child who, stretching out his 
 hands to catch the refreshing spring shower, finds that 
 the greater part of it runs through his fingers. But, 
 as the saying is, that each book has its destiny, and as 
 this applies no less to the manner in which a book is 
 produced than to its effect upon the world, so may we 
 use it with regard to the origin of this book. Some- 
 times for whole months the stars were unpropitious, 
 
4 
 
 ECKE1MANN. 
 
 and ill health, business, or various toils needful to 
 daily existence, would prevent my adding a single line 
 to the record ; but then arose again more kindly stars, 
 and health, leisure, and the desire to write, combined 
 to help me a good step forwards. We must also re- 
 member, that, where persons are domesticated together, 
 there will be intervals of indifference ; and where is he 
 who knows always how to prize the present at its due 
 rate? 
 
 I mention these things to excuse the frequent and 
 important chasms which the reader will find, if he read 
 the book in chronological order. To such chasms 
 belong many, now lost, good things, especially many 
 favorable words spoken by Goethe of his friends, 
 as well as of the works of various German authors, 
 while, in the propitious days, remarks not more 
 important with regard to others have been carefully 
 recorded. But, as I said before, the destiny of a book 
 influences even its origin. 
 
 For the rest, I consider what I do possess in these 
 two volumes, and which I have some title to regard as 
 the peculiar ornament of my own existence, with deep- 
 felt gratitude as the gift of Providence, and have con- 
 fidence that the world with which I share it will also 
 feel gratitude towards me. 
 
 I think that these conversations not only contain 
 many valuable explanations and instructions on science, 
 art, and the practical affairs of life, but these sketches 
 of Goethe, taken direct from life, will lend important 
 aid to complete the portrait which each reader may 
 have begun of him from an acquaintance with his 
 manifold works. 
 
author's preface. 
 
 5 
 
 Still 1 am far from imagining that the whole inner 
 man of Goethe is here adequately portrayed. We 
 may, with propriety, compare this extraordinary spirit 
 and man to a many-sided diamond, which in each di- 
 rection shines with a different light. And, as he turned 
 to each person a different side, and was in each relation 
 a different being from what he was in another, so I, 
 too, can only say, in a very modest sense, this is my 
 Goethe. 
 
 And this applies not merely to his manner of pre- 
 senting himself to me, but to my incapacity for fully 
 receiving and reproducing him. In such cases, each 
 ray is reflected, and it is very seldom that, in passing 
 through the individuality of another being, nothing of 
 the original is lost, and nothing foreign interfused. 
 The representations of the person of Goethe by Rauch, 
 Dawe, Stieler, and David, have all a high degree of 
 truth, and yet each bears more or less the stamp of the 
 individuality which produced it. If this be observed 
 of bodily things, how much more of those objects of 
 spiritual observation which are in their nature fleeting 
 and intangible ! And as my efforts are directed to a 
 subject of the latter description, I trust that those who, 
 from the nature of their minds or personal acquaintance 
 with Goethe, are fitted to judge, will not misinterpret 
 my sincere exertions to preserve as great fidelity as was 
 possible. 
 
 Having given what seem to me necessary explana- 
 tions as to the object of this work, I have still some- 
 thing to add as to its import. 
 
 That which we name the True, even in relation to a 
 single object, is by no means something little, narrow, 
 
6 ECKERMANN. 
 
 limited; rather is it, if something simple, yet by its 
 nature comprehensive also, which, like all manifesta- 
 tions of a deep and wide-reaching natural law, cannot 
 so very easily be expressed. It cannot be got rid of 
 by clothing it in words, not by statements upon state- 
 ments, nor the contradiction of them. Through all 
 these, one attains only an approximation to the aim. 
 So, for instance, Goethe's detached remarks upon poetry 
 often have an appearance of one-sidedness, and indeed 
 often of positive contradiction. Sometimes he lays 
 all the stress on the material which the outward world 
 affords ; sometimes upon that which is given by the 
 inward world of the poet : sometimes the greatest im- 
 portance is attached to the subject ; sometimes to the 
 mode of treating it : sometimes all is made to depend 
 on perfection of form ; sometimes form is to be neg- 
 lected, and all the attention paid to the spirit. 
 
 But all these seeming contradictions are, in fact, 
 only successive presentations of single sides of a truth, 
 which, by their union, manifest completely to us its 
 existence, and guide us to a perception of its nature; 
 and I have been careful in this, as in all similar cases, 
 to give these seemingly contradictory remarks exactly 
 as they were called out by different occasions, years, 
 and hours. I confide in the insight and comprehensive 
 power of the cultivated reader not to look at any one 
 part by itself, but to keep his eye on the significance 
 of the whole, and by that means to bring each particu- 
 lar into its proper place and relations. 
 
 Perhaps, too, the reader will find here many things 
 which at first seem unimportant. But if, on looking 
 deeper, he perceive that what is in itself trifling, often 
 
author's preface. 
 
 7 
 
 serves as introduction to something of real importance, 
 or a foundation to something which belongs to a later 
 period, or contributes some slight but indispensable 
 touch to a sketch of character, these will necessarily 
 be, if not sanctified, at least excused. 
 
 And now I bid a loving farewell to my so long cher- 
 ished book, wishing that its travels through the world 
 may be a source both of benefit and pleasure to those 
 who shall receive it. 
 
 Weimar, 31st October, 1835. 
 
8 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 INTRODUCTION j 
 
 IN WHICH THE AUTHOR GIVES SOME ACCOUNT OF HIS PARENT- 
 AGE, HIS EARLY LIFE, AND THE CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH LED 
 TO HIS CONNECTION WITH GOETHE. 
 
 I was born at Winsen on the Lühe, a little town 
 between Lüneburg and Hamburg, on the borders of 
 the marsh and heath lands, in the year ninety. My 
 parents lived in a hut, for such I may well call a 
 small house that only had one room, with a fireplace 
 in it, and no stairs. A ladder rose from the very 
 door to the hayloft. I was the youngest, child of a 
 second marriage, and grew up alone under the care 
 of parents already quite advanced in life when I was 
 born. My elder brothers had gone to sea, and one 
 of them was dead ; my sisters were at service. 
 
 The principal means of support, possessed by our 
 little family, was a cow. We had besides a piece 
 of land, which supplied us with vegetables. Corn 
 and meal we were obliged to buy. My mother was 
 expert at spinning wool ; she also gave much satis 
 faction by the caps she made for the women of the 
 village, and in both ways earned some money. 
 
 My father drove a small traffic, which varied accord- 
 ing to the seasons, and obliged him to be much from 
 home, travelling on foot about the country. In sum- 
 mer, he was seen with a light wooden box on his 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 9 
 
 back, going from hamlet to hamlet, and from door 
 to door, with ribbons, thread, and silk. For these 
 he received in one part of the country woollen stock- 
 ings, and a cloth of their manufacture, which he again 
 disposed of on the other side of the Elbe. In the 
 winter, he trafficked in the moors for rough quills and 
 unbleached linen, which he sent to Hamburg. But, 
 at all times, his gains were very small, and we lived in 
 poverty. 
 
 My employments in childhood varied according to 
 the season. As spring opened, and the waters of the 
 Elbe receded, after their customary overflow, I was 
 sent daily to collect the sedges which had been thrown 
 up by the waters, to make litter for our cow. But 
 when the green had at last stolen over the broad 
 meadows, I, with other boys, passed long days in 
 watching the cows. In summer, I had much to do 
 in our field, and all the year through was employed 
 to bring dry wood from thickets scarce an hour's walk 
 from the house. At harvest time, I passed weeks as a 
 gleaner, and when the autumn winds had shaken the 
 trees, I gathered acorns, which I sold to those who 
 kept geese. When I was old enough, I went with my 
 father from hamlet to hamlet, and helped carry his 
 bundle. This time affords some of the fairest remem- 
 brances of my youth. 
 
 Under such influences, and busied in such employ- 
 ments, attending, too, at certain periods, a school 
 where I barely learned to read and write, I reached 
 my fourteenth year. Every one will confess that from 
 this situation to an intimate connection with Goethe 
 was a great step, and one it seemed scarcely probable 
 
10 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 I should ever take. I knew not that there were in 
 the world such things as Poetry, or the Fine Arts ; and, 
 fortunately, there was no room in my life for a blind 
 longing and striving after them. 
 
 It has been said that animals are instructed by their 
 very organization ; and so may it be said of man, that 
 he often, by some accidental action, is taught the 
 higher powers which slumber within him. So some- 
 thing now happened to me which, though insignificant 
 in itself, gave a new turn to my life, and is therefore 
 stamped indelibly on my memory. 
 
 I sat one evening with both my parents at a table 
 on which a lamp was burning. My father, who had 
 just returned from Hamburg, was talking about his 
 business there. He loved smoking, and had brought 
 back with him a packet of tobacco, which lay before 
 him on the table, and had upon its wrapper the picture 
 of a horse. This picture struck me as very good, and, 
 as I had by me pen, ink, and a piece of paper, I was 
 seized with an irresistible inclination to copy it. My 
 father continued talking about Hamburg, and I, being 
 quite unobserved, became wholly engaged in drawing 
 the horse. When finished, it seemed to me a perfect 
 likeness of the original, and I experienced a delight 
 before unknown. I showed my parents what I had 
 done, and they could not avoid praising me and ex- 
 pressing admiration. I passed the night in happy 
 excitement, and almost sleepless ; I thought constantly 
 of the horse I had drawn, and longed for morning that 
 I might look at it again. 
 
 From this time the once excited propensity was 
 never forgotten. But as I found no help of any sort 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 11 
 
 in our place, I deemed myself most happy when our 
 neighbor, who was a potter, lent me some outlines, 
 which he had as models for painting his plates and 
 dishes. 
 
 These sketches I copied very carefully with pen and 
 ink, and the book, in which these drawings were, was 
 passed from hand to hand, till at last it came under the 
 eye of Meyer, Administrator of the place. He sent for 
 me, and bestowed on me both presents and cordial 
 praises. He asked me if I was seriously desirous to 
 become a painter, for if so he would send me to a 
 proper master at Hamburg. I said I was desirous, 
 and would talk of it with my parents. But they, 
 peasants by birth and education, and having lived 
 in a place where scarce any occupations were fol- 
 lowed except agriculture, and the rearing of cattle, 
 thought of a painter only as one who paints doors 
 and houses. They, therefore, advised me earnestly 
 against it, saying it was not only a very dirty, but 
 very dangerous trade, and that those who worked at 
 it, especially in Hamburg, where the houses are seven 
 stories high, were constantly in danger of breaking 
 their legs or necks. As my own ideas of a painter 
 were not more elevated at that time, I readily acqui- 
 esced, and put quite out of my head the offer of the 
 good Administrator. 
 
 Meanwhile those persons of the upper classes, whose 
 notice I had once attracted, did not forget me, but 
 strove to aid me in various ways. I was permitted to 
 take lessons with the few children of that rank ; and 
 thus learned French, a little Latin, and music: they 
 ilso provided me with better clothing, and the worthy 
 
12 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Superintendent, Parisius, did not disdain to give me a 
 seat at his own table. 
 
 I loved school very much, and all went on happily 
 till my sixteenth year, when, after my confirmation, 
 it became a serious question what should be done with 
 me. Could I have obeyed my wishes, I should have 
 gone to pursue my studies at a Gymnasium ; but this 
 was out of the question, as I was not only destitute of 
 means, but felt myself imperiously called upon, as soon 
 as possible, to get into some situation where I could 
 not only take care of myself, but help my parents, who 
 were so poor, and now advanced in years. 
 
 At this time a Counsellor of the place offered to 
 take me to do copying and other little services for 
 him, and I joyously consented. I had, during the 
 year and a half of my school instruction, taken great 
 pains, not only to form a good hand, but to improve in 
 composition, so that I considered myself qualified for 
 such a situation. This office, in which I also learned 
 to transact some details of a lawyer's business, I kept 
 till 1810, when old arrangements were broken up, 
 and Winsen on the Lühe taken into the department 
 of Lower Elbe, and incorporated with the French 
 empire. 
 
 I then received an appointment at Lüneburg, and 
 the following year one at Ulzen. At the close of the 
 year 1812, I was made secretary of the Mayoralty at 
 Bevensen, where I remained till, in the spring of 1813, 
 the approach of the Cossacs gave us hopes of being 
 freed from the French yoke. 
 
 I now returned home, with the intention of joining 
 one of those companies which already were secretly 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 13 
 
 forming to fight in our country's cause. Accordingly, 
 the last days of summer found me a volunteer in the 
 Kielmannsegge Hussar Corps. In the regiment of 
 Captain Knop I made the campaign of the winter of 
 1813-14, through Mecklenburg, Holstein, and before 
 Hamburg, against Marshal Davoust. Afterwards we 
 crossed the Rhine against General Maison, and passed 
 the summer in the fertile provinces of Flanders and 
 Brabant. 
 
 Here, at sight of the great pictures of the Nether- 
 lands, a new world opened to me ; I passed whole days 
 in churches and museums. These were the first pic- 
 tures I ever saw. I understood now what was meant 
 by being a painter. I saw the honored, happy progress 
 of the scholar, and I could have wept that I was not 
 permitted to pursue that path. I took my resolution 
 at once ; I became acquainted with a young artist of 
 Tournay ; I obtained black crayons and a sheet of 
 drawing-paper of the largest size, and sat down to 
 copy a picture. My enthusiasm supplied the deficien- 
 cies in practice and instruction. I succeeded in the 
 outlines of the figures, and had begun to shade the 
 whole from the left side, when marching orders broke 
 up my happy employment. I hastened to mark the 
 gradations of light and shade in the still unfinished 
 parts with single characters, hoping that I might yet 
 go on in some tranquil hour. I then rolled up my 
 picture, and put it in a quiver, which I carried hanging 
 at my back with my gun, all the way from Tournay to 
 Hameln. 
 
 Here, in the autumn of 1814, the Hussar corps was 
 disbanded. I went home ; my father was dead ; my 
 
14 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 eldest sister had married, and my mother lived with 
 her, in the house where I had been brought up. I 
 began now to pursue my plans for drawing. I com- 
 pleted first the picture I had brought from Brabant ; 
 and then, as I had no proper models, I copied some 
 little engravings of Ramberg's, with crayons, enlarging 
 them in my copy. But now I felt the want of proper 
 preparation. I had no idea of the anatomy either of 
 men or animals ; I knew as little how to treat properly 
 foliage or ground ; and it cost me unspeakable toil to 
 make any thing look decently well by my own mode 
 of proceeding. 
 
 Thus I soon saw that, if I wished to become an 
 artist, I must set to work in a different way, and that 
 more of this groping about in the dark would only be 
 lost labor. Now I longed to find a suitable master, 
 and begin from the very beginning. 
 
 The master whom I had in my eye was Ramberg, 
 of Hanover, and it did not seem impossible for me to 
 study with him, as a beloved friend of my earlier days 
 lived at Hanover, who had repeatedly invited me to 
 come to him there, and on whose assistance I could 
 depend. So I knotted up my bundle, and took, in the 
 winter of 1815, my walk of almost forty leagues, quite 
 alone, over the heath and through the deep snow. I 
 arrived at Hanover at the end of a few days, without 
 accident 
 
 I went immediately to Ramberg, and told him my 
 wishes. After looking at what I had done, he seemed 
 not to doubt my talent, yet he remarked that I must 
 have bread first; that to get acquainted with the 
 technical part of art would demand much time, and 
 
/ 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 that any hope of making my labors profitable in the 
 way of a subsistence lay at a great distance. Mean- 
 while, he showed himself willing to help me in his 
 way as much as he could ; he looked up immediately, 
 for my first studies, drawings of parts of the human 
 body, and gave them to me to copy. 
 
 So I lived with my friend, and drew under Ramberg. 
 I made good progress, and found the objects of my 
 pursuit grow daily more and more interesting. I drew 
 every part of the human frame, and was never weary 
 of trying to conquer the difficulties I found in the 
 hands and feet. So passed some happy months. In 
 May my health began to give way ; in June my hands 
 trembled so much I could no longer hold a pencil. 
 
 I consulted a physician, and he thought me in a 
 dangerous situation. He said that I was in great 
 danger of a fever, recommended warm baths, and 
 similar remedies. I soon grew better, but found I 
 must not think of resuming my late occupations. My 
 friend had treated me constantly in the most affec- 
 tionate manner ; he gave no intimation, and had no 
 thought, indeed, that I either had been, or might be, 
 a burden to him. But I could not forget it, and such 
 thoughts had contributed to my illness. I saw that 
 I must take some decided course to earn a livelihood, 
 and an appointment under the Board of Commissioners 
 for clothing the Hanoverian army being at this time 
 open to me, I accepted it, and gave up my devotion 
 to Art. 
 
 My recovery was soon completed, and with a better 
 state of body came a cheerfulness and serenity of mind 
 to which I had long been a stranger. I found myself 
 
16 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 able, in some measure, to requite the kindness my 
 friends had shown me. The novelty of the services 
 I was now called on to perform, obliged me to fix my 
 thoughts upon them. My superiors I found men of the 
 noblest views, and with my colleagues, some of whom 
 had made the campaign in the same corps with me, 
 I was soon on a footing of cordial intimacy. 
 
 Being now fairly settled, I took great pleasure in 
 seeing whatever of good this place contained, and, 
 when I had leisure hours, in visiting its beautiful 
 environs. One of Ramberg's scholars, a promising 
 young artist, was my intimate friend and constant 
 companion. And, since I was forced to give up the 
 practice of Art, it was a great solace that I could 
 daily converse about it. He showed me all his 
 designs, and I took the greatest interest in talking 
 them over with him. He introduced me to many 
 instructive works ; I read Winckelmann and Mengs, 
 but, for want of acquaintance with the objects which 
 they discuss, I could only appreciate generalities in 
 their works, and was not benefited as I might have 
 been, if such objects could have been brought under 
 my eye. 
 
 My friend, who had been brought up in the city, 
 was in advance of me in every kind of mental culture, 
 and had, what I entirely wanted, considerable acquaint- 
 ance with elegant literature. At that time, Theodore 
 Körner was the venerated hero of the day. My friend 
 brought me the " Lyre and Sword," which made a 
 deep impression on me, and excited my admiration. 
 Much has been said of the artistical effect of poems, 
 and many attach to it the highest value ; but, after all, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 17 
 
 the choice of the materials is of the first importance. 
 Unconsciously, I experienced this in reading the 
 " Lyre and Sword." For, that I had shared with 
 Körner his abhorrence of those who had been our 
 oppressors for so many years • that I too had fought 
 for our freedom, had been familiar with those difficult 
 marches, nightly bivouacs, outpost service, and battles, 
 and amid them all had been filled with thoughts and 
 feelings similar to his, — this it was which gave to 
 these poems so deep and powerful an echo in my heart. 
 But, as nothing impressed me much without exciting 
 the desire to produce in the same kind, I now 
 bethought me that I too had in earlier years written 
 little poems without having attached any importance 
 to the circumstance ; for a certain ripeness is required 
 for appreciation of poetical talent. This talent now 
 appearing in Körner as something enviable and noble, 
 I felt a great desire to try what I could do in the same 
 department. 
 
 The return of our army from France afforded me 
 a suitable subject, and, as my remembrances of all 
 the soldier must undergo in the field were still fresh, 
 I thought I might, by a forcibly-expressed comparison 
 between his situation and that of the citizen who has 
 remained in his comfortable home, produce feelings 
 which would prepare for the returning troops a cordial 
 reception. 
 
 I had several hundred copies of this poem printed 
 at my own expense, and distributed through the town. 
 The effect produced was favorable beyond my expecta- 
 tions. New and pleasant acquaintances pressed about 
 me to declare their sympathy with the views and 
 
 B2 
 
t8 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 feelings I had uttered, and their opinion that I had 
 given proof of a talent which deserved further 
 cultivation. The poem was copied into periodicals, 
 and reprinted in many other places ; I even had the 
 pleasure of seeing it set to music by a favorite 
 composer, though ill adapted for singing on account 
 of its length and rhetorical style. 
 
 No week passed now in which I did not find some 
 new occasion for a poem. I was now in my four- 
 and-twentieth year ; within me, a world of feelings, 
 impulses, and good-will, was in full action ; but I was 
 entirely deficient in information and culture. The 
 study of our great poets was recommended to me, 
 especially of Schiller and Klopstock. I did read 
 and admire, without receiving much assistance from, 
 their works ; the reason of which truly was, though 
 I did not at that time understand it, that their path 
 did not coincide with the natural tendency of my 
 mind. 
 
 At this time, I first heard the name of Goethe, 
 and got sight of a volume of his poems. In reading 
 his poems again and again, I enjoyed a happiness 
 which no words can express. I seemed, for the first 
 time in my life, to be truly awake, and conscious of 
 my existence; my own inmost soul, till then unknown 
 even to myself, seemed to be reflected from these 
 poems. Nowhere did I meet any merely learned or 
 foreign matter to which my simple individual thoughts 
 and feelings gave no response ; nowhere, names of 
 outlandish and obsolete divinities, which to me said 
 nothing ; but here I found the human heart, with its 
 desires, its joys and sorrows. I found a German 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 10 
 
 nature, clear as the day on which I am writing these 
 words, — pure reality in the light of a mild glorifi- 
 cation. 
 
 I lived whole weeks and months absorbed in these 
 poems. Then I obtained " Wilhelm Meister," and 
 " Goethe's Life;" then his dramas. "Faust," from 
 whose abysses of human nature and perdition, I at 
 first, shuddering, drew back, but whose profound 
 enigmatical character again attracted me, I read always 
 in holidays. My admiration and love for Goethe 
 increased daily, till I could think and speak of nothing 
 else. 
 
 A great writer may benefit us in two ways : by 
 revealing to us the mysteries of our own souls, or by 
 making obvious to us the wonders of the external 
 world. Goethe did both for me. I was led to closer 
 observation in both ways ; and the idea of unity, the 
 harmony and completeness of each individual object 
 within itself, and the meaning of the manifold 
 apparitions of nature and art, opened upon me daily 
 more and more. 
 
 After long study of this poet, and various attempts 
 to reproduce in poetry what I had gained, I turned to 
 some of the best writers of other times and countries, 
 and read not only Shakspeare, but Sophocles and 
 Homer, in excellent translations. 
 
 I soon perceived that in these sublime works I 
 could only appreciate what is universal in humanity. 
 For the understanding of particulars, a sort of knowl- 
 edge is required, which is given by an apprenticeship in 
 schools and universities. Indeed, I saw on every side 
 indications that I was wasting much time and toil, for 
 
20 
 
 ECKERMANN 
 
 since, without the discipline of a classical education, no 
 poet will write in his native language with elegance and 
 expression, or perform any thing of superior excel- 
 lence. I saw, too, in the biographies of distinguished 
 men, of which I read many at this time, how they all 
 had recourse to schools and colleges, and determined 
 that neither my manly age, nor the many obstacles 
 which surrounded me, should prevent my doing the 
 same. I engaged one of the tutors in the Hanover 
 Gymnasium to give me private lessons in Latin and 
 Greek, on which languages I spent all the time left me 
 by the hours (at least six a day) claimed from me by 
 my office. 
 
 Thus passed a year. I made good progress, yet was 
 dissatisfied, and began to think that I went on too 
 slowly, and should pass four or five hours daily in the 
 Gymnasium, if I would be penetrated by the atmosphere 
 of learning. The advice of intelligent friends favored 
 this plan, and my superiors did not oppose it, as the 
 hours for the Gymnasium were those in which I was 
 usually disengaged. I applied for admission. The 
 worthy director conducted my examination with the 
 utmost kindness ; but I did not appear as well as I 
 deserved, not being accustomed to the routine of 
 school questions. But, on the assurance of my 
 teacher, that I was in fact tolerably well prepared, 
 and in consideration of my unusual efforts, I was 
 admitted. I need scarcely say, that a man of twenty- 
 five, and one already employed in the king's service, 
 made but an odd figure among mere boys, and that 
 my situation was, at first, strange and unpleasant ; but 
 my great thirst for knowledge enabled me to overlook 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 2] 
 
 all such considerations. And, on the whole, I had no 
 cause for complaint. The tutors esteemed me, the 
 elder and better scholars treated me in the most 
 friendly manner, and even the most licentious abstained 
 from playing their tricks on me. 
 
 I was very happy in the attainment of my object, 
 and proceeded with vigor in my new path. I rose at 
 five in the morning to prepare my lessons. At eight 
 I went to the school, and staid till ten. Thence 
 I hastened to my office, where I was engaged till one 
 in my business. I then flew home, dined hastily, and 
 then again to school. From thence I returned at four 
 to my office, where I was occupied till seven. The 
 remainder of the evening I gave to preparation or 
 private instruction. 
 
 Thus lived I some months ; but my strength was 
 unequal to such exertions, and I soon experienced the 
 truth of the saying, " No man can serve two masters." 
 Want of free air, and of time and peace of mind for 
 exercise, food, and sleep, gradually undermined my 
 health, till, at last, I found myself so paralyzed, both 
 in body and mind, that I must give up either the 
 school or my office. As my subsistence depended on 
 the latter, I had no choice, and left the school in the 
 spring of 1817. As I saw it was my destiny to try 
 many things, I did not repent of the effort I had made. 
 Indeed, I had learned much, and continued my private 
 lessons, still having the University in view. 
 
 Having now more leisure, I extremely enjoyed the 
 spring and summer. I was much in the open country, 
 and nature this year said more than ever to my heart. 
 From this intercourse many poems took rise, in writing 
 
22 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 which, Goethe's high example was ever floating before 
 my thought. 
 
 This winter I began seriously to plan entering the 
 University within a year. I was so well advanced 
 in Latin, that I had written metrical translations of 
 parts of Horace's Odes, Virgil's Eclogues, and Ovid's 
 Metamorphoses, and could read, with considerable 
 fluency, Cicero's Orations and Caesar's Commentaries. 
 Although much was to be done, yet I had hopes of 
 being so far fitted that I might enter the University 
 within a year, and there make good all my deficien- 
 cies. 
 
 My patrons in the city promised me their aid, on 
 condition I would direct my studies towards some 
 profession which might gain me a livelihood. But, 
 as I felt for this no vocation, and as I was firmly 
 convinced that man must in such matters steadily 
 consult the wants of his nature, I could not do as they 
 desired, and, as they would not help me on other 
 terms, was obliged to betake myself to my own 
 resources. 
 
 Müllner's drama of the Schuld, and the Ahnfrau of 
 Grillparzer, were the talk of that day. These plays 
 displeased my natural taste as works of art ; still less 
 could I relish their idea of destiny, which seemed to 
 me likely to produce a pernicious effect on public 
 morals. I resolved to take the other side, and show 
 that character makes its own destiny. After thinking 
 over my proposed piece a good year, and fashioning 
 many parts in my mind, I wrote it out finally during 
 the winter of 1820, in the morning hours of a few 
 weeks. I was very happy in doing this, for the whole 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 29 
 
 flowed out easily and naturally. But, in my opposition 
 to the above-named poets, I had my eye too steadily 
 fixed on real life, and did not sufficiently keep in view 
 that I was writing for a theatre. Thus it had too 
 little action, and too much the tranquil air of a mere 
 drawing of characters. Subordinate persons had too 
 much room, and the whole piece too much breadth. 
 
 I showed it to some of my intimates, but was not 
 received as I wished ; they said I had read too little to 
 be fitted for such an enterprise, and that many scenes 
 belonged properly to the province of comedy. At first 
 I felt aggrieved, but was, after a while, convinced that 
 my friends were in the right, and that my piece, 
 though not without merit, was unfit for representation. 
 I determined to keep it by me, and remodel it when 
 I should be more ripe for such an undertaking. My 
 anxiety to go to the University being now greater than 
 ever, I resolved to publish my poems, and try if I 
 could not, by this means, gain a sufficient sum to 
 defray my expenses. This was done by subscription, 
 as I had not that established reputation which would 
 enable me to secure a publisher ; and, through the 
 kindness of my friends, it had the desired effect. 
 
 My superiors, finding that my wishes were decided, 
 gave me my dismission, and, through the kindness 
 of the then Colonel von Berger, even allowed me a 
 hundred and fifty dollars yearly for two years, to aid 
 me in the prosecution of my studies. 
 
 From my poems I received a hundred and fifty 
 dollars, after payment of all costs, and went to Göt- 
 tingen in May, 1821, leaving behind a maiden whom 
 I dearly loved. 
 
24 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 I had failed in my first efforts to reach the University 
 because I refused to give myself to the study of any 
 one profession. But now, grown wiser, and feeling 
 myself unequal to contend with the infinite obstacles 
 of another course, I yielded to the powerful world, and 
 chose jurisprudence. 
 
 My patrons, who thought only of my worldly pros- 
 perity, and had no idea of my intellectual wants and 
 cravings, thought me now quite reasonable, and were 
 liberal of kindness and assistance. They observed to 
 me, in confirmation of my good intentions, that this 
 study would have the greatest tendency to cultivate my 
 mind ; that I should thus gain insight into civil and 
 social relations, such as I could attain in no other 
 way ; that this study would not engross me, or hinder 
 my pursuing the so called higher studies ; and they 
 told me of various celebrated persons, who had studied 
 law, and also attained great excellence in other de- 
 partments. But neither my counsellors nor myself 
 sufficiently considered that such men came to the 
 University much better prepared than I, and had, 
 besides, much more time to pass there than the 
 imperious necessity of my circumstances would permit 
 to me. By deceiving others, I succeeded in deceiving 
 myself also, and really hoped that I might study law, 
 and, at the same time, accomplish my own objects. 
 
 Under this illusion, I began to seek what I had no 
 wish to possess, and found the study so easy and 
 pleasant, that, if my head had not been already full 
 of other plans and wishes, I could willingly have given 
 myself up to it. But I was like a maiden, who finds 
 abundant reasons for rejecting an advantageous mar- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 25 
 
 riage, because she secretly cherishes a preconceived 
 attachment. 
 
 At the professional lectures, I was often absorbed in 
 inventing scenes and acts for a new drama. I sincere- 
 ly tried to fix my attention on what was before me, but 
 with small success. I really thought of nothing but 
 poetry and art, and the higher human culture to attain 
 which I had for years longed to be at the University. 
 
 Heeren was the person who did most for me during 
 this first year at the University. His clear enunciation 
 of his opinions in ethnography and history made his 
 lectures delightful to me. I never left one without 
 being penetrated with the highest admiration for this 
 illustrious man. 
 
 Next year I proceeded in a really reasonable manner, 
 by setting aside entirely the study of jurisprudence, 
 one too important to be made subordinate to others, 
 and which I could not bring myself to regard as my 
 principal object. I devoted much of my time to 
 philology, and was now as largely indebted to Dissen, 
 as I had been the year before to Heeren. I not only 
 received from his lectures the sort of food my mind 
 most needed and desired, — not only received from him 
 the clearest and most important instructions as to my 
 future works, — but I had the happiness of becoming 
 acquainted with this excellent man, and of receiving 
 from him, in private, guidance and encouragement. 
 
 My daily intercourse with the best minds among 
 the students, our conversations on the noblest subjects 
 during our walks and late at night, were to me 
 invaluable, and exercised a most favorable influence on 
 the development of my faculties. 
 
 c 
 
26 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 The end of my pecuniary means drew near. But 
 I felt, that, during the past months, I had accumulated 
 daily new treasures of knowledge ; and to heap more 
 together, without learning by practice how to apply it, 
 would not have suited me. My earnest desire now 
 was, by some literary undertaking, at once to make 
 myself free, and sharpen my appetite for further 
 study. 
 
 I left the University in the autumn of 1822, and 
 took lodgings in the country near Hanover. My 
 mind was now engaged in the thoughts which my 
 labors had suggested to me upon the theory of Poetry. 
 I wrote a treatise which I hoped might aid youthful 
 talent, not only in production, but in criticising the 
 works of others, and gave it the title of Beyträge zur 
 Poesie. 1 
 
 In May, 1823, I completed this work. As I needed 
 not only a good publisher, but one who would pay me 
 well, I took the resolution to send my work to Goethe, 
 and ask him to say some words to Cotta in its 
 favor. 
 
 Goethe was still, as formerly, the poet whom I daily 
 looked to as my polar star, whose utterance harmonized 
 with my thought, and led me constantly to a higher and 
 higher point of view ; whose admirable skill in treat- 
 ment of such various subjects I was ever striving to 
 understand and imitate ; and towards whom my love 
 and veneration rose to an almost impassioned height. 
 
 Soon after my arrival in Göttingen, I had sent him a 
 copy of my poems, accompanied by a slight sketch 
 
 1 Contributions to Poetry. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 27 
 
 of the progress of my life and culture. 1 had the 
 great joy, not only to receive in answer some lines 
 written by his own hand, but to hear from travellers 
 that he had a good opinion of me, and proposed 
 noticing my work in one of the volumes of Kunst und 
 Alterthum. 1 
 
 This gave me courage to show him my manuscript 
 now. I had, indeed, no other desire at present, than 
 to be honored by his personal acquaintance ; to attain 
 which object, about the end of May, I set forth on foot 
 for Weimar. 
 
 During this journey, which the heat of the weather 
 made one of much fatigue, I was sustained by a feeling 
 that kindly powers were guiding me, and that the step 
 I was now taking would be one of great importance to 
 my success in life. 
 
 1 Art and Antiquity. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 1823. 
 
 Weimar, Tuesday, 10th June. 
 
 I arrived here some days since, but did not see 
 Goethe till to-day. He received me with great cor- 
 diality; and the impression he made on me during our 
 interview was such, that I consider this day as the 
 happiest of my life. 
 
 Yesterday, when I called to inquire, he said he 
 should be glad to see me to-day, at twelve o'clock. 
 I went at the appointed time, and found a servant 
 waiting to conduct me to him. 
 
 The interior of the house impressed me very pleas- 
 antly ; it was not showy, but simple and noble in its 
 arrangements ; the casts from antique statues, placed 
 upon the stairs, indicated Goethe's partiality for the 
 plastic art, and for Grecian antiquity. I saw several 
 women busily engaged in the lower part of the house, 
 and one of Ottilia's beautiful boys, who came frankly 
 up to me, and looked fixedly in my face. 
 
 After I had cast a glance around, I ascended with 
 the talkative servant to the first floor. He opened a 
 room, on whose threshold the motto Salve bid me 
 anticipate a friendly welcome. He led me through 
 this apartment into another, somewhat more spacious, 
 
32 ECKERMANN. 
 
 where he requested me to wait, while he went to 
 announce my arrival to his master. The air was cool 
 and refreshing ; on the floor was spread a carpet ; the 
 room was prettily furnished with a crimson sofa and 
 ottomans ; on one side stood a piano ; and the walls 
 were adorned with many pictures and drawings, of 
 various sorts and sizes. 
 
 Through the open door, I saw yet another room, 
 also hung with pictures, through which the servant had 
 gone to announce me. 
 
 Goethe soon came in, dressed in a blue coat, and 
 with shoes. His appearance was full of dignity, and 
 made a surprising impression on me. But he soon put 
 me at ease by the kindest words. We sat down on the 
 sofa. I felt so happy, and yet so overcome, by his 
 look and his presence, that I could say little or 
 nothing. 
 
 He began by speaking of my manuscripts. " I 
 have," said he, " been reading them all the morning ; 
 they need no recommendation — they recommend them- 
 selves." He praised the clearness of the statements, 
 the flow of the thought, the solid basis on which the 
 whole rested, and the thorough manner in which the 
 whole subject had been thought out. " I am in haste 
 to promote the affair," said he ; " to-day I shall write 
 to Cotta by post, and send him the parcel by the coach 
 to-morrow." I thanked him with words and looks. 
 
 We then talked of my proposed excursion. I told 
 him that my design was to go into the Rhineland, and 
 stay where I could find a suitable place for writing. 
 Meanwhile, I would go to Jena, and await Cotta's 
 answer. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 33 
 
 Goethe asked whether I had friends in Jena. I 
 replied that I hoped for the acquaintance of Herr von 
 Knebel ; on which he promised me a letter which 
 should insure me a favorable reception from that 
 gentleman. " And, indeed," said he, " while you are 
 in Jena, we shall be near neighbors, and can see or 
 write to one another as often as we please." 
 
 We sat a long while together, in tranquil, affection- 
 ate harmony. I was close to him ; I forgot to speak 
 for looking at him, and yet could not look enough. 
 His face is so powerful and brown, full of wrinkles, 
 and each wrinkle full of expression, and every where 
 such nobleness and firmness, such repose and greatness ! 
 He speaks in a slow, composed manner, such as you 
 would expect from an aged monarch. You perceive 
 by his air that he leans upon himself, and is elevated 
 far above both praise and blame. I was extremely 
 happy near him. I felt the blissful tranquillity of one 
 who, after many toils and tedious expectations, finally 
 sees his dearest wishes gratified. 
 
 He spoke, too, of my letter, and remarked that I 
 was perfectly right in thinking, that, to manage any 
 one affair with decision and ability, one should be 
 fitted to act in various other departments. 
 
 " No one can tell how things may draw and turn," 
 said he ; "I have many good friends in Berlin, and 
 thought of you in that connection." Then he smiled 
 pleasantly at some thought which he did not express. 
 He pointed out to me what was best worth seeing in 
 Weimar, and said he would desire secretary Kräuter to 
 be my cicerone. Above all, I must not fail to visit the 
 theatre. He asked where I lodged, saying that he 
 
:34 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 should like to see me once more, and would send for 
 me at a suitable time. 
 
 We bid an affectionate farewell. I, on my side, was 
 supremely happy ; for every word of his spoke kind- 
 ness, and I felt that he had a favorable opinion of me. 
 
 Wednesday, 11th June, 1823. 
 
 This morning I received a note from Goethe, written 
 by his own hand, desiring me to come to him. I went 
 and staid an hour. He seemed quite a different man 
 from that of yesterday, and had the impetuous and 
 decided manner of a youth. 
 
 He entered, bringing two thick books. " It is not 
 well," said he, " that you should pass from us so soon ; 
 let us become better acquainted. I wish more ample 
 opportunity to see and talk with you. But, as the field 
 of generalities is so wide, I have thought of something 
 in particular, which may serve as a ground-work for 
 intercourse. These two volumes contain the Frankfort 
 literary notices of the years 1772 and 1773, among 
 which are almost all my little pieces of criticism, 
 written at that time. These are not marked ; but, as 
 you are familiar with my style and tone of thought, 
 you will easily discriminate them from the others. I 
 would have you examine with care these youthful 
 productions, and tell me what you think of them. I 
 wish to know whether they deserve a place in a future 
 edition of my works. They stand so far from my 
 present self, that I am not competent to judge them. 
 But you, younger people, can tell whether they are to 
 you of any value, and whether they suit our present 
 literary point of view. I have had copies taken of 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 35 
 
 them already, which you can have by and by to 
 compare with the originals. We will also take a 
 careful survey, and ascertain whether here and there 
 something might not be left out, or something added, 
 with advantage, and without injuring the genuine 
 character of the whole." 
 
 I replied that I would gladly make the attempt, and 
 that nothing could gratify me more than adequately to 
 fulfil his design. 
 
 " You will find yourself perfectly competent," said 
 he, " when you have once entered on the employment ; 
 it will be very easy to you." 
 
 He then told me that he should probably set off for 
 Marienbad in a few days, and that he should be glad 
 if I could remain at Weimar up to that time, that we 
 might see one another at our ease, and become better 
 acquainted. 
 
 " I wish, too," said he, " that you should not merely 
 pass a few days or weeks in Jena, but live there till I 
 return from Marienbad in the autumn. Already I have 
 written to bespeak for you a proper home, and other 
 things necessary to make your stay convenient and 
 pleasant. 
 
 " You will find there, in the greatest variety, means 
 and materials for higher attainments, and a very culti- 
 vated social circle ; besides, the country presents such 
 various aspects, that you may have fifty walks, each 
 different from the others, each pleasant, and almost all 
 suited for undisturbed indulgence in meditation. You 
 will find there plenty of leisure and opportunity, not 
 only to accomplish my designs, but to write many new 
 things for yoursetf." 
 
36 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 I could make no objections to such proposals, and 
 consented joyfully to them all. He took a very 
 affectionate farewell of me, and fixed an hour when we 
 might meet again, to-morrow. 
 
 Monday, 16th June, 1823. 
 
 I have now had repeated interviews with Goethe. 
 To-day we talked principally of business. I declared 
 my opinion also of his Frankfort criticisms, naming 
 them echoes of his academic years, which expression 
 seemed to please him, as marking, with some precision, 
 the point of view from which these youthful pro- 
 ductions should be regarded. 
 
 He gave me the first sheets of Kunst und Alter- 
 thum, that I might take them with me to Jena, and 
 begin upon them as soon as I should have finished my 
 present task. 
 
 " It is my wish," said he, " that you should study 
 carefully these papers, and not only make a summary 
 of their contents, but also take written notes on those 
 subjects which do not seem to you to be satisfactorily 
 discussed, that I may by this means see more clearly 
 what thread I had best take up again and spin upon 
 yet a while longer. I shall thus be greatly assisted, 
 and you also ; since, in this practical way, you will far 
 more sharply consider, and fully receive, the import of 
 each particular treatise, than by any common perusal, 
 regulated solely by inclination." 
 
 I was well pleased by these remarks, and willingly 
 undertook this labor also. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 37 
 
 Thursday, 19th June, 1823. 
 1 was to have gone to Jena to-day ; but Goethe 
 yesterday requested earnestly that I would stay till 
 Sunday, and then go with the post. He gave me 
 yesterday the promised letters of recommendation, and 
 also one for the family of Frommann. " You will 
 enjoy their circle," said he ; " I have passed many 
 delightful evenings there. Jean Paul, Tieck, the 
 Schlegels, and all the other distinguished men of 
 Germany, have visited them, and always with delight ; 
 and now you will meet there many learned men, 
 artists, and other persons of note. In a few weeks, 
 write to me at Marienbad, that I may know how you 
 are going on, and how you are pleased with Jena. 
 I have requested my son to visit you there during my 
 absence." 
 
 I felt very grateful for so much care from Goethe, 
 and very happy that he regarded me, and wished others 
 should regard me, as appertaining to himself. 
 
 Saturday, 21st June, then, I bid farewell to Goethe, 
 and set off for Jena, where I established myself in a 
 rural dwelling, with very good, respectable people. In 
 the family of von Knebel and Frommann, I found, on 
 Goethe's recommendation, a very cordial reception, 
 and instructive society. I proceeded very successfully 
 with my work, and had, besides, the joy to receive a 
 letter from Cotta, in which he not only declared 
 himself ready io publish my manuscript which had 
 been sent him, but assured me of a handsome pecu- 
 niary compensation. So was I now honorably provided 
 with the means of subsistence for at least a year, and 
 I felt the liveliest desire to produce something new, on 
 
 D 
 
3* 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 which to found my fifture prosperity as an author. 
 I hoped that I had already, in my Bcyträge zur Poesie, 
 taken my critical and theoretical ground. I had there 
 endeavored to bring out my opinions upon the princi- 
 ples of art, and my whole inner nature now urged me 
 to test them in practice. I had plans for innumerable 
 poems, both long and short, also for dramas of various 
 sorts ; and I thought I had now only to choose among 
 them with judgment, and peacefully to finish one after 
 the other. 
 
 I was not long content in Jena ; my life there was 
 too quiet and uniform. I longed for a great city, not 
 only because I should there enjoy the advantages of a 
 good theatre, but because I might there observe social 
 life on a great scale, and thence draw the elements of 
 a more complete culture. In such a town, too, I could 
 live quite undisturbed, and be free to isolate myself 
 when ready to produce any thing. 
 
 Meanwhile, I had drawn up the table which Goethe 
 wished for the first four volumes of Kunst und Alter- 
 thum, and sent it to Marienbad with a letter, in 
 which I told my plans and wishes. I received in 
 answer the following lines : — 
 
 " The table arrived at the time when I most wanted it, 
 and corresponds precisely with my wishes and inten- 
 tions. Let me find the Frankfort papers equally well 
 arranged, and receive beforehand my best thanks. 
 Meanwhile, be assured, I shall faithfully remember and 
 consider your situation, thoughts, wishes, aims, and 
 plans, that, on my return, I may be ready to give my 
 best advice as to your future conduct. To-day I will 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 39 
 
 say no more. My departure from Marienbad gives 
 much to think of, and to do, while my stay, all too 
 brief, with such interesting beings, must occasion 
 painful feelings. 
 
 " May I find you in that state of tranquil activity, 
 from which, after all, the most comprehensive views 
 of the world, and the most valuable experiences, are 
 evolved. Farewell. You must give me the pleasure 
 of a prolonged and more intimate acquaintance. 
 
 " Goethe. 
 
 "Marienbad, 19th August, 1823." 
 
 By these lines of Goethe's, on the reception of which 
 I felt very happy, I felt tranquillized as to the future. 
 I determined to take no step for myself, but be wholly 
 resigned to his will and counsel. Meanwhile, I wrote 
 some little poems, finished arranging the Frankfort 
 papers, and expressed my opinion of them in a short 
 treatise, intended for the eye of Goethe. I looked 
 forward with eagerness to his return from Marienbad ; 
 for my book was almost through the press, and I felt a 
 strong desire to refresh myself this autumn, by passing 
 a few weeks on the banks of the Rhine. 
 
 Jena, 15th September, 1823. 
 
 Goethe is, at last, returned from Marienbad, but, as 
 his country-house in this place is not convenient for 
 him just now, he only staid here a few days. He is 
 well and active, so that he can take very long walks, 
 and it is truly delightful to see him now. 
 
 After an interchange of joyful greetings, Goethe 
 began to speak thus : — 
 
40 ECKERMANN. 
 
 "I may as well say it at once; — it is my wish that 
 you should pass this winter with me in Weimar. In 
 poetry and criticism, I find you quite to my mind. 
 You have, from nature, an excellent foundation. You 
 should make of them your profession, and I doubt not 
 you will soon derive from it a suitable income. But 
 yet there is much, not strictly appertaining to this 
 department, which you ought to learn, and that with 
 all convenient speed. This you may do with us this 
 winter in Weimar, to such advantage, that you will 
 wonder, next Easter, to see what progress you have 
 made. It is in my power to give you the very best 
 means, in every way. Thus shall you lay a firm 
 foundation for your future life, and have the pleasure 
 of feeling yourself, in some measure, prepared for any 
 situation." 
 
 I was much pleased by this proposal, and replied, 
 that I would regulate myself by his wishes in all 
 things. "Then," said Goethe, "I will provide you 
 with a home in my neighborhood, and venture to 
 predict that you shall pass no unprofitable moment 
 during the winter. Many good things are collected 
 in Weimar, and you will gradually find out, in the 
 higher circles, society not surpassed in any of the 
 great cities. And many men of great worth are 
 connected with me, whom you also will know, and 
 whose conversation you will find in the highest degree 
 useful and instructive." 
 
 Goethe then mentioned many distinguished men, 
 indicating in a few words the peculiar merit of 
 each. 
 
 " You would look in vain elsewhere," said he, " for 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 11 
 
 so much good in so narrow space. We also possess an 
 excellent library, and a theatre which yields to none in 
 Germany, in what is most important. Therefore, — let 
 me repeat it, — stay with us, and not only this winter, 
 but make Weimar your home. From thence proceed 
 avenues to all quarters of the globe. In summer you 
 can travel, and see, by degrees, whatever is worth 
 seeing. I have lived here fifty years; and where else 
 have I not been ? But I was always glad to return to 
 Weimar." 
 
 I was very happy in being again with Goethe, and 
 hearing him talk, and I felt that my whole soul turned 
 towards him. If I can only have thee, thought I, all 
 else will go well. So I repeated to him the assurance 
 that I was ready to do whatever he, after duly weighing 
 the circumstances of my situation, should think best. 
 
 Jena, Thursday, 18th September, 1823. 
 Yesterday, before Goethe's return to Weimar, I had 
 the happiness of another interview with him. What 
 he said at that time seemed to me of infinite value, 
 and will have a beneficent influence on all my after 
 life. All the young poets of Germany should hear 
 those words. 
 
 He began by asking me whether I had written no 
 poem this summer. I replied that I had indeed written 
 a few, but had done nothing which satisfied me. 
 " Beware," said he, " of attempting too large a work. 
 That is what injures most our best minds, and prevents 
 fine talents and earnest efforts from accomplishing 
 adequate results. I have suffered from this cause, and 
 
 D2 
 
42 
 
 ECKERMA.VV. 
 
 know how pernicious it is. What valuables I have let 
 fall into the well ! If I had written all that I well 
 might, a hundred volumes would not contain it. 
 
 " The Present will have its rights ; and the thoughts 
 and feelings which daily press upon the poet should 
 find a voice. But, if you have a great work in your 
 head, nothing else prospers near it, all other thoughts 
 must be repelled, and the pleasantness of life is quite 
 lost, till it is accomplished. What concentration of 
 thought is required to plan and round it off as a whole 
 within the mind, what powers, and what a tranquil, 
 undisturbed situation, to make it flow out as it should ! 
 If you have erred in your plan, all your toil is lost ; 
 and if, in treating so extensive a subject, you are not 
 perfectly master of your materials, the defects in 
 details lay you open to censure ; and, after all his toil 
 and sacrifice, the poet meets, instead of praise and 
 pleasure, nothing but dissatisfaction and blame, which 
 palsy his energies. But if he seizes and treats, in 
 freshness of feeling, what the present moment offers 
 him, he makes sure of something good, and if he does 
 not succeed, has at least lost 'nothing. There is 
 August Hagen, in Königsberg ; have you ever read 
 his Olfried and Lisena ? There you may find passages 
 which cannot be improved ; the situation on the Baltic, 
 and all the particulars of the locality, are painted with 
 the hand of a master. But, as a whole, it pleases 
 nobody. And what labor and strength he has lavished 
 upon it, indeed, has almost exhausted himself. And, 
 since, he has been writing a tragedy." Here Goethe 
 paused, and smiled. I said I believed he had advised 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 43 
 
 Hagen (in Kunst und Alterthum) to treat only 
 small subjects. "I did so," he replied; "but nobody 
 conforms to the instructions of us old people. Each 
 thinks he knows best about himself, and thus many 
 lose their way entirely, and many wander long in 
 wrong directions ; and, besides, you should not wander 
 now : we of a former day have done it long to find the 
 true path for you ; and what was the use of all our 
 seeking and blundering, if you young people will not 
 avail yourselves of the experience we have gained 1 
 Our errors were pardoned because no track had been 
 opened for us ; but from men of a later day the world 
 asks more : they must not be seeking and blundering, 
 but use the instructions of their predecessors to enter 
 at once on the right path. It is not enough to take 
 steps which may sometimes lead to an aim ; each step 
 must be in the right direction, and, at the same time, 
 with each some separate object must be attained. 
 
 " Bear these words away with you, and see if you 
 cannot from them draw somewhat for yourself. Not 
 that I feel troubled about you, but I may be able to 
 abridge an unprofitable stage in your progress. Fix 
 your attention on subjects which every day offers you, 
 and on which yöu can work at once with earnestness 
 and cheerfulness ; you will, in all probability, please 
 yourself, and each day will bring its own peculiar joy. 
 You can give what you do to the pocket-books, to the 
 periodicals, but never submit yourself to the judgment 
 of other minds ; your own is the only true guide. 
 
 " The world is so great and rich, and life so full 
 of variety, that you can never want occasions for 
 poems. But they must all be occasional poems ; that 
 
44 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 is to say, reality must give both impulse and material 
 for their production. A particular case becomes 
 universal and poetic when managed by a poet. All 
 my poems are occasional poems, having in real life, 
 by which they were suggested, a firm foundation. 
 I attach no value to poems woven from the air. 
 
 " Let no one say that reality wants poetical interest ; 
 for in this doth the poet prove his vocation, that he has 
 the art to win from a common subject an interesting 
 side. Reality must give the impulse, the subject, the 
 kernel, as I may say ; but to work out a beautiful, 
 animated whole, belongs to the poet. You know 
 Fürnstein, sometimes called the Poet of Nature ; he 
 has written the prettiest poem imaginable, on the 
 cultivation of hops. I have now desired him to make 
 songs for the different crafts of working-men, particu- 
 larly a weaver's song, and I am sure he will do it well, 
 for he has been brought up among such people, and 
 understands the subject so thoroughly, that he will 
 treat it in a masterly manner. You cannot manage 
 a great poem so ; no part can be slighted or evaded ; 
 all which belongs to it as a whole must be interwoven 
 and represented with precision.. Youth has only one- 
 sided views of things. A great work asks many- 
 sidedness, and on that rock the young author splits." 
 
 I said that I had contemplated writing a great poem 
 upon the seasons, in which I might interweave the 
 employments and amusements of all classes. " 'Tis 
 the very case," replied Goethe ; " you may succeed in 
 parts, and fail in others, with which you have had no 
 proper means of becoming acquainted. You, perhaps, 
 would do the fisherman well, and the huntsman ill ; and 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 45 
 
 if you fail any where, the whole is a failure ; and, 
 however good single parts may be, that will not atone 
 for the want of completeness. But paint those parts to 
 which you are competent, give each an independent 
 being, and you make sure of something good. 
 
 " More especially, I warn you against great inven- 
 tions ; for there a comprehensive view is demanded, 
 for which youth is seldom ripe. Further, character 
 and views are loosened as sides from the poet's mind, 
 and he has not the fulness desirable for future produc- 
 tions. And, finally, much time is lost in invention, 
 internal arrangement, and combination, for which 
 nobody thanks you, even supposing your design be 
 happily accomplished. 
 
 " When materials are ready to the hand, all goes 
 easier and better. Facts and characters being pro- 
 vided, the poet has only the task of animating them 
 into a whole. He preserves his proper fulness, for he 
 needs to part with but little of himself, and there is 
 much less loss of time and strength. Indeed, I would 
 advise the choice of subjects which have been used 
 before. How many Iphigenias have been written ! yet 
 they are all different, for each writer manages the 
 subject after his own fashion. 
 
 " But, for the present, you had better lay aside all 
 great undertakings. You have striven long enough; 
 it is time that you should enter into the cheerful period 
 of life. Working out small subjects will help you 
 most at present." 
 
 During the conversation, we had been walking up 
 and down the room. I could do nothing but assent to 
 what he said, for I felt the truth of each word through 
 
40 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 my whole being. At each step I felt lighter and 
 happier, for I must confess that various grand schemes, 
 of which I had not as yet been able to take a clear 
 view, had been oppressing me. I have now thrown 
 them aside, and shall let them rest till I feel adequate 
 to working out each part in cheerfulness, as by study 
 of the world I become more intimately acquainted with 
 the interests it presents. 
 
 I feel, since these words of Goethe's, as if I had 
 gone forward several years in true wisdom, and in the 
 very depths of my soul acknowledge my good fortune 
 in having met with a true master. Its advantages are 
 incalculable. 
 
 How much shall I learn from him this winter ! how 
 much shall I gain merely from living with him, even 
 in times when he does not speak upon subjects of such 
 importance ! His personality, his mere presence, it 
 seems to me, must tend to unfold my powers, even 
 when he speaks not a word. 
 
 Weimar, Thursday, 2d October, 1823. 
 
 I came here yesterday from Jena, favored by most 
 agreeable weather. Goethe welcomed me to Weimar, 
 by sending me a season-ticket for the theatre. I passed 
 yesterday in making my domestic arrangements ; and 
 the rather, as they were very busy at Goethe's ; for the 
 French Ambassador from Frankfort, Count Reinhard, 
 and the Prussian State Counsellor, Shultz, from Berlin, 
 had come to visit him. 
 
 This forenoon I went again to Goethe. He was 
 rejoiced to see me, and was every way kind and 
 amiable. As I was about to take my leave, he said 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 47 
 
 he wished first to make me acquainted with the State 
 Counsellor, Shultz. He took me into the next room, 
 where I found that gentleman busy in looking at the 
 pictures, introduced me, and then left us together. 
 
 " I am very glad," said Shultz, " that you are to stay 
 in Weimar, and assist Goethe in preparing his unpub- 
 lished works for the press. He has been telling me 
 how much profit he promises himself from your assist- 
 ance, and that he now hopes to complete many new 
 enterprises." 
 
 I replied that I had no other aim in life except to 
 aid the progress of German literature ; and that, in the 
 hope of being useful here, I had willingly laid aside, 
 for the present, my own literary designs. I added, that 
 I hoped the constant intercourse, thus induced with 
 Goethe, would have a most favorable effect on my own 
 culture. I hoped, by this means, to ripen much in few 
 years, and thus, in the end, to adequately perform 
 tasks for which I was at present but imperfectly pre- 
 pared. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Shultz, " the personal influence 
 of so extraordinary a man and master as Goethe, must 
 be invaluable. I have come hither solely to refresh 
 myself once more from his great mind." 
 
 He then inquired about the publication of my book ; 
 for Goethe had written to him last summer on that 
 subject. I said that I hoped, in a few days, to receive 
 the first copies from Jena, and would not fail to send 
 him one. 
 
 We separated with a cordial shake of the hand. 
 
48 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Tuesday, 14th October, 1823. 
 
 This evening, I went for the first time to a large 
 tea-party at Goethe's house. I arrived first, and 
 enjoyed the view of the brilliantly lighted suite of 
 apartments, all thrown open to-night. In one of the 
 farthest, I found Goethe, who came to meet me, with a 
 cheerful air. He was dressed in. black, and wore his 
 star, which became him well. No guest having yet 
 arrived, we walked together up and down the room, 
 where the picture of the Aldobrandine Marriage, 
 which was hung above the red couch, especially 
 attracted my attention. The green curtains were now 
 drawn aside from the picture ; it was in a broad light, 
 and I was delighted to have such a good opportunity 
 for tranquil contemplation of its beauty. 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " the ancients did not content 
 themselves with great intentions merely ; they knew 
 also how to carry them into effect. We moderns have 
 also great intentions, but want the skill and power to 
 bring them out, full and lifelike as we thought them." 
 
 Now came Riemer, Meyer, Chancellor von Müller, 
 and many other distinguished gentlemen and ladies 
 of the court, Goethe's son, and Frau von Goethe, with 
 whom I was now, for the first time, made acquainted. 
 The rooms filled gradually, and the scene became 
 very animated. With some pretty youthful foreigners 
 Goethe spoke French. 
 
 The society pleased me, all were so free and perfect- 
 ly at their ease ; each sat or stood, laughed, jested, and 
 talked at pleasure. I had a lively conversation with 
 the young Goethe about Houwald's piece, which was 
 given a few days since. We agreed entirely about it, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 49 
 
 and I was greatly pleased by the animation and refine- 
 ment of his criticisms. 
 
 Goethe made himself very agreeable. He went 
 about from one to another, and seemed to prefer 
 listening to talking. Frau von Goethe would often 
 come and lean upon him, or caress him. I had lately 
 said to him that I enjoyed the theatre highly, but that 
 1 rather gave myself up to the impression of the piece 
 than reflected upon it. This seemed to him the 
 method best suited to my present state of mind. 
 
 He came to me with Frau von Goethe. " I believe," 
 said he, " you are not yet acquainted with my daughter 
 in law. He is as much a child about the theatre as 
 you, Ottilia ! " 
 
 We exchanged congratulations upon this taste which 
 we had in common. " My daughter," continued he, 
 " is never absent from the theatre an evening." " That 
 would be my way," said I, " if there were always good 
 pieces ; but it is so tiresome to sit out the bad ! " 
 " But," said Goethe, " it has a fine effect on you to be 
 constrained to stay and hear what is bad. By this 
 means, you are penetrated with the hatred for the bad, 
 which gives you the clearest insight for the good. In 
 reading, you have not this gain, — you throw aside the 
 book, if it displeases you; but, at the theatre, you are 
 forced to your own profit." I could not refuse my 
 assent, and thought how always the sage finds occasion 
 to say something good. 
 
 We now separated. Goethe went to the ladies, and 
 I joined Riemer and Meyer, who had many things to 
 relate of Italy. The assembly became very gay. At 
 length Counsellor Schmidt seated himself at the piano, 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 and gave us some of Beethoven's music. These pieces, 
 which were received with deep sympathy, led an intel- 
 ligent lady to relate many interesting particulars of her 
 acquaintance with the great composer. Ten o'clock 
 came at last, and this, to me, extremely interesting 
 evening ended. 
 
 Sunday, 19th October, 1823. 
 
 To-day, I dined for the first time with Goethe. No 
 one was present except Frau von Goethe, her sister, 
 Fraulein Ulrica, and little Walter. Goethe appeared 
 now solely as father of the family, offered all dishes, 
 carved the poultry with great dexterity, not forgetting 
 between whiles to fill the glasses. We had much 
 lively chat about the theatre, young English people, 
 and other topics of the day ; especially was Fraulein 
 Ulrica very lively and entertaining. Goethe was 
 generally silent, only offering now and then some 
 pertinent remark. He also read the newspapers, com- 
 municating to us now and then what he thought most 
 important, especially about the Greek cause. 
 
 There was talk about my learning English, and 
 Goethe earnestly advised me to do so, particularly on 
 account of Lord Byron ; saying, that such a being had 
 never before appeared, and hardly would be reproduced. 
 After dinner, Goethe showed me some experiments 
 relating to his theory of colors. The whole subject 
 was new to me ; I neither understood the experiments, 
 nor what he said about them. I could only hope that 
 I should have leisure and opportunity to inquire further 
 into the matter. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 51 
 
 Tuesday, 21st October. 
 
 I went to see Goethe this evening. We talked of 
 his " Pandora." I asked him whether this poem might 
 now be regarded as a whole, or whether we were to 
 look for something farther. He said there was no more 
 in existence, and, indeed, that the first part was on 
 so large a scale, that, at a later period, he could do 
 nothing to match it. And, as what was done might be 
 regarded as a whole, he did not trouble himself. 
 
 I said that I could not understand this difficult poem 
 till I had read it so many times as almost to know it by 
 heart. Goethe smiled, and said, " I can well believe 
 that ; for all its parts are, as one may say, wedged one 
 within another." I added, that 1 could not be perfect- 
 ly satisfied with Schubarth's remarks upon this poem, 
 who found there united all which had been said separate- 
 ly in " Werther," " Wilhelm Meister," and the " Elective 
 Affinities," thus making the interpretation difficult, and 
 almost impossible. " Schubarth," said Goethe, " some- 
 times goes a little too deep, but is a man -of great 
 abilities, and his words are always fraught with deep 
 meaning." 
 
 We spoke of Unland, . and Goethe said, " When I 
 see great effects, I am apt to suppose great causes; 
 and I think there must be a reason for popularity so 
 extensive as that of Unland. I took up his book with 
 the best intentions, but fell immediately on so many 
 weak and gloomy poems that I could not proceed. I 
 then tried his ballads, where I really did find distin- 
 guished talent, and could see a basis for his celebrity." 
 
52 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 He was then led to speak of the ancient German 
 architecture. 
 
 " We see in this architecture," he said, " the flower 
 of an extraordinary crisis. Who merely looks on such 
 a flower will feel nothing but astonishment ; while he 
 who sees into the secret, inner life of the plant, into 
 the stirring of its powers to unfold the flower, looks 
 with other eyes, for he knows what he sees. 
 
 " I will take care that you have means this winter 
 of inquiring into a subject so important, that when 
 you visit the Rhine next summer, you may not see the 
 Minster of Strasburg and the Cathedral of Cologne 
 in vain." 
 
 Saturday, 25th October, 1823. 
 
 At twilight, I passed half an hour with Goethe. He 
 sat in an elbow-chair before his desk. I found him in 
 a singularly gentle mood, as one who has attained 
 celestial peace, or who is recalling delicious hours, 
 whose sweetness fills his soul as when they first were 
 his. Stadelman gave me a seat near him. We talked 
 of the theatre, which was, indeed, one of the topics 
 uppermost in my mind all this winter. Our subject 
 was a piece of Raupach's, (Erdennacht,) which I had 
 lately seen. I observed that the piece was not brought 
 before us as it existed in the mind of the poet ; that the 
 Idea was too much for the Life ; that it was rather lyric 
 than dramatic ; and that what was spun out through five 
 acts might as well have been said in two or three. 
 
 I then spoke of those pieces of Kotzebue's which 
 I had seen. I praised the quick eye for common life, 
 the dexterity at seizing its interesting side, and repre- 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 53 
 
 senting it with force, which I found in these pieces. 
 Goethe agreed with me. " What has kept its place for 
 twenty years in the hearts of the people," said he, 
 " is pretty sure to have substantial merit. When 
 Kotzebue contented himself with his own sphere, he 
 usually did well. 'Twas the same with him as with 
 Chodowiecky, who always struck off admirably the 
 scenes of common citizens' life, and as regularly 
 failed when he attempted to paint Greek or Roman 
 heroes." 
 
 He named several good pieces of Kotzebue's, 
 praising most highly the two Klingsbergs. " And," 
 said he, "none can deny that Kotzebue has been in 
 many varied scenes of life, and ever kept both eyes 
 open. 
 
 " Intellect, and even poetry, cannot be denied to 
 our modern composers of tragedy ; but they do not 
 give their subject the hues of life; they strive after 
 something beyond their powers; and for that reason 
 I have been led to think of them as having forced 
 talents; — their growth is not natural." " I doubt," 
 said I, " whether such poets could write a prose work, 
 and am of opinion that this would be the true test of 
 their talents." Goethe agreed with me, adding that 
 versification not only enhanced, but often called out 
 poetic feeling. 
 
 We then talked of his " Journey through Frankfort 
 and Stuttgard to Switzerland," which he has lying by 
 him in sheets, and which he will send me, in order that 
 I may examine it, and plan how these fragments shall 
 be rounded into a whole. " You will see," said he, 
 " that it was all written out from the impulse of the 
 
 E 3 
 
54 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 moment; there was no thought of plan or artistical 
 harmony ; it was like pouring water from a bucket." 
 
 Monday, 27th October. 
 
 To-day, early, I was invited to a tea-party and 
 concert, which were to be given at Goethe's house 
 this evening. The servant showed me the list of 
 guests whom he was to invite, from which I saw that 
 the company would be large and brilliant. He said a 
 young Polish lady, who has lately arrived here, would 
 play on the piano. I accepted the invitation gladly. 
 
 Afterwards, the bill for the theatre was brought, and 
 I saw that the " Chess-machine" was the piece for the 
 evening. I knew nothing of this piece ; but my land- 
 lady was so lavish in praise of it, that I was seized 
 with a great desire to attend. Besides, I was not at 
 my best to-day, and felt more fit to pass my evening 
 at an entertaining comedy than to play a part in good 
 society. 
 
 An hour before the theatre opened I went to Goethe. 
 All was in movement throughout the house. I heard 
 them tuning the piano, as preparation for the musical 
 entertainment. 
 
 I found Goethe alone in his chamber; he was 
 already dressed. I seemed to him to have arrived at 
 the right moment. " You shall stay with me," he said, 
 " and we will entertain one another till our friends join 
 us." I thought, " Now shall I not be able to get 
 away, and I am sorry ; for, though it is very pleasant 
 to be here with Goethe alone, yet, when the many to 
 me unknown gentlemen and ladies come, I shall feel 
 quite out of my element." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 55 
 
 I walked up and down with Goethe. Soon we were 
 led to talk about the theatre, and I again remarked 
 how great a pleasure it gave me; for, having seen 
 scarce any thing in early years, almost every piece 
 made a fresh impression upon me. " Indeed," added 
 I, " I feel so much about it, that I have scarcely to-day 
 been able to resolve to give it up, even for your party." 
 
 " Well," said Goethe, stopping short, and looking 
 at me with an expression of mingled kindness and 
 dignity, " do not constrain yourself; if the play this 
 evening suits you best, harmonizes most perfectly with 
 your mood, go there. You would have good music 
 here, and will often again have opportunity to hear it 
 at my house." " Then," said I, " I will go ; for I 
 think it may do me good to laugh." " Stay with me, 
 however," said Goethe, " till six o'clock ; we shall 
 have time to say a word or two." 
 
 Stadelman set two wax-lights on the table, and 
 Goethe desired me to sit down, and he would give me 
 something to read. And what should this be but his 
 newest, dearest poem, his Elegy, from Marienbad ! 
 
 I must here mention, that, after Goethe's return 
 from Marienbad, the report had been spread, that he 
 had there made the acquaintance of a young lady 
 equally charming in mind and person, and had shown 
 for her an even passionate admiration. When her 
 voice was heard in the Brunnen Allee, he always 
 seized his hat, and hastened to join her. He was 
 constantly in her society, and there passed happy days ; 
 he had not bid her farewell without great pain, and 
 had, in this excited state, written a beautiful poem, 
 
56 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 which he looked upon as a consecrated thing, and kept 
 hid from every eye. 
 
 I could easily believe all this, seeing, as I did, his 
 youthful activity of body and mind, and the healthy 
 freshness of his heart. I had had the most longing 
 desire to see the poem which was now in my hands, 
 but had never dared to speak to Goethe on the subject. 
 
 He had, with his own hand, copied these verses, in 
 Roman characters, on fine vellum paper, and tied them 
 with riband into a red morocco case ; so that, from its 
 garb, you might gather how decided was his preference 
 for this poem. 
 
 I read it with great delight, and found that every 
 line confirmed the common report. The first verse 
 intimated that the acquaintance was not first made, 
 but only renewed, at this time. The poem revolved 
 constantly on its own axis, and seemed always to 
 return to the point where it began. The close made 
 a deep and singular impression. 
 
 As I finished, Goethe came to me again. " Well," 
 said he, " have I not shown you something good ? 
 But you shall tell me what you think a few days 
 hence." I was glad to be excused from saying any 
 thing at that moment ; for the impression was so new, 
 and had been so hastily received, that I could not have 
 made any appropriate criticism. 
 
 He promised to let me see it again in some tranquil 
 hour. The time for the theatre had now arrived, and 
 we separated with an affectionate pressure of the hand. 
 
 The " Chess-machine " was, perhaps, a good piece, 
 but I saw it not, — my thoughts were with Goethe. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 67 
 
 As I went home, I passed by his house ; it was all 
 lighted up ; I heard the music from within, and regret- 
 ted that I did not stay there. 
 
 The next day, I was told that the Polish lady, 
 Madame Szymanowska, in whose honor the party was 
 given, had played on the piano in such a style of 
 excellence as to enchant the whole society. I learned, 
 also, that Goethe became acquainted with her the past 
 summer at Marienbad, and that she had now come 
 hither for the purpose of visiting him. 
 
 At noon, Goethe sent me a little manuscript, " Studies 
 from Zauper," in which I found many fine remarks. I 
 sent him the poems I had written at Jena, and of which 
 I had lately spoken to him. 
 
 Wednesday, 29th October. 
 This evening, I went to Goethe just as they were 
 lighting the lamps. I found him in a very animated 
 state of mind : his eyes sparkled in the torch-light ; his 
 whole expression was one of cheerfulness, youth, and 
 power. 
 
 We walked up and down. He began immediately 
 to speak of the poems which I sent him yesterday. 
 
 " I understand now,' 5 said he, " why you thought, 
 while at Jena, of writing a poem on the seasons. I 
 now advise you to do so, and begin with Winter. You 
 seem to have distinguished powers of observation for 
 natural objects. 
 
 " Only two words would I say about your poems. 
 You stand now at that point where you ought to break 
 through to the really high and difficult part of art, that 
 of seizing on what is individual in objects. You have 
 
59 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 talent, and have got a good way forward : your own 
 will must do the rest. You were to-day at Tiefurt ; 
 that would afford a good subject for the attempt. You 
 may perhaps observe Tiefurt for three or four visits, 
 before you will win from it the characteristic side, and 
 understand how to manage it ; but spare not your toil : 
 study it throughout, and then represent it. It is a 
 worthy subject, and one which I should have used long 
 since, but I could not ; for I have lived through each 
 event with it, and my being is so interwoven with its 
 history, that details press upon me with over-great 
 fulness. But you come as a stranger ; let the keeper 
 tell you all the history of that castle, and you will 
 seize only what is prominent and significant at the 
 present moment." 
 
 I promised to try, but confessed that this subject 
 seemed to me out of my way, and very difficult. 
 
 " I know well," said he, " that it is difficult ; but the 
 apprehension and representation of the individual is 
 the very life of art. Besides, while you content your- 
 self in generalities, every one can imitate you ; but, 
 in the particular, no man can, because no man has 
 lived exactly your life. 
 
 " And you need not fear lest what is peculiar should 
 not meet with sympathy. Each character, however 
 peculiar it may be, and each object which you can 
 represent, from the stone up to man, has generality ; 
 for there is repetition every where, and there is no 
 thing to be found only once in the world. On this 
 step of representing what is peculiar or individual 
 begins what we call composition." 
 
 This was not at once clear to me, though I refrained 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 59 
 
 from questions. " Perhaps," thought I, " he means 
 the fusing of the Ideal with the Real, — the union of 
 that which we must find without, with that which is 
 inborn. But perhaps he means something else." 
 Goethe continued : — 
 
 " And be sure you put to each poem the date at 
 which you wrote it." I looked at him inquiringly. 
 " Thus," said he, " you will gain the best of journals. 
 I have done it for many years, and can see its use." 
 
 It was now time for the theatre. " So you are going 
 to Finland?" called he, jestingly, after me: — for the 
 piece was Johann von Finland, (" John of Finland,") 
 by Frau von Weissenthurm 
 
 The piece had some effective passages, but was so 
 overloaded with pathos, and design so obvious in every 
 part, that, on the whole, it did not impress me favor- 
 ably. The last act, however, pleased and reconciled 
 me to the rest. 
 
 This piece suggested to me the following thoughts : 
 Characters which have been imperfectly painted by the 
 poet, gain on the stage, because the actor, as a living 
 man, must impart to them some sort of life and of 
 individuality. But the finely painted characters of the 
 great poet, which already exhibit to us a sharply 
 marked individuality, must lose on the stage, because 
 the actor is not throughout adapted to his part, and 
 very few of the tribe can lay aside their own individ- 
 ualities. And if the actor be not the counterpart of 
 the character, and do not possess the power of laying 
 aside his own personality, a mixture ensues, and the 
 character loses its harmony. Therefore, the play of a 
 really great writer appears in its original brightness 
 
(30 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 only in points ; and, by seeing it merely, you can never 
 be in a situation to do it justice. 
 
 Monday, 3d November. 
 
 I went to Goethe at five o'clock. I heard them, as I 
 came up stairs, laughing and talking in the dining- 
 room. The servant said that the Polish lady dined 
 there to-day, and they had not yet left the table. I'was 
 going away, but he said his master had left orders that 
 they should tell him when I came, and would, perhaps, 
 be glad of an interruption, as it was now late. So I 
 went into Goethe's apartment, and he soon came to me 
 in a very pleasant humor. He had wine brought, and 
 filled for me and himself. 
 
 " Before I forget it," said he, " let me give you this 
 ticket. Me. Szymanowska gives, to-morrow evening, a 
 public concert at the Stadthaus, and you must not fail 
 to be there." I replied that I certainly should not 
 repeat my late folly. " Does she play remarkably 
 well?" asked I. "Admirably." " As well as Hum- 
 mel?" "You must remember," said Goethe, "that 
 she is not only a fine performer, but a beautiful 
 woman ; and this lends a charm to all she does. But 
 her execution is masterly, — astonishing indeed." 
 "And is there genuine power, as well as dexterity?" 
 said I. " Yes," said he, " genuine power ; and that is 
 what is most worthy of note, because you so rarely 
 find it in what women do." 
 
 Secretary Kräuter came in to consult about the 
 library. Goethe, when he left us, praised his fidelity 
 and judgment. 
 
 We then talked of the papers relating to his journey 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 Gl 
 
 into Switzerland in 1797. I spoke of his and Meyer's 
 reflections upon subjects of plastic art. " Ay," said 
 Goethe, " and what can be more important than the 
 subject, and what is all the science of art, if that is 
 wanting? It is because artists in modern times have 
 no worthy subjects, that modern art so stumbles and 
 blunders. From this cause we all suffer. I myself 
 must pay the penalty of my modern date. 
 
 " Very few artists have clear notions on this point, 
 or know the things which are for their peace. For 
 instance, they take my ' Fisherman ' as the subject of a 
 picture, and never discover that what constitutes its 
 merit cannot be painted. The ballad expresses the 
 charm which the water in summer has for us when it 
 tempts us to bathe; that is all, — and how can that be 
 painted?" 
 
 I mentioned how pleased I was to see how various 
 were the interests called into action by his journey ; 
 how he saw every thing ; shape and situation of the 
 mountains, their geology and mineralogy ; earth, rivers, 
 clouds, air, wind, and storm ; then the cities, the his- 
 tory of their origin and growth, architecture, painting, 
 theatre ; police of cities, trades, economy, laying out 
 of the streets, human race, manner of living, individual 
 peculiarities ; then again, politics, warlike adventures, 
 and a hundred other things. 
 
 He answered, " But you find no word upon music, 
 because that is not within my circle. Each traveller 
 should know what he is fit to see, and what properly 
 belongs to him, on his journey." 
 
 The Herr Canzler came in for a few moments, and 
 then went to the ladies. When he had left us, Goethe 
 
 F 
 
62 ECKERMANN. 
 
 praised him, and said, " All these excellent men, with 
 whom you are now placed in so pleasant a relation, 
 make what I call a home, — a home to which one is 
 always willing to return." 
 
 I said that " I already perceived the beneficial effects 
 of my present situation ; for I found myself able to set 
 aside my ideal and theoretic tendencies, and make use 
 of the present moment more and more." 
 
 " It would be pity," said Goethe, " if it were not so. 
 Only persist in your present. view, and hold fast by the 
 present. Each situation — nay, each moment — is of 
 infinite worth ; for each represents a whole eternity." 
 
 After a short pause, I turned the conversation to the 
 best mode of treating the subject he had proposed to 
 me, that of Tiefurt. " This subject," said I, " is 
 complex ; and it will be difficult to give it proper form. 
 It seems to me it would be best treated in prose." 
 
 " It is not in itself," replied Goethe, " an object of 
 sufficient significance for that. The didactic, descrip- 
 tive form, would be the one I should choose ; but even 
 that is not perfectly appropriate. Perhaps you would 
 do well to write ten or twelve little poems, in rhyme, 
 but in various measures and forms, such as the various 
 sides and views demand, on which light must be 
 thrown to do justice to the subject." This idea struck 
 me favorably. " Why, indeed," continued he, " should 
 you not at once use dramatic means, and perhaps write 
 a conversation with the gardener ? In this way you 
 could easily bring out the various sides. A compre- 
 hensive, great whole, is so difficult, that he who 
 attempts it, seldom brings any thing to bear." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 63 
 
 Wednesday, 10th November. 
 
 Goethe has been quite unwell for a few days past ; 
 he has a very bad cold. His cough seems to be very 
 painful ; for he has constantly his hand at his side. 
 
 I passed half an hour with him this evening, after 
 the theatre. He sat in an arm-chair, propped up by 
 cushions, and seemed to speak with difficulty. 
 
 He gave me a poem intended for insertion in Kunst 
 und Alterthum. I took the light, and sat down to 
 read it, at a little distance from him. 
 
 This poem was singular in its character, and, though 
 I did not fully understand it, very much affected me on 
 the first reading. The Paria was its subject, to illus- 
 trate which, he had adopted the form of Trilogy. Its 
 tone was that of another world, and the mode of repre- 
 sentation such, that I found it very difficult to enter 
 into it. Then I heard Goethe often cough or sigh, 
 and could not forget that he was near me. I read the 
 poem again and again, without being able to get com- 
 pletely engaged in it ; but I found that it grew upon 
 me with each new reading, and appeared to me more 
 and more to indicate the highest grade of Art. 
 
 At last I spoke to Goethe, and he gave me much 
 new light, both as to subject and treatment. 
 
 " Indeed," said he, f the treatment is peculiar, and 
 one who was not in good earnest, could not hope to 
 penetrate the true meaning. It seems to me like a 
 Damascene blade hammered out of steel wire. I have 
 borne this subject about with me for forty years ; so that 
 it has had time to get clear of every thing extraneous." 
 
 " No doubt," said I, " it will produce an effect on 
 the public." 
 
64 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " Ah, the public ! " sighed Goethe. 
 
 " Would it not be well," said I, " to add such an 
 explanation as we do to pictures, when we make the 
 meaning obvious by describing the circumstances 
 which led to the catastrophe?" 
 
 " I think not," said he ; " that is well for pictures, 
 but, as a poem is already expressed in words, words 
 of interpretation only annihilate its significancy." 
 
 I thought Goethe was here very happy in pointing 
 out the rock on which those who try to interpret 
 poems are often wrecked. Still it may be questioned 
 whether it be not possible to avoid this rock, and affix 
 some explanatory words without injuring the delicacy 
 of its inner life. 
 
 When I went away, he asked me to take the poem 
 with me, and read it again, and also the " Roses from 
 the East" (Östlichen Rosen) of Rückert, a poet 
 whom he highly valued, and from whom he seemed to 
 expect much. 
 
 Thursday, November 13th. 
 
 Some days ago, as I was walking one fine afternoon 
 towards Erfurt, I was joined by an elderly man, whom 
 I supposed, from his appearance, to be some respecta- 
 ble citizen. We had not been together long, before 
 the conversation turned upon Goethe. On my asking 
 whether he knew Goethe, — " Do I know him?" said 
 he, with vivacity ; " I was his valet almost twenty 
 years!" I begged to hear something of Goethe's 
 youth, and he gladly consented to gratify me. 
 
 " When I first lived with him," said he, " he was 
 very active in his habits, thin and elegant in his person. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 65 
 
 I could easily have carried him in my arms." I asked 
 whether Goethe, in that early part of his life here, was 
 disposed to gayety. " Certainly," replied he; " always 
 gay with the gay, but never when they passed a certain 
 limit ; in that case he became grave. Always working 
 and seeking ; his mind always bent on art and science ; 
 that was the way with my master. The Duke often 
 visited him at evening, and staid so late, conversing on 
 literary topics, that I would get extremely tired, and 
 long to have the Duke go away. Even then he had 
 begun to be interested in Natural Philosophy and 
 History. One time, he rang for me in the middle 
 of the night. When I came up, I found he had rolled 
 his iron trundle-bed to the window, and was lying 
 there, looking out upon the heavens. ' Have you seen 
 nothing remarkable in the heavens?' asked he; and, 
 when I answered in the negative, bid me run and ask 
 the same question of the watchman. He said he had 
 not seen any thing remarkable. When I returned with 
 this answer to my master, I found him in the same 
 position in which I had left him, lying in his bed, and 
 gazing upon the sky. ' Listen,' said he to me ; ' this 
 is an important moment ; there is now an earthquake, 
 or one is just going to take place ; ' then he made me 
 sit down on the bed, and showed me by what signs he 
 knew this." 
 
 I asked the good old man " what sort of weather it 
 was." 
 
 " A cloudy night," he replied ; " no air stirring ; 
 very still and sultry." I asked if he believed there 
 was an earthquake merely on Goethe's word. 
 
 "Yes," said he, "I believed it, for I always found 
 
 F 2 
 
66 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 things happened as he said they would. Next day, 
 while he was relating his observations at Court, a lady 
 whispered to her neighbor, 1 What visions are these 
 of Goethe's 1 ' But the Duke, and all the men present, 
 believed Goethe, and the correctness of his observa- 
 tions was confirmed, in a few weeks, by the news that 
 a part of Messina was on that night ruined by an 
 earthquake." 
 
 Friday, 14th November. 
 [Goethe sent for Eckermann this evening. He went, 
 and found him very unwell. After some conversation 
 of no interest to the general reader, they spoke of 
 Schiller.] 
 
 " I have," said I, " a peculiar feeling towards 
 Schiller. Some scenes of his great dramas I read 
 with genuine love and admiration ; but presently 
 I meet with something which violates the truth of 
 nature, and then I can go no further. I feel this even 
 in reading ' Wallenstein. ' I cannot but think that 
 Schiller's turn for philosophy has injured his poetry, 
 because this led him to prefer Ideas to Nature, indeed, 
 almost to annihilate nature. What he could conceive 
 must happen, whether it were in conformity with the 
 law of nature or no." 
 
 " It was sorrowful," said Goethe, " to see how so 
 highly gifted a man tormented himself with systems 
 of philosophy which would no way profit him. Hum- 
 boldt has shown me the letters which Schiller wrote to 
 him in those unblest days of speculation. There we see 
 how he plagued himself with the design of separating per- 
 fectly naive from sentimental poetry. For such poetry 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 07 
 
 he could find no proper groundwork, and from the 
 attempt arose unspeakable confusion. As if," con- 
 tinued he, smiling, " sentimental poetry could exist 
 without the naive ground in which it properly has its 
 root. 
 
 " Schiller produced nothing instinctively or uncon- 
 sciously ; he must reflect upon every step ; therefore 
 he always wished to talk over his literary plans, and 
 has conversed with me about all his later works, piece 
 by piece, as he was writing them. 
 
 " On the other hand, it was contrary to my nature 
 to talk over my poetic plans with any body ; even with 
 Schiller. I carried them about with me in silence, and 
 usually said not a word to any one till the whole was 
 completed. When I showed Schiller ' Hermann and 
 Dorothea,' he was astonished because I had said not 
 a syllable of any such plan. 
 
 " But I shall be anxious to hear what you will 
 say of ' Wallenstein ' to-morrow. You will see noble 
 shapes, and the piece will probably make on you such 
 an impression as you do not now dream of." 
 
 Saturday, 15th November. 
 In the evening, I for the first time saw " Wallen- 
 stein." Goethe had not said too much ; the piece 
 made on me an impression which reached the very 
 depths of my nature. The actors, who had almost all 
 been under the personal influence of Schiller and 
 Goethe, gave to the personages an individuality, and 
 to the whole a significance, far beyond what I had 
 found in reading it. I could not get it out of my head 
 the whole night. 
 
08 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Sunday, 16th November. 
 I went to see Goethe ; found him in his elbow-chair, 
 and still very weak. His first question was about 
 " Wallenstein ; " and he heard my account of the 
 impression it had made upon me with visible satis- 
 faction. 
 
 Herr Soret came in and brought from the Duke 
 some gold medals. Looking at these and talking them 
 over entertained Goethe very pleasantly for an hour. 
 Then Herr Soret attended Frau von Goethe to Court, 
 and I was left alone with Goethe. 
 
 I reminded him of his promise to show me again 
 his Marienbad Elegy. He brought it, gave me a light, 
 seated himself again, and left me to an undisturbed 
 perusal of the piece. 
 
 After I had been reading awhile, I turned to say 
 something to him, but he seemed to be asleep. I 
 therefore used the favorable moment, and read the 
 poem again and again with a rare delight. The 
 youthful glow of love, tempered by the moral elevation 
 of the spirit, seemed its pervading characteristic. 
 Then I thought that emotion was more forcibly ex- 
 pressed than in Goethe's other poems, and imputed this 
 to the influence of Byron — an opinion which Goethe 
 did not reject. 
 
 " You see the product of a highly impassioned 
 mood," said he. " While I was in it, I would not for 
 the world be without it, and now nothing would tempt 
 me to be in it again. 
 
 " I wrote that poem immediately after leaving 
 Marienbad, while the feeling of all I had experienced 
 there was fresh. At eight in the morning, when we 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 (39 
 
 stopped first, I wrote down the first stanza; and so I 
 went on composing them in the carriage, and writing 
 them down when we stopped, so that by evening the 
 whole was on paper. Thence it has a certain direct- 
 ness, and being all, as I may say, poured out at once, 
 may have a better air as a whole." 
 
 " It has," said I, " a quite peculiar aspect, and recalls 
 no other poem of yours." 
 
 " That," said he, " may be because I looked at the 
 present moment as a man does upon a card on which 
 he has staked a considerable sum, and sought to 
 enhance its value as much as I could without exag- 
 geration." These words struck me much ; they threw 
 light on his conduct, and seemed to give a clew to the 
 understanding of that many-sidedness which has exci- 
 ted so much wonder. 
 
 Stadelmann now came to apply to his side a plaster 
 which the physician had prescribed. I turned to the 
 window, but heard him lamenting to Stadelmann-, that 
 his illness was not lessening, but seemed to have 
 assumed a character of permanence. When it was 
 over, I sat down by him again. He observed that he 
 had not slept for some nights, and had no appetite. 
 " The winter," said he, " will go, and I can do 
 nothing, bring nothing to bear ; my mind has no 
 force." I tried to soothe him, and represented, that, 
 if he would not think too much of his plans at 
 present, there was reason to hope he would soon be 
 better. "Ah," said he, "I am not impatient; I have 
 lived through too many such situations, not to have 
 learned to endure and to wait." 
 
 I now rose to bid him good night. He was in his 
 
70 
 
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 flannel gown, and said he should sit in his chair all 
 night, for he should not sleep if he went to bed. I 
 pressed his dear hand, and took leave. 
 
 Down stairs I found Stadelmann much agitated. He 
 said he was much alarmed about his master, for " if he 
 complains, that is a bad sign indeed! And his feet 
 look thin, which have been a little swollen till lately ! 
 I shall go to the physician early in the morning, and 
 tell him these bad signs." I could not succeed in 
 calming his fears. 
 
 Monday, 17th November. 
 When I entered the theatre this evening, many 
 persons pressed towards me, asking anxiously, "How 
 is Goethe ?" I think his illness has been exaggerated 
 in the town, but I felt depressed all the evening. 
 
 Wednesday, 19th. 
 
 Yesterday, I was very anxious; for no one out of 
 his family was admitted to see him. 
 
 But this evening he received me. He did not seem 
 better in health than on Sunday, yet cheerful. 
 
 He talked of Zauper, and the widely differing 
 results which are seen to proceed from the study of 
 ancient literature. 
 
 Friday, 21st. 
 
 Goethe sent for me. To my great joy, I found him 
 able to walk up and down in his chamber. He gave 
 me a little book, "Gazelles," by Count Platen. "I 
 had intended," said he, " to write a notice of this 
 for Kunst und Alterthum, for the poems deserve it 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 7 I 
 
 But, as my present state will not permit me, try what 
 you can do, after reading it." 
 I promised to try. 
 
 " ' Gazelles,' " continued he, " have this peculiarity, 
 that they demand great fulness of meaning. The 
 constantly recurring similar rhymes must find a suit- 
 able provision of similar thoughts ready to meet them. 
 Therefore, not every one succeeds in them ; but I 
 think they will please you." 
 
 Monday, 24th. 
 
 Saturday and Sunday, I studied the poems; this 
 morning, I wrote down my view of them, and sent it 
 to Goethe ; for I had heard that the physician wished 
 he should see nobody, and had forbidden him to talk. 
 
 However, he sent for me this evening. I found a 
 chair placed for me near him ; he gave me his hand, 
 and seemed very affectionate and kind. He began 
 immediately to speak of my little critique. " I was 
 much pleased with it," said he ; " you have a fair gift, 
 and I wish now to say to you, that, if proposals for the 
 employment of your talents should be made to you 
 from other quarters, I hope you will refuse them, or 
 at least consult me before deciding upon them; for, 
 since you are now so linked with me, I would not 
 willingly see you enter on other new relations." 
 
 I replied that I wished to belong to him alone, and 
 had at present no reason to think of new connections. 
 
 We then talked of the "Gazelles." Goethe ex- 
 pressed his delight at the completeness of these poems, 
 and that our present literature produced so much good 
 fruit as it does. 
 
73 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " I wish," said he, " to recommend rising talent to 
 your observation. I wish you to examine whatever our 
 literature brings forth worthy of note, and to place 
 before me whatever is most meritorious, that I may 
 take due notice of what is good, noble, and well 
 executed, in Kunst und Alterthum. For, if I am ever 
 so desirous, I cannot, at my age, and with my manifold 
 duties, do this without aid from other minds." 
 
 I said I would do as he desired, and was very glad 
 to find that our late writers and poets were more 
 interesting to him than I had supposed. 
 
 He sent me the latest literary periodicals to assist in 
 the proposed task. I was not sent for, nor did I go to 
 him, for several days, as I heard his friend Zelter had 
 come to make him a visit. 
 
 Monday, 1st December. 
 
 To-day, I was invited to dine with Goethe. I found 
 Zelter with him. Both came to meet me, and gave 
 me their hands. " Here," said Goethe, " we have my 
 friend Zelter. In him you make a valuable acquaint- 
 ance. If I should send you soon to Berlin, you will 
 see what excellent care he will take of you." " Is 
 Berlin a good place?" said I. " Yes," replied Zelter, 
 with a smile, " for there much may be learned, and 
 much unlearned." We sat down and talked on various 
 subjects. I asked after Schubarth. " He visits me at 
 the least every eight days," said Zelter. " He is married 
 now, but has no appointment, because of what has 
 passed between him and the philologists in Berlin." 
 
 Zelter asked if I knew Immermann. I said I had 
 often heard his name, but was not yet acquainted with 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 73 
 
 his writings. " I made his acquaintance at Münster," 
 said Zelter ; " he is a very hopeful young man, and it 
 is a pity that his appointment leaves him so little time 
 for his art." Goethe also praised his talent. " But 
 we must see," said he, "how he comes out; whether 
 he purines his taste, and regulates his standard, accord- 
 ing to the best models. His original strivings had 
 their merit, but might easily be turned into a wrong 
 direction." 
 
 Little Walter now came jumping in, asking a 
 thousand questions, both of Zelter and his grandfather. 
 " When thou comest, uneasy spirit," said Goethe, " all 
 good conversation is spoiled." However, he loves the 
 boy, and was unwearied in satisfying his wishes. 
 
 Frau von Goethe, and her sister, Fraulein Ulrica, 
 now came in, and with them, young Goethe, in his 
 uniform and sword, ready for Court. We sat down to 
 table. Fraulein Ulrica and Zelter were very gay, and 
 exchanged many a pleasant jest during dinner. I was 
 much pleased with Zelter's appearance and manner. 
 As a healthy, happy man, he could give himself up 
 wholly to the influence of the moment, and always had 
 the word fit for the occasion. Then he is very lively 
 and kindly, and is so perfectly unconstrained, that he 
 speaks out whatever is in his mind, and many a blunt, 
 substantial saying with the rest. He imparts to others 
 his own freedom of spirit, and all narrowing views are 
 set aside by his presence. I silently thought how 
 much I should like to live with him awhile. I am 
 sure it would do me good. Zelter went away soon 
 after dinner, for he was invited to visit the Grand 
 Duchess that evening. 
 
 G 
 
74 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Thursday, 4th December. 
 
 This morning, Secretary Kräuter brought me an in- 
 vitation to dine with Goethe, at the same time intima- 
 ting to me, by Goethe's desire, that I had better present 
 Zelter with a copy of my book. I carried the copy to 
 him at his hotel. He, on his side, offered me Immer- 
 mann's poems. " I would give you this copy," said he, 
 " but, as you see, the author has dedicated it to me, 
 and I must therefore keep and value it." 
 
 Then, before dinner, I walked with Zelter through 
 the park towards Upper Weimar. Many spots recalled 
 to him anecdotes of former days, and he told me much 
 of Schiller, Wieland, and Herder, with whom he had 
 been on terms of intimacy, and considered this as one 
 of the most valuable circumstances of his life. 
 
 He talked much of composition, and recited many 
 of Goethe's songs. " If I am to compose for a poem," 
 said he, " I try to get a clear understanding of all the 
 words, and to bring the situation before me in the 
 colors of life. I then read it aloud till I know it by 
 heart, and afterwards, while I am reciting it, comes 
 the melody of its own accord." 
 
 Wind and rain obliged us to return sooner than we 
 wished. I accompanied him to Goethe's house, where 
 he was going to sing before dinner with Frau von 
 Goethe, left him there, and went home. 
 
 About two, I went there, and found Goethe and 
 Zelter engaged in looking at engravings of Italian 
 scenery. Frau von Goethe came in, and we sat down 
 to dinner. Young Goethe and Fraulein Ulrica were 
 out to-day. 
 
 At table, both Goethe and Zelter entertained us 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 75 
 
 with many original anecdotes illustrative of the pecu- 
 liarities of their common friend, Wolf of Berlin. 
 Then they talked of the Nibelungen, and of Lord 
 Byron, and the visit it was hoped he will make at 
 Weimar, in which Frau von Goethe takes the greatest 
 interest. The Rochus feast at Bingen was also a 
 subject, at which Zelter had been much charmed by 
 two maidens, whose loveliness he greatly extolled. 
 Goethe's song, Kriegsgluck, (" Fortune of War,") 
 was gayly talked over. Zelter was inexhaustible in 
 anecdotes of wounded soldiers and fair women, in 
 proof of the truth of this poem. Goethe said he had 
 not far to go for his facts ; he had seen the whole in 
 Weimar. Frau von Goethe amused herself by op- 
 posing them, and maintaining that women were not 
 at all such as that naughty poem represented them. 
 
 The hours passed very pleasantly in such chat. 
 
 When I was left alone with Goethe, he asked me 
 how I liked Zelter. I remarked that his influence was 
 very genial. " He may," said Goethe, " on first ac- 
 quaintance, seem blunt or even rough ; but that is all 
 in externals. I know scarce any one, who is, in reality, 
 so delicate and tender. And then we must not forget 
 that he has lived fifty years in Berlin. And the state 
 of society there is such, that delicacy will not much 
 avail you ; and a man is forced to be vehement, and 
 even rough, if he would keep his head above water." 
 
 Tuesday, 27th January, 1824. 
 Goethe talked with me about the continuation of his 
 memoirs, with which he is now busy. He observed, 
 that this later period of his life would not be narrated 
 
70 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 with such minuteness as he had used in the Dichtung 
 und Wahrheit. 1 "1 must," said he, " treat this later 
 period more in the fashion of annals, and content 
 myself with detailing my outward actions, rather than 
 depicting my inward life. Truly, the most important 
 part of a man's life is that of development, and mine 
 is contained in the minute disclosures of the Dichtung 
 und Wahrheit. Later begins the conflict with the 
 world, and that is interesting only in its results. 
 
 " And then the life of a literary man here in Ger- 
 many, — what is it ? What was really good in mine 
 cannot be communicated, and what can be communi- 
 cated is not worth the trouble. And where are the 
 hearers whom one could entertain with any satisfac- 
 tion ? When I look around, and see how few of the 
 companions of earlier years are left to me, I think of 
 a summer residence at a bathing-place. When you 
 arrive, you first become acquainted with those who 
 have already been there some weeks, and who leave 
 you in a few days. This separation is painful. Then 
 you turn to the second generation, with which you live 
 a good while, and become really intimate. But this 
 goes also, and leaves us lonely with the third, which 
 comes just as we are going away, and with which we 
 have, properly, nothing to do. 
 
 " I have ever been esteemed one of Fortune's 
 chiefest favorites ; nor can I complain of the course 
 my life has taken. Yet, truly, there has been nothing 
 but toil and care ; and, in my seventy-fifth year, I may 
 say, that I have never had four weeks of genuine 
 
 1 Poetry and Truth out of my Life. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 77 
 
 pleasure. The stone was ever to be rolled up anew. 
 My annals will testify to the truth of what I now say. 
 The claims upon my activity, from within and without, 
 were too numerous. 
 
 " What really made me happy was my poetic mind 
 and creative power. And how was this disturbed, 
 limited, and hindered, by the external circumstances 
 of my condition ! Had I been able to abstain from 
 mingling in public business, I should have been 
 happier, and, as a poet, should have accomplished 
 much more. But, as it was, my Goetz and Werther 
 verified for me that saying of the sage, ' If you do 
 any thing for the advantage of the world, it will take 
 good care that you shall not do it a second time. 5 
 
 " A wide-spread celebrity, an elevated position in 
 the world, are good things. But, for all my rank and 
 celebrity, I am still obliged to be silent, lest I come 
 into collision with the opinions of others. 1 This 
 would be but poor sport, if I did not by this means 
 learn the thoughts of others without their being able 
 to scrutinize mine." 
 
 Sunday, 15th February. 
 This morning, I found Goethe in excellent spirits. 
 He was much pleased with a visit he had just received 
 from a young Westphalian, named Meyer. " He has," 
 said he, " written poems of great promise. For the 
 age of eighteen, he has made incredible progress. I 
 
 1 [The word verletzen may mean " to injure the feelings, hurt 
 the character." I am not sure that I take the truest sense. — 
 Transl.] 
 
 G2 
 
78 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 am rejoiced," continued he, smiling, " that I am not 
 eighteen just now. When I was eighteen, Germany 
 was no older, and something could be done ; but 
 now-a-days, so much is demanded, that every avenue 
 seems barred. 
 
 " Germany has become so distinguished in every 
 department, that we can scarce find time to become 
 acquainted with what she has done ; and yet we must 
 be Greeks and Romans, French and English, beside. 
 Not content with this, some must needs explore the 
 East also ; and is not such a state of things enough 
 to confuse a young man's head ? 
 
 " I have shown him my colossal Juno, as a token that 
 he had best seek repose among the Greeks. He is a 
 fine young man, and, if he does not dissipate his 
 energies on too many objects, will be sure to do well. 
 However, as I said before, I thank Heaven that I am 
 not young in this time and place. I could not stay 
 here. And I fear I should find too broad daylight in 
 America even, if I should take refuge there." 
 
 Sunday, 22d February. 
 
 Dined with Goethe and his son. The latter related 
 some pleasant stories of the time when he was a 
 student at Heidelberg. 
 
 After dinner, Goethe showed us some colored draw- 
 ings of scenery in Northern Italy. We looked most 
 at one representing the Lago Maggiore, with the Swiss 
 mountains. The Borromean Isles were reflected in 
 the water ; near the shore were skiffs and fishing- 
 tackle, which ted Goethe to remark that this is the 
 lake celebrated in the Wanderjahre. On the north- 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 79 
 
 west, towards Monte Rosa, stood the hills which 
 border the lake in black-blue heavy masses, as we 
 are wont to see them soon after sunset. 
 
 I remarked that, to me, who had been born in the 
 plain country, the gloomy sublimity of these masses 
 only gave uneasiness ; that I could not feel at home 
 with them, nor did I desire to explore their wild 
 recesses. 
 
 " That is natural," said Goethe. " Man can con- 
 form perfectly to that situation only, in which, and 
 for which, he was born. He who is not led abroad by 
 a great object is far happier at home. I was at first 
 disturbed and confused by the impression which 
 Switzerland produced on me. Only after repeated 
 visits — only in after years, when I visited those 
 mountains as a mineralogist merely — could I converse 
 with them at my ease." 
 
 We looked, afterwards, at many engravings, from 
 pictures by modern French artists. These were so 
 poor and weak in design, that, among forty, we barely 
 found four or five good ones. These were a maiden 
 with a love-letter ; a woman in a house to let, which 
 nobody will take; "catching fish;" and musicians 
 before an image of the Madonna. A landscape, in 
 imitation of Poussin, was tolerable ; upon looking at 
 which, Goethe said, " Such artists get a general idea 
 of Poussin's landscapes, and work upon that. We can 
 neither style their pictures good nor bad : they are not 
 bad, because, through every part, you catch glimpses 
 of their excellent model. But you cannot call them 
 good, because they wholly want what was most indi- 
 vidual in Poussin. 'Tis just so among poets. Look, 
 
80 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 for instance, at those who would imitate Shakspeare's 
 grand style." 
 
 Tuesday, 24th February. 
 
 I went to Goethe at one. He showed me a supple- 
 ment he had written to my criticism on the " Paria." 
 
 " You were quite right," said he, " to try to become 
 acquainted with India, on account of your little 
 critical essay, since, in the end, we retain from our 
 studies only that part which we can practically 
 apply." 
 
 I answered that I had found it so in all the in- 
 struction I had ever received. I had retained what 
 any natural tendency would lead me to apply, ^and 
 forgotten all the rest. " I have," said I, " heard 
 Heeren's lectures on ancient and modern history, and 
 know now nothing about the matter. But, if I study 
 a period of history for the sake of writing a drama, 
 what I learn in that way abides with me." 
 
 " Every where," said Goethe, " they teach in 
 academies too many things, and many useless things. 
 In former days, the physician learned chemistry and 
 botany, to aid him in his profession, and they were 
 in such a state that he could manage them. Now, 
 each of these departments has become so extensive, 
 that any competent acquaintance with it is the work 
 of a life ; yet acquaintance with both is expected 
 from the physician. That cannot be; one must be 
 renounced or neglected for the sake of the other. 
 He who is wise will put aside all claims which may 
 dissipate his attention, and determine to excel in some 
 one branch." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 81 
 
 He then, after showing me a short criticism he had 
 been writing upon Lord Byron's " Cain," added, 
 
 " We see how the inadequate dogmas of the church 
 work upon a free mind like Byron's, and how through- 
 out such a piece he struggles to get rid of the doctrine 
 which has been forced upon him. The English clergy 
 will not thank him ; but I shall be surprised if he does 
 not lake up biblical subjects of similar import, and, 
 among others, that of the destruction of Sodom and 
 Gomorrah." 
 
 He then showed me a carved gem, of which he had 
 expressed his admiration some days before. I was 
 enchanted by the naivete of the design. It repre- 
 sented a man who has taken a heavy vessel from his 
 shoulder to give a boy drink. But the boy finds it is 
 not bent down sufficiently ; the drink will not flow ; 
 he has hold of the vessel with both hands, and is 
 looking up into the man's face with an expression 
 which seems to ask that he will lean it a little more 
 towards him. 
 
 " Now ! how do you like that?" said Goethe. " We 
 moderns," continued he, " can indeed feel the beauty 
 of such a perfectly natural, perfectly naive design, 
 but we cannot make such ; the understanding is always 
 uppermost, and will not permit that unconscious and 
 enchanting grace." 
 
 We looked then at a medal by Brandt of Berlin, 
 representing young Theseus taking the arms of his 
 father from under the stone. The attitude had merit, 
 but we found the limbs not sufficiently strained to lift 
 such a burden. It seemed, too, a mistake for the 
 youth to have one hand on the arms, while with the 
 
82 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 other he lifts the stone ; for, according to the nature 
 of the thing, he should first roll aside the heavy stone, 
 and then take the arms. " I will show you," said 
 Goethe, " an antique gem, and let you see how the 
 same subject is treated there." 
 
 He bid Stadelmann bring a box which contained 
 several hundred copies of antique gems, which he had 
 collected while in Italy. The Greek, indeed, had 
 treated this subject differently. On the antique gem, 
 I found the youth exerting his whole strength to move 
 the stone, and not in vain ; the stone is on the point 
 of falling aside. All his bodily powers are directed 
 by the young hero to the removal of this obstacle only ; 
 his looks are fixed on the arms which lie beneath. 
 
 We rejoiced in the truth and nature of this repre- 
 sentation. 
 
 " Meyer," continued Goethe, laughing, " used to 
 say, ' If only the thought were not so hard.' And the 
 worst is, that no thinking will bring us such thoughts ; 
 we must be made right by nature, and let these fine 
 thoughts come before us like free children of God, and 
 cry, ' Here we are.' " 
 
 Wednesday, 25th February. 
 
 To-day, Goethe showed me two very remarkable 
 poems, both highly moral in their tendency, but in 
 action so natural and true, so perfectly unreserved, 
 that the world would style them immoral ; and he, 
 therefore, does not publish them. 
 
 " Could intellect and high cultivation," said he, 
 " indeed become the property of all, the poet would 
 have fair play ; he would be true to himself throughout, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 83 
 
 and would not fear to tell his best thoughts. But, 
 as it is, he must always keep on a certain level ; must 
 remember that his works will be read by a mixed 
 society ; and must take care not to do any thing which 
 by over-great openness may annoy the majority of good 
 men. Then, Time is a tyrant, who has strange whims, 
 and turns a new face to each new century. We can- 
 not, with propriety, say things which were very proper 
 for the ancient Greeks ; and the Englishman of 1820 
 cannot endure what suited the vigorous contemporaries 
 of Shakspeare ; so that the present day finds it neces- 
 sary to have a family Shakspeare." 
 
 " Then," said I, " there is much in the form also. 
 One of these two poems, which is composed in the 
 style and metre of the ancients, would be far less 
 offensive than the other. Certainly, parts must dis- 
 please, but the whole has a tone of grandeur and 
 dignity ; so that we seem to hear a strong man of 
 antiquity, and to be carried back to the heroic age 
 of Greece. But the other, being in the style and 
 metre of Messer Ariosto, has a much more suspicious 
 air. It relates an event of our day, and in the lan- 
 guage of our day ; it wears no sort of veil, and its 
 boldness seems bold indeed." 
 
 " You are right," said he ; " the mysterious influence 
 of different poetic forms is very great. If the import 
 of my Romish elegies were put into the measure and 
 style of Byron's ' Don Juan,' it would scarcely be 
 endured." 
 
 The French newspapers were brought. Goethe was 
 much interested by the campaign of the French in 
 Spain under the Duke D'Atigouleme. " The Bour- 
 
84 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 bons," said he, " deserve praise for this measure ; they 
 were not firmly seated on the throne till they had won 
 the army, and that is now accomplished. The soldier 
 returns more loyal ; for he has, from his own victory, 
 and the discomfiture of the many-headed Spanish host, 
 learned how much better it is to obey one than many. 
 The army has sustained its former fame, and shown 
 that it is brave in itself, and can fight without 
 Napoleon." 
 
 Goethe then turned his thoughts backward into 
 history, and talked of the seven years' war, and the 
 Prussian army, which, accustomed by Frederic the 
 Great to constant victory, grew careless, and thus, in 
 after days, lost many battles. All the minutest details 
 were familiar to him, and I had reason to admire his 
 memory. 
 
 " I had the great advantage," said he, " of being 
 born at a time when the world was agitated by great 
 movements, which have continued during my long life ; 
 so that I am a living witness of the seven years' war, 
 the separation of America from England, the French 
 Revolution, and the whole Napoleon era, with the 
 downfall of that hero, and the events which followed. 
 Thus I have attained results and insight impossible to 
 those who must learn all these things from books. 
 
 " What these coming years will bring I cannot 
 predict ; but I fear we cannot expect repose. The 
 world is not so framed that it can keep quiet ; the 
 great are not so that they will not permit misuse 
 of power ; the masses not so that, in hope of a 
 gradual amelioration, they will keep tranquil in an 
 inferior condition. Could we perfect human nature, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 85 
 
 we might expect perfection every where ; but, as it is, 
 there will always be this wavering hither and thither ; 
 one part must suffer while the other is at ease. Envy 
 and egotism will be always at work like bad demons, 
 and party conflicts find no end. 
 
 " The most reasonable way is to follow one's own 
 vocation — do what you were born or have learned to do, 
 and avoid hindering others from doing the same. Let 
 the shoemaker abide by his last, the peasant by his 
 plough, and the king by his sceptre. For the art 
 of governing also requires an apprenticeship, and no 
 one should meddle with it before having learned it." 
 
 Then, returning to the French papers, — "The 
 Liberals," said he, "may speak, and, when they are 
 reasonable, we like to hear them ; but the Royalists, 
 who have the power in their hands, should not talk, 
 but act. They may march troops, and head and hang ; 
 that is all right; — but to argue in public prints, and 
 try to prove that their measures are right, is not their 
 proper way. They might talk, if they could address a 
 public of kings. 
 
 " For myself, I have always been a Royalist. I have 
 let others babble, and have done as I saw fit. I under- 
 stood my course, and knew what my own object was. 
 If you hurt one, you can make it up to him ; but, 
 if two or three, you had best let it alone : among many 
 men there are so many minds." 
 
 Goethe was very gay to-day. He had just written 
 in the album of Frau von Spiegel, and rejoiced in 
 having fulfilled a promise of long standing. Turning 
 over the leaves of this^album, in which I found many 
 distinguished names, I saw a poem by Tiedge, written 
 
 H 
 
86 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 in the very spirit and style of his " Urania." " In a 
 saucy mood," said Goethe, " I was tempted to write 
 some verses beneath those ; but I am glad I did not. 
 It would not have been the first time that, by indulging 
 myself in rash liberties, I had repelled good people, 
 and spoiled the effect of my best works. 
 
 " However, I have endured not a little from Tiedge | 
 for, at one time, nothing was sung or declaimed but 
 this same * Urania.' Wherever you went, there lay 
 1 Urania' on the table. ' Urania' and immortality were 
 the topics of every conversation. I could in no wise 
 dispense with the happiness of believing in our future 
 existence, and, indeed, could say, with Lorenzo de 
 Medici, that those are dead for this life even, who have 
 no hope for another. But such incomprehensible 
 subjects lie too far off, and only disturb our thoughts 
 if made the theme of daily meditation. Let him who 
 believes in immortality enjoy his happiness in silence, 
 without giving himself airs thereupon. The occasion 
 of ' Urania ' led me to observe that piety has its preten- 
 sions to aristocracy, no less than noble blood. I met 
 stupid women, who plumed themselves on believing, 
 with Tiedge, in immortality, and I was forced to bear 
 much catechising on this point. They were vexed by 
 my saying I should be well pleased to be ushered into 
 a future state after the close of this, only I hoped I 
 should there meet none of those who had believed in it 
 here. For, how should I be tormented ! The pious 
 would throng around me, and say, ' Were we not 
 right ? Did we not foresee it ? Has not it happened 
 just as we said ? ' And so there would be ennui 
 without end. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 87 
 
 " All this fuss about such points is for people of 
 rank, and especially women, who have nothing to do. 
 But an able man, who has something to do here, and 
 must toil and strive day by day to accomplish it, leaves 
 the future world till it comes, and contents himself 
 with being active and useful in this. Thoughts about 
 immortality are also good for those who have small 
 success here below, and I would wager that better 
 fortune would have brought our good Tiedge better 
 thoughts." 
 
 Thursday, 26th February. 
 
 I dined with Goethe. After the cloth had been 
 removed, he bade Stadelmann bring in some large port- 
 folios of engravings. Goethe detected some dust on 
 the covers, and, not finding any cloths at hand to wipe 
 it away, he was much displeased, and scolded Stadel- 
 mann. "I speak for the last time," said he ; " if these 
 cloths, for which I have asked so often, are not forthcom- 
 ing to-day, I declare that I will go myself to buy them 
 to-morrow, and you shall see that I will keep my 
 word." Stadelmann went for them immediately. 
 
 " I used the same means with Becker, the actor," 
 added Goethe to me, in a lively tone, " when he refused 
 to take the part of a trooper in ' Wallenstein.' I gave 
 him warning that, if he would not take the part, I 
 myself would appear in it. That did the business. 
 For they knew me at the theatre well enough to be 
 sure that I was not in jest, and would keep my word in 
 any case." 
 
 " And would you really have appeared on the 
 boards 1 " asked I. 
 
88 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " I would have taken the part, 
 and would have eclipsed Mr. Becker, too, for I under- 
 stood the matter better than he did." 
 
 We then looked at the drawings and engravings. 
 Goethe takes great interest in forming my taste ; he 
 shows me only what is complete, and endeavors to 
 make me apprehend the intention of the artist ; he 
 would have me think and feel only with the thoughts 
 and feelings of the noblest beings. " This," said he, 
 " is the way to cultivate what we call taste. Taste 
 should be educated by contemplation, not of the tol- 
 erably good, but of the truly excellent. I show you 
 the best, and when you have thoroughly apprehended 
 these, you will have a standard, and will know how to 
 value inferior performances, without overrating them. 
 And I show you the best in each sort, that you may 
 perceive no department is to be despised, since each 
 may be elevated, by genius working in it, to a source 
 of improvement and delight. For instance, this piece, 
 by a French artist, has a gentility which you see no 
 where else, and is admirable in its way." 
 
 He then showed me some etchings by Roos, the 
 famous painter of animals ; they were all of sheep in 
 different postures and situations. The simplicity of 
 their countenances, their fleece, all about them, was 
 represented with wonderful fidelity ; it was nature 
 itself. " I am half frightened," said Goethe, " when 
 I look at these beasts. Their state, so limited, dull, 
 gaping, and dreaming, excites in me such sympathy, 
 that I feel as if I might become a sheep, and as if the 
 artist must have been one. How could he enter so 
 into the inmost character of these creatures 1 for their 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 89 
 
 very soul looks through the bodies he has drawn. 
 Here you see what great talent can do when it keeps 
 steady to subjects which are congenial with its nature." 
 
 "Has not, then," said I, 44 this artist painted dogs, 
 cats, and beasts of prey with equal truth, or indeed has 
 he not, by his gift of sympathy, been able to represent 
 human nature also ? " 
 
 " No," said Goethe, " all that lay out of his circle; 
 but the gentle, grass-eating animals, sheep, cows, and 
 the like, he was never weary of repeating ; this was 
 the peculiar province of his talent, in which he was 
 content to work. And in this he did well. His sym- 
 pathy with these animals, his knowledge of their 
 psychology, were born with him, and this gave him so 
 fine an eye for their bodily structure. The nature of 
 other creatures was not so transparent to him, and 
 therefore he felt no desire to paint them." 
 
 The remembrance of many analogies awoke within 
 me at these words. So had Goethe said to me, not 
 long since, that knowledge of the world is inborn with 
 the genuine poet, who, therefore, needs not much 
 experience or varied observation to represent it ade- 
 quately. "I wrote Goetz von Berlichingen" said he, 
 " at two and twenty, and was astonished, ten years 
 after, to observe the fidelity of my own representation. 
 It is obvious that I could have seen and experienced 
 but a small part of that various picture of life, and 
 could only know how to paint it by presentiment. 
 
 " I felt unalloyed pleasure in painting my inward 
 world before I became acquainted with the outward. 
 But when I found that the world was really just what 
 I had fancied, I was chagrined, and my pictures gave 
 
 h3 
 
90 
 
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 me no more pleasure. Indeed, having represented the 
 world so clearly before I knew it, when I did know it, 
 my representation might well take a tinge of persi- 
 flage." " There is in every character," said he, another 
 time, " a certain necessity, a sequence, which obliges 
 secondary features to be formed from leading features. 
 Observation teaches you how to draw your inferences 
 when once you have ascertained certain premises ; but 
 some persons possess this knowledge untaught. Wheth- 
 er with me experience and this innate faculty are 
 united, I will not say ; but this I know, if I have 
 talked with any man a quarter of an hour, I can make 
 him talk two hours." 
 
 Goethe had said of Lord Byron, that the world to 
 him was transparent, and that he could paint by the 
 light of his presentiments; I doubted whether Byron 
 would succeed in painting, for instance, a subordinate 
 animal nature, for his individuality seemed to me to be 
 so dear to him, that he could not give himself up to 
 such a subject. Goethe agreed, and said that even 
 genius had not instinctive knowledge on subjects un- 
 congenial with its nature. 
 
 " And if your excellency," said 1, " maintain that 
 the world is inborn with the poet, you mean only the 
 world of soul, as it manifests itself in human relations, 
 and not the empiric world of shows and conventions ; 
 the latter, surely, even the poet must learn from obser- 
 vation." 
 
 "Certainly," replied Goethe; "the poet knows by 
 instinct how to represent the region of love, hate, hope, 
 despair, or by whatever other names you may call the 
 moods and passions of the soul. But he knows not by 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 91 
 
 instinct how courts are held, or how a coronation is 
 managed, and, if he meddle with such subjects, must 
 depend either on experience or tradition. Thus, in 
 1 Faust,' I might by presentiment have known how to 
 describe my hero's weariness of life, and the emotions 
 which love excites in the heart of Margaret ; but the 
 lines, 
 
 Wie traurig steigt die unvollkommne Scheibe 
 Des spaten Monds mit feuchter Glut heran ! 
 
 * How gloomily does the imperfect orb 
 . Of the late moon arise in humid glow ! ' 
 
 require that the writer should have observed nature." 
 
 " Yet," said I, " every line of ' Faust' bears marks, 
 not to be mistaken, of most careful study of life and the 
 world. The reader would suppose it the fruit of the 
 amplest experience." 
 
 " Perhaps so," replied Goethe ; " yet, had I not the 
 world in my soul from the beginning, I must ever have 
 remained blind with my seeing eyes, and all experience 
 and observation would have been dead and unproduc- 
 tive. The light is there, and the colors surround us ; 
 but, if we bore nothing corresponding in our own eyes, 
 the outward apparition would not avail us." 
 
 Saturday, 28th February. 
 » There are," said Goethe, " excellent men, who 
 cannot endure to do any thing impromptu, or super- 
 ficially, but whose nature demands that they should fix 
 their attention in leisurely tranquillity on any object 
 for which they are to do any thing. Such minds often 
 
99 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 make us impatient, for we can seldom get from them 
 what we want for the moment ; but in their way the 
 noblest tasks are accomplished." 
 
 I spoke of Ramberg. " He," said Goethe, " is by 
 no means. a man of such a stamp, but of most genial 
 talents, and unequalled in his power of impromptu 
 effort. At Dresden, one day, he asked me to give him 
 a subject. I gave him Agamemnon, at the moment 
 when, on his return from Troy, he is descending from 
 his chariot at his own gate, and is seized with a gloomy 
 presentiment as he is about to touch the threshold. 
 You will agree that such a subject would have de- 
 manded, in the eyes of most artists, mature delibera- 
 tion. But the words had scarcely passed my lips, 
 before Ramberg began to draw, and astonished me by 
 his perfect apprehension of his aim." 
 
 We talked then of other artists, who had set to work 
 in a very superficial way, and thus degenerated into 
 mannerists. 
 
 " The mannerist," said Goethe, " is always longing 
 to get through, and has no true enjoyment of his work. 
 But genius is happy in finishing out the details neces- 
 sary to express its idea. Roos is unwearied in draw- 
 ing the hair and wool of his goats and sheep, and you 
 see by his nicety in details that he was truly happy in 
 his work, and had no wish to bring it to an end. 
 
 "People of little minds are not happy in art for its 
 own sake ; while at work they always have before their 
 eyes what they shall get by what they are doing. Such 
 worldly views and tendencies never yet produced any 
 thing great." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 93 
 
 Sunday, 29th February. 
 
 I breakfasted with Goethe. I endeavored to per- 
 suade him that his " Gods, Heroes, and Wieland," as 
 well as his " Letters of a Pastor," had better be inr 
 serted in the new edition of his works. 
 
 " I cannot," said Goethe, " at my present peri- 
 od, judge of the merit of those youthful productions. 
 You younger people are the proper judges of them. 
 Yet I am not inclined to find fault with those begin- 
 nings ; indeed, I was then in the dark, and struggled 
 on without knowing what it was I sought so earnestly ; 
 but I had a perception of the right, a divining-rod, that 
 showed me where gold was to be found." 
 
 I observed that if this were not the case with strong 
 intellects, they would lose much time in this mixed 
 world. 
 
 The horses were now at the door, and we rode 
 towards Jena.- The conversation turned on the late 
 news from France. " The constitution of France," 
 said Goethe, " belonging to a people who have within 
 themselves so many elements of corruption, rests upon 
 a very different basis from that of England. Every 
 thing and any thing may be done in France by bribery ; 
 indeed the whole course of the French revolution was 
 directed by such means." 
 
 He then spoke of the death of Eugene Napoleon, 
 (Duke of Leuchtenberg,) which seemed to grieve him 
 much. " He was one of those great characters," said 
 Goethe, " which are becoming more and more rare ; 
 and the world is the poorer for his loss. I knew him per- 
 sonally ; we were at Marienbad together last summer. 
 He was a handsome man, about forty-two ; he looked 
 
94 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 much older, as you might expect, when you called to 
 mind all he has gone through, and how all his life 
 was crowded with campaigns and great deeds. He 
 talked with me at Marienbad of a plan which he was 
 bent on executing, the union of the Rhine with the 
 Danube, by means of a canal — a stupendous enter- 
 prise, when you consider the obstacles offered by the 
 locality. But a man who had served under Napoleon, 
 and with him shaken the world, finds impossibilities 
 nowhere. The Emperor Charles had the same plan, 
 and even began the work, but soon came to a still 
 stand. They could do nothing because of the sand ; 
 the banks were always falling together again after the 
 course had been dug out." 
 
 Monday, 22d March. 
 
 This morning I went with Goethe into his garden. 
 
 The situation of this garden, on the farther side 
 of the Ilm, near the park, and on the western 
 declivity of a hill, gives it a very inviting aspect. It is 
 protected from the north and east winds, but open to 
 the cheering influences of the south and west, which 
 makes it delightful, especially in spring and autumn. 
 
 Towards the north-west lies the town. It is in fact 
 so near, that you can be there in a few minutes, and 
 yet you see not the top of a building, or even a spire, 
 which could remind you of the neighborhood of men ; 
 the tall and thickly-planted trees of the park shut out 
 every other object on that side. 
 
 Towards the west and south-west you have a free 
 lookout over the wide meadows, through which, at 
 about the distance of a bow-shot, the Ilm winds silently. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 9.5 
 
 The opposite bank swells into a hill, whose summit and 
 sides are clothed with the ash-trees, alders, poplars, and 
 birches of the far-extended park, and give a beautiful 
 limit to the view on the southern and western sides. 
 
 This view of the park over the meadows gives a 
 feeling, especially in summer, as if you were near a 
 wood which extended leagues round about. You look 
 to see deer bounding out upon the meadows. You 
 enjoy the peace of the deepest natural solitude, for the 
 silence is often uninterrupted, except by the notes of 
 some lonely blackbird, or the song of the wood-thrush. 
 
 Out of this dream of profound solitude we were 
 now awakened by the striking of the tower clock, the 
 screaming of the peacocks from the park, and the 
 drums and horns of the military in the barracks. 
 And it was not unpleasant to be thus reminded of the 
 neighborhood of the friendly city, from which we 
 seemed distant so many miles. 
 
 At certain seasons, these meadows are far enough 
 from being lonely. You see sometimes country people 
 going to, or returning from, the Weimar market ; 
 sometimes people walking along the windings of the 
 Ilm towards Upper Weimar, which is much visited at 
 times. Haying-time also animates the scene very 
 agreeably. In the back-ground, you see flocks of 
 sheep, and sometimes the stately Swiss cow, feeding. 
 
 To-day, however, there were none of those summer 
 sights and sounds which are so refreshing to the mind. 
 Only on the meadows were visible some streaks of 
 green ; the trees as yet could boast nothing but brown 
 twigs and buds ; yet the stroke of the finch, with 
 
96 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 occasional notes from the blackbird and thrush, 
 announced the approach of spring. 
 
 The air was pleasant and summerlike; a mild south- 
 west wind was blowing. Certain appearances in the 
 heavens drew Goethe's thoughts to the barometer ; 
 he spoke of its rise and fall, which he called the 
 affirmative and negative of water. He spoke of the 
 eternal laws which regulate the inhaling and exhaling 
 processes throughout the earth ; of a possible deluge ; 
 that, though each place has its proper atmosphere, 
 there is great uniformity in the state of the barometer 
 throughout Europe ; that nature is incommensurable, 
 and her laws often detected with great difficulty. 
 
 While he instructed me on such high subjects, we 
 were walking up and down the broad gravel-walk. 
 We came near the garden-house, and he bid the 
 servant unlock it, that he might show me the interior. 
 Without, the whitewashed walls were covered with 
 rose-bushes, trained over it on espaliers. I saw, with 
 pleasure, on these rose-bushes many birds' nests, 
 which had been there since the preceding summer, 
 and, now that the bushes were bare of leaves, were 
 exposed to the eye. There were many nests of the 
 linnet and hedge-sparrow, built high or low, according 
 to the different habits of those birds. 
 
 In the lower story, I found only one room. The 
 walls were hung -with some charts and engravings, 
 and with a portrait of Goethe, as large as life, taken 
 by Meyer just after the return of both friends from 
 Italy. Goethe here appears in the prime of his powers 
 and his manhood, brown, and rather stout. His 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 97 
 
 expression is composed and earnest, — that of a man 
 on whose mind lies the weight of great designs. 
 
 Up stairs, I found three rooms, and one little 
 cabinet; but all very small, and not very convenient. 
 Goethe said that, in earlier years, he had passed a 
 great deal of his time, and worked here, in much 
 tranquillity. 
 
 The rooms were rather cold, and we returned into 
 the open air. 
 
 We talked a little on literary topics; but our 
 attention was soon attracted by the natural objects 
 in our path. The crown-imperials and lilies were 
 sprouting, the mallows already green. 
 
 The upper part of the garden, on the declivity of 
 the hills, is covered with grass, and here and there a 
 few fruit-trees. Paths wind up to the summit, and 
 then return to the foot. I wished to ascend. Goethe 
 walked swiftly before me, and I was rejoiced to see 
 how active he is. 
 
 On the hedge we saw a peahen, which seemed to 
 have come from the park ; and Goethe remarked that 
 he had, in summer time, been wont to allure the 
 peacocks into his garden, by giving them such food as 
 they loved. 
 
 Descending on the other side of the hill, I found 
 a stone, surrounded by shrubs, on which was carved 
 this line from the well-known poem — 
 
 Hier im stillen gedachte der Liebende seiner Geliebten ; 
 " Here in silence the lover thought of her he loved j" 
 
 and 1 felt as if I were on classic ground. 
 
 i 
 
96 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Near this was a thicket of half-grown oaks, firs, 
 birches, and beech-trees. Beneath a fir, I found the 
 feather of a bird of prey ; and Goethe said he had 
 often seen them in this place. I think it probable 
 that owls resort to these firs. 
 
 Passing this thicket, we found ourselves once more 
 on the principal path near the house. In this place, 
 the trees are planted in a semicircle, and overarch a 
 space, in which we sat down on benches, which are 
 placed about a round table. The sun was so powerful, 
 that the shade, even of these leafless trees, was agree- 
 able. " I know," said Goethe, " no pleasanter place, 
 in the heats of summer, than this. I planted the trees 
 forty years ago, with my own hand ; have had the 
 pleasure of watching their growth ; and have already 
 enjoyed their refreshing shade for some years. The 
 foliage of these oaks and beeches is absolutely imper- 
 vious to the sun. In hot summer days, I sit here after 
 dinner ; and often over the meadows and the park such 
 stillness reigns, that the ancients would say, ' Pan 
 sleeps' " 
 
 We now heard the tower-clock striking two, and 
 returned to the house. 
 
 Tuesday, 30th March. 
 
 This evening, I was with Goethe. We talked of the 
 French and German drama. Goethe spoke highly 
 of Iffland and Kotzebue. " They have fine talents in 
 their own way," said he, " and have been treated with 
 such severity, only because men are not willing to 
 criticise each production after its kind." 
 
 He spoke of Platen's new dramas. " Here," said 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 90 
 
 he, " you see the influence of Calderon. They are 
 full of thought, and, in a certain sense, complete ; but 
 they want depth, want specific gravity. They will not 
 excite in the mind of the reader a deep and abiding 
 interest ; the strings of the soul are touched but 
 lightly and hastily. They are like cork, which makes 
 no impression on the element which so readily sus- 
 tains it. 
 
 " The German asks earnestness, a grandeur of 
 thought, and fulness of sentiment ; these are the 
 qualities which have made Schiller so admired by our 
 people. I doubt not the abilities of Platen ; and, 
 if he does not manifest the qualities I have mentioned, 
 I think his failure proceeds from mistaken views 
 of art. He shows distinguished culture, intellect, 
 sparkling wit, and much adroitness as an artist ; yet 
 these, especially in Germany, are not all that the 
 drama demands. 
 
 " Generally, the personal character of the writer 
 influences the public, rather than his talents as an 
 artist. Napoleon said of Corneille, ' If he were 
 living now, I would make him a prince ; ' yet he 
 never read him. Racine he read, but spoke not so 
 of him. Lafontaine is looked upon with so high a 
 degree of esteem among his countrymen, — not on 
 the score of his poetic merits, but of the dignified 
 character which he manifests in his writings." 
 
 We then talked of the " Elective Affinities," 
 ( Wahlverwandtschaften.) He spoke of divorces. " The 
 late Reinhard of Dresden," said he, " wondered that 
 I should be so severe on the subject of marriage, 
 
100 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 while I entertain such free opinions on other sub- 
 jects." 
 
 I treasured up this remark of Goethe's, because it 
 showed so clearly what had been his own intention 
 in that much misinterpreted romance. {Die Wahlver- 
 wandtschaften.) 
 
 The conversation turned upon Tieck, and his 
 personal relation to Goethe. 
 
 " I entertain the greatest kindness for Tieck," said 
 Goethe, " and I think he is well disposed towards 
 me ; yet is the relation between us not exactly what 
 it should be. This is neither his fault nor mine, but 
 occasioned by circumstances which I will tell you. 
 
 " When the Schlegels began to be of note in the 
 world, they found me too important for their views, 
 and looked about for some man of genius, whom they 
 might set up in opposition to me, and thus maintain 
 the balance of power. They pitched upon Tieck; 
 and, wishing to make him a fit rival in the eyes 
 of the public, they exaggerated his pretensions, and 
 placed him in an awkward position with regard 
 to me. 
 
 " Tieck is a man of great talents, and nobody can 
 be more sensible than myself to his really extraordi- 
 nary merit ; only, when they tried to raise him above 
 his proper place, and speak of him as my equal, they 
 made a great mistake. I do not hesitate to speak 
 of myself as I am ; I did not make myself what I am. 
 But I might, with as much propriety, compare myself 
 with Shakspeare, who also is, as he was made, a being 
 of a higher order than myself, to whom I must look 
 up and pay due reverence." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 101 
 
 Goethe was this evening full of energy and gayety. 
 He read aloud some of his unpublished poems. I 
 enjoyed hearing him exceedingly ; for, not only did 
 I feel the original beauty of the poems, but Goethe's 
 manner of reading them opened to me new views. 
 What variety and force in his voice ! What life and 
 expression in the noble countenance amid the wrinkles 
 of so many years of thought ! And what eyes ! 
 
 Wednesday, 14th April, 1824. 
 
 I went to walk with Goethe about one. We dis- 
 cussed the styles of various writers. 
 
 "On the whole," said Goethe, "the turn for philo- 
 sophical speculation is an injury to the Germans, as 
 it tends to make style vague and obscure. The 
 stronger their attachment to certain philosophical 
 schools, the worse do they write. Those among us 
 who deal chiefly with practical affairs write the best. 
 Schiller's style is noble and impressive whenever he 
 leaves off philosophizing. I observe this in his very 
 interesting letters, with which I am now busy. 
 
 " There are women in Germany, of genial tempera- 
 ment, who write a really excellent style, and, indeed, 
 in that respect, surpass many of our celebrated writers. 
 
 " Englishmen almost always write well ; for they 
 are born orators, and the practical tendency of their 
 pursuits is very favorable to the formation of a good 
 style. 
 
 " The French, in this respect also, remain true to 
 their general character. They are born for society, 
 and therefore never forget the public in writing or 
 speaking; they strive to be clear, that they may 
 
 i 2 
 
102 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 convince, — agreeable, that they may attract the 
 reader. 
 
 " Indeed, the style of a writer is almost always the 
 faithful representative of his mind ; therefore, if any 
 man wish to write a clear style, let him begin by 
 making his thoughts clear ; and if any would write 
 in a noble style, let him first possess a noble soul." 
 
 Goethe then spoke of his antagonists, as a race 
 which would never become extinct. "Their number," 
 said he, " is Legion ; yet they may be classified with 
 some precision. First, there are my stupid antago- 
 nists, — those who find fault with me, because they 
 do not understand me. This is a large company, 
 who have wearied me extremely in the course of my 
 life; yet shall they be forgiven, for they know not 
 what they do. 
 
 " The second class is composed of those who envy 
 and hate me, because I have attained, through my 
 talents, fame, fortune, and a dignified station. Should 
 I become poor and miserable, they would assail me 
 no more. 
 
 " There are many who hate me because they have 
 failed. In this class are men of fine powers, but who 
 cannot forgive me, because I cast them into the 
 shade. 
 
 " Fourthly, there are my antagonists who have 
 good reasons. For, as I am a human being, with 
 human faults and weaknesses, it is not to be expected 
 that my writings should be free from them. Yet, 
 as I was constantly bent on my own improvement, 
 and always striving to ennoble myself, I have often, 
 as I advanced in my culture, been blamed for faults 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 103 
 
 which I had long since left behind. These critics 
 have injured me least of any, as their darts were 
 aimed at a place from which I was already miles 
 distant. When a work is finished, it becomes unin- 
 teresting to me; I think of it no more, but busy 
 myself with some new plan. 
 
 " Another large class comprises those who differ 
 from me in their views and modes of thought. It is 
 said, that on the same tree you will scarce find two 
 leaves perfectly alike. Just so you will, among a 
 thousand men, scarce find two, who harmonize entirely 
 in their views and ways of thinking. This being 
 allowed, I find less cause to marvel at my having 
 so many opponents, than at my having so many friends 
 and adherents. My tendencies were wholly opposed 
 to those of my time, which were subjective ; so that 
 my objective efforts left me in solitude, and kept me 
 at disadvantage. 
 
 " Schiller had, in this respect, great advantage over 
 me. Indeed, a certain well-meaning General once 
 gave me to understand, that I ought to write like 
 Schiller. I replied by analyzing Schiller's merits, 
 which I understood better than he. And I went 
 quietly on in my own way, not troubling myself 
 about outward success, and taking as little notice as 
 possible of my opponents." 
 
 We returned, and had a very pleasant time at dinner. 
 Frau von Goethe talked much of Berlin, where she 
 has lately been. She spoke with especial warmth 
 of the Duchess of Cumberland, who had paid her 
 many friendly attentions. Goethe remembered this 
 
104 
 
 ECK ERMANN. 
 
 princess, who, when very young, had passed some time 
 with his mother, with particular interest. 
 
 In the evening, I partook of a musical entertain- 
 ment of a high order. At the house of Goethe, some 
 fine singers performed parts of Handel's Messiah, 
 under the superintendence of Eberwein. Also, the 
 Gräfin Caroline von Egloffstein, Fraulein von Froriep, 
 with Frau von Pogwisch and Frau von Goethe, joined 
 the choir of female singers, and thus gratified a wish 
 which Goethe had entertained long since. 
 
 Goethe, sitting at some distance, wholly absorbed in 
 hearing, passed a happy evening in admiring a noble 
 work. 
 
 Monday, 19th April. 
 
 The greatest philologist of our time, Friedrich 
 August Wolf, from Berlin, is here, on his way 
 towards the south of France. Goethe gave, to-day, on 
 his account, a dinner-party of his Weimar friends. 
 General Superintendent Röhr, Chancellor von Müller, 
 Oberbau-Director Coudray, Professor Riemer, and 
 Hofrath Rehbein, were the guests, beside Wolf and 
 myself. The conversation was very pleasant. Wolf 
 was full of witty sallies, — Goethe constantly opposing 
 him, but in the pleasantest way. " I cannot," said 
 Goethe to me afterwards, " converse with Wolf at all, 
 without assuming the character of Mephistophiles. 
 Besides, nothing less can induce him to display his 
 hidden treasures." 
 
 The bon mots at table were of too evanescent a 
 nature to bear repetition. Wolf was rich in witty 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 105 
 
 sayings and striking remarks ; yet, to me, Goethe 
 seemed always to maintain a certain superiority over 
 him. 
 
 The hours flew by, and six o'clock came before we 
 were aware. I went with young Goethe to the the- 
 atre, where the "Magic Flute" was given that night. 
 Wolf came in the latter part of the evening, with the 
 Grand Duke Karl August. 
 
 Wolf remained in Weimar till the 25th, when he 
 set out for the south of France. His health was in 
 such a state, that Goethe expressed the greatest 
 anxiety about him. 
 
 Sunday, 2d May. 
 
 Goethe reproved me for not having visited a certain 
 family of distinction. " You might," said he, " have 
 passed there, during the winter, many delightful 
 evenings, and made the acquaintance of many inter- 
 esting strangers ; all which you have lost from God 
 knows what whim." 
 
 "My disposition," I replied, "is so excitable, my 
 sympathies are so strong and ready, that too great a 
 multiplicity of new impressions is burdensome and 
 hurtful to me. I am neither by education nor habit 
 fitted for general society. My situation in earlier days 
 was such, that I feel as if 1 had never lived till 1 
 came near you. All is. new to me. Every evening 
 at the theatre, every conversation with you, makes 
 an era in my existence. Things perfectly indifferent 
 to those who are accustomed to them, make a deep 
 impression on me. I seize on every thing with 
 
106 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 energy, and draw from every thing nourishment. I 
 have had all I desired this winter, from the theatre 
 and your society ; other connections and engagements 
 would only have disturbed my mind." 
 
 " You are an odd Christian," said Goethe, laughing. 
 "Well, do as you please; I will let you alone for the 
 future." 
 
 "And then," continued I, "I carry always my 
 feelings into society ; I like or dislike ; I feel the 
 need of loving and being beloved ; I seek a nature 
 which may harmonize with my own ; I wish to give 
 myself up to such a one, and to have nothing to do 
 with the others." 
 
 " This tendency of yours," replied Goethe, " is 
 indeed likely to unfit you for society ; for what would 
 be the use of culture, if it did not teach us to modify 
 and control our natural tendencies. 'Tis mere folly . 
 to hope that other men will harmonize with us ; I 
 have never been guided by such motives ; I have 
 regarded each man as an independent individual, 
 whom I might study, and whose characteristics I 
 might learn to understand, but from whom I must 
 not expect further sympathy. Only in this way have 
 I been enabled to converse with every man, to obtain 
 the knowledge of various characters, and the dexterity 
 necessary for the conduct of life. For it is by conflict 
 with natures opposed to his own that a man learns 
 to show himself a man. Thus only can the various 
 sides of the character be brought out, till it attains a 
 certain completeness, and the man feels sure of 
 himself in opposition to any and every man. This 
 is what you need. You can do so, if you please ; 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 107 
 
 and, indeed, there is no evading the great world; 
 you must find your place in it, whether you will 
 or no." 
 
 I took due heed of these good words, and shall be 
 guided by them as far as I can. 
 
 Towards evening, Goethe invited me to take a drive 
 with him. Our road lay over hills through Upper 
 Weimar, by which we had a view of the park towards 
 the west. The trees were in blossom, the birches 
 already in full leaf. The setting sun cast a broad 
 glow over the wide green meadows. We busied our- 
 selves with seeking out picturesque groups, and could 
 not look enough. We remarked that these trees, full 
 of white blossoms, are not adapted for pictures, as the 
 leafy birches are unfit for the foreground of a picture ; 
 because the delicate leaf does not sufficiently contrast 
 with the white trunk; — there were no masses large 
 enough for fine effects of light and shade. " Ruys- 
 dael," said Goethe, "never introduced the birch with 
 its foliage into his foregrounds, but only birch trunks 
 broken off at top, without any leaves. Such a trunk 
 is very effective in a foreground, its shape has such 
 natural prominence." 
 
 After some slight discussion of other topics, we 
 came upon the mistake of those artists who make 
 religion the object of art, while art itself should be 
 their religion. " Religion," said Goethe, " stands in 
 the same relation to art as any other great interest 
 of life. It is merely to be looked upon as affording 
 materia] for the artist. Faith is not the faculty by 
 which you are to comprehend a work of art ; that is 
 calculated to call into action wholly different faculties. 
 
108 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 And art must address itself to those parts of our being 
 which are intended for the appreciation of her achieve- 
 ments. A religious subject may be a good one for 
 art, but only in so far as it possesses general human 
 interest. The Virgin with the Child is an excellent 
 subject, and one that we may see treated a hundred 
 times, yet not be weary." 
 
 Returning homeward, we had the setting sun in full 
 view. Goethe was lost awhile in thought. He then 
 said to me, in the words of one of the ancients, 
 
 Untergehend sogar isfs immer diesclbige Sonne. 
 " Even while sinking it remains the same sun." 
 
 " At the age of seventy-five," continued he, with 
 animation, " one must, of course, think frequently 
 of death. But this thought never gives me the least 
 uneasiness, — I am so fully convinced that the soul 
 is indestructible, and that its activity will continue 
 through eternity. It is like the sun, which seems 
 to our earthly eyes to set in night, but is in reality 
 gone to diffuse its light elsewhere." 
 
 While he said this, the sun had sunk behind the 
 Ettersberge, and the chill of the evening warned us 
 to hasten homeward. Goethe urged me to go in with 
 him for a while, and I did so. He was in an extremely 
 engaging, amiable mood. He talked of his Farben- 
 lehre, and of his obstinate opponents ; remarking that 
 he was sure that he had done something for the cause 
 of science. 
 
 " That a man should be able to make an epoch in 
 the world's history," said he, " two conditions are 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 109 
 
 essential, — that he should have a good head, and a 
 great inheritance. Napoleon inherited the French 
 Revolution ; Frederic the Great, the Silesian War ; 
 Luther, the errors of the Popes; and I, those of the 
 Newtonian theory. My own time has no conception of 
 what I have accomplished ; but posterity will know." 
 
 We spoke of notes which I had found among his 
 papers, written at the time when he was training Wolf 
 and Grüner for the stage. I thought these might be 
 so instructive to young actors, that I proposed to put 
 them together, and make from them a sort of theatre 
 catechism. Goethe consented. 
 
 We spoke of some distinguished actors, who had 
 been formed in his school ; and I asked some questions 
 about Frau von Heigendorf. " I may," said Goethe, 
 " have influenced her, but I cannot speak of her as my 
 pupil. She seemed born for the stage, and was, in all 
 she undertook, as decided, ready, and adroit, as a duck 
 in the water. She needed not instruction, but did 
 what was right instinctively and unconscious! v." 
 
 We then talked of his superintendent ! of the 
 theatre; and it was remarked how much time he had 
 lavished there which might have been devoted to 
 literature. " Yes," said he, "I have b) this means 
 missed, no doubt, writing many a good thing ; yet do 
 I not repent. I have always regarded all 1 live done 
 solely as symbolical; and, at bottom, it does not 
 signify whether I made pots or dishes." 
 
 Thursday Sth May. 
 When I came to Weimar, last summer. I did not 
 intend to remain, but, after having bee ;quainted 
 
 K 
 
110 
 
 ECK ERMANN. 
 
 with Goethe, to visit the Rhine, and live there some 
 time, if I could find a place which suited me. 
 
 I had been detained at Weimar by Goethe's kind- 
 ness, and the various services I had been able to 
 render him, but had never forgotten my original 
 project ; and Goethe himself, unwilling that I should 
 carry within me the sting of an unsatisfied desire, 
 advised me to devote some months of this summer 
 to the fulfilment of my project. 
 
 It was, however, decidedly his wish, that I should 
 return to Weimar. He observed that it was not well 
 to break ties as soon as they have been made, and that 
 nothing which has not sequence is of any value in 
 life. And he intimated that he wished to join me 
 with Riemer, not only to aid him in preparing a new 
 and complete edition of his works, but to take charge 
 of it in case he should be suddenly called away, as 
 might naturally happen at his age. 
 
 He showed me immense packages of letters, laid 
 out in what is called the Chamber of Busts, (Büsten- 
 Zimmer.) "These," said he, "are letters which I 
 have been receiving since 1780, from the most distin- 
 guished men of our country. There lies hoarded a 
 rich treasure of thoughts, which it shall some time be 
 your office to impart to the public. A chest is now 
 making, in which I shall put these letters, with the 
 rest of my literary legacies. I wish you, before you 
 leave me, to put all these papers in order, that I may 
 feel tranquil about them, and have a care the less." 
 
 He then told me that he should probably visit 
 Marienbad again this summer, and disclosed to me, 
 in confidence, his reasons. He wishes me to return 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 from my journey, if possible, before his departure ; 
 that he may have an opportunity to converse with me. 
 
 A few weeks after, I went to see my betrothed at 
 Hanover, and passed June and July in the neighbor- 
 hood of the Rhine ; making, especially at Bonn, 
 Frankfort, and Heidelberg, many valuable acquaint- 
 ances among the friends of Goethe. 
 
 Tuesday, 10th August. 
 I returned to Weimar about eight days since. 
 Goethe expressed lively joy at seeing me, and I was 
 not less happy to be once more with him. He had 
 so much to tell me, that I scarcely left his side for 
 several days. He has decided not to go to Marienbad, 
 or take any journey, this summer. " And now that 
 you have come," said he, yesterday, " I shall pass a 
 pleasant August here." 
 
 [Here follow some remarks on the first part of 
 the continuation of Dichtung und Wahrheit, which 
 Goethe communicated to Eckermann at this time. 
 This fragment has since been published among 
 Goethe's posthumous works, but has never been 
 translated into English, and the remarks would not 
 be intelligible to those who are not acquainted 
 with it. 
 
 I have also omitted some detached sayings of 
 Goethe, as not being set down in a form sufficiently 
 precise to do him justice. — Transl.] 
 
112 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Tuesday, 9th November. 
 I passed this evening with Goethe. We talked 
 of Klopstock and Herder. " Without such founders," 
 said Goethe, " our literature could not have become 
 what it now is. In their own day they were before- 
 hand with the age which they were obliged to drag 
 along in their track ; but now the age has far outrun 
 them, and they are no longer necessary or influential. 
 A young man would be left in the rear, who should 
 take Klopstock and Herder for his teachers now- 
 a-days." 
 
 We talked over the faults and merits both of 
 Klopstock's "Messiah" and of his Odes. We agreed 
 that he had no faculty for observing and painting the 
 external world, or for drawing characters ; and that 
 he wanted the qualities most essential to the. epic and 
 dramatic poet, or, perhaps it might be said, more 
 generally, to the poet. 
 
 " In the ode, for instance," said Goethe, " where he 
 makes the German Muse run a race with the British, — 
 only consider, what a picture ! — two maidens running, 
 throwing out their feet, and kicking up a dust ! If the 
 good Klopstock had ever been in the habit of really 
 imagining, making pictures to himself of what he 
 wrote, he could nov have made such mistakes." 
 
 I asked how he had felt towards Klopstock in his 
 youth. 
 
 " I venerated him," said Goethe, " with the devotion 
 which was natural to me. I looked upon him as an 
 uncle. I never once thought of criticism, but reve- 
 renced whatever he had done. I let his fine qualities 
 work upon me ; for the rest, I went my own way," 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 113 
 
 I asked Goethe which of Herder's works he thought 
 the best. " The * Ideas for the History of the Human 
 Race,' " (Ideen zur Geschichte der Menschheit,) replied 
 Goethe, " are undoubtedly the best. In after days, he 
 leaned to the negative side, and was not so edify- 
 ing." 
 
 " Herder," said I, " is a person of such weight, that 
 I cannot understand his want of judgment on some 
 subjects. I cannot forgive him, especially at that 
 period of German literature, for sending back the 
 manuscript of Goetz von Bcrlichingen, without any 
 praise of its merits, and with taunts upon its faults. 
 He must want organs to perceive some objects." 
 
 " Yes, Herder was unfortunate in those respects," 
 replied Goethe; " and, indeed," added he, with vivaci- 
 ty, " if his spirit could be present at this conversation, 
 it would not be able to conjecture what we mean." 
 
 " On the other hand," said I, " I must praise Merck, 
 who urged you to publish Goetz. } ' 
 
 " He was indeed a strong man," said Goethe. " He 
 urged me to publish, saying that, though imperfect, 
 it was worth publishing. He did not wish me to labor 
 any more on it, and he was right. I should have 
 altered, but not improved it." 
 
 Wednesday, 24th November. 
 I went to see Goethe this evening, before going to 
 the theatre, and found him well and cheerful. He 
 inquired about the young Englishmen who are here. 
 I told him that I proposed reading with Mr. Doolan 
 the German translation of Plutarch. This led us 
 
 k2 
 
114 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 to speak of Roman and Grecian history. Goethe 
 said, — 
 
 " The Roman history does not suit our present 
 turn of mind. We take a more general interest in 
 humanity, and cannot sympathize with the triumphs 
 of Caesar. Neither are we much edified by the history 
 of Greece. When the whole people united against 
 a foreign foe, then, indeed, is their history great and 
 glorious ; but the division of the states, and their 
 eternal wars with one another, where Greek fights 
 against Greek, are insufferable. Besides, the history 
 of our own time is so full of important events, the 
 battles of Leipsic and Waterloo so grand, that 
 Marathon and other such days are entirely eclipsed. 
 Neither are our great men inferior to theirs. Welling- 
 ton, Blucher, and the French Marshals, vie with any 
 of the heroes of antiquity." 
 
 We talked of the late French literature, and the 
 increasing interest manifested by the French in Ger- 
 man works. 
 
 " The French," said Goethe, " do well to study and 
 translate our writers ; for, limited as they are, both 
 in form and principles of action, they must turn 
 elsewhere for aid. We Germans may be reproached 
 for the shapelessness of what we make ; but in 
 materials we have the superiority. The theatrical pro- 
 ductions of Kotzebue and Iffland are so rich in sug- 
 gestions that they may pluck a long time, before 
 they strip the tree. But especially is our philosophical 
 Ideality welcome to them ; for every Ideal is service- 
 able to revolutionary aims. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 115 
 
 " The French have understanding and esprit, but 
 neither a solid basis nor piety. 1 What serves the 
 moment, what helps his party, seems right to the 
 Frenchman. And they praise us, not according to 
 our merits, but to the degree in which our views 
 may assist this or that party." 
 
 Friday, 3d December. 
 
 To-day, a proposal reached me from an English 
 periodical. I was offered very favorable terms, if I 
 would send to this journal monthly notices of the 
 latest publications in our own country. I was much 
 inclined to accept the proposal, but thought I would 
 first consult Goethe. 
 
 I went to him this evening. He was seated before 
 a table, on which burned two lights, which illuminated 
 at once his own face and a colossal bust at which he 
 was looking. " Now," said Goethe, after greeting me 
 in a friendly manner, "who is this?" "Apparently, 
 a poet, and an Italian," I replied. " 'Tis Dante," said 
 he. " It is well done ; a fine head, yet not perfectly 
 satisfactory. He seems bowed down with years and 
 sorrows; the features are lax, and drawn downwards, 
 as if he had just come from hell. I have a medal, 
 which was struck during his life, and which is much 
 better." 
 
 He rose and brought the medal. " Do you see how 
 
 1 [Our word " piety " does not answer to the German Pietat, 
 which expresses the natural desire of the mind to reverence 
 something, and is not used in our sense of a conscious love of 
 the Deity, known as such. — Transl.] 
 
116 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 full of strength the profile is ? Look at the nose, — 
 at the upper lip, — see how finely the chin is marked 
 and united with the cheek ! The lines about the eyes, 
 the forehead, are the same in this bust; but all the 
 rest is weaker and older. Yet I will not find fault 
 with this new work ; truly, it has great merit, and 
 deserves praise." 
 
 He then inquired what I had been doing and 
 thinking of late. I mentioned the proposal from 
 England, and my inclination to accept it. His face, 
 which had worn before so pleasant and friendly an 
 expression, clouded over instantly, and I saw in every 
 feature how far he was from favoring this project. 
 
 " I wish," said he, " your friends would leave you 
 in peace. What have you to do with such a plan ? 
 It lies quite out of your way, and is contrary to the 
 tendencies of your nature. Gold, silver, paper money, 
 all are good ; but, to do justice to each, you must 
 understand its law of exchange. And so in literature. 
 You understand the metallic, but not the paper cur- 
 rency. You are not accustomed to such a task ; your 
 criticisms will be worthless, and do hurt. If you 
 wish to be just, and give each author his proper place, 
 you must first become acquainted with our preceding 
 literature — no light task for you. You must look 
 back on what the Schlegels proposed and performed, 
 and then read our later authors, Franz Horn, Hoff- 
 mann, &c. You must also read all the journals of the 
 day, in order that nothing which comes out may escape 
 you ; and thus misspend your best days and hours. 
 Then all new books, which you would criticise proper- 
 ly, you must not only skim over, but study. How 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 117 
 
 shall you relish that? And, finally, if you venture to 
 say that what is bad is bad, you will find yourself at 
 war with all the world. 
 
 " No ! decline the proposal ; and, generälly, let me 
 say to you, beware of dissipating your powers ; strive 
 constantly to concentrate them. Had I known, thirty 
 years ago, what I do now on this subject, I would have 
 done very differently. How much time I lost with 
 Schiller on his Horm and Musen Almanacks ! Now, 
 when I have just been looking over our correspondence, 
 I feel this most forcibly, and cannot think without 
 chagrin on those undertakings which made the world 
 abase us, and led to no good in any way. Genius 
 thinks it can do whatever it sees others doing ; but it 
 will be sure to repent some time of every ill-judged 
 outlay. What good does it do to curl up your hair 
 for a single night 1 You have paper in your hair, that 
 is all ; next night it is straight again. 
 
 « Make to yourself a capital that will be permanently 
 valuable. This you may do by the study of the 
 English language and literature, which you have 
 already begun. Keep to that, and make use of the 
 advantages you now possess in the acquaintance of the 
 young Englishmen. You have not been able greatly 
 to avail yourself of the ancient languages during your 
 youth ; seek now a strong-hold in the literature of so 
 able a nation as the English. And, besides, how large 
 a portion of our literature is the offspring of theirs ! 
 Whence have we our romances, our tragedies, but 
 from Goldsmith, Fielding, and Shakspeare? In our 
 own day, can we find in Germany three literary heroes, 
 who can be placed on a level with Lord Byron, Moore 2 
 
118 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 and Walter Scott? Once more, confirm yourself in 
 your acquaintance with the English literature, concen- 
 trate your powers for some suitable work, and let all 
 go which can lead to nothing of value to you, and is 
 not adapted to your nature." 
 
 I rejoiced that Goethe had said so much. I was 
 • perfectly satisfied in my mind, and determined to 
 comply with his advice. 
 
 Chancellor von Müller was now announced, and 
 sat down with us. The conversation turned once 
 more on the bust of Dante, and on his life and works. 
 The obscurity of this author was mentioned, — how 
 few of his countrymen, much less foreigners, could 
 fully understand him. " To you," said Goethe, turn- 
 ing towards me, with a friendly air, " the study of 
 this poet is absolutely forbidden by your father con- 
 fessor." 
 
 Goethe also remarked that the difficult rhyme is, 
 in a great measure, the cause of his obscurity. For 
 the rest, he spoke of Dante with extreme reverence; 
 and I observed that he was not satisfied with the words 
 talent or genius, but called him a nature, wishing thus 
 to express something more comprehensive, more full 
 of prescience, of deeper insight, and wider scope. 
 
 Thursday, 9th December. 
 
 I went this evening to Goethe. He cordially held 
 out his hand, and greeted me with praises of my poem 
 on Schellhorn's Jubilee. 
 
 I told him that I had written to refuse the proposal 
 from England. ''Thank Heaven!" said he; "then 
 you are free and at peace once more. And let me 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 119 
 
 give you a warning. The composers will be coming 
 to you for an opera, — be sure you refuse that also; 
 it is work which leads to nothing, and only wastes 
 the time of him who undertakes it." 
 
 Goethe added, that he had, through Nees von Esen- 
 beck, let the author of the " Paria," who is now at 
 Bonn, know that his piece has been performed here. 
 "Life," said he, "is short; we must miss no oppor- 
 tunity of giving pleasure to one another." 
 
 The Berlin Gazette lay before him, and he showed 
 me the account of the great inundation at Petersburg. 
 He talked of the bad situation of Petersburg, and 
 mentioned, with a smile, the remark of Rousseau, 
 * that none need expect to prevent earthquakes by 
 building cities in the neighborhood of volcanic moun- 
 tains." " Nature," said he, " goes steadily her own 
 way, and what to us appears the exception, is in reality 
 done according to the rule." 
 
 We spoke of the tempests which have raged on 
 every shore, and the other phenomena mentioned in 
 the journals of the day, and I asked whether he could 
 trace the connection of all these. " No one can do 
 that," said he; "one can scarcely have an inward 
 feeling of the law which regulates such mysteries, 
 much less express it." 
 
 Coudray and Professor Riemer were now announced. 
 We continued to' talk of the inundation, and Coudray, 
 by drawings, made clear to us the plan of Petersburg, 
 the course of the Neva, and other particulars of the 
 locality. 
 
120 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Monday, 10th January, 1825. 
 Goethe is much interested always in the English, 
 and has desired me to introduce to him the young 
 Englishmen who are here at present. He appointed 
 five o'clock this afternoon for the reception of Mr. H., 
 the English engineer officer, of whom I had previously 
 been able to say much good to him. We were con- 
 ducted to the pleasant, well-warmed apartment, where 
 Goethe usually passes his afternoons and evenings. 
 Three lights were burning on the table, but he was 
 not there; we heard him talking in the adjoining 
 saloon. 
 
 While we waited, Mr. H. was looking about him, 
 and observed, besides the pictures and a large chart 
 of the hills which adorned the walls, a book-case full 
 of portfolios. I told him these portfolios contained 
 drawings from the hands of many celebrated masters, 
 and engravings after the best pictures of all schools, 
 which Goethe had. during a long life, been gradually 
 collecting, and which now were to him a fertile source 
 of entertainment. 
 
 After a few minutes, Goethe came in, and greeted 
 us very cordially. He said to Mr. H., " I presume I 
 may address you in German, as I hear you are already 
 well versed in our language." Mr. H. answered very 
 politely, though in few words, and Goethe requested 
 us to be seated. 
 
 Mr. H.'s manners and appearance must have made 
 a very favorable impression on Goethe ; for his sweet- 
 ness and mild serenity were manifested towards the 
 stranger in their natural beauty. " You did well," 
 said he, " to come hither to learn German ; for you 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 121 
 
 will carry away, not only a knowledge of the language, 
 which you will here learn easily and quickly, but of 
 the elements on which it rests, our soil, climate, modes 
 of life, manners, social habits, and constitution." 
 
 Mr. H. replied, " The interest taken, in England, 
 in the study of the German language, increases daily, 
 and has become, indeed, so general, that few young 
 Englishmen of good families omit to learn German." 
 
 " We Germans," said Goethe, good-humoredly, 
 " were, however, half a century beforehand with you 
 in this matter. These fifty years, I have been busy 
 with the English language and literature; so that I 
 now am well acquainted with your writers, your ways 
 of living, and the administration of your country. 
 If I should visit England, I should not feel myself a 
 stranger there. 
 
 " But, as I said before, you young Englishmen do 
 well to come to us and learn our language ; for, not 
 only does our own literature merit attention, but no 
 one can deny that he who knows German can dispense 
 with many other languages. French, indeed, cannot 
 be dispensed with; for it is the language of conversa- 
 tion, and essential to comfort in travelling, as every 
 body understands it, and in all countries it serves you 
 instead of an interpreter. But, as for Greek, Latin, 
 Italian, and Spanish, we can read the best works 
 of those nations in such excellent German translations, 
 that, unless we have some particular object in view, 
 we may well dispense with spending much time upon 
 the toilsome study of their languages. It is the 
 German nature duly to honor every thing produced 
 by other nations, and to sympathize fully with what 
 
 L 
 
122 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 is foreign. This, with the great flexibility of our 
 language, makes German translations both faithful 
 and complete. And you get a great deal from a good 
 translation. Frederic the Great read Cicero in French 
 only, but with no less profit than others who read him 
 in Latin." 
 
 Then, turning the conversation on the theatre, he 
 asked Mr. H. whether he went frequently thither. 
 " Every evening," he replied, " and find that I derive 
 from this custom great advantage in learning the 
 language." 
 
 " It is remarkable," said Goethe, " how the power 
 of understanding gets the start of that of expressing ; 
 so that a man may comprehend all he hears, when, 
 as yet, he can express but a very small part of it." 
 
 "I experience daily," said Mr. H., " the truth of 
 that remark, I understand very well whatever I hear 
 or read ; I feel it when a bad expression is made use 
 of in German. But, when I speak, nothing will flow, 
 and I cannot express myself as I wish. In light con- 
 versation at Court, jests with the ladies, chat at balls, 
 and the like, I already succeed pretty well. But, if I 
 try to express opinions on any important topic, to say 
 any thing characteristic or of much thought, I fail 
 utterly ; the proper words will not come." 
 
 " Be not discouraged by that," said Goethe, " since 
 fit expression of such is hard enough in one's mother 
 tongue." 
 
 He asked what books Mr. H. had read in German. 
 " I have read * Egmont,' " he replied, " and found so 
 much pleasure in the perusal, that I have repeated it 
 three times. * Torquato Tasso/ too, has afforded me 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 123 
 
 high enjoyment. Now, I am reading 'Faust,' which 
 I find somewhat difficult." 
 
 Goethe laughed at these last words. " Really," said 
 he, " I would not have advised you to undertake 
 * Faust.' It is mad stuff, and quite beyond the cus- 
 tomary range of feeling. But, since you have begun 
 without asking my advice, we shall see how you will 
 get through. Faust is so peculiar an individual, 
 that few men can sympathize with the situation of his 
 mind. And the character of Mephistophiles is, on 
 account of the irony and extensive acquaintance with 
 the world which it displays, not easily to be compre- 
 hended. But you will see what lights open upon you. 
 4 Tasso ' lies far nearer the common feelings of men, 
 and all there is told with a minuteness and detail very 
 favorable to an easy comprehension of it." 
 
 "Yet," said Mr. H., "' Tasso' is thought difficult 
 in Germany, and people have wondered to hear that 
 I was reading it." 
 
 " What is needed for ( Tasso,' " replied Goethe, " is, 
 that one should be no longer a child, and have been 
 in good society. A young man of good family and 
 capacity, with that delicacy and outward culture, 
 which intercourse with accomplished men of the 
 higher class will naturally produce, could find no 
 difficulties in 1 Tasso.' " 
 
 He afterwards said, "I wrote 'Egmont' in 1775, — 
 fifty years ago. I adhered closely to history, and was 
 very sedulous after accuracy. Ten years after, I read 
 in the newspapers that the revolutionary scenes there 
 described were repeating, d la lettre, in the Nether- 
 
124' 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 lands. I saw from this that the world remains ever the 
 same, and that my picture must be true to life." 
 
 Amid this and other conversation, the hour for the 
 theatre had come. We rose, and Goethe dismissed 
 us in a friendly manner. 
 
 As we went homeward, 1 asked Mr. H. how he was 
 pleased with Goethe. " I have never,' 5 said he, " seen 
 a man who combined such attractive gentleness with 
 such native dignity. However he may condescend, 
 he always seems the great man." 
 
 Tuesday, 18th January, 1825. 
 I went to Goethe about five o'clock. I had not seen 
 him before for some days, and passed a delightful 
 evening. I found him talking, during the twilight, 
 with his son, and with Hofrath Rehbein, his physician. 
 I seated myself at the table with them. We talked 
 awhile in the dusk ; then lights were brought, and I 
 had the happiness to see Goethe looking perfectly fresh 
 and cheerful. 
 
 As usual, he inquired with interest what had 
 happened to me of late, and I replied that I had 
 made the acquaintance of a poetess. At the same 
 time, I praised her uncommon talents, and Goethe, 
 who was acquainted with some of her productions, 
 agreed with me. " One of her poems," said he, " in 
 which she describes the country near her home, is 
 highly individual in its character. She has a good 
 way of treating outward objects, and is not destitute 
 of valuable inward qualities. Indeed, we might find 
 much fault with her ; but we will let her go, and not 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 125 
 
 disturb her in the path to which her talent inclines 
 her." 
 
 The conversation turning on poetesses in general, 
 Hofrath Rehbein remarked that the poetical talent 
 of women often seemed to him as a sexual instinct 
 of the intellect. " Hear him ! " said Goethe, laughing, 
 and looking at me; " that is truly the reason of a 
 physician ! " 
 
 "I know not," said Rehbein, "whether I express 
 myself aright; but what I mean is this: — Usually, 
 these beings have not been fortunate in love, and 
 they seek compensation in intellectual pursuits. " Had 
 they been married, and had the care of children, they 
 would never have thought of poetical productions." 
 
 " I will not inquire," said Goethe, " how far you 
 are right ; but, as to the talents of women in other 
 departments, I have always found that they were not 
 active after marriage. I have known girls who drew 
 finely ; but, so soon as they became wives and mothers, 
 you heard no more of it : they were too busy with the 
 children to remember the pencil. 
 
 " But our poetesses," continued he, in a lively 
 manner, " might write as they pleased, if only our 
 men would not write like women. That does, indeed, 
 displease me. Look at our magazines and annuals ; 
 see how all becomes daily weaker and weaker. Were 
 a leaf from Cellini printed in to-day's newspaper, what 
 a figure it would make ! 
 
 " However, let us forget all that, and rejoice in the 
 powerful maiden of Halle, who with manly spirit intro- 
 duces us into the Servian world. These poems are ex- 
 cellent." And he showed me the sheets of what he had 
 
126 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 written upon them for Kunst und Alterthum, saying", 
 " I have given, in few words, the meaning of some 
 of these poems, and think you will be pleased with 
 them. Rehbein, too, is not ignorant of what belongs 
 to poetry, — at least as to its bearing and material, — 
 and he may like to hear you read aloud from this 
 paper." 
 
 I read it aloud, and very slowly. These descriptions 
 were so marked and expressive, that each word seemed 
 to present a whole poem to my eye. I was especially 
 pleased with the following : — 
 
 1. Modesty of a Servian maiden, who never raises 
 her beautiful eyelashes. 
 
 2. Conflict in the mind of a lover, who, as grooms- 
 man, is obliged to conduct his beloved to another. 
 
 3. Being distressed about her lover, the maiden will 
 not sing, lest she should seem gay. 
 
 4. Complaints of the corruption of manners; how 
 youths marry widows, and old men virgins. 
 
 5. Complaint of a youth that a mother gives her 
 daughter too much liberty. 
 
 6. Confidingly joyous talk of a maiden with the 
 steed who might betray to her his master's inclinations 
 and designs. 
 
 7. Distaste of the maiden for him she cannot 
 love. 
 
 8. The fair bar-maid : her lover is not among the 
 guests. 
 
 9. Finding, and tenderly awaking, the lover. 
 
 10. Of what calling shall my husband be? 
 
 11. Joys of love lost by babbling. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 127 
 
 12. The lover comes back from a journey, watches 
 her by day, surprises her with a visit at night. 
 
 I remarked that these mere sketches excited in me 
 such lively emotions, that I felt as if I were in 
 possession of the whole poem, and had no desire for 
 the details. 
 
 " That shows," said Goethe, " the great importance 
 of situations. Our women have no conception of this. 
 ' That poem is beautiful,' they say, and think of 
 nothing but the feelings, the words, the verses. No 
 one dreams that the true power of a poem consists 
 in the choice of situation, of Motiven. 1 Thus are 
 thousands of poems written, where the Motiv is nothing 
 at all, and which, merely through feeling and sounding 
 verse, represent a sort of existence. Dilettanti, and 
 especially women, have very weak ideas of poetry. 
 They think, if they could but pass by the technical 
 part, they should have the essential, and be made 
 people ; but they are quite mistaken." 
 
 Rehbein took leave, and Professor Riemer was 
 announced. The conversation still turned on the 
 Servian love-lays. Riemer remarked that you need 
 not go back to the Servians for some of these Motiven, 
 which had already been used in Germany. We both 
 remembered poems of his, and of Goethe's, in which 
 this was the case. 
 
 " The world," said Goethe, " remains always the 
 same ; situations are constantly repeated ; one people 
 
 1 [For this frequently recurring word I cannot always find 
 any in English which suits its position. — Transl.] 
 
128 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 lives, loves, and feels like another; — why should not 
 one poet write like another ? The situations of life 
 resemble one another ; — why should not those of 
 poems ?" 
 
 " Did not," said Riemer, " such resemblances exist, 
 how could we understand the poems of other na- 
 tions?" 
 
 " I am, therefore, surprised," said I, " at those 
 critics, who always seem to suppose that the poet 
 goes, not from life to his poem, but from books to 
 his poem. They are always saying, ' He got this 
 here ; he got that there.' For instance, do they meet 
 with passages in Shakspeare which are to be found 
 in some of the ancients, they say he must have taken 
 them from the ancients. Because both Homer and 
 Shakspeare, on seeing a beautiful girl, have said the 
 parents were happy who called her daughter, and the 
 youth who should lead her home as his bride, shall we 
 suppose Shakspeare took the thought from Homer? 
 As if such things came not daily within the reach 
 of any and every one ! " 
 
 " Ah, yes," said Goethe, " such criticisms are very 
 ridiculous." 
 
 " Lord Byron," said I, " was not wiser, when he 
 pulled * Faust ' to pjeces, and pretended to find some 
 of the materials here, some there." 
 
 " I never read," said Goethe, " the greater part 
 of those fine things collected by Lord Byron, much 
 less thought of them, when I was writing ' Faust.' 
 But Lord Byron is only great as a poet ; when he 
 would reflect, he is a child. He knows not how to 
 help himself against the stupid attacks made upon 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 129 
 
 him by his own countrymen. He ought to have put 
 them down in a more determined manner. ' What 
 is there, is mine,' he should have said. ' Whether I 
 got it from a book or from life, is of no consequence, 
 if I do but use it aright.' Walter Scott used a scene 
 from my * Egmont,' and he had a right to do so ; 
 I must praise him for the judicious manner in which 
 he did it. He has also copied my Mignon, in one 
 of his romances ; but whether he was equally judicious 
 there, is another question. Lord Byron has borrowed 
 from Mephistophiles, and why not? If he had gone 
 further in search after originality, he would have 
 fared worse. My Mephistophiles sings a song from 
 Shakspeare ; why should T give myself the trouble 
 to compose one of my own, when this was perfectly 
 suited to express my meaning ? For the same reason, 
 there is no fault to be found with any resemblance 
 which may exist between the prologue to my * Faust ' 
 and that to the history of Job." 
 
 Goethe was in the best humor. He sent for wine, 
 and filled for Riemer and me; he himself drank 
 Marienbad water. He had appointed this evening for 
 looking over the manuscript of the continuation of his 
 autobiography with Riemer, in order that they might 
 see what amendment was needed, before sending it 
 to press. " Let Eckermann stay and hear it too," 
 said Goethe ; which words I was very glad to hear. 
 And he then gave Riemer the manuscript, beginning 
 with the year 1795. 
 
 I had already, in the course of the summer, had the 
 pleasure of reading the as yet unpublished record 
 of these years. I had read them repeatedly, and 
 
130 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 mused much upon them. But to hear them read aloud 
 in Goethe's presence, afforded a quite new enjoyment. 
 Riemer received many hints as to expression, and I 
 had occasion to admire his dexterity, and his affluence 
 of words and phrases. The epoch described in those 
 pages became reanimate in Goethe's mind; he revelled 
 in recollections, and filled out the narration to the 
 roundness of life, by the details he gave us. That 
 was a precious evening ! The most distinguished 
 of his contemporaries were talked over; most of all, 
 Schiller, who was so interwoven with this period, from 
 1795 to 1800. The theatre had given an object to the 
 efforts of both, and Goethe's best works belong to this 
 time. Then Wilhelm Meister was completed ; Her- 
 mann und Dorothea planned and written; Cellini 
 translated for the Horcn ; Xenien written by both 
 for Schiller's Musen Almanack ; — every day brought 
 many points of contact. Of all this we talked this 
 evening, and Goethe made the most interesting com- 
 munications. 
 
 " Hermann und Dorothea" said he, " is almost 
 the only one of my larger poems which still satisfies 
 me ; I can never read it without strong interest. I 
 love it best in the Latin translation ; there it seems 
 to me nobler, and as if it had returned to its original 
 form." 
 
 In talking of Wilhelm Meister, — "Schiller blamed 
 me for interweaving tragic elements which do not 
 belong to romance. Yet he was wrong, as we all 
 know. His letters to me contain very valuable criti- 
 cisms upon Wilhelm Meister. But this work is a 
 most incalculable production ; I myself can scarcely be 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 131 
 
 said to have the key. The critic seeks a central point, 
 which is, in truth, hard to find. I should think a rich 
 manifold life, brought close to our eyes, might suffice, 
 without any determined moral tendency which could 
 be reasoned upon. But, if this is insisted upon, it 
 will perhaps be found in what Frederic, at the end, 
 says to the hero — ' Thou seem'st to me like Saul, the 
 son of Kish, who went out to seek his father's asses, 
 and found a kingdom.' For what does the whole say, 
 but that man, despite all his follies and errors, led by a 
 higher hand, reaches some worthy aim at last?" 
 
 We then talked of the high degree of culture, 
 which, during the last fifty years, had become general 
 among the middle classes of Germany. Goethe as- 
 cribed the merit of this not so much to Lessing as to 
 Herder and Wieland. " Lessing," said he, " had so 
 superior an understanding, that only one of equal force 
 could truly learn of him. It was dangerous to know 
 him by halves." He mentioned a journalist who had 
 formed himself on Lessing, and, at the end of the last 
 century, played a part indeed, but far from a desirable 
 one, because so inferior to his great predecessor. 
 
 "All Upper Germany," said he, "may thank Wie- 
 land for its style. It has learned many things from 
 him ; and facility of expression is not the least 
 important." 
 
 He praised highly the Xenien of Schiller for their 
 force and sharpness, deeming his own insignificant and 
 pointless in comparison. " Schiller's Thierkreis ," said 
 he, " I read with ever new admiration. The good 
 effects which the Xenien had upon the German 
 literature of their own time are beyond calculation." 
 
132 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 After much more conversation on these subjects, 
 Goethe put aside the papers, and had a little supper 
 placed on one end of the table by which we were 
 sitting. We partook of it, but Goethe touched 
 nothing; as, indeed, I have never seen him eat in the 
 evening. He sat down with us, filled our glasses, took 
 care of the lights, and entertained us with the most 
 agreeable conversation. He was so full of Schiller 
 this evening, that all this part of the conversation 
 turned on him. 
 
 Riemer spoke of Schiller's personal appearance. 
 " His mien, his gait in the street, all his motions," said 
 he, " were proud ; his eyes only were soft." 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " every thing else about him 
 was proud and majestic, only the eyes were soft. And 
 his genius was like his outward form. He seized 
 boldly on a great subject, turning it hither and thither, 
 and looking at it on every side. But he saw, as I may 
 say, only the outside of an object ; he could not enter 
 into it, and quietly unfold it from within. His talent 
 was rather desultory. Thus he was never decided, 
 could never be sure he had done. He often altered 
 parts just before a rehearsal. 
 
 " And, as he went so boldly to work, he did not 
 take sufficient pains to provide his actions with 
 motives. I had trouble enough with him about a 
 scene in his ' William Tell,' where he made Gessler 
 abruptly break an apple from the tree, and bid Tell 
 shoot it from his boy's head. This was very uncon- 
 genial to me, and I urged him to give some motive 
 to Gessler's conduct, by at least making the boy boast 
 to Gessler of his father's dexterity, and say that he 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 133 
 
 could shoot an apple from a tree at a hundred paces' 
 distance. Schiller, at first, could see no need of this ; 
 but, in the end, he yielded. I, on the other hand, by 
 too great attention to motives, injured my pieces for 
 the theatre. My 1 Eugenie,' being nothing but a chain 
 of motives, is not suited to the stage. 
 
 " Schiller's genius was made for the theatre. He 
 constantly grew more and more complete ; but a love 
 for the terrible lingered with him from the time of his 
 ' Robbers,' which, in his 4 prime, still tinged his 
 thoughts. In the prison scene of my ' Egmont,' where 
 the sentence is read to him, Schiller wished to have 
 Alva in the background, muffled in a cloak, and 
 enjoying the sight of Egmont's emotion. Thus Alva 
 was to appear a man of boundless malice, and insatiate 
 in vengeance. I protested, and prevented the appa- 
 rition. However, he was a great and admirable man. 
 
 " Every eight days became he other and greater than 
 before ; each time that I saw him, he seemed to me 
 to have gone forward in knowledge and judgment. 
 His letters are the fairest mementoes of him which 
 I possess, as they are also among the most excellent 
 of his writings. His last letter I preserve, as a 
 consecrated thing, among my treasures." He rose 
 to get it. " See and read for yourself," said he, 
 orivingr it to me. 
 
 It was a very fair letter, yet written in a bold 
 hand. It contained an opinion of Goethe's notes to 
 " Rameau's Nephew," which give an idea of the state 
 of French literature at that time, and which he had 
 lent Schiller to look over. I read the letter aloud 
 to Riemer. " You see," said Goethe, " how precise 
 
 M 
 
134 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 and to the point his judgment is, and that the hand- 
 writing has nowhere any trace of weakness. This 
 magnificent (prächtig) man went from us in the 
 fulness of his powers." 
 
 This letter bears date of 24th April, 1805. Schiller 
 died the 9th May. We examined the letter together, 
 and admired the clear style, and the beautiful writing. 
 Goethe said many more affectionate words of his 
 departed friend. It was nearly eleven when we took 
 our leave. 
 
 Thursday, 24th February. 
 "If I were still superintendent of the theatre," 
 said Goethe, this evening, " I would bring Byron's 
 ' Doge of Venice ' upon the stage. The piece is too 
 long; but I would blot out nothing. I would only 
 take the import of each scene, and try to express it 
 more concisely. The piece would thus become more 
 effective, without losing any of its peculiar beauties." 
 
 I observed that Lord Byron, in his conversations 
 with Medvvin, had said, that to write for the theatre 
 was a difficult task, and one which is not rewarded by 
 gratitude. " That," said Goethe, " depends on the 
 tact of the poet. If he follow the direction which the 
 taste and interest of the public has taken, he will 
 have no cause to complain. Houwald did this with 
 his Bilde, and won universal applause. But the 
 tendency of Lord Byron's mind did not coincide with 
 that of the public. His greatness doth not here avail 
 the poet ; rather are those the greatest favorites who 
 rise but little above the level of the public. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 135 
 
 " No man ever possessed what I call inventive 
 power in a higher dtgree than Lord Byron. His 
 manner of loosing the dramatic knot always surpasses 
 our expectations." 
 
 " That," said I, " is what I feel about Shakspeare, 
 when FalstaflT has entangled himself in such a net 
 of falsehoods, and Shakspeare helps him out so much 
 more dexterously than I had expected." 
 
 Goethe laughed about Lord Byron's slavery to the 
 unities ; that he who never could accommodate himself 
 to the laws by which life is regulated, finally subjected 
 himself to so stupid a law as that. 
 
 " He understood the meaning of this law," said 
 Goethe, " no better than the rest of the world. All 
 such laws are intended to make a work more intelli- 
 gible ; the three unities are only good as they subserve 
 this end. If the observance of them hinders, rather 
 than assists the apprehension of a work, it is foolish 
 to observe them. Even the Greeks, who invented the 
 rule, were not invariably governed by it. ' In the 
 ' Phaeton ' of Euripides, and other pieces, the scene 
 changes, and it is obvious that they were not blindly 
 obedient to their law when it interfered with an 
 advantageous representation of the subject. The 
 pieces of Shakspeare are planned without any regard 
 to the unities of time and place ; but, as they produce 
 a perfect illusion, none more than they, the Greeks 
 would never have found fault with them. The French, 
 by their superstitious adherence to the unities, have 
 injured the illusion ; loosing the dramatic knot, not 
 in dramatic wise, but by narration." 
 
136 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 I called to mind the Feinde of Houwald. The 
 author of this drama certainly *stood in his own light, 
 when he, to preserve the unity of place, injured the 
 illusion in the very first act, and generally sacrificed 
 effect for a whimsey. I thought, too, of Goetz von 
 Berlichingen, where no regard is paid to unity of time 
 or place, but every thing being unfolded at once, and 
 brought before our eyes, nothing can be more dramatic 
 in its effect, or more easy to apprehend, than the piece. 
 I thought that the unities of time and place should be 
 preserved according to the intentions of the Greeks 
 only when the author chooses a subject of limited 
 range, where it may be done naturally ; but that a 
 large subject asks more liberty, especially now that 
 stage arrangements are so favorable to a change of 
 scene. 
 
 Goethe continued to talk of Lord Byron. " Though 
 his disposition," said he, " was always leading him into 
 the illimitable, yet the restraint of the three unities 
 suited him very well. Had he known how to endure 
 moral restraint as well ! That he could not, was his 
 ruin : he himself avows it. 
 
 " But he was much in the dark about himself. He 
 lived impetuously for the dny, and neither knew nor 
 thought what he was doing. Permitting every thing 
 to himself, and excusing nothing in others, how could 
 he but ruin himself, and make the whole world his 
 foe? At the very beginning, he offended the most 
 distinguished literary men by his ' English Bards and 
 Scotch Reviewers.' To be permitted to live after this, 
 he was obliged to go back a step. In his succeeding 
 works, he continued the system of opposition and 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 137 
 
 fault-finding. Church and State were assailed. His 
 reckless conduct, which drove him from England, 
 would at last have driven him from Europe also. 
 Every where it was too narrow for him. In the most 
 perfect personal freedom, he felt himself confined. 
 The world seemed to him a prison. His Grecian 
 expedition was not made of free will ; his false posi- 
 tion in the world obliged him to do something of that 
 sort. 
 
 " His renunciation of what was hereditary or pa- 
 triotic not only injured his fortunes, though so distin- 
 guished a person, but his revolutionary turn, and the 
 constant mental agitation with which it was combined, 
 never permitted his genius a fair development. And 
 the perpetual negation and fault-finding of these other- 
 wise excellent works is pernicious. Not only does 
 the discontent of the writer infect the reader, but the 
 end of all is negation ; that is to say, nothing. If I 
 call bad bad, what do I win ? But if I call good bad, 
 I lose much. He who would work aright must never 
 rail, — must not trouble himself about what is already 
 ill done, — but do well himself. Humanity finds its 
 true joy, not in tearing to pieces, but in building anew. 
 
 " Lord Byron is to be regarded as a man, as an 
 Englishman, and as a great genius. His good qualities 
 belong to the man, his bad to the Englishman and the 
 peer ; his genius is incommensurable. 
 
 " All Englishmen are, as such, without reflection ; 
 distractions and party spirit will not permit them to 
 unfold themselves in quiet. But they are great as 
 practical men." 
 
 M2 
 
138 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " But when he would create, he always succeeds ,' 
 inspiration supplies the place of reflection. He never 
 fails when he speaks out his own feelings as a man. 
 
 " His genius is great; he was born great ; none has 
 greater poetic power. But Shakspeare's individuality 
 is superior. Byron felt this so much, that he talks but 
 little of Shakspeare, though he knew great part of his 
 works by heart. He would willingly have set him 
 aside ; for Shakspeare's cheerfulness was in his way, 
 and gave him a feeling of inferiority. He can talk 
 of Pope, because he does not fear him. He praises 
 him as much as he can, for he knows that Pope is a 
 mere wall to him. 
 
 " His high rank, as an English peer, was very 
 injurious to Byron, for all genius is oppressed by 
 the outer world ; — how much more by high rank 
 and great possessions ! The middle station is most 
 favorable to genius; you find the great artists and 
 poets there. Byron's wild love of freedom would not 
 have been half so dangerous to him in a lower station. 
 But he could do what he pleased, and thus was led 
 to entangle himself a thousand ways. No rank or 
 name could awe him into respect. He spoke out 
 whatever he felt, and so began the war with the 
 world which ended not during his life. 
 
 " It is astonishing how large a portion of his life 
 an English noble passes in elopements and duels. 
 Lord Byron says his father carried off three women. 
 His practice of shooting at a mark shows ' his own 
 daily expectation of duels. 
 
 " He could not live alone. Therefore, notwith- 
 standing all his caprices, he was very indulgent to his 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 139 
 
 associates. He read aloud one evening his beautiful 
 poem on the death of Sir John Moore, and his noble 
 friends could not tell what to make of it. He cared 
 not, but quietly put it away again. Surely, as a poet, 
 he showed himself a very lamb. Some men could not 
 have refrained from an oath or two." 
 
 Wednesday, 20th April. 
 
 Goethe showed me to-night a letter from a young 
 student, who begs the plan for the second part of 
 " Faust," with the design of completing it himself. 
 Without circumlocution, and in the most perfect 
 good faith, this youth manifests his conviction that 
 all other literary efforts of later years have been 
 naught, and that only in his own can it be expected 
 that literature shall bloom again. 
 
 If I should meet young men who long to carry out 
 Nnpoleon's plans of conquest, or one of those young 
 Dilettanti in architecture who think they could com- 
 plete the Cathedral of Cologne, I should not be more 
 surprised and amused, than by this poetical amateur, 
 who fancies he could write the second part of " Faust" 
 because he admires the first. 
 
 Indeed, I think the completion of the Cathedral 
 of Cologne a more practicable enterprise than that 
 of continuing " Faust" on Goethe's plan. For the 
 one is tangible, and capable of mathematical measure- 
 ment ; but what line or measure could avail for a work 
 in which the plan depends on spiritual discernment, 
 the materials must be furnished from so long and 
 rich a life, and the execution requires the tact and 
 practice of a master 1 
 
140 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 He who esteems such a work easy, shows thereby 
 the ordinary texture of an intellect which cannot 
 divine the difficulties which attend every noble achieve- 
 ment, and probably would be unequal to supply the 
 gap of a few lines, if Goethe had left one which 
 required them. I will not in this place inquire why 
 it is that the young men of our day suppose them- 
 selves endowed at their birth with powers which have 
 hitherto required the experiences and labor of many 
 years to bring them to light, but shall content myself 
 with observing, that this presumptuousness, now so 
 common in Germany, which would stride so hastily 
 over the steps of needful culture, affords little hope 
 of our being enriched with new masterpieces. 
 
 " Our misfortune is," said Goethe, " that in the 
 state, nobody can enjoy life in peace, because every 
 body must needs govern ; and in art, that nobody 
 is willing to enjoy what has been produced without 
 immediately trying to reproduce. No poet can be 
 permitted to help himself in a way of his own, unless 
 others can do the same as he does. There is, besides, 
 no one earnest mind which can remember the All, 
 no willingness to be subordinate to a grand design ; 
 but each one tries to play his own part, so that he 
 individually may be observed. We see this at our 
 concerts, where the modern virtuosos, instead of 
 selecting their pieces with a view to giving the 
 audience the highest musical enjoyment, bring forward 
 only those in which they can exact most admiration. 
 Every where you find these people striving to attract 
 attention to their paltry individualities, no where those 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 141 
 
 who care more for the thing they are doing than for 
 their own celebrity. 
 
 " Hence it is that these men become such pitiful 
 botchers, without knowing it. As children, as youths, 
 they keep scribbling, and, when manhood has brought 
 some insight of the true nature of excellence, they 
 look back in despair on the years they have wasted. 
 
 " But many never do get such insight, and keep 
 on doing thinors by halves, content, through life, with 
 this mutilated offspring. 
 
 " Certainly, if they could early enough be made 
 to feel how full the world is already of excellent 
 productions, and how much must be done to produce 
 any thing worthy of being placed beside what has 
 already been produced, — of a hundred youths who are 
 now pouring forth their poems to the public, scarce 
 one would have felt courage to look up to such an 
 aim. 
 
 " Many young painters would have dropped their 
 pencils at once, if they could have felt what an 
 assemblage of rare qualifications is required to con- 
 stitute a Raphael." 
 
 The conversation turned upon false tendencies in 
 general, and Goethe continued — 
 
 " My tendency to practise painting was a false one, 
 for there was in me no talent for the art worth 
 developing. A delicate sensibility to the landscape 
 which surrounded me I did possess by nature, and, 
 consequently, my first attempts looked promising. 
 The journey to Italy took away all my pleasure in 
 practice; the appearance of talent, which sympathy 
 with the object had given, disappeared ; a wider com- 
 
142 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 prehension took its place; but, as neither technical 
 nor aesthetic talents were unfolded, my efforts melted 
 away into nothing at last. 
 
 "It is justly felt, and said, that the complete un- 
 folding of all human powers is the proper aim of man. 
 But the individual is not born for this ; he must 
 content himself with perfecting such powers as he 
 is peculiarly endowed with, only seeking to obtain 
 the Idea which would result from the aggregate of 
 all these individual forces." 
 
 I thought of that passage in Wilhelm Meister, in 
 which it is said that humanity is the sum of all men 
 taken together, and each is only so far worthy of 
 esteem as he knows how to appreciate all. 
 
 I thought, too, of Jarno's words, in the Wander- 
 jahre, where he advises each man to learn some 
 mechanic art, and styles that man the fortunate who 
 understands that this is the time proper to one-sided- 
 ness, and, in that knowledge, keeps at work for 
 himself and others. 
 
 Then comes the question, What occupation shall 
 a man choose, in which he may neither overstep his 
 proper limits, nor do too little ? 
 
 He whose business it is to overlook many depart- 
 ments, to judge, to guide others, has the best oppor- 
 tunity for an insight into many. Thus a prince, 
 or he who would be a statesman, cannot aim too 
 much at such insight ; for many-sidedness is indis- 
 pensable to him. 
 
 The poet, too, should have manifold knowledge, 
 for his subject is the world. 
 
 But, as the poet need be neither a painter nor an 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 143 
 
 actor, though he partly does in words what they do 
 in their different vocations, so should we every way 
 separate insight into a thing from practical power 
 to use it. Each art for its practice requires a life. 
 
 Thus Goethe, while striving for insight to many 
 things, has contented himself with doing well one 
 thing, i. e. writing the German language, {Deutsch zu 
 schreiben.) That his materials are of various nature, 
 affects not his rule as to practice. 
 
 General culture of the tastes is not to be confounded 
 with practical ability ia details. The poet must use 
 every means to cultivate his eye. And, if Goethe's 
 attempts at drawing and painting failed of their object, 
 they were of use in cultivating him as a poet. 
 
 "The objectivity of my poetry," said he, "may be 
 attributed to this discipline of eye ; and I highly 
 prize the knowledge which I have attained in this 
 way. 
 
 " But we must take care not to place too far off even 
 the limits of our culture. 
 
 " The natural philosopher is, perhaps, in most 
 danger of this, because general harmonious culture 
 of the faculties is so necessary to the adequate obser- 
 vation of nature. 
 
 " But, on the other hand, let each man, as soon as 
 he distinctly ascertains what he must know and do in 
 his own department, guard himself against one-sided- 
 ness and narrow views. 
 
 " A poet, who writes for the stage, must understand 
 its capabilities. The opera-composers must have some 
 understanding of poetry, lest they waste their time and 
 
144 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 strength in attempting what, from the nature of things, 
 cannot be accomplished. 
 
 " Von Weber, for instance, must see at once, that 
 the Euryanthe is not a fit subject for him. The 
 painter must know what subjects are fit for him, and 
 what transcend the limits of Art. 
 
 " But, when all is said, the great art is judiciously 
 to limit and isolate one's self." 
 
 Accordingly, he has, ever since I have been with 
 him, been constantly seeking to guard me against 
 distractions, even those which had valuable objects. 
 If I showed an inclination to penetrate the secrets 
 of science, he would advise me to let it alone, and 
 confine myself to poetry for the present. If I wished 
 to read a book which he thought had no bearing on 
 my present pursuits, he would advise me to let it alone, 
 and concentrate my attention as much as possible on 
 my own vocation. 
 
 " I myself," said he, one day, " have spent too much 
 time on things which had no relation to my proper 
 department. When I remember what Lopez de Vega 
 accomplished, the list of my poetical productions 
 seems very scanty. I should have followed my own 
 vocation with more earnestness and constancy." 
 
 " If I had not busied myself so much with stones," 
 said he, another time, " but spent my time on some- 
 thing better, I might have won the finest ornament 
 of diamonds." 
 
 And he highly esteems and praises his friend Meyer 
 for having devoted his life exclusively to the study 
 of Art, and thus having obtained the finest insight 
 into his own department. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 145 
 
 " Though I have spent," said he, " half my life in 
 the contemplation and study of works of art, I am 
 not on a par with Meyer. I never venture to show 
 him a new picture, till I think I have got all I can 
 from it. When I have studied it till I think I am 
 fully acquainted both with its beauties and defects, 
 I show it to Meyer, who fails not to look more sharply 
 into the matter, and give me many new lights. I am 
 ever anew convinced how much is needed to be great 
 in any department. In Meyer lies an insight into art, 
 such as thousands of years may ripen." 
 
 Why, then, it may be asked, if Goethe be persuaded 
 that one man can only do one thing well, has he, 
 beyond all men, turned his activity into various di- 
 rections 1 
 
 I answer, that, if Goethe were now coming upon 
 the stage, and found the literary and scientific culture 
 of this country at the point which it has now, and 
 in good measure through him, attained, he certainly 
 would not turn his attention into such various direc- 
 tions, but concentrate it in one. 
 
 Not only his nature, but the needs of his time, 
 led him to seek and speak on so many subjects. 
 
 A large inheritance of error and incompleteness 
 fell to his share, and called for good management on 
 many sides. 
 
 If the Newtonian theory had not seemed to him 
 highly pernicious to the human mind, he would surely 
 never have devoted so many years' labor to such a 
 work as his Farbenlehre. It was his love of truth, 
 and hatred of error, which forced him to make his 
 pure light shine into this darkness. 
 
 N 
 
146 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 The same may be said of that model for the 
 scientific treatment of a subject, for which we are 
 so greatly indebted to him — the "Metamorphosis of 
 Plants." It is an effort he would never have made, 
 if he had seen any of his contemporaries on the 
 way to make it unnecessary. And I doubt whether 
 he would have written " Wilhelm Meister," if his 
 country had been possessed of any such work. In 
 that case he might probably have devoted himself to 
 the drama. What he might then have accomplished, 
 we cannot know; but, I think, no intelligent man, 
 who looks at all sides of the question, will regret 
 that he went the way his Creator was pleased to 
 call him. 
 
 Thursday, ]2th May. 
 Goethe spoke with great enthusiasm of Menander. 
 " I love him," said he, " next to Sophocles. He is 
 every where noble, genuine, sublime, and cheerful ; 
 his grace and sweetness are unequalled. It is greatly 
 to be lamented that we have so little of his ; but 
 that little is invaluable, gifted men may learn so much 
 from it. 
 
 " The great point is, that he from whom we would 
 learn should be congenial with our nature. Now, 
 Calderon, great as he is, and much as I admire him, 
 could exert no influence over me for good or for ill. 
 But he would have been dangerous to Schiller; he 
 would have led him astray ; it is fortunate for Schiller 
 that Calderon was not generally known in Germany 
 till after his time. Calderon is infinitely great in 
 whatever is technical or theatrical ; Schiller, on the 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 147 
 
 contrary, far more manly, profound, and dignified, in 
 his design. It would have been a pity if he had lost 
 something of his peculiar greatness, without attaining 
 what belonged to Calderon." 
 
 We spoke of Moliere. " Moliere," said Goethe, 
 " is so great, that he astonishes me anew every time 
 I read him. He is a man by himself — his pieces 
 border on tragedy — they are apprehensive — no one 
 dares to imitate them. His 1 Miser,' where all the 
 piety of natural relations is outraged by father and 
 son, is grand, and in a high sense tragic. But when, 
 in the German paraphrase, the son is changed into a 
 relation, the whole is weakened, and loses its signifi- 
 cance. They feared to show the vice as hideous as 
 he did ; but what is there, or any where, tragic, except 
 what is intolerable 1 
 
 " I read some pieces of Moliere's every year, just 
 as I look often at engravings after the works of the 
 great Italian masters. For we little men are not able 
 to retain in the mind the idea of such greatness ; we 
 must return from time to time, and renew the im- 
 pression from the work. 
 
 " People are always talking about originality ; but 
 what do they mean? As soon as we are born, the 
 world begins to work upon us, and keeps on to the 
 end. What can we call ours, except energy, strength, 
 will 1 If I could give an account of what I owe to 
 great predecessors and contemporaries, there would 
 be but a small remainder. 
 
 " However, the time of life in which we are sub- 
 jected to a new and important influence, makes great 
 difference in our reception of it. That Lessing, 
 
148 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Winckelmann, and Kant, were born before me, so 
 that the two first acted upon my youth, and the latter 
 on my riper years, — this circumstance had a great 
 deal to do with my progress. That Schiller was so 
 much younger than I, and engaged in his most 
 earnest strivings, just as I began to be weary of the 
 world, at the same time that the brothers von Hum- 
 boldt and Schlegel were beginning their career under 
 my eye, — these circumstances also have great signifi- 
 cance, and from them I have derived innumerable 
 advantages." 
 
 The conversation then turned on the influence 
 which he had exerted over others. I mentioned 
 Burger, inquiring whether his strong natural tendency 
 had been at all modified by the influence of Goethe. 
 
 " Bürger," said Goethe, " had affinity with me in 
 the nature of his genius; but the tree of his moral 
 culture had its root in a wholly different soil, and 
 sprung up in a wholly different direction. Each 
 man proceeds as he began, in the ascending line of his 
 culture. A man who, in his thirtieth year, could 
 write such a poem as Frau Schnips, had obviously 
 taken a path which must lead him far from mine. 
 Also had he, by his really fine talents, won for 
 himself a public which he perfectly satisfied ; and he 
 had no need of troubling himself about a contempo- 
 rary who was at work in quite another region. 
 
 M Every where, men learn only from men and things 
 which they love. However the growing minds of the 
 present day may be disposed towards me, scarce one 
 man, of any weight, was, for a long while, perfectly 
 satisfied with me. Even with Werther, people found 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 149 
 
 so much fault, that, if I had erased every passage with 
 which some one had been displeased, there would not 
 have been a single line left. But I never have troubled 
 myself about that ; such subjective judgments of indi- 
 viduals are at last rectified by the majority. He who 
 does not expect a million readers had best never write 
 a line. 
 
 " The public have been quarrelling these twenty 
 years, as to which is the greatest — Schiller or I; they 
 ought to rejoice that they know two men worth quar- 
 relling about." 
 
 Saturday, 11th June. 
 
 Goethe talked much at dinner of Major Parry's 
 book upon Lord Byron. He gave it unqualified 
 praise, and remarked that Lord Byron here appears 
 far more complete a character, and more clear in 
 his account of himself and his plans, than in any 
 book which has been written about him. 
 
 " Major Parry," said he, " must be a noble and 
 intelligent man, so fully to have conceived, and so 
 clearly to have represented, the character of his friend. 
 One passage in his book pleases me particularly ; it is 
 worthy of an old Greek — of a Plutarch. ' This 
 noble lord,' says Parry, * was destitute of all the 
 virtues which adorn civil life ; neither birth, education, 
 nor mode of life, assisted him in their attainment, 
 while a large portion of his judges are from the 
 middle class, and blame him for wanting such virtues 
 as they most value in themselves. The good people 
 do not feel that he possessed, for his high station, 
 qualities of whose nature and value they can form no 
 
 N3 
 
150 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 idea.' How do you like that? Do you think any 
 thing so good is to be heard every day ? " 
 
 I replied that I was rejoiced to see expressed a view 
 which must discomfit all little men, who are busied 
 in blaming and pulling down one whose place is 
 above them. 
 
 We then spoke of subjects of national history in 
 relation to poetry, inquiring how far the history of one 
 nation may be more favorable to the poet than another. 
 
 " Let the poet," said Goethe, " seize the Particular, 
 and, if he uses it well, he cannot fail therein to 
 represent the Universal. The English history is ex- 
 cellent for poetry ; it has so healthy, and, therefore, 
 so universal an expression, in its details, and always 
 ideas that must be repeated. The French history, 
 on the other hand, affords no material for poetry, as 
 it represents an era that cannot come again. Thus 
 the literature of the French, in so far as it is founded 
 on their history, stands as something of no universal 
 interest, and which must grow old with its time. 
 
 " The present era of French literature cannot be 
 judged fairly. The German influence causes such 
 a fermentation there, that we probably shall not know 
 the result these twenty years." 
 
 We then talked of the aesthetic school, who labor 
 so hard to express the nature of poetry and the poet 
 in abstract definitions, without ever arriving at any 
 clear resuli 
 
 "What need of these laborious definitions?" said 
 Goethe. " Lively feeling of a situation, and power 
 to express it, constitute the poet." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 151 
 
 Wednesday, 15th October. 
 
 I found Goethe in a very elevated mood this evening, 
 and had the pleasure of hearing from him many 
 significant remarks. We talked over the state of the 
 newest literature, and he said — 
 
 II Deficiency of character in individual writers and 
 seekers is the source of all the evils of our newest 
 literature. 
 
 " Especially in criticism, the world suffers from this, 
 while either falsehoods circulate as verities, or a petty 
 and pitiful truth robs us of something great, which 
 would be far better. 
 
 " Till lately, the world believed in the heroism of a 
 Lucretia, — of a Mucius Scaevola, — and suffered itself, 
 by this belief, to be warmed and inspired. But now 
 comes your historical critic, and says no such persons 
 ever lived, — all this is mere fiction — the result of the 
 great thoughts of the Romans. And if it be so, what 
 care we for so pitiful a truth ? If the Romans had the 
 greatness to invent such stories, shall we not, at least, 
 have the greatness to believe them ? 
 
 "Till lately, I had pleased myself with a noble 
 passage in the thirteenth century, when the Emperor 
 Frederic the Second was at variance with the Pope, 
 and the north of Germany was open to attacks from 
 every side. Asiatic hordes had pressed as far as 
 Silesia, when the Duke von Liegnitz met and terrified 
 them by one great defeat. They turned to Moravia, 
 and were again defeated by Count Sternberg. These 
 valiant men had long been living in my heart as the 
 saviors of Germany. But now comes your historical 
 critic, and says these heroes sacrificed themselves 
 
152 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 quite uselessly — the barbarians were already recalled, 
 and must have returned if they had done nothing. 
 So is the narrative robbed of all its noble patriotic 
 beauty, and become wholly detestable to my thoughts." 
 
 He then spoke of another class of seekers and 
 literary men. 
 
 " I could never," said he, " have fully comprehended 
 how paltry men are, and how little they care for high 
 aims, if I had not had such opportunity to test them 
 in the course of my scientific researches. Now, I saw 
 that most men only care for science in so far as they 
 can get a living by it, and that they are ready to 
 worship any error which they find profitable for this 
 object. 
 
 " In belles lettres, it is no better. There, high aims, 
 genuine love for the true and fair, and desire for 
 diffusing it, are equally wanting. One man cherishes 
 and tolerates another, because he is by him cherished 
 and tolerated in return. True greatness is hateful 
 to them ; they would fain shape the world so that 
 only such as they could find a place in it. Such are 
 the masses; and prominent individuals are little 
 better. 
 
 " 's great talents and extensive learning 
 
 might have conferred the greatest benefits on his 
 country. But his want of character has prevented 
 his effecting such objects, or winning our esteem. 
 
 " We want a man like Lessing. For how was he 
 great, except in character, in his firmness, which 
 could not be moved 1 There are many men as wise, 
 of as extensive culture ; but where shall we find 
 another such character? 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 153 
 
 " Many are full of intellect and knowledge, but they 
 are also full of vanity; and, in their desire to shine 
 before the short-sighted multitude, they forget all 
 shame, all delicacy — nothing is sacred to them. 
 
 " Madame de Genlis was perfectly right to declaim 
 as she did against the bold irreverence of Voltaire. 
 What has the world been profited by all his intellect, 
 since it affords a foundation for nothing? Indeed, 
 what has it not lost, by what, has confused men, and 
 robbed them of their foothold ? 
 
 " What know we at last, and how far can we go 
 with all our fine wit ? 
 
 " Man is not born to solve the problem of the 
 universe, but to find out with what it has to do, and 
 then restrain himself within the limits of his power 
 of comprehension. 
 
 " He cannot measure the transactions of the uni- 
 verse ; neither his powers nor his point of view justify 
 him in such an ambition. The reason of man and the 
 reason of God are very different things. 
 
 " If you grant God omniscience, man cannot be 
 free; if the Divinity knows how I shall act, I must 
 act so. I touch upon this merely as an illustration 
 of how little we can know, and how foolish it is to 
 meddle with divine mysteries. 
 
 " Also, we are not obliged to utter our higher 
 maxims, except when they can benefit the world. 
 Let us keep them within ourselves, when they are 
 not likely to do good without ; they will not fail to 
 diffuse over our actions the mild radiance of a hidden 
 sun." 
 
154 
 
 ECK ERMANN. 
 
 Sunday, 25th December. 
 
 I found Goethe alone this evening, and passed with 
 him some delightful hours. 
 
 " My mind," said he, " has, of late, been burdened 
 by many things. So much good has been flowing in 
 to me on all sides, that the mere ceremony of return- 
 ing thanks has occupied all my time, and prevented 
 me from having any real life. The privileges for the 
 publication of my works have been gradually coming 
 from the Court ; and as the favors came from different 
 individuals, I was obliged to express my sense of them 
 to each separately. Then came the proposals of 
 innumerable booksellers, all of which must be con- 
 sidered, acted upon, and answered. Then my Jubilee 
 has brought me such thousand-fold attentions and 
 benefits, that I have not yet got through with my 
 letters of acknowledgment. And I cannot be content 
 with hollow generalities, but am desirous to say some- 
 thing distinct and appropriate to each one. But now 
 I am almost free, and begin to be again disposed for 
 conversation. 
 
 " I have, of late, made an observation, which I will 
 impart to you. 
 
 " Every thing we do has its results. But the right 
 and prudent does not always lead to good, or contrary 
 measures to bad ; frequently the reverse takes place. 
 Some time since, I made a mistake in one of these 
 transactions with booksellers, and was disturbed that 
 I had done so. But, as circumstances have turned 
 out, it would have been very unfortunate if I had not 
 made that very mistake. Such instances occur fre- 
 quently in life, and it is the observation of them 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 155 
 
 which enables men of the world to go to work with 
 such freedom and boldness." 
 
 I was struck by this remark, which was new to me. 
 
 I then turned the conversation on his own works, 
 and we came upon the elegy " Alexis and Dora." 
 
 " Men blame," said Goethe, " the strong, passionate 
 close of this poem, and would rather the elegy should 
 end gently and peacefully, without that outbreak 
 of jealousy ; but I cannot agree with such an opinion. 
 Jealousy is so manifestly an ingredient of the affair, 
 that the poem would be incomplete if it were not 
 introduced at all. I myself knew a youth who, in the 
 midst of his most impassioned love for an easily-won 
 maiden, cried out, ' But would she not receive another 
 man as readily as me?' " 
 
 I agreed entirely with Goethe, and mentioned the 
 skill with which, in this poem, all is so painted, 
 though with but few strokes, and in little room, that 
 we think we see the life and domestic environment 
 of the persons. " I should think it must be a page 
 from actual experience," said I. 
 
 " I am glad it seems so to you," said Goethe. " Few 
 men have any taste for faithful painting of reality ; 
 they much prefer strange countries and circumstances, 
 in which the fancy may exercise itself unrestrained. 
 
 " There are others, however, who cling too closely to 
 reality, and, wholly wanting the poetic spirit, are severe 
 indeed in their requisitions. For instance, in this very 
 poem, some would have had me give Alexis a servant 
 to carry his bundle, and never dreamt that all that was 
 poetic and idyllic in the situation would have been 
 destroyed by such an arrangement." 
 
156 
 
 ECKERMANN- 
 
 We talked then of "Wilhelm Meister." " There 
 are odd critics in this world," said Goethe ; " they 
 blamed me for letting the hero of this romance live so 
 much in bad company ; but I considered this so called 
 bad company, as a vase, in which I could put every 
 thing good I had to say, and I won thereby a poetical 
 and manifold body for my • work. Had I delineated the 
 so called good society by means of the same, nobody 
 would have read my book. 
 
 " In the seemingly mean details of ' Wilheim 
 Meister,' lies always at bottom a high meaning, which 
 he who has eye, knowledge of the world, and power 
 of comprehension to infer the great from the little, will 
 detect; to others, let it suffice to receive the picture 
 of life as real life." 
 
 Goethe then showed me a very interesting English 
 work, which illustrated all Shakspeare, by engravings. 
 Each leaf embraced, in six small designs, one piece. 
 Verses were written beneath, which recalled the leading 
 ideas and most interesting situations of each work. 
 Thus all these immortal dramas were brought before 
 the eye, as if by processions of marks. 
 
 "It is even terrifying," said Goethe, "to look 
 through this book. It makes me feel the infinite 
 wealth and grandeur of Shakspeare. There is nothing 
 in human life to which he has not given form and 
 voice ; and all with what ease and freedom ! 
 
 " But it is in vain to talk about Shakspeare ; we can 
 never say any thing adequate. I have touched upon 
 the subject in my * Wilheim Meister,' but could do 
 little. He is not a theatre poet; he never thought 
 of the stage; it was far too narrow for his great 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 157 
 
 intellect ; truly, the whole visible world was too 
 narrow. 
 
 " He is even too rich and powerful. Let no mind, 
 which would produce any thing, venture on reading 
 more than one of his dramas yearly. I did well to 
 set him wholly aside when writing « Goetz ' and 
 'Egmont,' and Byron did well in cherishing no 
 admiration for him, and keeping in another way. 
 Calderon and he have been the ruin of many an 
 excellent German. 
 
 " Shakspeare offers us golden apples in silver dishes. 
 We get the silver dishes by studying his works ; but, 
 unfortunately, we have nothing better than potatoes to 
 put into them." 
 
 I laughed, and was delighted with this admirable 
 illustration. 
 
 Goethe showed me a letter from Zelter, describing 
 a representation of Macbeth at the theatre in Berlin, 
 where the music did not correspond with the grand 
 spirit and character of the piece. Goethe's reading 
 gave full effect to Zelter's varied expression, and he 
 often paused, to admire, with me, some striking 
 passage. 
 
 " ' Macbeth/ said he, " is Shakspeare's best acting 
 play, the one in which he shows most understanding 
 of stage effect. But would you see his intellect 
 unfettered, read 1 Troilus and Cressida,' and see 
 how he uses the materials of the Iliad in his fashion." 
 
 We talked of Byron, of the disadvantage to which 
 he appears, when placed beside the innocent cheerful- 
 ness of Shakspeare, and of the lavish and generally not 
 unjust blame, which his manifold works of negation 
 
 o 
 
\ 
 
 158 ECKERMANN. 
 
 had attracted. "Could he," said Goethe, "have got 
 rid, in Parliament, of all the opposition that was in 
 him, he would have stood much higher as a poet ; but, 
 as he scarcely had a chance to speak in Parliament, 
 all which he had in his heart against his nation was 
 repressed, and he had no outlet for it except his poems. 
 Great part of his works of negation might, I think, be 
 fitly designated as suppressed parliamentary speeches." 
 
 We talked of a poet who has lately risen up in 
 Germany, who has become celebrated in a short time, 
 but whose tendency to negation is indefensible. 
 "Undoubtedly," said Goethe, "he possesses many 
 shining qualities, but then he is wanting in — Love. 
 He loves his readers and his fellow-poets no better 
 than himself, so that we are constantly tempted to 
 address him in the words of the apostle — ' Though I 
 speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have 
 not charity, I am become as sounding brass and a 
 tinkling cymbal.' 
 
 " I have lately read one of his poems, and his genius 
 is not to be denied ; but without Love he can never 
 make himself all he might be. He will be feared, and 
 be the idol of those who would gladly distinguish 
 themselves by denying as much as he does, if they had 
 but his genius." 
 
 Sunday evening, 29th January, 1826. 
 The most celebrated German improvisatore, Dr. 
 Wolff, of Hamburg, has been here several days, and 
 has given public exhibitions of his rare talent. On 
 Friday evening, he gave us a very brilliant exhibition 
 before the Court of Weimar, and a numerous audi- 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 159 
 
 ence ; that same day he received an invitation to dine 
 with Goethe. 
 
 I talked with him after he had improvised before 
 Goethe. He was much delighted, and declared that 
 this hour would make an epoch in his life ; for Goethe, 
 in a few words, had opened to him a wholly new path, 
 and had, in his criticisms, hit the right nail on the 
 head. 
 
 This evening, as I was at Goethe's, the conversation 
 turned immediately on Wolff. "He congratulates 
 himself greatly," said I, " on the good advice your 
 excellency has given him." 
 
 " I was perfectly free with him," said Goethe, " and 
 if my words have made such an impression on him, 
 that is a very good sign. His talents are indubitable ; 
 but he has the general sickness of the day — -sub- 
 jectivity — and I would fain heal him. I gave him 
 this task to try him : — * Paint for me,' said I, 'your 
 return to Hamburg.' He began immediately to pour 
 out melodious verses. I could not but admire his 
 facility, yet I could not praise him ; for he painted no 
 return to Hamburg, but merely those emotions which 
 any one might experience on returning to his parents, 
 relations, and friends; and his poem no more deserved 
 the name of return to Hamburg, than to Merseburg or 
 Jena. Yet, what an individual, peculiar city is Ham- 
 burg ! and what a rich field it would have offered him 
 for striking pictures, if he had known or ventured 
 to take hold of the subject properly ! " 
 
 I remarked that this subjective tendency was the 
 fault of the public, which applauds nothing so much 
 as sentimentality. 
 
160 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 "Perhaps so," said Goethe; "yet is the public 
 well pleased if you offer something better. I am 
 certain, if a man of such genius as Wolff could 
 improvise faithful sketches of real life in great cities, 
 such as Rome, Naples, Vienna, Hamburg, or London, 
 so that they might believe they saw with their own 
 eyes, his hearers would be enchanted. I am sure he 
 might break through to the objective, for he is not 
 without imagination ; but, if he does not soon take the 
 right path, it will be too late." 
 
 " That," said I, " will not be easy, since it demands 
 entire regeneration of his modes of thought. Even 
 if he succeeds, he must, for some time, stop producing, 
 and will require long practice to make the objective 
 style as natural as the present." 
 
 " Yet," said Goethe, " let him take courage, and 
 venture. It is in such matters as in going to bathe — 
 disregard the first chill, and a new element is yours. 
 Must not the singer find new tones, not natural to his 
 throat, if he would do justice to his art ? Just so with 
 the poet ; — he deserves not the name when he only 
 speaks out those few subjective feelings which are his 
 as an individual. Only when he can appropriate and 
 tell the story of the world is he a poet ; and there he 
 is inexhaustible, and can be always new, while your 
 subjective writer has soon talked out his limited 
 knowledge, and is ruined by mannerism. We are 
 bid to study the ancients ; yet what does that avail us, 
 if it does not teach us to study the real world, and 
 reproduce that? — for there was the source of the 
 power of the ancients." 
 
 He walked to and fro a few minutes, while I re- 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 101 
 
 mained seated at the table, as he likes to have me. 
 Then, after standing a moment at the stove, he came 
 to me, his finger on his lips, and said, 
 
 " I will now tell you something, of which I think 
 you will find frequent confirmation in your experience. 
 When eras are on the decline, all tendencies are 
 subjective ; but, on the other hand, when matters are 
 ripening for a new epoch, all tendencies are objective. 
 Our present time is retrograde, therefore subjective; 
 we see this not more clearly in poetry than in painting, 
 and other ways. Each manly effort, on the contrary, 
 turns its force from the inward to the outward world, 
 In important eras, those who have striven and acted 
 most manfully were all objective in their nature." 
 
 These remarks led to a most interesting conversation 
 upon the great deeds of the fifteenth and sixteenth 
 centuries. 
 
 The conversation now turned upon the theatre, and 
 the weak, sentimental, gloomy productions which now 
 disgrace it. 
 
 " Moliere is my strength and consolation at present," 
 said I; "I have been translating his Avare, and am 
 now busy with his Medicin malgre lui. Moliere is 
 indeed a great, a genuine man." 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, "a genuine man; that is 
 indeed his proper praise. There is nothing borrowed 
 or factitious in him. He ruled the manners of his 
 day, while our Iffland and Kotzebue are ruled by 
 theirs, and every way limited and confined. Moliere 
 chastised men by painting them just as they were." 
 
 " What would I not give," said I, " to see his 
 dramas properly acted ! Yet are such things much 
 
 OS 
 
162 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 too strong and natural for our public. Is not this 
 over-refinement to be attributed to the so called ideal 
 literature of certain authors?" 
 
 " No," said Goethe, " it has its source in society 
 itself. Now, we have young girls at the theatre ; when 
 Moliere wrote, nobody came to see his pieces but 
 men and women, who know things as they are. In 
 his day, young girls were in their proper place, the 
 cloister ; but, since they have once got the entree, 
 we must needs be discreet for their sake; and one 
 who, like me, does not like such weak dramas, had 
 best stay away, as I do. I ceased to feel really in- 
 terested in the theatre when I ceased to be able to 
 improve their acting. It was my delight to bring 
 dramatic arrangements to their perfection among us, 
 and when a piece was given, I sympathized less with 
 it than with the actors. I noted the faults of each ; 
 I sent a written account of them to the manager, and 
 was sure I should not see them again. Now, if I were 
 present, I must endure faults and defects without any 
 hope of reforming them. And so about the reading 
 of pieces. Why must the young German poets be 
 eternally sending me tragedies ? Formerly, I con- 
 sented to read them, to see whether they were fit to 
 play. What have I to do now with the works of these 
 young people ? I get nothing by reading things so 
 badly done, and I can do no good when they have 
 already finished. If they would send one, instead 
 of printed plays, plans for plays, it might be worth 
 my while to say, ' Do this,' or 1 Don't do that,' and 
 then my trouble might not be wholly vain. The chief 
 difficulty is in this, — that poetic culture is so general 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 163 
 
 in Germany that nobody now ever makes a bad verse. 
 These young poets who send me their works, are 
 not inferior to their predecessors, and, since you can 
 praise them so highly, they cannot understand why 
 you will not praise them more. Yet how can we 
 praise them, when there is so much talent just of that 
 degree in the market, and they bring us what we do 
 not need, while so many useful things remain undone ? 
 Were there so much as one who towered above the 
 rest, it would be well, for the world can be served 
 only by what is extraordinary. 
 
 Thursday, 16th February, 1826. 
 I went, at seven this evening, to Goethe. I sat down 
 by the table, and told him that yesterday I had seen, 
 at the inn, the Duke of Wellington, who was passing 
 through, on his way to St. Petersburg. " Indeed ! " said 
 Goethe; "tell me all about it. Does he look like his 
 portrait? " 
 
 " Yes," said I ; " but his face is better. It is very 
 distinguished, and when you have once looked at 
 himself, all the portraits are nought. It is one 
 of those faces, which, once seen, are never forgotten. 
 His brown eyes are very clear and brilliant ; his look 
 is impressive ; his mouth speaks, even when it is shut ; 
 he looks a man who has had many thoughts, and who 
 has lived through the greatest deeds, who now can 
 look upon the world with serene satisfaction, for he 
 has vanquished all hostile powers. He seemed to me 
 as hard and keen as a Damascus blade. He looks 
 near fifty, upright, of a good mien, but rather thin. 
 I saw him get into his carriage : his manner, as he 
 
I 
 
 164 ECKERMANN. 
 
 passed througn the crowd assembled at the door, and 
 slightly touched his hat in reply to their salutations, 
 was unusually cordial." Goethe listened with visible 
 interest. "You are a gainer," said he; "you have 
 seen a hero." I lamented that I had never seen 
 Napoleon. 
 
 " Truly," said Goethe, " that also was worth the 
 trouble. He looked, as he was, the compendium 
 of a world." 
 
 I had brought with me for Goethe a poem, of which 
 I had spoken to him some evenings before — one of his 
 own, written so long since that he has quite forgotten 
 it. It was printed in a Frankfort periodical, of the 
 year 1776. An old servant of Goethe brought it to 
 Weimar, and by this means it had fallen into my 
 hands. Undoubtedly it is the earliest known poem 
 of his. The subject was the " Descent of Christ into 
 Hell ; " and it was remarkable to observe the readiness 
 of the young composer with his religious images. The 
 design of the poem might have suited Klopstock ; but 
 its execution was wholly unlike any thing of his. It 
 was stronger, freer, more graceful, had greater energy 
 and better arrangement. The glowing style recalled 
 his youth, full of impetuosity and power. It was 
 longer than the material warranted. 
 
 As soon as Goethe saw the yellow, worn-out paper, 
 he remembered his poem. " Perhaps," said he, 
 " Fraulein von Klettenberg induced me to write it, 
 for I see by the heading that it was written by request, 
 and I know not any other friend likely to have given 
 me such a subject. I was very poor in materials then, 
 and was rejoiced when I could get any thing fit to 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 165 
 
 sing. A day or two ago, a poem of that period came 
 before my eye, which I wrote in the English language, 
 in which I complained of the dearth of poetic subjects. 
 We Germans are ill off in that respect; our old 
 national poems lie too remote, and the later want 
 general interest, because we have no general govern- 
 ment. Klopstock tried Arminius, but all that lies too 
 far off ; nobody feels any connection with it, or knows 
 what he shall do with it. Accordingly, Klopstock's 
 work has never been popular, or produced any valuable 
 results. I made a happy hit with my Goetz von 
 Berlichingen; that was bone of my bone, and flesh 
 of my flesh, and writing it was delightful. 
 
 " For Werther and Faust I was obliged to 
 draw upon my own bosom ; I found but a small part 
 ready to my hand. I made but once devils and 
 witches, and I was glad when I h.ad consumed my 
 northern inheritance, and turned to the tables of the 
 Greeks. Had I earlier known how many excellent 
 things have been in existence, for hundreds and 
 thousands of years, I should have written no line ; 
 I should have had enough else to do." 
 
 26th March, 1826. 
 Goethe was in one of his pleasantest moods. He 
 had received something he highly valued, Lord Byron's 
 manuscript of the dedication to his " Sardanapalus." 
 He showed it to us after dinner, at the same time 
 teasing his daughter to give him back Byron's letter 
 from Genoa. " You see, my dear child," said he, 
 " I have now every thing collected which relates to my 
 connection with Byron ; and now I am enriched with 
 
166 
 
 ECKERAIANN. 
 
 this valuable paper, nothing is wanting but that letter." 
 But the lovely admirer of Byron would not be per- 
 suaded to restore the letter. " You gave it to me 
 once, my father," said she, " and I shall not part 
 with it ; and if you wish, as is fit, that like should 
 be with like, you had better give me the other 
 manuscripts, and I will keep them together." This 
 Goethe positively refused, and they continued the 
 playful contention for some time. 
 
 After he had risen from table, and the ladies had 
 gone out, Goethe brought from his work-room a red 
 portfolio, which he took to the window, and showed 
 me its contents. " Here," said he, " I have every 
 thing together which relates to my connection with 
 Lord Byron. Here is his letter from Leghorn ; here 
 a copy of his dedication, my own poem, and what I 
 wrote for ' Medwin's Conversations ; ' now, I only 
 need the letter from Genoa, and she will not let me 
 have it." 
 
 Goethe had been interested to-day more particularly 
 about Byron by a letter from England. His mind 
 was just now full of him, and he said a thousand 
 interesting things about his works, and the character 
 of his genius. 
 
 " The English," said he, among other things, " may 
 think of Byron as they please ; they certainly have no 
 poet like him. He is different from the others, and, 
 in many respects, greater." 
 
 Monday, 15th May. 
 He talked about St. Schutze, and he spoke of him 
 with much partiality. " When I was ill a few weeks 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 167 
 
 since," said he, " I took great pleasure in reading his 
 Heiteren Stunden. If Schutze had lived in England, 
 he would have made an epoch ; his gift both of ob- 
 serving and depicting was so distinguished, that he 
 needed nothing but the sight of life on a larger 
 scale." 
 
 Thursday, 1st June. 
 Goethe spoke of the " Globe." " The contributors," 
 said he, " are men of the world, cheerful, clear in 
 their views, bold to the last degree. They find fault 
 in the most polished manner ; — very unlike our 
 German literati, who always think they must hate 
 those who differ from them in opinion. I consider 
 the ' Globe ' as one of our most interesting periodicals, 
 and, indeed, could not do without it." 
 
 Wednesday, 26th July. 
 
 This evening, I had the pleasure of hearing Goethe 
 talk at length about the theatre. 
 
 I told him that one of my friends intended to pre- 
 pare for the stage Lord Byron's " Two Foscari." 
 Goethe doubted his success. 
 
 "He makes a common mistake," he said. "When 
 a piece produces a deep impression on us in reading, 
 we think it will do the same on the stage; but, in 
 reality, no piece that is not originally, by the intent 
 and discretion of the poet, written for acting, ever 
 succeeds on the stage. I have given myself infinite 
 trouble with my Goetz von Bcrlichingen, yet it never 
 will be fit for acting. In fact, it is too long, and I 
 ought to divide it into two parts, regarding the first 
 
168 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 as an introduction merely. The first part snould 
 be given once only, as an introduction to the other, 
 and then the second could be played repeatedly. 'Tis 
 the same with Wallenstein ; ' The Picolomini ' does 
 not bear repetition, but 1 Wallenstein's Death ' was 
 always seen with delight." 
 
 I asked what was most requisite to make a piece 
 fit for the theatre. 
 
 " It must be symbolical," replied Goethe; ' ' that is 
 to say, that each incident must be significant by itself, 
 and yet lead naturally to something more important. 
 The Tartuffe of Moliere is, in this respect, a great 
 example. What an admirable exposition the first 
 scene gives at the very beginning ! and every thing 
 is significant, yet leads us to expect something still 
 more important which is to come. The beginning 
 of Lessing's Minna von Barnhelm is also admirable ; 
 but there is nothing like the Tartuffe. 
 
 " You find the same perfect adaptation to the theatre 
 in Calderon. His pieces are throughout fit for the 
 boards. Calderon combined with his genius the finest 
 understanding." 
 
 " 'Tis singular," said I, " that the dramas of Shak- 
 speare are not better adapted to the theatre, since 
 he wrote them all for the stage." 
 
 " Shakspeare," replied Goethe, " wrote those pieces 
 direct from his own nature. In his time, there was 
 nothing in stage arrangements to constrain him. Do 
 what he chose, he need not fear to displease ; but, 
 if Shakspeare had written for the Court of Madrid, 
 or for that of Louis XIV., he would probably have 
 adapted himself to a severer theatrical form. We 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 169 
 
 need not regret that he did not, for what he has lost 
 as a dramatist, he has gained as a poet; he is a 
 great pschychologist ; from him we learn the mind 
 of man." 
 
 We then talked of the difficulties in managing a 
 theatre. Goethe said the chief was to keep the 
 repertory full of good tragedies, operas, and comedies, 
 in proper acting order, and at the same time to make 
 proper use of occasions to introduce novelties. He 
 observed that we are now so rich in good pieces, 
 that the connoisseur may easily make an excellent 
 selection ; but it is very difficult to keep them in a 
 state of readiness for the stage. 
 
 " When Schiller and I had the care of the theatre, 
 we had the great advantage of keeping it open during 
 summer in Lauchstedt. Here we had a select audience, 
 who liked nothing that was not good ; so we returned 
 in autumn, well versed in the best plays, and used 
 again, in the winter, the preparations we had made 
 in the summer ; and the Weimar public had such 
 confidence in our judgment that, even if they did not 
 fully appreciate what they saw, they had confidence 
 there was something valuable in it, or we should not 
 have presented it to them. 
 
 " In the year ninety," continued Goethe, " the 
 period of my interest in the theatre was already gone 
 by ; my mind was entirely turned from the drama to 
 epic poetry ; but Schiller revived my interest, and for 
 love of him I again paid some attention to the theatre. 
 At the time when I wrote ' Clavigo,' I could easily 
 have followed it up with a dozen such pieces. I had 
 plenty of subjects, and production was easy to me. 
 
 p 
 
170 ECKERMANN. 
 
 I might have written a piece every eight days, and 
 I am sorry I did not." 
 
 Wednesday, 8th November. 
 
 Goethe spoke again of Lord Byron. " I have," 
 said he, " just read once more his ' Deformed Trans- 
 formed,' and admire his genius more than ever. His 
 demon was suggested by Mephistophiles. It is, 
 however, no imitation, but a new and original crea- 
 tion of great merit. There are no weak passages, 
 not a place where you could put the head of a pin, 
 where you do not find invention and thought. But 
 for his hypochondriacal negative turn, he would have 
 been as great as Shakspeare — as the ancients." I 
 expressed surprise at such an assertion. 
 
 " You may believe me," said Goethe, " the more 
 I study him, the more I think so." 
 
 Some time ago, Goethe had remarked that Byron 
 had too much empiricism. I did not understand 
 exactly what he meant ; but I forbore to ask, and 
 thought of it in silence. However, I got nothing by 
 thinking of it, and found that I must wait till my 
 improved culture, or some happy circumstance, should 
 unlock the secret for me. Such a one I found 
 to-day, when I had seen at the theatre an excellent 
 representation of " Macbeth," and afterwards took 
 up Byron to read his " Beppo." By comparing the 
 impression received from this poem with that which 
 Macbeth had left upon my mind, I learned to 
 conjecture. In " Macbeth," a spirit had impressed 
 me, whose grandeur and sublimity could have been 
 created only by a Shakspeare. You saw there the 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 171 
 
 natural dower of a high and deep nature. Whatever 
 this piece has of knowledge of the world or experience, 
 is quite subordinate to its poetic spirit, and serves 
 only to assist interpretation. The great poet rules 
 and raises us, even to his own point of view. 
 
 In " Beppo," on the contrary, I found the empiric 
 uppermost, too powerful even over the mind which 
 introduces it to us. I found not here, as in " Macbeth," 
 the great and genuine thoughts of a highly-gifted poet. 
 The influence of the world was every where apparent. 
 He seemed to be on the same level with all intellectual 
 men of the world, who have the advantage of high 
 rank, and is in no way distinguished above them, 
 except by the superiority of talent, which makes him 
 their mouth-piece. 
 
 So I felt, in reading " Beppo," that Lord Byron had 
 too much empiricism, not because he brought real 
 life too much before us, but because his higher poetic 
 nature is often subordinated or even silenced. 
 
 Wednesday, November 29, 1826. 
 
 I had just been reading Lord Byron's " Deformed 
 Transformed," and talked with Goethe about it after 
 dinner. " The first scenes," said he, " are full of 
 poetry ; the remainder, about the siege of Rome, and 
 the rest, are not poetical, yet full of significance." 
 " It is not difficult," said I, " to be so epigrammatic 
 when one, like him, respects nothing." 
 
 He smiled. " You are not wrong," said he. ** We 
 must confess the poet oversteps the limits of decorum. 
 He tells us truths, but truths so disagreeable, that 
 we should love him better if he held his peace. There 
 
172 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 are things in this world, which the true poet rather 
 conceals than discloses ; but as to Byron, you might as 
 well wish to annihilate him as wish him other than he 
 is; so decided is his character." 
 
 " Do you remember," said I, ft the passage, 
 
 * The devil speaks truth much oftener than 'tis deemed ; 
 He hath an ignorant audience ? " 
 
 " That is as good as one of Mephistophiles' say- 
 ings." 
 
 " Since we are talking of Mephistophiles," con- 
 tinued Goethe, " I will show you something which 
 Coudray brought me from Paris." And he brought in 
 an engraving, representing the scene where Faust and 
 Mephistophiles, on their way to free Margaret from 
 her imprisonment, are rushing by the gallows on two 
 horses. Faust rides a black horse, which gallops wildly 
 on, and seems as much afraid of the ghost beneath 
 the gallows as his rider. They ride so fast that Faust 
 can scarcely keep his seat. The current of air which 
 he raises has blown off his hat, which, fastened by 
 straps about his neck, flies behind him. His fearful, 
 inquiring face is turned to Mephistophiles, to whose 
 words he is listening. Mephistophiles, on the contrary, 
 rides on in tranquillity, untroubled and unassailed, 
 like a being of a higher nature. He rides no living 
 horse, for he loves not what is living ; indeed, he does 
 not need it, for his will is sufficient to move him 
 wherever he pleases. He has a horse merely to save 
 appearances ; he seems to have snatched up the first 
 skeleton he could find. It is white, and shines in the 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 173 
 
 darkness of night with phosphoric brilliancy ; it is 
 neither bridled nor saddled, yet runs fleetly. The 
 supernatural rider sits negligently, his face turned 
 towards Faust, as if in conversation. The opposing 
 element of air is for him as if it were not ; neither 
 he nor his horse shows any trace of it." 
 
 I expressed much pleasure in this composition. 
 " Indeed," said Goethe, " I myself did not think it 
 out so perfectly. Now look at this other." 
 
 The wild scene of Auerbach's cellar is represented 
 in the other, at the moment when the wine sparkles 
 up into flames, and those present show their intoxica- 
 tion in various ways. All is passion and motion ; 
 Mephistophiles alone maintains his usual composure. 
 He cares not for the wild cursing and screaming, and 
 the drawn knife of the man who stands next him 
 moves him not a whit. He sits on the corner of the 
 table, dangling his legs. His upraised finger is enough 
 to subdue flame and passion. 
 
 The more you looked at this fine design, the more 
 admirable seemed the art ; for no figure resembled 
 another, and each one expressed some essential part of 
 the action. 
 
 " Delacroix," said Goethe, " is a man of distin- 
 guished genius, who found in * Faust 1 the very aliment 
 his mind needed. The wildness for which his country- 
 men blame him stands him in stead here. I hope he 
 will illustrate all 1 Faust/ and I anticipate a special 
 pleasure from the scenes in the witches' kitchen and on 
 the Brocken. You see here the extensive experience 
 of life, for which a city like Paris has given him such 
 opportunity." 
 
 p3 
 
174 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 I observed that these designs greatly assist the 
 comprehension of a poem. 
 
 " Undoubtedly," said Goethe ; " for the more perfect 
 conception of such an artist constrains us to find as 
 many beauties in the subject as he did. And, if I 
 must confess, Delacroix has, in many instances, sur- 
 passed my own idea of the scenes which I myself 
 originated. Surely, then, the mere reader may find 
 his imagination quickened by their aid." 
 
 Monday, 11th December. 
 I found Goethe in an animated and happy mood. 
 " Alexander von Humboldt has passed some hours 
 with me this morning," said he, coming to meet me 
 with great vivacity ; " what a man he is ! Long as 
 I have known him, he is continually astonishing me 
 anew. I may say he has not his equal in knowledge, 
 in living wisdom ; and such many-sidedness I have 
 found no where else. Wherever you call upon him, 
 you find him at home, every where ready to lavish 
 upon you the intellectual treasures he has amassed. 
 He is like a fountain with many pipes ; you need 
 only to get a vessel to hold under it, on any side 
 refreshing streams flow at a mere touch. He is to 
 stay some days ; and I shall feel, when he goes away, 
 as if I had lived years during his visit." 
 
 Wednesday, 13th December. 
 At table, the ladies praised a portrait by a young 
 painter. " What is most surprising," said they, " he 
 has learned every thing by himself." You could see 
 that, indeed, by the hands, which are not in correct 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 175 
 
 drawing. " This young man," said Goethe, " has 
 talent ; but you should not praise, but rather scold him, 
 for learning every thing by himself. Let no man of 
 talent rely on his natural resources, but devote himself 
 to art, and seek out good masters, who will show him 
 what to do with what he has. I have, to-day, read a 
 letter from Mozart, where he, in reply to a Baron who 
 had sent him his composition, wrote as follows : — 
 
 " ' I must scold you Dilettanti for two faults, which 
 I usually find among you ; either you have no thoughts 
 of your own, and take up with those of others, or, 
 if you have thoughts of your own, you never find out 
 what to do with them.' 
 
 " Is not this admirable (himmlisch) 1 and does not 
 this fine remark, which Mozart makes about music, 
 apply to all the other arts 1 
 
 " Leonardo da Vinci said, ' If your son knows not 
 how to bring out his drawings by deep shades, so 
 round that one can take hold of the forms with his 
 hands, he has no talent ; ' and further says Leonardo, 
 ' After your son has become perfectly acquainted with 
 perspective and anatomy, put him to a good master.' 
 And now-a-days our young artists scarce understand 
 either when they leave their masters, so are times 
 changed. 
 
 " But, indeed, our young painters are every way 
 deficient. Their creations say nothing and do nothing. 
 They paint swords that cannot pierce, and darts that 
 cannot hit; and I often feel as if the soul of things 
 were quite vanished out of the world." 
 
 " And yet," said I, " we might expect that the great 
 events of the late wars would have called forth talent." 
 
176 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " They called forth," replied Goethe, " more eager- 
 ness than talent, and more talent for politics than for 
 art, and all naivete and fulness of meaning is more 
 than ever wanting ; yet how will a painter, destitute 
 of these attributes, produce any thing which can 
 bestow a genuine joy 1 " 
 
 # # # # # * # # 
 
 <l I have now," continued Goethe, " been observing 
 painting in Germany for fifty years or more, and not 
 merely observed, but lent a hand also, so that I am not 
 rash in saying that little is to be expected in that 
 quarter, unless, indeed, a great genius should come, 
 which can appropriate all which has been done so 
 far, and make it the means of far higher excellence. 
 The means are all here, and the way marked out. 
 Have we not even the works of Phidias before our 
 eyes 1 — a piece of good fortune, of which, in youth, 
 I could not so much as dream. Perhaps the great 
 genius that we need so much, is now in the cradle, 
 and you may live to see its glory." 
 
 Wednesday, 3d January, 1827. 
 At dinner, we talked over Canning's excellent 
 speech upon Portuguese affairs. " Some people," 
 said Goethe, " call this speech a blunder ; but these 
 are people who know not what they want, unless 
 it be to cabal against all greatness. They are like 
 the Frondeurs ; they must have something great, 
 that they may hate it. In Napoleon's time, they 
 were never at a loss; after his fall, they assailed the 
 Holy Alliance, than which nothing greater or more 
 beneficial to mankind ever existed. Now it is 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 177 
 
 Canning's turn. His speech upon Portugal was 
 dictated by a grand consciousness of the extent 
 of his power and the dignity of his position ; and 
 he is in the right to speak as he feels. The Sans 
 Culottes cannot understand this; and what to us 
 seems sublime, is mere stupidity in their eyes. The 
 grand disturbs them; they are not so constituted 
 as to understand, and cannot endure it." 
 
 Thursday evening, 4th January. 
 
 Goethe praised highly the poems of Victor Hugo. 
 " He is," said he, " a man of decided genius, on 
 whom German literature has had an influence. His 
 poetic youth has, unfortunately, been disturbed by the 
 pedantry of the classic school; but now he has the 
 1 Globe' on his side, and has won the game. I am 
 inclined to compare him with Manzoni. He has much 
 objectivity, and seems to me quite as important a per- 
 sonage as De la Martine and De la Vigne. On close 
 survey, I see the source of this and other fresh talent. 
 Chateaubriand, who is really distinguished for his 
 rhetorical and poetical talents, was their founder. 
 That you may see how Victor Hugo writes, read 
 now this poem upon Napoleon — Les deux Isles." 
 
 He gave me the book, and went to the stove. I 
 read the poem. " Has he not fine images," said 
 Goethe, " and has not he managed the subject with 
 great freedom of spirit?" He came back to me. 
 " Only see how fine is this passage." He read that 
 of the storm-cloud, from which the lightning darts 
 upward against the hero. " That is fine ; the image 
 is correct : among the mountains we often have the 
 
178 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 storm beneath us, and may be supposed to see the 
 lightning dart upwards." 
 
 " I praise the French," said I, " for never deserting 
 the firm ground of reality. We can translate their 
 poems into prose, without losing any of the sub- 
 stance." 
 
 " That," said Goethe, " is because the French poets 
 have real knowledge, while our German simpletons 
 fancy they shall injure their talent, if they labor for 
 the knowledge which is, in fact, necessary nourishment 
 to talent. But let them pass; we can do them no 
 good, and real talent will find its way. Many young 
 poets, who are now before the public, have no real 
 talent, but have been excited to vain attempts by 
 the high state of literature in this country. 
 
 " That the French have passed from their former 
 pedantry into this free manner, is n<jt surprising. 
 Diderot, and minds like his, sought to break open 
 this path. The revolution and the reign of Napoleon 
 both favored this ; for, if those warlike days were 
 refreshing to the interests of poetry, and allowed no 
 fair play to the Muses, yet they fashioned a multitude 
 of intellects to freedom, who now, in times of peace, 
 can meditate and produce." 
 
 The conversation turned upon painting, and on the 
 mistakes of the school who so superstitiously worship 
 antiquity, (alterthümelnden Schule.) "You do not 
 consider yourself a connoisseur," said Goethe ; " but 
 I will show you a picture, painted, too, by one of the 
 best living German artists, where you will perceive, 
 at a glance, glaring offences against the primary rules 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 179 
 
 of art. You will be pleased with parts, dissatisfied 
 with the picture as a whole, and will not know what 
 to make of it ; not because he has not talent, but 
 because his judgment, which should have directed that 
 talent, is completely darkened, like that of all these 
 bigots to antiquity; so that he ignores the perfect 
 masters, and takes pattern from their imperfect 
 predecessors. 
 
 " Raphael and his contemporaries broke through the 
 limitations of mannerism, to nature and freedom. And 
 now, our artists, instead of being thankful, and using 
 these advantages to proceed on the good way, wish 
 to return to the limitations. 
 
 " It is hard to understand this provoking obscuration 
 of their intellects ; and, since art will not sustain them 
 in this course, they seek support from religion and 
 party spirit ; if they did not, they could not uphold 
 themselves in such weakness. 
 
 " There is, through all art, a filiation. If you see a 
 great master, you will find that he has built up his great- 
 ness upon the achievements of his predecessors. Men 
 like Raphael grow not from the ground. They take 
 root in the antique, and the best which has been done 
 before them. Had they not used the advantages of 
 their time, little would have been said of them in 
 ours." 
 
 # * #* ** * # 
 
 Sunday evening, 12th January. 
 Goethe had a small musical party. The performers 
 were the Eberwein family, and some members of the 
 orchestra. Among the few hearers were General 
 
180 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Superintendent Röhr, Hofrath Vogel, and some ladies. 
 At Goethe's request, they performed a quartette, by a 
 celebrated young composer. Karl Ebervvein, a boy 
 twelve years old, played the piano entirely to Goethe's 
 satisfaction, — indeed, admirably, — and all the parts 
 were well performed. 
 
 " 'Tis strange," said Goethe, " this state to which 
 the great improvements in the technical and me- 
 chanical part have brought our late composers. Their 
 productions are no longer music ; they go quite beyond 
 the level of human feelings, and the mind and heart 
 answer no more. How do you feel ? For my part, 
 I hear with my ears only." 
 
 I replied that I fared no better. 
 
 " Yet that Allegro," said he, " had character ; that 
 whirling and twirling brought before my mind the 
 witches' dance on the Blocksberg." 
 
 After we had taken refreshments, Goethe asked 
 Madame Eberwein for some songs. She sang, to 
 Zelter's music, the beautiful song, Um Mitternacht, 
 which made the deepest impression. 
 
 " That song," said Goethe, " remains beautiful, hear 
 it as often as you will ! There is something eternal, 
 indestructible, in that melody ! " 
 
 The Erl König obtained great applause, and the aria, 
 Ich hab's gesagt der guten Mutter, made every one 
 say the music suited it so entirely, no one could even 
 have wished it otherwise. Goethe himself was ex- 
 tremely pleased. Some songs from his Divan were 
 sung with equal success. 
 
 After our friends had gone, I staid for a moment, 
 and he said — "I observe that those songs from the 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 181 
 
 Divan are quite gone by for me. The Oriental and 
 impassioned elements have died out ; or, rather, I have 
 left them behind, as the snake leaves on his path the 
 old skin he has cast by. Um Mitternacht, on the 
 contrary, is a part of me, and will live with me while 
 I live. 
 
 " Oftentimes, my old productions seem wholly strange 
 to me. To-day, I read a passage in French, and 
 thought — 4 This man speaks discreetly enough — thou 
 mightst thyself have said the same ' — when, lo, I find 
 it is a passage translated from my own writings ! " 
 
 Monday evening, January 15th. 
 
 After the completion of " Helena," Goethe had 
 employed the latter days of the summer upon the 
 Wanderjahre. He often talked to me about the 
 progress of this work. 
 
 " In order the better to make use of the materials 
 I possess," said he to me one day, " I have taken the 
 first part entirely to pieces, and intend, by mingling 
 the old with the new, to make two parts. I have 
 had what is printed copied. The places where I have 
 new matter to introduce are marked, and when my 
 secretary comes to such a place, I dictate what is 
 wanting, and thus compel myself never to let my 
 work stop." 
 
 Another day he said to me, " All that was formerly 
 printed of the Wanderjahre is now completely copied. 
 1 have had blue paper put where I am to introduce new 
 matter, so that I always have before my eyes what 
 is yet to do. As I go on at present, these blue spots 
 
 Q 
 
182 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 vanish very fast, and I take great pleasure in see- 
 ing it." 
 
 Some weeks since, I had heard from his secretary 
 that he was at work on a new novel. I therefore 
 abstained from evening visits, and satisfied myself with 
 seeing him once a week at dinner. This evening, he 
 showed me the first sheets of his novel. It was that 
 of the death of the tiger, and the charming of the 
 lion by a little boy. 
 
 While reading, I admired the extraordinary clearness 
 with which all objects, even the very smallest locality, 
 were brought before our eyes. Their going out to 
 hunt, the old ruins of the castle, the fair, the way 
 through the fields to the ruins, were all made manifest 
 to the eye, in a style so distinct and masterly, that you 
 could never look forward to what was coming, even by 
 a single line. 
 
 " Your excellency," said' I, "must have had a very 
 decided plan for this work." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," replied Goethe, "I have had it in 
 my head for about thirty years ; but, at first, as in 
 ' Hermann and Dorothea,' I meant to treat the subject 
 in an epic form, and in hexameters ; but, when I now 
 wished to take up the subject again, I could not find 
 my old plan, and was led to manage it in a wholly new 
 manner. Since I finished, I find the old plan ; but I 
 am glad I did not earlier. It would only have con- 
 fused me; the present is better." 
 
 " That is a beautiful situation," said I, " in which 
 Honorio stands over the dead tiger, at the moment 
 when the lamenting woman with her boy has just come 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 183 
 
 up, and the prince too, with his retinue of huntsmen, 
 is hastening to join this singular group ; it would make 
 a fine picture. I should like to see it painted." 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " that would be a fine picture. 
 Yet, perhaps," continued he, after some reflection, 
 " the subject is almost too rich, and the figures are 
 too many ; it would be difficult for the artist to group 
 them, and distribute lights and shades to advantage. 
 That earlier moment, in which Honorio kneels on the 
 tiger, and the princess is opposite to him on horseback, 
 has seemed a picture in my mind, and that might be 
 done." 
 
 I remarked that this novel was very unlike in 
 character to those of the Wanderjahre, as all its 
 merits lay in representation of the outward world. 
 
 "Yes," said Goethe, "there is scarce any thing 
 of the inward world here ; in my other things there is 
 almost too much." 
 
 We talked of the second part of M Faust," especially 
 of the classical Walpurgis night, which existed as yet 
 only in plan, and which Goethe had said to me that he 
 meant to publish as a separate sketch. I now advised 
 him not to do so ; for I thought, if he did, he would 
 always leave it in this unfinished state. He seemed to 
 have thought better of it himself, and decided that he 
 would not print it so. 
 
 "Now, then," said I, "I shall hope to see it com- 
 pleted." 
 
 " It might be done in three months," said he, " could 
 I but have peace for it. Each day has too many claims 
 on me ; it is very difficult to isolate myself sufficiently. 
 This morning, the hereditary Grand Duke was here ; 
 
184 ECKERMANN. 
 
 to-morrow noon, the Grand Duchess proposes visiting 
 me. Certainly, such visits are a high favor, and 
 embellish my life ; but they are a tax upon my mind. 
 I am obliged to bethink myself what I have new, 
 wherewith worthily to entertain such dignified per- 
 sonages." 
 
 "Yet," said I, "you finished 'Helena,' last winter, 
 when you were no less disturbed than now." 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " affairs go on, and must go on ; 
 but the difficulties are great." 
 
 " 'Tis well," said I, " that your plan is so completely 
 made out." 
 
 " The plan I have, indeed," said Goethe, " but the 
 most difficult part is yet to do; and the execution 
 of parts depends only too much on the favor of circum- 
 stances. The classic Walpurgis night must be written 
 in rhymes, and yet the whole must have the air of an 
 antique. 'Tis not easy to find a suitable sort of verse ; 
 and then the dialogue ! " 
 
 " Is not that also in the plan ?" said I. 
 
 " The what is there," he replied, " but not the liow. 
 Then, only think what is to be said on that mad night ! 
 Faust's speech to Proserpine, when he would move her 
 to give him Helena — what a speech should that be, 
 which must move Proserpine herself to tears ! All 
 this is not easy to do, and depends almost solely on 
 the mood and strength at the moment of writing." 
 
 Wednesday, 17th January. 
 Lately, during Goethe's indisposition, we have dined 
 in the work-room, which looks out on the garden. 
 To-day, I found the cloth laid in what is called the 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 185 
 
 Urbino chamber, which I received as a good omen. 
 I found there Goethe and his son : both welcomed me 
 in their naive, affectionate manner, and I observed, by 
 the animation of Goethe's face, that he was in his 
 happiest mood. 
 
 Through the open door of the next room, I saw 
 Chancellor von Müller, looking at a large engraving. 
 Goethe said this was a work of the celebrated Parisian 
 Gerard, just sent him by the artist as a present. " Go 
 you in also," added he, " and take a peep before our 
 soup comes." 
 
 I saw, written upon the engraving, that the artist 
 sent it to Goethe as a mark of particular esteem. 
 I could not look long, as Frau von Goethe came in, 
 and I was called to table. 
 
 " Is not that noble?" said Goethe. " You may study 
 it days and weeks before you can find out all its rich 
 thoughts and various perfections." 
 *# * * 
 
 Frau von Goethe animated the conversation with 
 her usual attractive liveliness. Young Goethe joking 
 her about certain arrangements, she would not under- 
 stand him. 
 
 " We must not spoil fair ladies," said Goethe, " they 
 are so ready to break all bounds. Even at Elba, 
 Napoleon was persecuted by milliners' bills; yet was 
 he, in such matters, rather inclined to do too little than 
 too much. One day, at the Tuilleries, a marchand de 
 modes offered, in his presence, valuable goods to the 
 Empress. Napoleon showing no disposition to buy 
 any thing, the man gave him to understand that he was 
 not sufficiently complaisant to his wife. Napoleon 
 
 Q 2 
 
186 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 answered never a word, but measured him with such a 
 look, that the man hastily packed up his things, and 
 was seen no more." 
 
 "Was he consul then?" asked Frau von Goethe. 
 
 "More probably Emperor," replied Goethe; "else 
 his look would not have been so formidable. I cannot 
 but laugh when I think how that look pierced through 
 the poor man, who saw himself already beheaded or 
 shot down." 
 
 " I wish," said young Goethe, " that I had pictures 
 or engravings of all Napoleon's great deeds, to fill a 
 gallery." 
 
 " You could not make a gallery large enough to put 
 the pictures in, of his great deeds." 
 
 The Chancellor turned the conversation on Luden's 
 " History of the Germans," and I had reason to 
 admire the dexterity and penetration which young 
 Goethe displayed in excusing all which the reviewers 
 had found to blame in the book by the influence of the 
 national views and feelings of the writer's age. It was 
 granted that the wars of Napoleon had explained to us 
 those of Caesar. " For before," said Goethe, " Caesar's 
 book was really not much better than an exercise for 
 the schools." 
 
 From the old German time, the conversation turned 
 upon the Gothic. We spoke of a bookcase which had 
 a Gothic character, and from this were led to discuss 
 the late fashion of arranging entire apartments in the 
 old German or Gothic style, and thus living under the 
 influences of early days. 
 
 " In a house," said Goethe, " large enough to allow 
 of some apartments being thus furnished and used 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 187 
 
 only three or four times a year, such a fancy might be 
 in place. I would no more object to its owner's 
 having a Gothic, than to Madame Pankoucke at Paris 
 having a Chinese apartment. But I cannot praise the 
 man who dresses out the rooms in which he lives 
 in this strange, old-fashioned garniture. It is a sort 
 of masquerade, which can, in the long run, have no 
 favorable influence on the man who adopts it. Such 
 a fashion is in contradiction to the day in which we 
 live, and can only serve to confirm the empty and 
 hollow way of thinking and feeling in which it origi- 
 nated. It is well enough, on a merry winter's evening, 
 to go to a masquerade in the dress of a Turk : but 
 what should we think of the man who wore such a one 
 all Lie year round 1 Either that he was crazy, or in a 
 fair way to become so." 
 
 We found Goethe's words very convincing, and as, 
 the reproof touched none of us, received the truth with 
 the pleasantest feelings. 
 
 The conversation now turning upon the theatre, 
 Goethe rallied me for having, last Monday evening, 
 sacrificed it to him. " Three years he has lived here," 
 said he, turning to the others, " and this is the first 
 evening he has given up the theatre for love of me. I 
 ought to think a great deal of it. I had invited him, 
 and he had promised to come, yet I doubted whether he 
 would keep his word, especially as it struck half past 
 seven before I saw any thing of him. Indeed, I should 
 have rejoiced if he had not come at all ; for then I could 
 have said he is a wholly perverse, wrong-headed man, 
 who loves the theatre better than his dearest friend, and 
 whom nothing can turn aside from his obstinate partial- 
 
188 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 ity. But did I not make it up to you ? have I not 
 shown you fine things ? " These words alluded to the 
 new novel. 
 
 We talked of Schiller's " Fiesco," which was acted 
 last Saturday. " I saw it for the first time," said I, " and 
 have been thinking whether those extremely rough 
 scenes could not be softened ; but I find very little could 
 be done without spoiling the character of the whole." 
 
 " Yes, that can never be done," replied Goethe. 
 " Schiller often talked with me about the possibility of 
 doing it ; for he himself could not endure his first plays, 
 and would never have them brought on the stage while 
 we had the direction ; but we were in want of pieces, 
 and would willingly have fitted those three powerful 
 firstlings for our purpose. But we found it impossible ; 
 all the parts were too closely inwrought one with 
 another ; so that Schiller himself despaired of accom- 
 plishing it." 
 
 " 'Tis pity," said I; " for, notwithstanding all their 
 roughness, I love them a thousand times better than the 
 soft, weak, forced, and unnatural pieces of later writers. 
 A sublime intellect and character is felt in every thing 
 of Schiller's." 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " Schiller might do what he 
 would, he could not make any thing which would not 
 come out far greater than the best of these playwrights. 
 If he only cut his nails, he showed his superiority to 
 these gentlemen." We laughed at this remark. 
 
 " But. I have known persons," continued he, " who 
 could not be at peace about those first dramas of Schiller. 
 
 " One summer, at a bathing place, I was walking 
 through a very secluded, narrow path, which led to a mill. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 189 
 
 There Prince met me, and, as, at the same moment, 
 
 some mules, laden with meal sacks, came up to us, we 
 were obliged to step into a small house that stood by the 
 way. Here, as is the fashion of this prince, we were 
 immediately plunged into discourse about all divine 
 and human things, and, Schiller's ' Robbers ' being 
 mentioned, the prince expressed himself thus: — 
 
 " 1 Had I been God,' said he, ' on the point of making 
 this world, and could have foreseen at that moment that 
 Schiller's " Robbers " would be written in it, I would not 
 have made the world.' What say you to that ? Here 
 was a distaste which went pretty far, and could hardly 
 be explained." 
 
 " The younger people," said I, " and especially the 
 students, would scarcely sympathize with him. The 
 most excellent, ripest pieces of Schiller and others may 
 be acted, and draw few young people, or none, at the 
 theatre ; but let them give Schiller's * Robbers,' or 
 ' Fiesco,' and the house would be filled by students alone. 
 
 "That," said Goethe, " was so fifty years ago, as it is 
 now, and probably will be fifty years hence. Young peo- 
 ple will best enjoy what a man has written in his youth ; 
 nor need we think that the world makes such progress in 
 culture or good taste that youth itself has got beyond 
 that era of rudeness. If the world does improve on 
 the whole, yet youth must always begin anew, and go 
 through the stages of culture from the beginning. This 
 no longer irritates me." 
 
 *# # * # * 
 
 After some conversation about a novel which Goethe 
 had lately been writing, he said, " I am glad you like it. 
 Schiller and Humboldt, to whom I detailed the plan, 
 
190 
 
 ECKERMANN. * 
 
 could see no promise in it, as indeed they could not 
 appreciate the capabilities of such a subject. The poet 
 alone knows what charms he is capable of giving to his 
 subject. It is best never to ask any body if you wish 
 to write any thing. If Schiller had asked me about 
 his 'Wallenstein,' I should surely have advised him 
 against it ; for I could never have dreamed that, from 
 such a subject, so admirable a drama could be made. 
 Schiller was equally opposed to my using hexameters. 
 He advised me to take eight-line stanza for my ' Hermann 
 and Dorothea yet he was wrong, for such rhymes would 
 have constrained me in that careful delineation of the 
 localities on which so much depends." 
 
 Other single tales and novels of the Wanderjahre 
 were talked of ; and it was observed that each had dis- 
 tinct character and tone. "That," said Goethe, "is 
 because I went to work like a painter who for certain 
 subjects shuns certain colors, and puts upon his palette 
 such as he is likely to want. If he has in hand a 
 morning landscape, he rubs a great deal of blue, and 
 but little yellow. But, if he is to paint an evening 
 scene, he has a great deal of yellow, and scarce any 
 blue. I prepared in the same way for my different 
 productions." 
 
 I expressed admiration at the fidelity in details of 
 scenery. 
 
 " I have," said Goethe, " never observed Nature with 
 a view to my poetical productions; but, because my 
 early drawing of landscapes, and my studies in after 
 years, led me to constant, close observation of natural 
 objects, I have gradually learned Nature by heart even 
 in the minutest details, so that, when I, as a poet, need 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 191 
 
 any thing, it is at my command ; and I cannot easily sin 
 against truth in my descriptions. Schiller had no such 
 knowledge of Nature. The localities of Switzerland, 
 which he used in ' William Tell,' were all related to 
 him by me ; but his wonderful intellect could make 
 such second-hand views look like reality." 
 
 " But his proper productive talent lay in the ideal ; 
 and there it may be said he has scarcely his equal in 
 German or other literatures. He has almost every 
 thing that Lord Byron had ; but Lord Byron was 
 superior in knowledge of the world. I wish Schiller 
 had known Lord Byron's works. I wonder what he 
 would have said to so congenial a mind." 
 
 Did Byron publish any thing during Schiller's 
 life?" 
 
 I could not say with certainty. Goethe took down 
 the " Conversations Lexicon," and read the article on 
 Byron, making many hasty remarks as he did so. He 
 found that Byron had published nothing before 1807, 
 and thus that Schiller could have seen nothing of his. 
 
 " Through all Schiller's works," continued Goethe, 
 " goes the idea of freedom, though this idea assumed 
 a new shape as Schiller advanced in his culture and 
 became another man. 
 
 " In his youth it was physical, in his later life it was 
 ideal freedom, that engaged his thoughts. Now, every 
 man has freedom enough, if he could only satisfy him- 
 self, and knew what he is fit for. What avails us a 
 superfluity of freedom which we cannot use ? You see 
 this chamber, and the next, in which you, through the 
 open door, see my bed. Neither of them is large; and 
 they are by necessary furniture, books, manuscripts, 
 
192 ECKERMANN. 
 
 % 
 
 and works of art, made narrower ; but they are enough 
 for me. I have lived in them all winter, scarce entering 
 my other rooms. Of what use has been my spacious 
 house, and the liberty of going from one room to 
 another ? " 
 
 " If a man has freedom enough to live healthy, and 
 work at his craft, he has enough ; and each man can 
 easily obtain this amount of freedom. Then none of 
 us are free, except under certain conditions, which we 
 must fulfil. The citizen is as free as the nobleman, if 
 he will but restrain himself within the limits which God 
 appointed by placing him in that rank. The nobleman 
 is as free as the prince ; for, if he will but observe a 
 few ceremonies at court, he may feel himself his equal 
 Freedom consists not in refusing to recognize any thing 
 above us, but in knowing how to respect what is above 
 us ; for, by respecting it, we raise ourselves to it, and 
 make manifest that we bear within ourselves the idea of 
 what is higher, and are worthy to be on a level with it. 
 
 " I have on my journeys met merchants from the north 
 of Germany, who fancied they showed themselves my 
 equals by rudely seating themselves next me at table. 
 That was not the way ; but they might have become 
 so, if they had known how to value and treat me 
 properly. 
 
 " The eager interest of Schiller's youthful years in 
 physical freedom was caused partly by the structure of 
 his mind, but still more from the stern control which 
 he endured at the military school. In later days, when 
 he had enough of this kind of freedom, he passed over 
 to the ideal ; and I might almost say that this was the 
 cause of his death, since it led him to make demands 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 193 
 
 on his physical nature which were too much for his 
 strength. 
 
 " The Grand Duke destined for Schiller, when he 
 was established here, an income of one thousand dol- 
 lars yearly, and offered to give him twice as much in 
 case he should be hindered by sickness from working. 
 Schiller declined this last offer, and never availed him- 
 self of it. 4 I have talents,' said he, 1 and must help 
 myself.' As his family enlarged of late years, he was 
 obliged, for a livelihood, to write two dramas yearly ; and 
 to accomplish this, he forced himself to write days and 
 weeks when he was unwell. He would have his talents 
 obedient at all times and seasons. He never drank 
 much ; he was very temperate ; but, in such hours of bod- 
 ily weakness, he was obliged to sustain himself by the use 
 of spirituous liquors. This habit not only injured his 
 health, but also his productions : the faults which some 
 wise heads find in his works proceed, I think, from this 
 source. All the passages which they blame may be 
 styled pathological passages ; for they were written on 
 those days when he had not strength to do his best. 
 I have great respect for the categorical imperative. I 
 know how much good may proceed from it ; neverthe- 
 less, this ideal freedom, if carried too far, leads to no 
 good." 
 
 ******** 
 
 Sunday evening, 21st January. 
 I went, at half past eight this evening, to Goethe, 
 and staid with him an hour. He showed me some new 
 poems in French, by Mademoiselle Gay, which he 
 highly praised. 
 
 R 
 
194 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " The French," said he, " make out their case so 
 clearly, that it is well worth while to look after them. 
 I have lately been trying to become acquainted with 
 the present state of French literature; and, if I 
 succeed, shall express the result. It is very interesting 
 to observe how the same elements are now at work 
 with them, which we went through with long ago." 
 * # # * * # * * 
 
 " What says your excellency to Beranger, and the 
 author of 'Clara Gazul?' " 
 
 " Those," he replied, " are great geniuses, who have 
 their foundation in themselves, and keep free from the 
 conventional modes of thinking of their time." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say this," said I, " for I 
 have had a similar feeling about them." 
 
 The conversation turned from French to German 
 literature. " I will show you something," said Goethe, 
 " that will be interesting to you. Give me one of 
 those two volumes which lie before you. Solger is 
 no doubt known to you." 
 
 " Surely," said I, " his translation of Sophocles, 
 no less than his preface, gave me long since a high 
 opinion of him." 
 
 " You know he has been dead some years," said 
 Goethe ; " and this is a collection of the writings 
 and letters he left. He does not shine in his philo- 
 sophical inquiries, which he has given us in the form 
 of Platonic dialogues; but his letters are admirable. 
 In one of them, he writes to Tieck upon the Wahlver- 
 wandtschaften, and I wish to read it to you ; for it 
 would not be easy to say any thing better about that 
 romance." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 195 
 
 He read me these excellent remarks, and we talked 
 them over point by point, admiring the dignified 
 character of his views, and the logical sequence of his 
 reasoning. Although Solger confessed that the facts 
 of the " Elective Affinities" had their germ in the 
 nature of all characters, yet he blamed that of Ed- 
 ward. 
 
 " No wonder," said Goethe, " he cannot endure 
 Edward. I myself cannot endure him, but was 
 obliged to make him such a man in order to bring 
 out my facts. He is, besides, true to nature ; you find 
 many such people in the higher ranks, who, like him, 
 substitute selfish obstinacy for character. 
 
 " High above all, Solger placed the Architect ; 
 because, while all the other persons of the romance 
 show themselves loving and weak, he alone remains 
 strong and free; and the beauty of his character 
 appears in this, that he not only does not share the 
 ^errors of the other characters, but the poet has made 
 him so noble, that he could not even understand them." 
 
 We were much pleased with this remark. 
 
 " That is really fine," said Goethe. 
 
 " I have," said I, " felt the importance and loveliness 
 of the Architect's character ; but I had never remarked 
 that he was by nature incapable of those bewilderments 
 of passion." 
 
 " No wonder that you have not remarked it," said 
 Goethe, " for I myself never remarked it while I was 
 creating him; yet Solger is right — such is the basis 
 of his character. 
 
 " These remarks," continued he, " were written in 
 the year 1809, I should have been much cheered 
 
196 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 to have heard so kind a word about the « Elective 
 Affinities,' for, at that time, and later, not many 
 pleasant remarks have been vouchsafed me about that 
 romance. 
 
 " I see from these letters, that Solger was much 
 attached to me ; and, in one of them, he complains 
 that I return no answer about the ' Sophocles' which he 
 sent me. Good Heavens ! if they could but know 
 my situation, they would not wonder at that. I have 
 known great lords, to whom many presents were sent, 
 and who had certain formulas and phrases prepared, 
 in which they wrote letters to hundreds, all alike 
 throughout ; but I never could do so. If I could not 
 say to each man something distinct and appropriate 
 to the occasion, I preferred not writing to him at all. 
 I esteemed superficial phrases unworthy of my use, 
 and thus have failed to answer many excellent men 
 to whom I would willingly have written. You see, 
 yourself, how it is with me ; how messages and 
 despatches are constantly flowing in upon me from 
 every side ; and you must confess it would occupy 
 more than one man's life to answer all these, in ever 
 so careless a way. But I am sorry about Solger ; he 
 was an admirable being, and deserved, better than 
 most, a friendly response." 
 
 ifc ^fe ^ 4t 4fc ^ 
 
 Goethe told me of a foreigner, who had been writing 
 to him, and talks of translating several of his 
 works. 
 
 " 'Tis a good man," said Goethe, " but, as to litera- 
 ture, I must rank him with the tribe of mere Dilettanti. 
 He does not yet know German at all, and is already 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 197 
 
 talking of the translations he will make, and of the 
 portraits which he will prefix to them. 
 
 " That is always the way with the Dilettanti ; they 
 have no idea of the difficulties which lie in an under- 
 taking, and are always full of some plan for which 
 they have no faculty.'* 
 
 Thursday evening, 29th January. 
 
 At seven o'clock I carried the manuscript of the 
 novel and a copy of Beranger to Goethe. I found him 
 engaged with M. Soret in conversation upon modern 
 French literature. It was observed how much these mod- 
 ern writers had learned of versification from De Lille. 
 Soret, being born a Genevese, does not speak German 
 fluently; and, as Goethe talks French very well, the 
 conversation was carried on in that language, except 
 when I said, now and then, something in German. 
 I gave my " Beranger " to Goethe, who wished to read 
 his admirable chansons again. Soret thought that 
 the portrait, which was prefixed to the poems, was 
 not a good likeness. Goethe was much pleased to 
 have this beautiful copy in his hands. 
 
 " These songs," said he, " are perfect, especially 
 when you look at the burden, without which they 
 would be almost too earnest, too intellectual and 
 epigrammatic, for songs. Beranger reminds me ever 
 of Horace and Hafiz, who stood in the same way 
 above their times, satirizing and playing with vices 
 and follies; but, because Beranger himself was born 
 in a low station, the licentious and common are not 
 very hateful to him ; indeed, he shows a sort of 
 partiality for them." 
 
198 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Many similar remarks were made upon Beranger, 
 and other French writers of the time, till M. Soret 
 went to Court. I remained alone with Goethe. 
 
 A sealed packet lay upon the table. Goethe laid 
 his hand upon it. " This," said he, " is ' Helena,' 
 which I am about to send to Cotta." 
 
 I felt, at these words, more than I could say. I felt 
 the importance of the moment ; for, as when a newly- 
 built vessel puts to sea, and we feel that we know not 
 what revolutions of destiny it must encounter — so 
 with the creation of a great master, thus going forth 
 into the world to do its work through many times, to 
 produce and to undergo manifold destinies. 
 
 "I have," said Goethe, "till now, been always 
 finding little things, which I wished to add or alter : 
 but I must finish now, and I am glad it is going to 
 press, and that I shall be left at liberty to turn my 
 mind to some other object. Let it live out its proper 
 destiny. My comfort is, that the general culture of 
 Germany stands at an incredibly high point ; so that 
 I need not fear that such a production should long 
 remain misunderstood and ineffectual." 
 
 " There is a whole antiquity in it," said I. 
 
 "Yes," said Goethe, "the philologists will find 
 matter for their handling." 
 
 " I have no fear," said I, " about the antique part ; 
 the detail, the unfolding of individuals, is so thorough ; 
 each personage saying just what he should. But the 
 modern romantic part is very difficult ; half the history 
 of the world is there ; your material is so rich that you 
 can only indicate what is to be said upon it, and the 
 reader's powers are severely taxed." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 199 
 
 "Yet," said Goethe, "all has sensuous life, and, on 
 the stage, would satisfy the eye. More I did not wish. 
 If only the crowd of spectators take pleasure in what 
 is obvious, the initiated will detect the higher meaning. 
 Such has been the case with the ' Magic Flute,' and 
 other things of that sort." 
 
 " There is no precedent," said I, " in the records 
 of the stage, for beginning a piece as a tragedy, and 
 ending it as an opera." 
 
 "The part of Helena," said Goethe, " ought to be 
 played by two great female artists ; for we seldom 
 find that a fine vocalist has also the talents of a tragic 
 actress." 
 
 "Would we could find a great composer for it!" 
 said I. 
 
 " We want one," said Goethe, " who, like Meyerbeer, 
 has lived so long in Italy, that he combines the Italian 
 art and manner with his German nature. Such a one 
 would be hard to find, but I do not trouble myself ; I 
 rejoice only that I am rid of it. I congratulate myself 
 that I did not permit the Chorus again to descend into 
 the lower world, but rather dispersed them to the ele- 
 ments on the cheerful surface of the earth." 
 
 " That is a new sort of immortality," said I. 
 # # * * * # * # 
 
 We talked over the title which should be given to 
 his late novel. Many were proposed, but none seemed 
 exactly suitable. 
 
 " We will call it 1 The Novel,' " said Goethe ; " for 
 what is a novel but a peculiar, and as yet unheard of, 
 adventure ? This is the proper meaning of this name ; 
 and many which in Germany have assumed the title 
 
200 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 of novels, are narratives merely. The title is used in 
 its proper sense in the Wahlverwandtschaften." 
 
 " If one thinks rightly," said I, " a poem always 
 rises in the mind without a title, and is what it is with- 
 out a title ; so that the name does not belong to the thing." 
 
 " It does not belong to it," said Goethe ; " the 
 ancient poems had no title ; this is a custom of modern 
 times, which also have given titles to ancient poems. 
 Indeed, since the diffusion of knowledge, it has become 
 necessary to give name to every thing, in order to keep 
 literature distinct in the mind." 
 
 He showed me a translation of a Servian poem, by 
 M. Gerhard. I read it with great pleasure. The 
 poem was very beautiful, and the translation so simple 
 and clear that the reader was never disturbed in his 
 contemplation of the subject. The poem was called 
 " The Prison Key." I will say nothing here of the 
 narrative, except that the close seemed to me abrupt, 
 and rather dissatisfying. 
 
 " That is the best part of it," said Goethe, " since, 
 thereby, a sting is left in the heart, and the reader is 
 excited to image to himself all the possibilities that 
 might follow from what he has heard. The close 
 leaves behind' material for a whole tragedy, but of a 
 sort of which we have many. What is represented in 
 the poem, on the contrary, is equally new and beauti- 
 ful ; and the poet is very wise to finish only this 
 part, and leave the rest to the reader. I would 
 willingly insert the poem in Kunst und Alterthum, 
 but it is too long ; therefore, I have begged these 
 others from Gerhard, which I shall put into the next 
 number." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 201 
 
 Goethe read first the song of the old man who loves 
 a young maiden, then the woman's drinking song, and 
 finally that animated one beginning " Dance for us, 
 Theodore." He read them admirably, and each in a 
 peculiar tone and manner. It would not be easy to hear 
 any thing more perfect. "Gerhard," said I, "ought 
 to be praised for having in each instance chosen the 
 most appropriate versification and burden, and has done 
 each in so graceful and masterly a manner that we can 
 conceive of nothing finer." "How much," said Goethe, 
 " has technical practice done for such a genius as 
 Gerhard's ; and it is fortunate for him that he has no 
 properly literary profession, but one that daily instructs 
 him in practical life. He has travelled much in Eng- 
 land and other countries; and his tendency to observe 
 what is actual has given him, from this circumstance, 
 many advantages over our book-learned young poets. 
 
 " If he would confine himself to making good trans- 
 lations, his success would be invariable ; but original 
 inventions make much greater demands." 
 
 Some reflections being made upon the productions 
 of our young poets, it was remarked that scarce one of 
 them had given us an example of good prose. " That 
 is very natural," said Goethe; "he who would write 
 prose must have something to say ; but he who has 
 nothing to say can make verses and rhymes ; for one 
 word gives the other, till at last you have before you what 
 in fact is nothing, yet looks as if it were something." 
 
 Wednesday, 31st January. 
 I dined with Goethe. " Since I saw you," said he, 
 " I have read many and various things ; among which 
 
202 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 a Chinese romance has occupied and interested me 
 most of all." 
 
 " Chinese romance ! " said I ; " that is indeed some- 
 thing quite out of the way." 
 
 " Not so much as you think," said Goethe ; " the 
 Chinamen think, act, and feel almost exactly like us ; 
 and we should feel perfect congeniality with them, if 
 all they do were not more clear, more pure and deco- 
 rous than with us. 
 
 " With them all is well contrived, citizen-like, with- 
 out great passion or poetic flight ; in these respects, 
 much resembling my ' Hermann and Dorothea,' as well 
 as the English romances of Richardson. They differ 
 from us in another way. Among them, external nature 
 is always associated with the human figures. You al- 
 ways hear the goldfishes plashing in the pond, and the 
 birds singing on the bough ; the day is always serene 
 and sunny, the night always clear. There is much talk 
 about the moon, but its light does not alter the land- 
 scape, because it is as clear as that of day itself ; and 
 the interior of the houses is as neat and elegant as 
 their pictures. For instance, < I heard the lovely 
 maidens laughing, and, when I came where they were, 
 I found them sitting on cane chairs.' There a single 
 touch gives you the prettiest situation. Ideas of great 
 elegance and lightness are associated with cane chairs. 
 Then you find an infinite number of legends turned 
 almost like proverbs ; as, for instance, of a maiden 
 who was so light and graceful, and her feet so delicate, 
 that she could balance herself on a flower without 
 bending it ; and then one of the young men so excel- 
 lent and brave, that, in his thirtieth year, he had the 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 203 
 
 honor to talk with the Emperor ; then of two lovers 
 who showed great purity during a long acquaintance, 
 and, being on one occasion obliged to pass the night 
 in the same chamber, conversed till morning without 
 ever once approaching one another. 
 
 " And innumerable other legends, all turning upon 
 what is moral and proper. 'Tis this severe habit of 
 regulation in every thing which has sustained the 
 Chinese Empire for thousands of years past, and will 
 for thousands to come. 
 
 " I find a remarkable contrast to this Chinese ro- 
 mance in the * Chansons de Beranger,' which have, 
 almost every one, some immoral or licentious subject, 
 and which would be extremely odious to me, if managed 
 by a genius inferior to Beranger. He, however, has 
 made them not only tolerable, but pleasing. Is it not 
 remarkable, that the subjects of the Chinese poets 
 should be so thoroughly moral, and those of the 
 most distinguished French poet of the present day 
 be exactly the contrary 1 " 
 
 " Such a talent as Beranger's," said I, " would find 
 no room in moral subjects." 
 
 " You are right," said Goethe ; " the very perver- 
 sions of his time have revealed and developed his 
 better nature." 
 
 I asked whether the Chinese romance of which he 
 spoke were one of their best, 
 
 " By no means," said Goethe ; " the Chinese have 
 thousands of them, and had already, when our fore- 
 fathers were still living in the woods. 
 
 "I am more and more convinced that poetry is the 
 universal possession of mankind, revealing itself in 
 
204 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 every place, and at all times, in hundreds of men. 
 One makes it a little better than another, and swims 
 upon the tide a little longer than another, — that is all. 
 Matthisson must not think he is all, nor must I think 
 that I am all ; but each must say to himself that the 
 gift of poetry is by no means rare, and that nobody 
 need give himself airs because he has written a good 
 poem. 
 
 " But, really, we Germans are very likely to make 
 this pedantic mistake, if we do not take heed to look 
 beyond the narrow circle which surrounds us. I 
 therefore gladly make excursions to other countries, 
 and advise every one to do the same. National 
 literature is now rather an unmeaning term ; the epoch 
 of World literature is at hand, and each one must 
 strive to hasten its approach. But, while we know 
 how to value what is foreign, we must not fix our 
 attention on any thing in particular, as the only 
 pattern and model. We must not think the Chinese 
 are a model, or the Servian, or Calderon, or the 
 Nibelungen. If we want examples, we had best 
 return to the ancient Greeks, in whose works the 
 beauty of manhood is constantly represented. All 
 the rest we must look at historically, appropriating 
 what is good in them, so far as we can use it." 
 
 The bells of passing sledges here allured us to the 
 window, as we expected that the long procession, 
 which went out to Belvidere this morning, would 
 return about this time. 
 
 Goethe, meanwhile, continued his instructive con- 
 versation. We talked of Alexander Manzoni ; and he 
 told me that Count Reinhard, not long since, saw 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 205 
 
 Manzoni at Paris, where he, as a young author of 
 celebrity, has been well received in society, and that 
 he was now living pleasantly on his estate in the 
 neighborhood of Milan, with a young family and his 
 mother. 
 
 " Manzoni," continued he, " wants nothing except 
 to know what a good poet he is, and what rights 
 belong to him as such. He has quite too much 
 respect for history, and is always adding to his pieces 
 notes, to show how faithful he has been to its details ; 
 yet, though his facts may be historical, his characters 
 are no more so than my Thoas and Iphigenia. No 
 poet has ever known those historical characters which 
 he has painted ; if he had, he could scarcely have 
 made use of them. He knows what effects he wishes 
 to produce, and models his characters accordingly. 
 If I had made Egmont, as in history, the father of a 
 dozen children, his light-minded proceedings would 
 be altogether absurd. I needed an Egmont more in 
 harmony with his own actions and my poetic views ; 
 and this is, as Clara says, my Egmont. 
 
 " Why should there be poets, if they only repeated 
 the record of the historian. The poet must go further, 
 and give us, if possible, something higher and better. 
 All the characters of Sophocles bear the stamp of that 
 great poet's lofty soul. 'Tis the same in Shakspeare's 
 characters, and right with both. Shakspeare, indeed, 
 makes his Romans Englishmen ; and there too he was 
 right ; for otherwise his nation would not have under- 
 stood him. 
 
 " Therefore were the Greeks so great, because they 
 
 s 
 
206 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 looked less to fidelity to historic facts than to the 
 management of them by the poet. We have a fine 
 example in Philoctetes, which subject has been taken 
 up by all three of the great tragedians, and by Sopho- 
 cles, the last and best. His drama has, fortunately, 
 come down to us entire, while of those of Eschylus 
 and Euripides, we have only fragments, although 
 sufficient to show how they have managed the subject. 
 If I had but time, I would restore these pieces, as 
 I did the Phaeton of Euripides; it would be to me 
 no unpleasant or useless task. 
 
 "The problem of this subject at first seems easy to 
 solve, namely, to bring Philoctetes, with his bow, from 
 the island of Lemnos. In the manner of doing this, 
 the power of poetical invention is to be displayed. 
 Ulysses must fetch him ; but shall he be known by 
 Philoctetes or not? and if not, how shall he be 
 disguised ? Shall Ulysses go alone, or have com- 
 panions, and who shall they be? Eschylus gave him 
 no companion ; in Euripides, it is Diomed ; in 
 Sophocles, the son of Achilles. Then, in what 
 situation are they to find Philoctetes ? Shall the 
 island be inhabited or not ? and, if inhabited, shall 
 any sympathetic soul have received him or not ? And 
 so with a hundred other things, which are all at the 
 discretion of the poet, giving him an opportunity 
 to show superior tact and taste. Let the poet look 
 to this, and he will not need a subject which has 
 never been used before ; neither to look to South 
 and North for unheard-of adventures, which are 
 often barbarous enough, and merely impress as 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 207 
 
 adventures. To give dignity to a simple subject, 
 by a masterly way of treating it, demands intellect 
 and genius, such as we rarely find." 
 
 The conversation now turning upon other subjects, 
 Goethe made this remark : — " To purify and to improve, 
 by filling out an invention, is often right and profitable ; 
 but to be remarking and carrying further what has 
 once been well made, as Sir Walter Scott, for 
 instance, has done about my Mignon, whom he, 
 besides her other peculiarities, makes deaf and dumb, 
 — this sort of alteration I cannot praise." 
 
 Thursday evening, February 1. 
 Goethe told me about a visit, which the Crown 
 Prince of Prussia had been making him, in company 
 with the Grand Duke. " Also," said he, " the Princes 
 Charles and William of Prussia were with me this 
 morning. The Crown Prince and Grand Duke staid 
 nearly three hours ; and we talked about many things, 
 which gave me opportunity to see the intellect, taste, 
 knowledge, and superior way of thinking, of these 
 young princes." 
 
 4£ 4t ■ 4fc *5t ^ -H:^ 
 
 Speaking of Wolf's theory about Homer, he said — 
 " Wolf has destroyed Homer, but could not injure the 
 poem, which has the miraculous power of the Valhalla 
 heroes, who, if hewn to pieces in the morning, came, 
 sound in body and limb, to the noon-day banquet." 
 
 Wednesday, February 4. 
 Goethe scolded about the critics who cannot be 
 satisfied with Lessing, but make unjust demands upon 
 
208 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 him. " When people," said he, " compare the pieces 
 of Lessing with those of the ancients, and call them 
 paltry and miserable, what do they mean ? Let them 
 rather pity the extraordinary man who lived in a time 
 too poor to afford him better materials; pity him, 
 because he found nothing better to do than to meddle 
 with Saxon and Prussian transactions in his ' Minna.' 
 His polemical turn, too, was the fault of his time. 
 In 1 Emilia Galeotti,' he vents his pique against 
 princes ; in ' Nathan,' against priests." 
 
 Friday, 16th February. 
 
 I told Goethe that I lately had been reading 
 Winckelmann upon the imitation of Greek works of 
 art, and I confessed that it often seemed to me that 
 Winckelmann was not perfectly clear about his subject. 
 
 " You are quite right," said Goethe ; " we often find 
 him merely groping, yet he never fails to have a 
 valuable object in view. He is like Columbus, when 
 he had not yet discovered the new world, yet bore in 
 his mind a presentiment of its existence. We learn 
 nothing by reading him, but he helps to become 
 something. 
 
 " Meyer has gone further, and has carried the 
 knowledge of art to its highest point. His history 
 of art is an immortal work ; but he would not have 
 become what he is, if, as a youth, he had not formed 
 himself on Winckelmann, and walked in the path 
 which Winckelmann pointed out. 
 
 " Thus you see once again the advantage of having 
 a great predecessor, and the profit of knowing how 
 to avail yourself of his labors." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 209 
 
 Wednesday, 11th April. 
 
 I went this morning to Goethe about one o'clock, 
 as he had invited me to take a drive with him before 
 dinner. We took the road to Erfurt : the weather was 
 beautiful ; the corn-fields on both sides of the way 
 refreshed the eye with the liveliest green. Goethe 
 seemed in his feelings gay and young as the early 
 spring, but in his words old in wisdom. 
 
 " I must ever repeat it," he began, " the world could 
 not exist, if it were not so simple. This ground has 
 been tilled a thousand years, yet its powers remain 
 ever the same ; a little rain, a little sun, and each 
 spring it grows green again." 
 
 He looked some time over the meadows, then, 
 turning again to me, continued thus on other sub- 
 jects : — 
 
 "I have been reading something singular, — the 
 letters of Jacobi and his friends. It is a remarkable 
 book, and you must read it, not to learn any thing 
 from it, but to take a glance into a state of education 
 and literature of which people now have no idea. We 
 see interesting men, but they do not act in the same 
 direction and for common interests ; each one takes his 
 own way, without sympathizing at all in the exertions 
 of others ; they are like billiard balls, which run 
 blindly by one another on the green cover, and, if 
 they come in contact, it is only to recede so much the 
 farther from one another." 
 
 I smiled at this excellent simile. I asked about the 
 persons in question, and Goethe named them to me, 
 with some distinctive remark about each. 
 
 " Jacobi was a born diplomatist, a handsome man, 
 
 s2 
 
210 
 
 ECK ERMANN. 
 
 of slender figure, elegant and noble mien, who, as an 
 ambassador, would have been perfectly in his place ; 
 as a poet, a philosopher, he had great deficiencies. 
 
 " His relation to me was peculiar. He loved me 
 personally, without sympathizing with, or even ap- 
 proving my efforts ; only the sentiment of friendship 
 bound us together. But the beauty of my connection 
 with Schiller was, that we found the strongest bond 
 of union in our exertions to reach a common aim, and 
 had no need of what is commonly called friendship." 
 
 I asked whether Lessing took part in this corre- 
 spondence. 
 
 "No," said he, "but Herder and Wieland did. 
 Herder, however, did not enjoy such connections ; he 
 was too high-minded not to detect their hollowness 
 in the long run. Hamann, too, had a tone of supe- 
 riority with these people. 
 
 " Wieland, as usual, appears in these letters cheerful 
 and at home ; caring for no opinion in particular, he 
 was adroit enough to take a part in all. He was like 
 a reed, moved hither and thither by the wind of 
 opinion, yet always adhering firmly to its root. 
 
 " My personal relation to Wieland was always very 
 pleasant, especially in those earlier days when he 
 belonged to me aione. His little tales were written 
 at my suggestion ; but, when Herder came to Weimar, 
 Wieland was false to me. Herder, whose powers of 
 personal attraction were very great, took him away 
 from me." 
 
 We now, turning homeward, saw towards the east 
 many rain-clouds shading one into another. 
 
 " These clouds," said I, " threaten to descend as 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 211 
 
 rain each moment. Do you think they would dissipate 
 if the barometer rose ? " 
 
 " Yes," said he, " they would be rent and shrivelled 
 at once. So strong is my faith in the barometer, that 
 I maintained, even in the night of the great inundation 
 of Petersburg, had the barometer risen, the waves 
 must have receded. 
 
 " You, perhaps, like my son, believe that the moon 
 influences the weather, and I do not blame you ; the 
 moon is so important an orb, that we must ascribe 
 to it great influences on our earth ; but the change of 
 the weather, the rise and fall of the barometer, are 
 not affected by the changes of the moon ; they are 
 purely telluric. 
 
 " I think of the earth and her atmosphere as a 
 great living being, always engaged in inspiration and 
 expiration. If she draws in her breath, then draws 
 she the atmosphere to her, so that, coming near her 
 surfaces, it is condensed to clouds and rain. I call 
 this state the affirmation of water, (Wasser-bcjahung.) 
 Should it continue an unusual length of time, the 
 earth would be drowned ; but she expires her breath 
 again, and the w r atery vapors are pushed up, and so 
 dissipated in the higher atmosphere, that not only the 
 sun can pass through them, but the eternal darkness 
 of infinite space seems a fresh blue. This state of the 
 atmosphere I call the negation of water (Wasser- 
 verneinung.) For, as under the contrary influences 
 not only water comes profusely from above, but also the 
 moisture of the earth cannot be dried and dissipated, — 
 so under these not only no moisture comes from above, 
 but that of the earth flies upwards ; so that, if this 
 
212 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 should continue an unusual length of time, the earth, 
 even if the sun did not shine, would be in danger 
 of completely drying up. 
 
 " The thing is very simple, and I abide by what 
 is simple and prevalent, without being disturbed by 
 occasional deviations from the general rule. High 
 barometer, dry weather, east wind; low barometer, 
 wet weather, and west wind ; this is the general rule 
 by which I abide. Should wet clouds blow hither, 
 when the barometer is high, and the wind east, or, 
 if we have a clear sky, with a west wind, I do not 
 disturb myself, nor lose my faith in the general rule ; 
 but merely observe how many collateral influences 
 are to be allowed for, whose nature we do not yet 
 understand. 
 
 " I will tell you something which will be of value 
 to your future life. There is, in nature, an accessible 
 and inaccessible. Be careful to discriminate, with 
 due reverence, betwixt the two. He who cannot 
 make this distinction torments himself, perhaps his 
 life long, about the inaccessible, without ever coming 
 near the truth. It is, indeed, hard to say where 
 the one ends and the other begins. But he who 
 is prudent will labor only on what he considers 
 the accessible ; and, while he traverses every part, 
 and confirms himself on all sides of this region, he 
 will win somewhat even from the inaccessible, while 
 he must confess, that only a limited insight is possible, 
 in certain matters, and that nature has ever in reserve, 
 problems, which man has not the faculties capable of 
 solving." 
 
 We had returned before the dinner hour, and 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 213 
 
 Goethe had time to show me a landscape, by Rubens. 
 It represented a summer's evening. On the left of the 
 foreground, you saw field laborers going homewards; 
 in the midst of the picture, a flock of sheep, following 
 their shepherd to the hamlet ; a little farther back, 
 on the right, a hay-cart, which people were busy 
 in loading ; the horses, not yet put in, were grazing 
 near ; afar off, in the meadow and thickets, mares were 
 grazing with their foals, and appearances indicated 
 that they would remain there all night. Several 
 villages and a town bordered the bright horizon of 
 this picture, in which the ideas of activity and repose 
 were combined in the most graceful manner. 
 
 The whole seemed to me put together with such 
 truth, and the details painted with such fidelity, that 
 I said, Rubens must have copied the picture from 
 nature. 
 
 " By no means," said Goethe, "so perfect a picture 
 is never seen in nature. We are indebted, for its 
 composition, to the poetic mind of the painter ; but 
 the great Rubens had such an extraordinary memory, 
 that he carried all nature in his head, and she was 
 always at his command, in the minutest particulars. 
 Thence comes such truth in the whole, and in parts, 
 that we think it must be copy from nature. No such 
 landscapes are painted now-a-days. That way of 
 feeling and seeing nature no longer exists. Our 
 painters are wanting in poetry. 
 
 ft Then our young geniuses are left to themselves ; 
 they want living masters, to initiate them into the 
 mysteries of art. Much may be learned from the 
 
214 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 dead ; but scarcely an insight into the secrets of their 
 design and mode of execution." 
 
 Frau and Herr Von Goethe came in, and we sat 
 down to dinner. We chatted awhile on topics of the 
 day, such as the theatre, balls, and the court ; but 
 soon we were led to subjects of more importance, 
 and became deeply engaged in conversation on the 
 religious doctrines of England. 
 
 " You ought, like me," said Goethe, " to have been 
 studying church history for fifty years, to have any 
 just notion of this. Observe how the Mohammedans 
 educate a votary. They give their young people, as 
 religious foundation, this doctrine, that nothing can 
 happen to man, except what was long since decreed 
 by an overruling divinity. 
 
 " With this they are prepared and satisfied for a 
 whole life, and scarce need any thing further. 
 
 " I will not inquire whether this doctrine is true 
 or false, useful or pernicious, only observing that we 
 all, without being taught, share this faith to some 
 degree. 4 The ball on which my name is not written, 
 cannot hit me,' says the soldier in the battle-field ; 
 and how, without such a belief, could he maintain 
 such courage and gayety, in the most imminent peril ? 
 What we are taught in our Christian law, 1 No 
 sparrow falls to the ground without the consent of 
 our Father,' comes from the same source, intimating 
 that there is a Providence, which keeps in its eye 
 the smallest things, and without whose will and 
 permission nothing can happen. 
 
 " Then the Mahommedans begin their instruction 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 215 
 
 in philosophy, by affirming that nothing exists, which 
 does not suppose its contrary. Thus they practise the 
 minds of youth in detecting and evolving the opposite 
 of every proposition ; from which arises great adroitness 
 in thinking and speaking. 
 
 " Truly, from such habits, doubt may arise as to 
 what is truth ; but this doubt will only incite the mind 
 to those closer inquiries and experiments, in which 
 alone man can find satisfaction. 
 
 " You see that nothing is wanting in this doctrine, 
 and that we, with all our systems, have got no further ; 
 and that, generally speaking, no one can get further." 
 
 "That the Greeks," said I, "made use of similar 
 modes of instruction in philosophy, is obvious from 
 their tragedy, which rests upon contradiction ; as not 
 one of the speakers ever maintains any opinion, without 
 some other arguing, with equal dexterity, for the 
 opposite side." 
 
 " You are perfectly right," said Goethe; " and there 
 too is doubt, like that which is awakened in the 
 observer or reader ; and destiny alone, connecting 
 itself with the moral side, leads to certainty at last." 
 
 We rose from table, and Goethe took me with him 
 into the garden, to continue our conversation. 
 
 "It is remarkable," said I, " of Lessing, that he, in 
 his theoretical writings, in the ' Laocoon,' for instance, 
 never leads us directly to a result, but always takes 
 us by the philosophical way of affirmation, counter 
 affirmation, and doubt, before he will let us arrive 
 at a sort of certainty. We are rather occupied by 
 the operation of thinking and seeking, than benefited 
 by great views and great truths, suitable to excite our 
 
216 
 
 ECKERMAXX. 
 
 own powers of thought, and make our own power? 
 productive."' 
 
 •• Yes," said Goethe : ■• Lessing himself said, that 
 if God would give him truth, he would decline the 
 gift, and prefer the labor of seeking it for himself. 
 
 That philosophic system of the Mohammedans 
 is a £ood measure, which we can apply to ourselves 
 and others, to ascertain the degree of spiritual progress 
 which we have attained. 
 
 •• Lessing. from his polemical nature, loved best the 
 region of doubt and contradiction. Analysis is his 
 province, as there his fine understanding could most 
 aid him. 
 
 You will find me wholly the reverse. I have 
 always avoided contradiction, striven to dispel doubt 
 by inward efforts, and uttered only the results of my 
 mental processes.'" 
 
 I asked Goethe which of the new philosophers he 
 admired most. 
 
 •• Kant."' said he. " stands undoubtedly highest : 
 his doctrines still continue to work, and have 
 penetrated most deeply into our German education. 
 He has done his work on you, although you have 
 never read him : now you need him no longer, for 
 you already possess what he could give you ; but 
 if you wish, by and by. to read something of his, I 
 recommend to you his 1 Critique on the Power of 
 Judgment."' in which he has written admirably upon 
 rhetoric, tolerably upon poetry, but unsatisfactorily 
 on the plastic arts." 
 
 •• Has your Excellency ever had any personal con- 
 nection with Kant ?" 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 217 
 
 " No," he replied ; " Kant has never taken notice 
 of me ; while my nature led me a way not unlike his. 
 I wrote my ' Metamorphoses of Plants/ before I knew 
 any thing about Kant ; and yet is it wholly in his 
 spirit. The separation of subject from object, the 
 faith that each creature exists for its own sake, and 
 that cork-trees do not grow, merely that we may 
 have stoppers for our bottles, — this I share with Kant, 
 and I rejoice to meet him on such ground. After- 
 wards I wrote Lehre von Versuch, which is to be 
 regarded as criticism upon subject and object, and 
 medium for both. 
 
 " Schiller was wont to advise me against the study 
 of Kant's philosophy. He said Kant could give me 
 nothing ; but he himself studied Kant with great zeal ; 
 and I, also, studied him, and not without profit." 
 
 While talking thus, we had been walking up and 
 down the garden ; the clouds had been darkening ; 
 it began to rain ; and we were obliged to return to 
 the house, where we continued our conversation for 
 some time. 
 
 Wednesday, 20th June. 
 
 The family table was covered for five ; the room 
 was vacant and cool, which was very pleasant in this 
 extreme heat. I went into the spacious room next 
 the dining-hall, where are the worked carpet, and the 
 colossal bust of Juno. 
 
 Goethe soon came in, and greeted me in his 
 affectionate and cordial manner : he took a chair, and 
 sat down by the window. " Do you also take a 
 
 T 
 
218 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 chair," said he, " and let us have a little chat before 
 the others come in. 
 
 "T am glad you have had an opportunity of becoming 
 acquainted here with Count Sternberg. He is now 
 gone, and I have resumed my usual habits of activity 
 and peace." 
 
 " The appearance and manners of the Count," said 
 I, " were very imposing, and not less so the extent 
 of his knowledge. Turn the conversation where you 
 would, he was every where at home ; always profound, 
 masterly, and comprehensive. He is a remarkable 
 man." 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " he is a very remarkable 
 man ; and his influence and his connections are very 
 extensive in this country. His Flora Subterranea 
 has made him known as a botanist through all Europe ; 
 and he is not less distinguished as a mineralogist. Do 
 you know his history ? " 
 
 " No," said I, " but I should be glad to hear any 
 thing about him. I saw in him the nobleman ; a man 
 of the world, and, at the same time, of knowledge so 
 various and profound, that I should like to understand 
 how so much was effected." 
 
 Then Goethe told me how the count, destined as a 
 youth to the clerical station, began his studies at Rome ; 
 but, after Austria had taken back certain favorable 
 promises, went to Naples, and so on. Goethe told me 
 the circumstances of a life sufficiently interesting and 
 important to adorn the Wandetjahre, but which 1 
 do not feel myself at liberty to repeat here. I greatly 
 enjoyed the narrative, and thanked him with my whole 
 soul. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 219 
 
 The conversation now turned upon the Bohemian 
 schools, and their great advantages, especially for a 
 thorough aesthetic culture. 
 
 The ladies and young Goethe now came in, and we 
 sat down to table. The conversation was gay and 
 varied, but often turned upon the evangelical people 
 of some cities in Northern Germany. It was remarked 
 that these pietistical separations had destroyed the 
 harmony of whole families. 
 
 1 said that I could sympathize with such ills, having 
 lost an excellent friend, because he could not convert 
 me to his opinions. He was thoroughly convinced 
 that good works are of no avail, and that man can 
 win favor with the divinity only by the grace of 
 Christ. 
 
 " According to the present course of the world, in 
 conversing on such topics," said Goethe, " all is one 
 puddle ; and perhaps none of you know whence it 
 comes — but I will tell you. 
 
 " The doctrine of good works, namely, that man, 
 by good actions, and founding beneficent institutions, 
 can avoid the penalty of sin, and win the favor of God, 
 is Catholic. But the reformers, out of opposition, 
 rejected such a doctrine, and declared that man must 
 seek solely to recognize the merits of Christ, and share 
 in his grace, which really must lead to good works. 
 But, now-a-days, all this is mingled together, and 
 nobody knows whence a thing comes." 
 
 T was thinking, though I did not freely express it, 
 that various opinions in religious matters had always 
 sown dissension among men, and that, indeed, the first 
 
220 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 murder had been introduced by a difference in the 
 mode of worshipping God. 
 
 I said that I had just been reading Byron's " Cain," 
 and had been particularly struck by the third act, 
 * and the rrfanner in which the catastrophe was pro- 
 duced. 
 
 "Is it not admirable?" said Goethe. "Its beauty 
 is such as we shall not see a second time in the 
 world." 
 
 " Cain," said I, " was at first under ban in England ; 
 but now every body reads it, and young English 
 travellers carry usually a complete Byron with them." 
 
 " It was folly," said Goethe, " for, in fact, there is 
 nothing in Cain, which is not taught by the English 
 bishops themselves." 
 
 The Chancellor was announced. He sat down with 
 us at table. Goethe's grandchildren, Walter and 
 Wolfgang, came jumping. Wolf pressed close to the 
 Chancellor. 
 
 " Bring," said Goethe, " your Album, and show the 
 Chancellor your Princess, and what. Count Sternberg 
 wrote for you." 
 
 Wolf sprang up and brought the book. The 
 Chancellor looked at the portrait of the Princess, and 
 the verses which had been annexed by Goethe. He 
 looked further in the book, and seeing Zelter's hand- 
 writing, read aloud, Lerne gehorchen, ( " Learn to 
 obey." ) 
 
 "Those are the only reasonable words in the whole 
 book," said Goethe, laughing ; " as, indeed, Zelter is 
 always wise and dignified. I am now looking over 
 his letters with Riemer ; and they contain invaluable 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 221 
 
 matter. Especially are the letters which he has written 
 me on his journeys, of great worth ; for he has, ab a 
 skilful architect and musician, the advantage, that he 
 can never want interesting subjects for criticism, So 
 soon as he enters a city, the buildings stand before him, 
 and tell him all their merits and all their faults. 
 
 " The musical societies receive him at once, and 
 show to the master's practised eye their virtues and 
 defects. If a short-hand writer could but have 
 recorded his conversations with his musical scholars, 
 we should possess something truly unique in its way. 
 In such matters is Zelter great, and hits always the 
 nail on the head." 
 
 Thursday, July 5. 
 
 Towards evening, I met Goethe in the Park, 
 returning from a ride. As he passed he beckoned to 
 me to come and see him. I went immediately to his 
 house, where I found Coudray ; and the Chancellor 
 came in presently. The conversation turned on 
 political subjects — Wellington's embassy to St. Peters- 
 burg, and its probable consequence, Capo d'Istria, &,c. 
 
 We talked, too, of Napoleon's times. Coudray 
 showed us a drawing of the iron railing with which 
 he intends to surround Wieland's grave at Osmannstedt. 
 
 After the Chancellor and Coudray were gone, 
 Goethe asked me to stay with him awhile. '* For one 
 who, like me, lived in two ages," said he, " there is 
 an oddity in this talk about statues and monuments. 
 When one is erected in honor of any distinguished 
 man, I seem already to see it cast down and trampled 
 upon by the warriors of future days. Already I see 
 
 T 2 
 
222 
 
 ECK ERMANN. 
 
 Coudray's iron railing about Wieland's grave, shoeing 
 the horses of future cavalry. Indeed, I may say that 
 I have lived through a similar change in Frankfort. 
 Wieland's grave is much too near the Ilm ; the stream 
 in a hundred years will have so worn the shore by its 
 sudden turn, that it will have reached the body." 
 
 We had some good-humored jests about the terrible 
 inconstancy of earthly things, and then, looking upon 
 Coudray's drawing, were led to praise the fine English 
 pencil, so well adapted both to the delicate and strong 
 strokes, that the thought is conveyed immediately to 
 the paper, without the least loss. Goethe showed me a 
 fine drawing, by an Italian master, of the boy Jesus 
 with the doctors ; then he showed me an engraving 
 from a picture on this subject. 
 
 «' I have lately been so fortunate," said he, " as to 
 buy many excellent drawings by celebrated masters, 
 at a reasonable rate. Such drawings are invaluable ; 
 not only because they give, in its purity, the spiritual 
 intention of the artist, but because they enable us to 
 enter into the mood of his mind, in the hour of 
 creation. From this drawing of the .boy Jesus, and 
 the temple, we perceive the great clearness, and still, 
 serene resolution, in the mind of the artist. The arts 
 of painting and sculpture have the great advantage 
 that they are objective, and attract us, without violently 
 exciting our feelings. Such a work either speaks to 
 us not at all, or in a very decided manner; a poem 
 makes a far more vague impression, exciting in each 
 hearer different emotions, according to his acre and 
 capacity." 
 
 " I have," said I, " been reading, of late, the 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 223 
 
 excellent romance of 'Roderick Random,' by Smollett. 
 It gave me almost the same impression with a good 
 drawing. It is a direct representation of the subject, 
 with no touch of the sentimental ; the reality of life 
 stands before us as it is, often repulsive and detestable 
 enough, yet, when made into a whole, giving a pleasant 
 impression on account of the decided reality." 
 
 " I have often heard the praises of ' Roderick 
 Random,' and can well believe what you say of it, 
 but have never read it. I should like to have you read 
 Johnson's * Rasselas,' and tell me what you think of it." 
 
 I promised to do so. 
 
 *« In Lord Byron, " said I, " especially in 'Don Juan,' 
 I find passages describing objects merely, and giving 
 the same feeling with a good drawing." 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " Lord Byron was great in 
 that; his pictures have an air of careless reality, and 
 are as lightly thrown off as if they were improvised. 
 I know but little of ' Don Juan,' but I remember many 
 such passages from his other poems, especially sea 
 scenes, with a sail peeping out here and there, so full 
 of life, that you seem to feel the sea-breeze blowing." 
 
 "In his ' Don Juan,'" said I, "I have particularly 
 admired the representation of London, which his 
 careless verses bring before your eyes. He is not 
 very scrupulous whether his objects are poetical or 
 not ; but seizes and uses all just as they come before 
 him ; even the wigs in the hair-cutter's window, and 
 the men who take care of the street lamps." 
 
 " Our German aesthetics," said Goethe, " are 
 always talking about poetical and unpoetical objects ; 
 nor are they from a certain point of view wrong ; yet, 
 
224 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 at bottom, no object which the poet knows how to 
 use is unpoetical." 
 
 I remarked that Byron was very successful in his 
 women. 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " his women are good. In- 
 deed, this is the only vase into which we moderns can 
 pour our ideality ; nothing can be done with the men. 
 Homer has got it all away in Achilles and Ulysses, 
 the bravest and most prudent of possible men." 
 
 " I wonder," said 1, " that Lord Byron could dwell 
 so long on bodily torture, as he must, to write the 
 ' Two Foscari.' " 
 
 "That," said Goethe, "was Byron's element; he 
 was always a self-tormentor. Such subjects were his 
 darling theme, as you see in all his works, scarce one 
 of which has a cheerful subject. The management 
 of this play (the ' Foscari ') is worthy of great praise." 
 
 " Admirable ! " said I ; " every word is strong, 
 significant, and subservient to the aim. Indeed, gene- 
 rally speaking, I find no weak lines in Byron. I 
 think ever I see him issuing from the sea, fresh, and 
 full of creative power. The more I read him, the 
 more I admire the greatness of his genius, and think 
 you were quite right to present him with that immortal 
 monument of love in ' Helena.' " 
 
 "I could not," said Goethe, "make any man the 
 representative of the modern poetical era except him, 
 who undoubtedly is to be regarded as the greatest 
 genius of our century. He is neither classic nor 
 romantic, but the reflection of our own day. He 
 suited me in every respect, with his unsatisfied nature 
 and his warlike tendency, which led to his death at 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 225 
 
 Missoloncrhi. It were neither convenient nor advisa- 
 
 o 
 
 ble to write a treatise upon Byron ; but I shall not omit 
 to pay him honor at proper times." 
 
 Goethe spoke further of ' Helena.' " I thought of a 
 very different close," said he, " at one time, but, 
 afterwards, this of Lord Byron pleased me better. 
 You observe the character of the chorus is quite 
 destroyed by this song ; until this time, in the antique 
 fashion, it has never belied its girlish nature, but now 
 of a sudden becomes nobly reflecting, and says things 
 such as it never did nor could think." 
 
 " Certainly," said I, " I remarked it ; but, since I 
 have seen the double shadows of Rubens's landscapes, 
 and got a better insight into the idea of fiction, such 
 things do not disturb me. These little inconsistencies 
 are of no consequence, if they are stepping-stones to a 
 higher beauty ; since the song is to be sung, and there 
 is no other chorus to sing it, let the girls do so." 
 
 " I wonder," said Goethe, laughing, li what the 
 German critics will say ! Will they have freedom and 
 boldness enough to get over this ? Understanding 
 comes in the way of the French ; they cannot believe 
 that fancy has its own laws, to which the understand- 
 ing does not and can not penetrate. 
 
 " Fancy has not much power where it does not 
 originate things which must ever be problems to the 
 understanding. It is this which separates poetry from 
 prose, in which understanding always is, and always 
 should be, at home." 
 
 I now took leave, for it was ten o'clock. We had 
 been sitting without a light ; the clear summer evening 
 shining from the north over Ettersberg. 
 
22(i 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Monday evening, July 9. 
 
 I found Goethe alone, looking at the casts which 
 had been taken from the Stosch cabinet. " My Berlin 
 friends," said he, " have had the kindness to send me 
 this whole collection to examine. I am already ac- 
 quainted with most of these fine things ; but now I see 
 them in the instructive arrangement of Winckelmann. 
 I use his description, and consult him in cases where 
 I myself am doubtful." 
 
 The Chancellor came in. He told us a piece of news 
 from the Gazette about the keeper of a menagerie, 
 who had killed a lion out of desire to taste his flesh. 
 
 " I wonder," said Goethe, " he did not rather try an 
 ape ; that would be a tender, relishing morsel." 
 
 We talked of the hatefulness of these beasts, re- 
 marking that they were so much the more unpleasant, 
 as they were more like men. 
 
 "I do not understand," said the Chancellor, "how 
 princes can keep these animals near them, and, indeed, 
 take pleasure in them." 
 
 " Princes," said Goethe, "are so much tormented 
 by disagreeable men, that they regard these more 
 disagreeable animals as a means of balancing the 
 other impressions. We common people naturally 
 dislike apes and the screaming of paroquets, because 
 we see them in circumstances in which they were not 
 made. If we could ride upon elephants among palm- 
 trees, we should there find apes and paroquets quite 
 in their place, perhaps pleasant ; but, as I said, 
 princes naturally must drive away one unpleasant 
 thing with something still more unpleasant." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 227 
 
 The Chancellor turned the conversation on the 
 present state of the opposition, and the ministerial 
 party, at Paris, repeating, almost word for word, a 
 speech, which an extremely bold democrat had made 
 against the minister, in defending himself before a 
 court of justice. We have reason once again to 
 marvel at the memory of the Chancellor. There was 
 much conversation upon this subject, and upon the 
 censure of the press, Goethe showing himself, as 
 usual, a mild aristocrat, and his friend taking his 
 usual ground on the side of the people. 
 
 "I have no fears for the French," said Goethe; 
 " they stand upon such a height that intellect cannot 
 be repressed. This law can have only a beneficent 
 effect, as its limitations are directed only against 
 personalities. An opposition which has no limits is a 
 flat affair ; but its limits oblige it to become intel- 
 lectual, and this is a great advantage. To speak out 
 an opinion directly and harshly is only excusable when 
 that opinion is perfectly right ; but a party, if only 
 because it is a party, cannot be wholly in the right ; 
 therefore those indirect means in which the French 
 have been such models are the best. I say to my 
 servant, ' John, pull off my boots,' and he understands; 
 but, if I wish the service from a friend, I must not 
 speak so bluntly, but find some pleasant, friendly way 
 to ask for this kind office. This necessity excites my 
 mind ; and, for the same reason, I like some restraint 
 upon the press. 
 
 " The French have always had the reputation of 
 being the most spirituel of nations, and they ought 
 
228 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 to keep it. We Germans tumble out our opinions 
 without ceremony, and have not acquired much skill 
 in going round about. 
 
 " The parties at Paris would be still greater than 
 they are, if they were more liberal and free, and 
 understood each other better than they do. They 
 stand upon a higher step, in the view of general 
 history, than the English ; the opposing powers of 
 whose Parliament paralyze one another, and where 
 the deeper insight of any individual can scarcely have 
 fair play, as we see by Canning, and the many troubles 
 which beset that great statesman." 
 
 We rose to go, but Goethe was so full of life that 
 the conversation was continued awhile standing. At 
 last he bid us an affectionate farewell, and I walked 
 home with the Chancellor. It was a beautiful evening, 
 and we talked much of Goethe as we went; but, 
 especially, we repeated his remark that an unlimited 
 opposition soon becomes a flat affair. 
 
 Sunday, 15th July. 
 
 I went, at eight o'clock this evening, to see Goethe, 
 whom I found just returned from his garden. 
 
 " Do you see what lies there?" said he; "a ro- 
 mance, in three volumes ; and from whom, think you ? 
 from Manzoni." 
 
 I looked at the books, which were very handsomely 
 bound, and inscribed to Goethe. 
 
 " I know nothing of him," said I, " except his ode 
 to Napoleon, which I lately read again in your trans- 
 lation, and have admired extremely. Each stanza 
 is a picture." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 229 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " the ode is excellent ; but 
 who speaks of it in Germany 1 It might as well not 
 have been translated, although it is the best poem 
 which has been made upon the subject." 
 
 Goethe continued reading the English newspapers, 
 with which I had found him engaged when I came in. 
 I took up that volume of Carlyle's translation of 
 "German Romance" which contains Musaeus and 
 Fouque. This Englishman, who is so intimately 
 acquainted with our literature, had prefixed to every 
 translation a memoir and a criticism of the author. 
 I read that upon Fouque, and remarked with pleasure 
 that the memoir showed much intellect and depth of 
 thought, and the critical view was distinguished by 
 great understanding, and tranquil, mild insight for 
 poetic merits. At one time, the intellectual English- 
 man compares Fouque to the voice of a singer, which 
 has no great compass, and but few tones, but those 
 few good and finely harmonized. To illustrate his 
 meaning further, he says that Fouque does not take, 
 in the poetic church, the place of a bishop or dignitary 
 of the first rank, but rather satisfies himself with 
 performing well the duties of a chaplain. 
 
 While I had been reading, Goethe had gone into 
 the back chamber. He sent for me to come to him 
 there. 
 
 " Sit down," said he, " and let us talk awhile. A 
 new translation of Sophocles has just arrived. It 
 reads well, and seems to be excellent ; I will compare 
 it with Solger. Now, what say you to Carlyle ?" 
 
 I told him what I had been reading upon Fouque. 
 
 " Is not that very good 1 " said Goethe. " Over the 
 
 u 
 
230 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 sea, also, there are discreet people, who can under- 
 stand and treat us worthily. 
 
 " The Germans," continued Goethe, " have good 
 heads in other departments. I have been reading, in 
 the Berlin Register, the criticism of an historian upon 
 Schlosser, which is very great. The signature is 
 Heinrich Leo, a person of whom I never heard, but 
 about whom I must inquire. He stands higher than 
 the French, which is much to say in an historical point 
 of view. They stick too much by the real, and cannot 
 get at the ideal, of which the German is in full pos- 
 session. He has admirable views upon the castes 
 of India. Much is said of aristocracy and democracy ; 
 but the whole affair is simply this : in youth, when we 
 either possess nothing, or know not how to value the 
 tranquil possession of any thing, we are democrats; 
 but, when we, in a long life, have come to possess 
 something of our own, we wish not only ourselves to 
 be secure of it, but that our children and grandchildren 
 should be secure of inheriting it. Therefore, we 
 always lean to aristocracy in our old age, whatever 
 were our opinions in youth. Leo speaks with great 
 discrimination upon this point. 
 
 " We are weakest in the aesthetic department, and 
 may look long before we meet such a man as Carlyle. 
 It is pleasant to see that the intercourse is now so 
 close between the French, English, and Germans, that 
 they can correct one another. This is the greatest 
 use of a world-literature, which will show itself more 
 and more. 
 
 " Carlyle has written a life of Schiller, and judged 
 him throughout as it would be difficult for a German 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 231 
 
 to judge. On the other hand, we perhaps appreciate 
 Shakspeare and Byron better than the English them- 
 selves." 
 
 Wednesday, 18th July. 
 
 " Let me announce to you," was Goethe's first 
 salutation at dinner, " that Manzoni's romance soars 
 far above all which we possess of the kind. I need 
 say to you nothing more, except that the inmost, all 
 which comes from the soul of the poet, is absolutely 
 perfect ; and that the outward, the drawing of locali- 
 ties, and the like, is no way inferior. While reading, 
 we are always passing from tenderness to admiration, 
 and again from admiration to tenderness ; you are 
 always full of one of these powerful emotions. One 
 can scarce do any thing finer. Not till this romance 
 has Manzoni rightly shown what he is. In this we 
 see his inmost being, which he had no opportunity to 
 display in his dramatic works. I intend now to take 
 up the best romances of Walter Scott, — perhaps 
 Waverley, which I have never yet read, — and see 
 how Manzoni compares with this great writer. 
 
 " Manzoni's soul appears so elevated, that scarcely 
 any thing can approach it. The fruit is perfectly ripe. 
 In the management of details, he is as clear as the 
 Italian heaven itself." 
 
 "Has he any marks of sentimentality?" said I. 
 
 "Nowhere," replied Goethe; "he has sentiment, 
 but is perfectly free from sentimentality ; his feeling 
 of every situation is manly and genuine ; but I will say 
 no more to-day. I have not yet finished the first 
 volume ; by and by you shall hear more." 
 
232 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Saturday, 21st July. 
 
 When I came into Goethe's room this evening, I 
 found him reading Manzoni's romance. 
 
 " I am in the third volume already," said he, as 
 he laid aside the book, " and am receiving many new 
 thoughts. You know Aristotle says of tragedy, * If 
 good, it will excite fear.'** This is true, not only of 
 tragedy, but of many other sorts of invention. You 
 find it in my Gott und die Bayadere. You find it in 
 good comedies also." 
 
 # * # # ## * * 
 
 " This fear may be of two sorts; it may exist in the 
 shape of anxiety, (Bangigkeit,) or in that of alarm, 
 (Angst.) The first feeling is awakened, when we see 
 a moral evil threatening, and gradually overshadowing, 
 the persons about whom we are interested, as in the 
 1 Elective Affinities ; ' but alarm, when we see them 
 threatened with physical danger, as in Der Freyschutz. 
 Manzoni is remarkably successful in making use of 
 alarm, which he softens, at last, into emotion, and thus 
 leads us to admiration. The feeling of alarm is neces- 
 sarily caused by the circumstances, and will be excited 
 in every reader ; but that of admiration, being excited 
 by the writer's skill, belongs only to the connoisseur. 
 What say you to my aesthetics ? If I were younger, 
 I would write somewhat upon this theory, though 
 perhaps not so comprehensive a work as this of 
 Manzoni. 
 
 " I am curious to know what the gentlemen of 
 the ' Globe ' will say to this romance. They have 
 discrimination enough to perceive its excellences ; and 
 the whole tendency of the work would bring water to 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 233 
 
 the mill of these liberals, although Manzoni has shown 
 himself very moderate ; but the French seldom give 
 themselves up to a work with such simplicity as we ; 
 they cannot adapt themselves to the author's point 
 of view, but always find, even in the best, something 
 which is not to their mind, and which the author 
 ought to have done differently." 
 
 Goethe then described to me some parts of the 
 romance, in order to show me in what spirit it was 
 written. 
 
 " Four things," said he, " contribute especially to 
 the excellence of Manzoni's works. First, that he is 
 so fine a historian, and, consequently, gives his inven- 
 tions a depth and dignity which are not usually found 
 in romances. Secondly, the Catholic religion is favor- 
 able to him, giving him many poetical relations, which 
 he could not have had as a Protestant. Then, his day, 
 being one of revolutionary ferment, is favorable to his 
 writings ; for, if he himself has not shared the troubles 
 of such a period, he has seen his friends overtaken, 
 often ruined by them. Fourthly, it is in favor of this 
 romance, that the scene is laid in the charming 
 country near Lake Como, which has been stamped on 
 the poet's mind, from youth upwards, till he knows 
 it by heart. Thence arises also that distinguishing 
 merit of the work — its distinctness and wonderful 
 accuracy in describing localities." 
 
 Monday, 23d July. 
 When I asked for Goethe, about eight o'clock this 
 evening, they said he had not yet returned from the 
 garden. I found him in the Park, sitting on a bench 
 
234 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 in the shade of the lindens ; his grandson, Wolfgang, 
 at his side. He seemed glad to see me, and desired 
 me to sit down by him. We had no sooner exchanged 
 salutations, than the conversation again turned upon 
 Manzoni. 
 
 "I told you lately," Goethe began, "that the 
 historian had been of great use to the romance-writer ; 
 but I find in the third volume, that the historical 
 minuteness hurts the poetry. For Signor Manzoni 
 throws off, sometimes, his poetic drapery, and stands 
 there in historic bareness. This happens in his 
 descriptions of famine, war, and pestilence ; in them- 
 selves so repulsive, and now made insufferable by the 
 circumstantial details of a dry chronicle. 
 
 " The German translator must seek to shun this 
 fault ; he must get rid of a large part of the war and 
 famine, and two thirds of the plague ; only leaving 
 what is necessary to carry on the action. If Manzoni 
 had had at his side a friendly adviser, he might easily 
 have shunned this fault ; but he had, as an historian, 
 too great a respect for reality. This is the reason 
 of his putting what is left of the historical material 
 in notes to his dramas. Here he could not get rid of 
 his historical furniture in the same manner, and a part 
 of his work is encumbered by it ; but so soon as the 
 persons of the romance come forward again, the poet 
 reappears in all his glory, and compels us to our 
 accustomed admiration." 
 
 We rose and turned our steps to the house. 
 
 "You will hardly understand," said Goethe, "how 
 a poet like Manzoni, capable of so admirable compo- 
 sitions, could sin for a moment against the spirit 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 235 
 
 of poetry. Yet the cause is simple, and it is this : 
 Manzoni, like Schiller, was born a poet. Our times 
 are so bad, that the poet can find no nature fit for his 
 use, in the human life which surrounds him. To build 
 himself up, Schiller seized on the two great subjects, 
 philosophy and history ; Manzoni, on history alone. 
 Schiller's 1 Wallenstein ' is so great, that there will be 
 nothing like it of the same sort; yet you will find 
 that his powerful helpers, history and philosophy, have 
 injured various parts of the work, and prevented its 
 being purely poetical. And so suffers Manzoni, from 
 a too great load of history." 
 
 " Your excellency," said 1, " speaks great things, 
 and I am happy in hearing you." 
 
 "Manzoni," said Goethe, "helps us to good 
 thoughts." 
 
 The conversation was here interrupted by the 
 Chancellor, who met us at the garden door. This 
 welcome friend joined us, and we accompanied Goethe 
 up the little stair, through the chamber of busts, into 
 the long saloon, where the curtains were let down, and 
 two lights burning on the table near the window. We 
 sat down by the table, and Goethe and the Chancellor 
 talked upon subjects of another nature. 
 
 Monday, 24th September. 
 I went with Goethe to Berka. We drove off soon 
 after eight o'clock. It was a very beautiful morning. 
 The road is up hill at first, and, as there was nothing 
 in the scenery worth looking at, we talked on literary 
 subjects. A well-known German poet had lately 
 passed through Weimar, and shown Goethe his album. 
 
236 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 M You would "scarcely believe what weak stuff I 
 found in it," said Goethe ; "all the poets write as 
 if they were sick, and the whole world a lazaretto. 
 All speak of the miseries of this life, and the joys 
 of the other ; and each malecontent excites still greater 
 dissatisfaction in his neighbors. This is a sad abuse 
 of poetry, which was given us to smooth away the 
 rough places of life, and make man satisfied with the 
 world and his situation. The present generation fears 
 all genuine power, and is only at home and poetical 
 amid weakness. I have found a good word to plague 
 these gentlemen ; I will call theirs the lazaretto poetry. 
 The genuine Tyrtaeus vein endows man with courage 
 to endure the conflicts of life." 
 
 Goethe's words received my full assent. My atten- 
 tion was excited by an osier basket, with two handles, 
 which lay at our feet in the carriage. 
 
 " I brought it," said Goethe, " from Marienbad, 
 where they have such baskets of all sizes, and am so 
 accustomed to it that I cannot travel without it. You 
 see when it is empty it can be folded close together, 
 and takes up little room. It will, however, hold more 
 than you would think. It is pliable, and yet so strong 
 that you can carry the heaviest things in it." 
 
 " It looks very picturesque, and even antique," 
 said I. 
 
 " You are right," said Goethe ; " it is like the 
 antique, not only because so well adapted to its end, 
 but because it has so simple and pleasing a form. We 
 may indeed say that it is complete in its kind. It has 
 been particularly useful to me in my excursions over 
 the Bohemian Mountains. At present it contains our 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 237 
 
 breakfast. If I had a hammer, I might have an oppor- 
 tunity to-day to knock off a piece here and there, and 
 bring it home full of stones." 
 
 We had now reached the heights, and had a free 
 lookout towards the hills behind which Berka lies. A 
 little to the left we saw into the valley, in the direction 
 of Hetschburg, where, on the other side of the Ilm, 
 is a hill, which now turned towards us its shadowy 
 side, and, on account of the vapors of the Ilm, which 
 hovered before it, seemed blue to my eye. I looked 
 at the same spot through my glass, and the blue was 
 obviously diminished. I observed this to Goethe. 
 " Thus you see," said I, " what a part the subject plays 
 with these objective colors; a weak eye asserts the 
 gloom ; a sharpened one drives the vapors away, or 
 makes them fade." 
 
 " Your remark is perfectly just," said Goethe ; " a 
 good spy-glass dispels the blue tint of the most distant 
 mountains. The subject has, in all phenomena, far 
 more importance than is supposed. Wieland knew 
 this well when he was wont to say, ' One could easily 
 amuse people, if they were only amusable.' " 
 
 We laughed at the pleasant meaning of this saying. 
 We had been descending the little valley, where the 
 road passes over a wooden bridge with a roof, under 
 which the rain torrents, which flow down from 
 Hetschburg, had made a channel, which was at present 
 dry. Highway laborers were using, about the bridge, 
 some reddish sand-stones, which attracted Goethe's 
 attention. Perhaps a bow-shot over the bridge, where 
 the road goes up the hill, which separates the traveller 
 from Berka, Goethe bade the coachman stop. 
 
238 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " We will get out here," said he, " and see whether 
 our breakfast will not relish well in the open air." 
 
 We got out, and looked about us. The servant 
 spread a napkin upon a four-cornered pile of stones, 
 such as usually lie by the road-side, and brought the 
 osier basket from the carriage, out of which they took 
 roast partridge, new wheaten rolls, and fresh cucumbers. 
 Goethe cut a partridge, and gave me half; I ate, 
 standing up and walking about. Goethe had seated 
 himself on the corner of the heap of stones. The 
 coldness of the stones, on which the night dew was 
 still resting, must hurt him, thought I, and expressed 
 my anxiety. Goethe, however, assured me it would 
 not hurt him, and then I felt myself quite tranquil, 
 regarding it as a new token of the inward strength he 
 must feel. Meanwhile, the servants had brought a 
 bottle of wine from the carriage, and filled for us. 
 
 " Our friend Schütze," said Goethe, " is quite right 
 to fly to the country every week ; we will take pattern 
 by him, and, if this fine weather continues, this shall 
 not be our last excursion." 
 
 I was rejoiced by this assurance. 
 
 I passed, afterwards, with Goethe, a most interesting 
 day, partly in Berka, partly in Tonndorf. His 
 communications, in which he was inexhaustible, were 
 full of the finest thought ; especially he talked much 
 of the second part of " Faust," on which he was just 
 beginning to work in earnest ; and I lament so much 
 the more, that I find in my journal no further notes 
 upon the day. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 239 
 
 Sunday, 15th June, 1823. 
 
 While we were still at table, Herr Seidel was 
 announced, accompanied by the Tyrolese. The 
 singers remained in the next room ; we could see them 
 perfectly through the open door, and their song was 
 heard to advantage from that distance. Seidel sat 
 down with us. These songs of the cheerful Tyrolese, 
 with their peculiar burden, delighted us young people. 
 Fraulein Ulrica and I were particularly pleased with 
 the Strauss and Du, du, liegst mir im Herzen, and 
 asked for a copy of them. Goethe was by no means 
 as much delighted as we. 
 
 " Ask children and birds," said he, " how cherries 
 and strawberries taste." 
 
 Between the songs they played national dances, on 
 a sort of cithern, which was laid down on a rest, 
 accompanied by a clear-toned German flute. 
 
 Young Goethe was called out. He returned and 
 dismissed the Tyrolese. He sat down with us again. 
 We talked of the great concourse of people who had 
 come together from all quarters to see Oberon ; so 
 that at noon it was impossible to get a ticket. Young 
 Goethe proposed that we should leave the table. 
 
 " Dear father," said he, " our friends will wish to 
 go early to the theatre this evening." 
 
 Goethe thought such haste very unnecessary, as it 
 was but just four o'clock ; however, he made no 
 opposition, and we scattered ourselves through the 
 apartments. Seidel came to me and some others, 
 and said softly, and with a troubled brow, 
 
 " You need expect no pleasure at the theatre ; there 
 
240 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 will be no play; the Grand Duke is dead; he died on 
 his journey hither from Berlin." 
 
 A general shock went through the company. Goethe 
 comes in ; we dissemble, and talk of indifferent things. 
 Goethe called me to the window, to talk about the 
 Tyrolese, and the theatre. 
 
 44 You have my box," said he, " and need not go to 
 the theatre till six : stay after the others, that we may 
 have a little chat." 
 
 Young Goethe, meanwhile, was sending the guests 
 away, that he might have time to break the news to his 
 father before the return of the Chancellor, who had 
 brought it to him. Goethe could not understand his 
 son's conduct, and seemed annoyed. 
 
 " Will you not stay for coffee? " said he ; " it is only 
 four o'clock." 
 
 But they all declined ; and I, too, took my hat. 
 
 " What, are you too going ? " said he. 
 
 His son excused me, by saying I had something to 
 do before going to the theatre. We went up stairs 
 with Fraulein Ulrica, while young Goethe communi- 
 cated the sad tidings to his father. 
 
 I saw Goethe late in the evening. As I opened the 
 door of his chamber, I heard him sighing and talking 
 to himself: he seemed to feel that an irreparable rent 
 had been torn in his existence : he would lend an ear 
 to no sort of consolation. 
 
 "I thought," said he, "that I should depart before 
 him ; but God disposes as he thinks best ; and all that 
 we poor mortals have to do, is to endure, and hold 
 ourselves upright, as we best may, and as long as 
 we can." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 241 
 
 The Grand Duchess Mother received the melancholy 
 news at her summer residence of Wilhelmsthal. 
 The younger members of the family were in Russia. 
 Goethe Avent soon to Dornburg, in order to withdraw 
 himself from daily saddening impressions, and renew 
 his activity amid other associations. 
 
 From France he had received new instigation to 
 continue his botanical researches; and this rural abode, 
 where he was constantly surrounded by vines and 
 flowers, was very favorable to such studies. 
 
 I visited him there, in company with his daughter- 
 in-law and grandchildren. He seemed very happy, 
 and repeatedly expressed his delight at the beautiful 
 situation of the Castle and gardens. 
 
 In fact, he had, from windows at such a height, an 
 enchanting prospect. Beneath was the variegated val- 
 ley, with the Saale meandering through the meadows. 
 On the opposite side, toward the east, were wooded 
 hills, over which the eye could pursue, into the 
 distance, the retreating showers ; and observe, to equal 
 advantage, the eastern constellations and the rising sun. 
 
 " I enjoy here," said Goethe, " day and night 
 equally. Often before dawn I awake, and lie down by 
 the open window, to enjoy the splendor of the three 
 planets, which are at present to be seen together, and 
 the gradual irradiation of the clouds. I pass almost 
 the whole day in the open air, and hold spiritual com- 
 munion with the tendrils of the vine, which say many 
 good things to me, and of which I could tell you 
 wonders. Also, I write once more poems which are 
 not bad. Could it be permitted me, I would fain 
 continue to live as I do now." 
 
 v 
 
242 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Thursday, llth September. 
 
 Goethe returned to-day from Dornburg. He looked 
 very well, and quite browned by the sun. He sat 
 down almost immediately to dinner, in the chamber 
 next the garden, whose doors stood open. He told us 
 of many visits and presents which he had received; and 
 seemed to please himself with frequent light jests. Yet 
 one who could look deeply into his feelings, could not 
 but perceive a certain embarrassment, like one who 
 returns into a situation girt about by manifold rela- 
 tionships, views, and requisitions. 
 
 During the first course, a message came from the 
 Grand Duchess Mother, expressing her pleasure at 
 Goethe's return, and announcing that she should make 
 him a visit the following Tuesday. 
 
 Since the death of the Grand Duke, Goethe had 
 seen no member of the reigning family. He had, 
 indeed, corresponded constantly with the Grand 
 Duchess Mother, so that they had expressed their 
 feelings upon their common loss ; yet the personal 
 interview could not but awake painful emotions. 
 Neither had Goethe yet seen the young Duke and 
 Duchess, nor paid his homage to the new rulers of the 
 land. All this was before him now, which, if it could 
 not disturb the accomplished man of the world, yet 
 must hinder his genius from living on in its natural 
 direction and full activity. Visits, too, threatened 
 him from all countries. The meeting at Berlin of 
 celebrated natural philosophers had set in motion 
 many important personages, most of whom would take 
 Weimar in their way. This must occasion whole 
 weeks of disturbance, such as was always caused at 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 243 
 
 Weimar, by visits in many ways so valuable ; and all 
 this Goethe foresaw, as he reentered his own house. 
 What made this worse was, that the fifth section of 
 his works, which was to contain the Wanderjahre, 
 had been promised for the press at Christmas. Goethe 
 had begun to work over this romance, which originally 
 came out in one volume, melting so much new into 
 the old, that it might appear in a new edition, as a 
 work in three volumes. 
 
 Much is done, but also much to do. The manuscript 
 has every where gaps in white paper, which are to be 
 rilled out. Here something is wanting to the expo- 
 sition ; here is to be found a suitable link to prevent 
 the reader from perceiving that this is a collective 
 work ; here are fragments of great interest, some 
 of which want a beginning, others an end ; so that, 
 altogether, there is much to do to the three volumes, 
 to give the work attraction and gracefulness propor- 
 tioned to its value. 
 
 Goethe had shown me this manuscript in the spring, 
 and I had advised him to set aside all his other labors, 
 and devote the summer to its completion. He had 
 intended to do so ; but the death of the Grand Duke 
 had taken from him the tranquillity and cheerfulness 
 necessary to such a composition, and he needed all 
 his strength merely to sustain such a blow. Now, on 
 his return, remembering how little time was left him 
 for his work, he naturally felt much embarrassed by 
 the disturbances which he foresaw. 
 
 Professor Abeken, of Osnabrück, had sent me, 
 before the 28th of August, an enclosure, requesting me 
 to give it to- Goethe on his birth-day, and saying it 
 
244 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 related to Schiller, and would certainly give him 
 pleasure. When he was speaking to-day of his birth-day 
 presents, I asked him what that package contained. 
 
 " Something very interesting," said Goethe, " and 
 which really gave me great pleasure. An amiable 
 lady, who once received Schiller at tea, conceived 
 the happy idea of writing down all he said. She 
 comprehended it well, and related it with accuracy, 
 so that, on reading it after so long an interval, one 
 is translated immediately into a situation which is now 
 passed by with a thousand others as interesting, while 
 the living spirit of this one only was caught and 
 transferred to paper. 
 
 " Schiller appears here, as always, in perfect posses- 
 sion of his elevated nature. He seems as great at the 
 tea-table as he would have done in a council of state. 
 Nothing constrains him, nothing narrows him, nothing 
 draws downward the flight of his thoughts. His great 
 views are expressed freely and fearlessly. He was a 
 true man, such as we should all be. We others are 
 always in bondage to something. The persons, the 
 objects that surround us, have their influence upon 
 us. The tea-spoon constrains us, if it is of gold, 
 instead of silver, as usual. And so, paralyzed by a 
 thousand side-views, we do not succeed, if there is 
 any thing great in our nature, in expressing it freely. 
 We are the slaves of objects round us, and appear 
 little or important according as these restrain or 
 give us leave to dilate." 
 
 He was silent. The conversation turned on other 
 subjects ; but I continued to meditate on these words, 
 which had touched my inmost consciousness. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 245 
 
 Wednesday, October 1, 1828. 
 
 Mr. Hönninghausen, from Crefeld, a great merchant, 
 and also very fond of natural philosophy, — a man 
 enriched with various knowledge, both from travel 
 and study, — dined with Goethe to-day. 
 
 He was returning from the Berlin assembly ; and 
 much was said on subjects of natural history, especially 
 of mineralogy. 
 
 There was much talk also about the Vulcanists, 
 and of the various ways by which men formed their 
 opinions and theories upon nature. The great natural 
 historians, and especially Aristotle, were mentioned, 
 about whom Goethe spoke thus : — 
 
 " Aristotle has better observed Nature than any 
 modern, but he was too rash in his inferences and 
 conclusions. We must go to work slowly and indul- 
 gently {lasslich) with nature, if we would get any 
 thing from her. 
 
 " When I had arrived at a conclusion in my in- 
 quiries, I did not expect that Nature would immediately 
 confirm my opinion, but continued to test it by new 
 observations and experiments, satisfied if she had the 
 kindness occasionally to respond to my wishes. If she 
 would not, then I took some other way to pursue her, 
 through which, perhaps, I might find her more kindly 
 disposed." 
 
 Friday, 3d October. 
 To-day, at dinner, I talked with Goethe about 
 Fouque's Sängerkrieg auf der Wartburg, which I 
 had read, according to his wish. We agreed in this — 
 that Fouque had spent a life in studies connected 
 
 V 2 
 
246 ECKERMANN. 
 
 with ancient German history, without drawing from 
 them at last any valuable knowledge. 
 
 " From those old German gloomy times," said 
 Goethe, " we can obtain as little as from the national 
 songs of the Servians, or other barbarians. We can 
 read and be interested about them a while, but must 
 at last cast them aside, and let them lie behind us. 
 Generally speaking, a man is quite sufficiently sad- 
 dened by his own passions and destiny ; he need not 
 make himself more gloomy, by looking into the 
 darkness of barbaric early days. He needs enlighten- 
 ing and cheering influences, and must therefore turn 
 to those eras in art and literature, during which 
 remarkable men could obtain that degree of culture 
 which made them satisfied with themselves, and able 
 to impart similar satisfaction to others. 
 
 " But, if you would have a good opinion of Fouque, 
 read his Undine, which is really a most charming story. 
 The materials are so excellent, that I should scarcely 
 say the writer had made all possible use of them ; 
 however, Undine will be sure to give you pleasure." 
 
 "I have been unfortunate in the circumstances 
 of my acquaintance with the most modern German 
 literature," said I. " I read the poems of Egon Ebert 
 just after my first acquaintance with Voltaire, and, 
 indeed, just after I had been reading Voltaire's little 
 poems addressed to individuals, which certainly belong 
 to the best which he has ever written. And now, just as 
 I was deeply engaged in Walter Scott's ' Fair Maid 
 of Perth,' the first work of this great writer which 
 I had ever read, I am induced to put it aside, and 
 busy myself with Fouque." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 247 
 
 " Against these great foreigners," said Goethe, " the 
 modern German writers cannot keep their ground ; 
 but it is desirable that you should, by degrees, make 
 the acquaintance of all writers, foreign and domestic, 
 that you may see how the high culture, which the poet 
 needs, is best to be obtained." 
 
 Frau von Goethe came in at this moment, and sat 
 down to the table with us. 
 
 " But," continued Goethe, with animation, " do you 
 not find Walter Scott's * Fair Maid of Perth * excellent? 
 There is finish ! there is a hand ! What a clear plan 
 for the whole, and in details no touch which does not 
 conduce to the catastrophe ! I do not know whether 
 the dialogues or descriptions are the best. 
 
 " His scenes and situations remind me of the 
 pictures of Teniers ; in the plan they show the height 
 of art. Individual figures have a speaking truth, and 
 the least details show the pervading love of the artist 
 for his work. How far have you read ? " 
 
 44 1 have come," said I, " to the passage where Henry 
 Smith carries the pretty minstrel girl through the 
 streets, and round about lanes, home; and when, to 
 his great vexation, Proudfoot and Dwining met him." 
 
 "Ah, that is excellent," said Goethe; "that the 
 obstinate and honest blacksmith should be brought, at 
 last, to take with him not only the suspicious maiden, 
 but her little dog, is one of the finest things that are 
 to be found in any romance. It shows an eye for 
 human nature, to which the deepest mysteries lie 
 open." 
 
 " It was also," said I, " an excellent idea to make 
 the heroine's father a glover, who has been, and 
 
243 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 must be, connected with the Highlanders by his trade 
 in skins." 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " a most admirable idea. 
 From this circumstance spring the relations and 
 situations most favorable for the whole book, and 
 which, by this means, also obtain a foundation in 
 reality, and thence an air of the most convincing truth. 
 You find every where in Walter Scott a remarkable 
 security and thoroughness in his delineations, which 
 proceed from a comprehensive knowledge of the real 
 world, which he has obtained by life-long studies and 
 observations, and a daily acquaintance with the most 
 important relations. His comprehensive existence 
 corresponds with his great genius. You remember the 
 English critic, who compares the poet with voices for 
 singing, of which some can command only a few fine 
 tones, while others can, at pleasure, run through the 
 whole compass, equally at their ease, with the highest and 
 lowest note. Walter Scott is one of this last sort. In 
 the ' Fair Maid of Perth,' you will not find a single weak 
 passage, where you feel as if his knowledge and genius 
 were not equal to the utmost demands of the occasion. 
 He was prepared to use all his materials ; the king, 
 the royal brothers, the prince, the great ecclesiastics, 
 the nobles, the magistracy, the citizen mechanics, the 
 Highlanders, are all drawn with the same sure hand, 
 and finished with equal truth." 
 
 " The English," said Frau von Goethe, " are 
 particularly partial to Henry Smith, and Scott seems 
 to have intended him for the hero of the book ; but he 
 is not my favorite; I like the Prince." 
 
 " The Prince," said I, "wins our affections, indeed, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 249 
 
 with all his wildness, and he is as well drawn as 
 any." 
 
 " The passage," said Goethe, " where he, sitting on 
 horseback, makes the pretty minstrel girl step upon 
 his foot, that he may give her a kiss, is in the boldest 
 English style. But you women are wrong always to 
 take sides as you do. Usually, you read a book to find 
 something for the heart; to find a hero, whom you 
 could love ; but that is not the way to read, and it is 
 not important whether this or that character please, 
 but that the book please." 
 
 " We women were made so, dear father," said she, 
 leaning over the table to press his hand. 
 
 " Well, we must let you be in your own lovely 
 ways," replied Goethe. 
 
 He took up the " Globe." 
 
 " How the writers in the ' Globe,' " said he, " enhance 
 its importance every day ! What men they are ! How 
 pervaded with one wish and one idea! People here 
 have scarce any notion of such things. Such a paper 
 would be an impossibility for Germany. We are 
 distinct individuals ; harmony and concert are unat- 
 tainable; each has the opinions of his province, his 
 city, and his own idiosyncracies ; and it will be a long 
 while before we have a standard of common cul- 
 ture." 
 
 Tuesday, 7th October. 
 To-day at dinner was the pleasantest society. 
 Beside our Weimar friends, some of the philosophers 
 were there, on their return from Berlin ; among whom, 
 
250 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Von Martius, from Munich, who sat next Goethe, was 
 known to me. There were jokes and conversations 
 on various subjects. Goethe was particularly good- 
 humored and communicative. Much was said of the 
 opera last given — Rossini's "Moses." They found 
 fault with the subject ; both praised and found fault 
 with the music. 
 
 Goethe said, " I do not understand, my good 
 children, how you can separate the subject from the 
 music, and enjoy each by itself. You say the subject 
 is miserable ; but you can set that aside, and enjoy the 
 excellent music. I do not understand this arrangement 
 in your natures; how your ears can be in a state 
 to enjoy pleasant sounds, while the most powerful 
 sense, vision, is tormented by the absurdest objects. 
 And how absurd is this 1 Moses ' ! When the curtain 
 rises, there you see the people at prayer. This is very 
 unfit. It is written ' When thou prayest, go into thy 
 closet, and shut the door ; ' and will you pray on the 
 stage 1 
 
 " I would have made a wholly different ' Moses,' 
 and begun the piece otherwise. I would have first 
 shown you how the children of Israel suffered from 
 their vassalage to the Egyptians, in order to bring into 
 bolder relief the merit of Moses in freeing them from 
 this shameful oppression." 
 
 He then built up his opera step by step, through all the 
 scenes and acts, full of life and meaning, in historical 
 harmony with the subject, to the astonishment of the 
 company, who could not sufficiently admire the 
 irresistible flow of his thoughts, and the gay profusion 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 251 
 
 of his inventions. 'Twas done too quickly for me to 
 seize it. 1 only remember the dance of the Egyptians, 
 which Goethe introduced to express their joy at the 
 return of light, after the miraculous darkness. 
 
 The conversation turned from Moses to the deluge, 
 and took, from the presence of the distinguished 
 naturalists, a new turn. 
 
 "If," said Von Martius, " they have found on 
 Ararat, a petrified piece of the ark of Noah, why 
 should they not find petrified skulls of the first men ? " 
 
 This led to a conversation about the various races 
 of men — how black, brown, yellow, and white inhabit 
 different climates, and whether all men are descended 
 from the single pair, Adam and Eve. 
 
 Von Martius was for the biblical account, which he 
 sought to confirm by the maxim, Nature goes to work 
 as economically as possible. 
 
 "I cannot agree to that," said Goethe; "I maintain 
 rather that Nature is lavish, even prodigal ; and 
 it would show more acquaintance with her, to believe 
 she has, instead of one single poor pair, produced men 
 by dozens or hundreds. 
 
 " When the earth had arrived at a certain point of 
 maturity, the water had ebbed away, and the land 
 gave signs of green, came the epoch for the creation 
 of man. Men arose, through the omnipotence of 
 God, wherever the ground permitted ; perhaps on 
 the heights first. 
 
 " To believe that this happened, I esteem reasonable ; 
 but to attempt to decide how it happened, I esteem 
 useless ; and we will leave it to those who, having 
 
252 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 nothing better to do, busy themselves willingly with 
 insoluble problems." 
 
 " If I," said Von Martius, archly, " could, as a 
 naturalist, yield to your excellency's opinion, I should, 
 as a good Christian, find some difficulty in adopting a 
 view which cannot well be reconciled with the account 
 given us in Holy Writ." 
 
 " Holy Writ," replied Goethe, " speaks, certainly, 
 only of one pair of human beings, whom God made 
 on the sixth day ; but the gifted men, who wrote that 
 record, had in view their own, the chosen people; and 
 we will not dispute the descent of that people from 
 Adam and Eve. But we, and tall, slender men, 
 handsomer than we, as well as the Negroes and 
 Laplanders, had, certainly, different ancestors; and 
 this worthy company must confess that we are, at 
 present, a quite distinct race from the genuine 
 descendants of Adam, and that they, at least in 
 money-making, are greatly our superiors." 
 
 We laughed ; the conversation became general. 
 Goethe, excited by Von Martius to argument, said 
 many interesting things, which veiled a deep meaning 
 under a jesting exterior. 
 
 After dinner, the Prussian Minister, Herr von 
 Jordan, was announced, and we went into the next 
 room to receive him. 
 
 Wednesday, 8th October. 
 Tieck, returning from a journey to the Rhineland, 
 with his wife, his daughters, and Countess Finkenstein, 
 dined with Goethe to-day. I met them in the ante- 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 253 
 
 room. Tieck looked very well ; the Rhine baths 
 seemed to have had a favorable effect upon his 
 health. I told him that I had been reading Sir 
 Walter Scott's new novel, and what pleasure it had 
 given me. 
 
 "I think," said Tieck, ' 1 that I may find this 
 romance of Scott's, which I have not read as yet, 
 the best he has ever written ; however, he is so great 
 a writer, that the first you know of him always 
 excites astonishment, approach him on what side you 
 will." 
 
 Professor Göttling came in, just returned from his 
 journey to Italy. I was extremely glad to see him 
 again, and drew him to a window, that he might 
 tell me what he had seen. 
 
 " To Rome ! " said he ; " you must to Rome, if you 
 would make something of yourself! That is indeed 
 a city ! that is a life ! that is a world ! As soon as 
 we enter Rome, we are transformed, and feel our- 
 selves great, like the objects which surround us." 
 
 " Why," said I, " did you not stay longer?" 
 
 " My money, and my leave of absence, were at an 
 end. I cannot describe my feelings when I turned my 
 back upon Italy." 
 
 Goethe came in, and greeted his guests. He talked 
 awhile with Tieck and his family, then offered the 
 Countess his arm to the dining-room. We followed. 
 The conversation was lively and unconstrained, but I 
 could retain little of its substance. 
 
 After dinner, the Princes von Oldenberg were 
 announced. We then went up to Frau von Goethe's 
 apartment, where Fraulein Agnes Tieck seated herself 
 
 w 
 
254 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 at the instrument, and gave us the song, Im Felde 
 schleich' ich still und wild, with a fine alto voice, and 
 so thoroughly in the spirit of the situation, that it 
 made an ineffaceable impression on the mind. 
 
 Thursday, 9th October. 
 
 I dined, to-day, in private, with Goethe and Frau 
 von Goethe. Rossini's " Moses" was spoken of, and 
 we recalled, with pleasure, what Goethe had said a day 
 or two previous. 
 
 " What I said, in the good-humored merriment of 
 the moment, about ' Moses,' " said he, "I cannot 
 recall ; for such things are done quite unconsciously. 
 But of this I am certain, that I cannot enjoy an opera, 
 unless the story is as good as the music, so that the 
 two may keep step with one another. If you ask what 
 opera suits me, I would name the Wasserträger ; for 
 here the subject is so well managed, that, if given as a 
 drama, without music, it might be seen with pleasure. 
 Either composers in general do not attach any impor- 
 tance to a good foundation, or they have not poets 
 suited to aid them. If the Freischütz had not been so 
 good a subject, it would hardly have drawn such 
 crowds by the charm of the music merely ; and, there- 
 fore, Kind should have some share in the honor." 
 
 After talking a little longer on this, we spoke 
 of Professor Göttling, and his travels in Italy. 
 
 " I cannot blame the good man," said Goethe, " for 
 speaking of Italy with such enthusiasm ; I well re- 
 member what my own feelings were. Indeed, I may 
 say that only in Rome have I felt what it is to be a 
 man. The same elevation, the same blissfulness 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 255 
 
 of feeling, I have never known at any after period ; 
 indeed, compared with my situation at Rome, I may 
 say I have never since known happiness." 
 
 " But," continued he, after a pause, " we will not 
 give ourselves up to melancholy thoughts. Let us talk 
 of your 1 Fair Maid of Perth. 5 How far have you 
 read ? Tell me about it." 
 
 "I read slowly," said I. "I am now at the place 
 where Proudfoot, having put on Henry Smith's armor, 
 and imitating his walk and whistle, is slain, and found 
 in the street by the citizens, who, taking him for 
 Smith, raise a great outcry through the city." 
 
 " That," said Goethe, " is one of the best scenes." 
 
 " I have been particularly struck," said I, " with 
 Scott's great talent for disentangling confused situa- 
 tions, so that all separates into masses and quiet 
 pictures, leaving on our minds an impression as if we, 
 like superior beings, had looked down, and seen, at 
 once, events which were occurring in various places." 
 
 " Generally," said Goethe, " he shows great under- 
 standing of art ; for which reason, those like us, 
 who always look to see how things are done, find 
 especial pleasure and profit in his works. 
 
 " You will find, in the third volume, an admirable 
 contrivance. You have already seen how the Prince 
 makes, in council, the wise proposal to let the rebel 
 Highlanders destroy one another in combat, and how 
 Palm Sunday is appointed for the battle. You will 
 see with what dexterity Scott manages to make one 
 man fail on the decisive day, and to introduce his 
 hero, Smith, in his place. It is admirably done ; and 
 you will be delighted when you come to it. 
 
256 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " But, when you have finished the * Fair Maid 
 of Perth/ you must read ' Waverley,' which is quite 
 a different thing, and may be set beside the best 
 works that have ever been written in this world. 
 We see the same man who wrote the ' Fair Maid 
 of Perth,' but before he had yet won the favor of the 
 public. He therefore collects his forces more, and 
 is admirable at every step. In the ' Fair Maid of 
 Perth,' the writer holds a more rapid pen. He is 
 sure of his public, and his style is broader and freer. 
 After reading ' Waverley,' you will understand why 
 Walter Scott always designates himself as author 
 of that work ; for, in that first published novel, he 
 showed what he could do, and has never since sur- 
 passed, or even equalled it." 
 
 In honor of Tieck, a very pleasant tea-party was 
 given this evening in the apartment of Frau von 
 Goethe. I here made the acquaintance of Count 
 and Countess Medem. They told me of their having 
 to-day seen Goethe, and how happy it had made 
 them. 
 
 We had hoped that Tieck would read, and he 
 consented to do so. A wide circle was made with 
 chairs and sofas, and he read " Clavigo." 
 
 I had often read and felt this drama; but now 
 it appeared to me quite new, and made a singularly 
 deep impression. It seemed as if heard from the 
 stage, only better. Each character and situation was 
 given with more entireness of feeling ; it had the 
 effect of an acted play, in which each part is well 
 performed. 
 
 It would be hard to say what parts Tieck read 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 257 
 
 best ; whether tranquil, clear scenes, addressed to the 
 intellect ; whether those in which the powers and 
 passions of the male, characters were brought out ; or 
 moments of tortured love. For giving expression to 
 passages of this sort, he had especial qualifications. 
 The scene between Marie and Clavigo still sounds 
 in my ears : the oppressed bosom, the stifling and 
 trembling of the voices; broken, almost suffocated 
 words and sounds ; the panting and sobbing of a hot 
 heart, accompanied with tears ; — all this is still present 
 with me, never to be forgotten. Every hearer was 
 absorbed, and wholly carried away. The lights burned 
 dim ; nobody thought of that, or ventured to snuff 
 them, for fear of the slightest interruption. Tears, 
 constantly dropping from the eyes of the women, 
 showed the profound effect of the piece, and were the 
 highest tribute that could be paid, either to the reader 
 or the poet. 
 
 Tieck had finished and rose, wiping the big drops 
 from his forehead ; but the hearers still seemed fettered 
 to their chairs. Each man seemed too deeply engaged 
 with what had just been passing through his soul to 
 have ready suitable words of gratitude for him who had 
 produced so wonderful an effect upon us all. However, 
 we recovered ourselves by degrees. The company 
 arose, and talked cheerfully with one another. Then 
 we partook of a supper, which stood ready on little 
 tables in the next room. 
 
 Goethe was not present in person this evening ; 
 but his spirit and a remembrance of him were living 
 among us. He sent an apology to Tieck ; and to 
 his daughters, Agnes and Dorothea, two handkerchief- 
 
 w 3 
 
258 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 pins, with his own picture and red favors, which 
 Frau von Goethe fastened to their dresses, so that 
 they looked like little orders. 
 
 Friday, 10th October. 
 
 From Mr. William Frazer, of London, editor of the 
 " Foreign Review," I received, this morning, two 
 copies of the third number of that periodical, and 
 gave one of them to Goethe at dinner. 
 
 I found again a pleasant dinner party, invited in 
 honor of Tieck and the Countess, who, at the urgent 
 request of Goethe and their other friends, had remained 
 a day behind the rest of the family, who had set out 
 for Dresden. 
 
 At table, we talked much of English literature, and 
 especially of Walter Scott. Tieck said that he himself, 
 ten years ago, first brought to Germany a copy of 
 Waverley. 
 
 Saturday, 11th October. 
 The above-mentioned number of the " Foreign 
 Review " contained, with a variety of other important 
 and interesting articles, also a very fine essay, by 
 Carlyle, upon Goethe, which I passed the morning in 
 studying. 
 
 I went to see Goethe a little before the dinner hour, 
 that I might have an opportunity to talk this over. 
 I found him, as I wished, still alone, expecting the 
 company. He wore his black coat and star, with 
 which I so willingly see him. He appeared to-day in 
 youthful high spirits, and we began immediately to 
 speak on topics interesting to both. Goethe told me 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 259 
 
 that he had been looking at Carlyle's article upon him 
 this morning, and we were both ready to praise these 
 efforts among foreigners. 
 
 " It is pleasant to see," said Goethe, " that the 
 Scotch are giving up their early pedantry, are now 
 more in earnest, and more profound. When I recollect 
 how the " Edinburgh Review " treated my works, not 
 many years since, and when I now consider Carlyle's 
 merits towards German literature, I am astonished at 
 the important step which has been taken towards a 
 better end." 
 
 " In Carlyle," said I, " I venerate most of all the 
 spirit and character which lie at the foundation of 
 his tendencies. He looks to the culture of his own 
 nation ; and, in the literary productions of other 
 countries, which he wishes to make known to his 
 contemporaries, pays less attention to art and genius 
 than to the moral elevation which can be attained 
 through such works.' 1 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " the temper in which he works 
 is always admirable. What an earnest man he is ! and 
 how he has studied us Germans ! He is almost more at 
 home in our literature than ourselves. We can by 
 no means vie with him by our researches in English 
 literature." 
 
 " The article," said I, " is written with a fire and 
 expression which show how many prejudices and 
 contradictions he has to contend with in England. 
 < Wilhelm Meister ' seems to have been placed in an 
 unfavorable light, by malevolent critics and bad 
 translators. Carlyle treats them with great tact. To 
 the stupid prejudice that no pure-minded woman could 
 
260 ECK ERMANN. 
 
 read « Wilhelm Meister,' he opposes, very quietly, 
 the example of the late Queen of Prussia, who made 
 the book her familiar companion, and who was rightly 
 esteemed one of the noblest women of her day." 
 
 Some of the guests came in now, whom Goethe 
 received. He then turned to me again, and I con- 
 tinued. 
 
 " Carlyle has studied that work till he is so pene- 
 trated with its merit that he would gladly bestow 
 similar profit and pleasure on every cultivated mind." 
 
 Goethe drew me to a window to answer me. 
 
 " Dear child," said he, " I will confide to you 
 something which may be of use to you all your life, 
 and in many ways. My works can never be popular. 
 He who thinks and strives to make them so is in an 
 error. They are not written for the multitude, but 
 only for individual men whose pursuits and aims are 
 like my own." 
 
 He wished to say more ; but a young lady came up, 
 and drew him into conversation. Soon after, we sat 
 down to table. 
 
 I could pay no attention to the conversation that 
 was going on, for I was wholly occupied in thinking 
 over those words of Goethe's. 
 
 "Really," thought I, " a writer like him, of so 
 high an intellect, so wide a nature, how can he be 
 popular ? Only a small part of him can be popular. 
 Those songs, which convivial companies or enamored 
 maidens sing, are as if they were not for other 
 beings. 
 
 " And, rightly regarded, is not this the case with 
 every thing extraordinary? Is Mozart, is Raphael 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 261 
 
 popular? and does not the world conduct towards 
 these great fountains of spiritual life like travellers 
 who merely sip a little as they pass ? 
 
 " Yes ; he is right. His works are only destined 
 for individuals. They are for contemplative natures, 
 who wish to penetrate into the depths, and try all 
 the paths of the world and human nature. They 
 are for those susceptible of passionate enjoyment, 
 who seek in the poet the bliss and woe of the heart. 
 They are for the young poet, who wishes to learn 
 how to express his feelings, and how to treat his 
 subject according to the rules of art. They are for 
 critics, who find there a model, not only for the best 
 rules of judgment, but for the best means of making 
 a criticism interesting and attractive. 
 
 " His works are for the artist, whose mind they 
 enlighten as to general principles, and whom they 
 teach what subjects are suited to works of art ; what 
 he should use, and what leave aside. They are for 
 the observer of nature, not only because great laws 
 are discovered and taught him, but, still more, as 
 teaching a method by which the intellect may best 
 persuade Nature to reveal her mysteries. 
 
 " All those who are engaged in science or art, 
 may be guests at his richly-provided table, and in 
 their works show plainly that they have drawn from 
 a great general source of light and life." 
 
 Such thoughts were in my head all dinner-time. 
 I thought of individuals, of many excellent German 
 artists, natural philosophers, poets, and critics, who 
 owed to Goethe great part of their culture. I thought 
 of intellectual Italians, Frenchmen, and Englishmen, 
 
26-2 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 who have their eyes upon him, and who have followed 
 his lead. 
 
 All around me were jesting and talking, or partaking 
 of the good fare. I spoke now and then a word, but 
 without exactly knowing what I said. A lady put a 
 question to me, to which I did not render a very 
 appropriate answer ; and they all laughed at me. 
 
 " Let him alone," said Goethe. ''He is always 
 absent, except when he is at the theatre." 
 
 They laughed at me again; but I did not regard it. 
 I felt myself, to-day, peculiarly happy. I blessed my 
 fate, which, after many singular transitions, had asso- 
 ciated me with the small circle who enjoy the conver- 
 sation and intimacy of a man whose greatness I had 
 deeply felt only a few moments since, and whom I now 
 had before my eyes, in all the loveliness of his personal 
 presence. 
 
 Biscuit, and some very fine grapes, were brought 
 for dessert. The last came from a distance, and 
 Goethe made a mystery of from whence. He offered 
 me some of the ripest. 
 
 " Here, my good friend," said he, " eat these sweets, 
 and much good may they do you." 
 
 I highly enjoyed the grapes from Goethe's hand, 
 drawing near him now both in body and soul. 
 
 They talked of the theatre, and of Wolff 's great merit. 
 
 " Our earlier actors," said Goethe, " learned much 
 from me, but I can properly call none but Wolff my 
 pupil. I will give you a little instance how thoroughly 
 he was penetrated with my principles, and how fully he 
 acted out my thought. I was once very angry with 
 Wolff, for various reasons. He played one evening, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 263 
 
 and I sat in my box. 1 Now,' thought I, ' thou wilt 
 be able to spy out his faults ; for there is not to-day, 
 in thy heart, one trace of affection which might speak 
 for him and excuse him.' He played, and I never 
 turned my sharpened eye from him ; but how he 
 played ! how secure, how firm he was ! I could not 
 find in him the shadow of a fault, according to the 
 rules which I had given him ; and I could not refuse 
 to be good to him again." 
 
 Monday, 20th October. 
 
 Oberbergrath Noeggerath, from Bonn, returning 
 from the assembly of natural philosophers, was to-day 
 a very welcome guest at Goethe's table. Mineralogy 
 was the principal topic of conversation, and this 
 worthy stranger gave us many valuable particulars 
 as to that in the neighborhood of Bonn. 
 
 After dinner, we went into the room where the 
 colossal bust of Juno is. Goethe showed his guests 
 a long slip of paper, with outlines of the friezes of 
 Phigalia, Looking at these outlines we observed that 
 the Greeks represented animals less from an obser- 
 vation of nature than from conformity with certain 
 fixed rules. We found those days inferior to our own 
 in subjects of this sort ; and that the goats, oxen, 
 and horses, frequently found on bass-reliefs, are usually 
 very stiff, ill formed, and imperfect creatures. 
 
 " I will not quarrel with you about that," said 
 Goethe ; " but, first of all, we should decide to what 
 era and what artists such works belong ; for I could 
 instance a multitude of masterpieces, where Grecian 
 artists, in their representation of animals, not only 
 
264 ECKERMANN. 
 
 equalled, but, indeed, surpassed nature. The English, 
 who understand horses better than any nation in the 
 world, have acknowledged that two antique heads 
 of horses are more perfect in their forms than those 
 of any race now existing upon earth. 
 
 " These works are from the best era of Greece, 
 and, while we are astonished at their beauty, we 
 should not so much infer that these artists have 
 copied from finer models than we now possess, as 
 that they themselves had advantages in their time 
 and in their culture, by which they improved on the 
 manifestations of nature." 
 
 While all this was said, I stood a little way off, 
 looking at engravings, with a lady, at one of the 
 tables, and could only, as it were, lend half an ear 
 to Goethe's words ; but so much the deeper did 
 they sink into my mind. 
 
 After the company had gone, I approached Goethe, 
 who stood by the stove. 
 
 " Your excellency," said I, " said, a little while 
 ago, that the Greeks exalted nature by the greatness 
 of their minds, and I think that we cannot be too 
 deeply penetrated with the truth of this maxim." 
 
 " Yes, my good friend," said Goethe, " all depends 
 upon this; one must be something, in order to make 
 something. Dante seems to us great; but he had 
 the culture of centuries behind him. The house 
 of Rothschild is rich ; but it has taken more than 
 one century to accumulate such treasures. All these 
 things lie deeper than is thought. 
 
 " Our good artists, who imitate the old German 
 school, begin, while weak as men, and uninformed 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 265 
 
 as artists, to copy from nature, and think they become 
 something. They stand beneath nature. But he who 
 wishes to do any thing great, must be, like the Greeks, 
 so highly cultivated that he will know how to raise 
 up the realities of nature to the height of his own 
 mind ; and to realize that, which, in nature, whether 
 from internal weakness or external hinderance, has 
 remained an intention merely." 
 
 Wednesday, 22d October. 
 To-day at table we talked of women ; and Goethe 
 said, " Women are the silver dishes, in which we 
 place golden apples. My idea of woman is not 
 abstracted from what I have seen in real life, but 
 rather inborn. At any rate, it arose in me, I know 
 not how. Accordingly, the characters of women in 
 my works have all been successful. They are all 
 better than they could be found in real life." 
 
 Tuesday, 18th November. 
 Goethe spoke of a new article in the " Edinburgh 
 Review." 
 
 " It is delightful," said he, " to see the ability of 
 the English critics. Very fine properties have taken 
 place of the early pedantry. In an article on German 
 literature in this number, you find the following 
 remark : — 
 
 " ' There are people among the poets who are always 
 inclined to select such subjects as are really abhorrent 
 to other minds.' 
 
 " How many of our late literati are here charac- 
 terized by a single stroke ! " 
 
 x 
 
2G6 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Tuesday, IGth December. 
 
 1 dined to-day with Goethe alone, in his work-room. 
 We talked on various literary topics. 
 
 " The Germans," said he, " cannot cease to be 
 Philistines. They keep quarrelling about some verses, 
 which are printed both in Schiller's works and mine, 
 as if it were of any importance to ascertain which 
 of us really wrote them. Friends, such as we were, 
 intimate for years, having the same interests, in habits 
 of daily intercourse, and under reciprocal obligations, 
 live so truly into one another, that it is hardly possible 
 to decide whether single thoughts belong to the one 
 or the other. 
 
 " We have made many couplets together ; sometimes 
 I gave the thought, and Schiller made the verse ; 
 sometimes the reverse was the case ; sometimes he 
 made one line, and I the other. Who, but a Philis- 
 tine, would care to settle the mine and thine 1 " 
 
 " Something similar," said I, " often happens in the 
 literary world, when people doubt the originality of 
 this or that celebrated man, and seek to trace out the 
 sources from whence he obtained his riches." 
 
 " How absurd ! " said Goethe; "we might as well 
 inquire, when we see a strong man, about the oxen, 
 sheep, and swine, which he has eaten, and which have 
 contributed to his strength. 
 
 " We have, indeed, faculties to begin with ; but, 
 for unfolding them, we may thank a thousand influ- 
 ences of the great world, from which we appropriate 
 what we can and what is suitable to us. I owe much 
 to the Greeks and French ; I am infinitely indebted 
 to Shakspeare, Sterne, and Goldsmith ; but, in saying 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 267 
 
 this, I have not pointed out all the sources of my 
 culture ; that would be an endless, as well as an 
 unnecessary task. What is important is to have a soul 
 which loves truth, and receives it wherever it can 
 find it. 
 
 " The world is now so old, so many worthy men 
 have lived and thought, that there is little new to be 
 discovered or expressed. My theory of colors is not 
 entirely new. Plato, Leonardo da Vinci, and many 
 other fine minds, have made similar observations ; my 
 merit is to have re-discovered, and in a confused 
 world spoken out once more the truth." 
 
 ******** 
 
 Of Voltaire I said I had yet read but a small 
 portion of his writings ; for his little poems to persons 
 charmed me so much that I could not leave reading 
 them. 
 
 " Indeed," said Goethe, " all is good which is done 
 by so great a genius as Voltaire ; only his mockeries 
 and irreverence I cannot excuse. But you are quite 
 right to give so much time to those little poems ; they 
 are among the most charming of his works. Every 
 line is rich in thought, clear, bright, and attractive." 
 
 " And we see there with pleasure," said I, " the 
 grace and ease with which he sustained his relations 
 to persons of such dignified rank and station." 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " he bore himself like a 
 nobleman. And with all his irreverence, he always 
 kept within the limits of strict propriety. The 
 Empress of Austria has observed to me repeatedly, 
 
268 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 that there is no passage in these poems of Voltaire's 
 in which he trespasses against etiquette." 
 
 " Does your excellency," said I, '« remember the 
 poem in which he makes to the Princess of Prussia, 
 afterwards Queen of Sweden, such a pretty declaration 
 of love, while he says that he dreamed of being 
 elevated to the royal dignity?" 
 
 " It is one of his best," said Goethe, and he 
 recited the lines — 
 
 " 1 Je vovs aimais, princesse, et josais vous le dire; 
 Les Dieux ä mon reveil ne m'ont pas tout ote", 
 Je n'ai perdu que mon empire.' 
 
 " How pretty it is ! And never did poet have his 
 talent so completely at command as Voltaire. I 
 remember an anecdote of a time when he had been 
 visiting Madame Du Chatelet. Just as he was going 
 away, and the carriage had even driven up to the door, 
 he received a letter from the young girls of a neigh- 
 boring convent, who wished to play the 1 Death of 
 Julius Caesar,' on the birth-day of their abbess, and 
 begged him to write them a prologue. The request 
 was too politely made to be refused ; so he called for 
 pen and paper, and wrote the prologue, standing, upon 
 the mantel-piece. It is a piece of perhaps twenty 
 verses ; the thoughts well arranged, the style finished, 
 perfectly suited to the occasion, enough, and of the 
 best sort." 
 
 " I shall be very desirous to read it," said I. 
 
 " I doubt," said Goethe, " whether you will find it 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 269 
 
 in your collection of his works ; it has only of late 
 been published, — he wrote hundreds of such poems, — 
 and many, probably, still lie hidden in the possession 
 of individuals." 
 
 I mentioned reading, to-day, a passage in Lord 
 Byron, which showed how much he admired Voltaire. 
 
 " Byron," said Goethe, " knew well where any thing 
 good was to be got, and was too wise to neglect this 
 great source of light." 
 
 Goethe then repeated some observations which he 
 had formerly made upon Byron. 
 
 "I entirely agree with your excellency," said I; 
 "but, however great the genius of this poet, I must 
 doubt whether the interests of human culture be 
 profited by his writings." 
 
 "I think otherwise," said Goethe. "His fearless- 
 ness and majesty must cultivate those who admire 
 them. We must be careful not to confine ourselves 
 too narrowly to what is moral and decorous. All 
 greatness helps him who is able to apprehend it." 
 
 Wednesday, 4th February. 1829. 
 "I have been reading Schubart," said Goethe. 
 " He is a valuable man, and says many excellent 
 things, if we can but translate them into our own 
 language. His book is chiefly intended to prove 
 that there is a stand-point without philosophy — that 
 of the healthy human understanding; and that art 
 and science have always thriven best independent 
 of philosophy, by the free working of man's natural 
 faculties. 
 
 "This is water for our mill. For my part, I have 
 
 X2 
 
270 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 always kept aloof from philosophy. The stand-point 
 of the natural human understanding was the one 
 I preferred ; and Schubart confirms the wisdom 
 of what I have been saying and doing all my 
 life. 
 
 " I have but one fault to find with him, and this is, 
 that he knows better than he will confess on some 
 subjects, and does not show himself perfectly sincere. 
 Like Hegel, he would interweave the Christian religion 
 with philosophy, where they have nothing to do with 
 one another. Christianity has a might of its own, 
 lifting up, from time to time, dejected, suffering 
 humanity, and in this rises above all philosophy, and 
 needs no support therefrom. Neither does the philoso- 
 pher need the support of religion to prove certain 
 doctrines ; for instance, that existence is prolonged 
 into eternity. Man must believe in immortality ; this 
 belief corresponds with the wants of his nature. But, 
 if the philosopher tries to prove the immortality of his 
 soul from a legend, that is very weak, and says little 
 to us. To me, the eternal existence of my soul is 
 proved, from my need of activity ; if I work incessantly 
 till my death, nature is pledged to give me another 
 form of being when the present can no longer sustain 
 my spirit." 
 
 My heart beat, at these words, with admiration and 
 love. 
 
 " Never," thought I, " was doctrine spoken more 
 likely to incite to noble deeds than this. Who would 
 not work and act indefatigably on to the end of his 
 days, if, by so doing, he obtained the surety of an 
 eternal life?" 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 271 
 
 Goethe had a portfolio brought, full of drawings 
 and engravings. After we had looked at some leaves 
 in silence, he showed me one from a picture of 
 Ostade's. 
 
 " Here," said he, " you have the scene of our good 
 man and good wife." 
 
 I looked at the engraving with much pleasure. 
 I saw the interior of a peasant's dwelling, — kitchen, 
 parlor, and bed-room, all in one. Man and wife 
 sat opposite one another ; the wife spinning, the 
 husband winding yarn ; a child at their feet. In the 
 back-ground was a bed, and very rude household 
 furniture and utensils. The door led at once into 
 the open air. This picture gave perfectly the idea 
 of a happy marriage in a very limited condition; 
 satisfaction, content, and the luxury of wedded love, 
 were expressed in the faces of both man and wife, 
 as they looked upon one another. 
 
 " One feels happier," said I, " the longer he looks 
 at this picture ; it has a quite peculiar charm." 
 
 " It is sensuous," said Goethe ; " and, in this 
 respect, higher efforts often are wanting. In works 
 of this kind, the senses must be moved, or they are 
 nothing. In those of a higher ideal tendency, this 
 is often lost sight of, and the work becomes dry and 
 cold. The time of life has great influence here, 
 and the artist should be careful to remember his 
 age in choosing his subject. I succeeded in my 
 * Iphigenia,' and ' Tasso,' because I had yet enough 
 of youthful ardor to penetrate and animate the ideal 
 of the stuff into sensuous life. Now, I could not 
 
272 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 manage so ideal subjects, and must choose those 
 where a part of the Work is already done for me." 
 # * # * # * # * 
 
 He spoke of the great mistake made by those who 
 think, because a fact is interesting in itself, it must 
 afford an interesting subject for the stage : — 
 
 " To write for the theatre is a profession which the 
 dramatist must learn, and a talent which he must 
 possess. Both are rare, and if either be wanting, little 
 good can be done." 
 
 Monday, 9th February. 
 
 Goethe talked of the Wahlverwandtschaften. He 
 said that a person supposed the character of Miller to 
 be meant for him, though he (Goethe) had never seen 
 or known him. 
 
 "It must," said he, " be a character true to nature, 
 and have existed more than once in the world. Every 
 line in that book is taken from my intimate knowledge 
 of life ; and there is more in it than can be gathered 
 from a first reading." 
 
 Tuesday, 10th February. 
 Goethe talked of Merck ; of the state of culture in 
 Germany at the time of their acquaintance, and how 
 difficult it was to emerge from the so called storm 
 and stress period (Stu?'?n und Drang-periode) to a 
 higher mode of thought ; of his first years in Weimar ; 
 the poetic talent in conflict with reality, which he, 
 from his connection with the Court, and the various 
 sorts of service demanded of him, is, for his own 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 273 
 
 advantage, obliged to encounter ; thence nothing 
 poetical of importance produced during those ten 
 years; saddened by love affairs; the father always 
 impatient of his court life. 
 
 The advantage — that he did not change his place 
 of abode, and was not obliged twice to go through the 
 same experience. 
 
 He fled to Italy in order to revive his poetic power. 
 Superstitious fancy, that he should not succeed, if 
 any one knew about it ; therefore observes profound 
 secrecy. Writes to the Grand Duke from Rome. 
 Returns from Italy with great requisitions upon 
 himself. 
 
 Duchess Amelia — a perfect Princess, with perfectly 
 natural, human sense and enjoyment of life. She was 
 very fond of Goethe's mother, and would fain have had 
 her at Weimar, but he opposed it. 
 
 About " Faust. " — " 'Faust' sprang up at the 
 same time with ' Werther.' I brought it ^vith me, 
 written out on letter-paper, and not an erasure in the 
 manuscript, for I took care not to write down a line 
 that was not worthy to remain." 
 
 Wednesday, 11th February. 
 Oberbau-Director Coudray dined with me at Goethe's 
 house. He spoke of the Female Industry School and 
 the Orphan's Institute, as the best establishments in 
 their kind of this country. The first was founded by 
 the Grand Duchess; the last by the Grand Duke, 
 Carl August. Much was said, both of the art of 
 theatrical decorations, and of road-making. Coudray 
 
274 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 showed Goethe a sketch for a prince's chapel. Goethe 
 made an objection, to which Coudray yielded. 
 
 Thursday, 12th February. 
 
 Goethe read me the lately-composed noble poem, 
 Kein Wesen kann zu nichts zerfallen. 
 
 " I wrote it," said he, " in contradiction to my 
 lines — 
 
 ' Denn alles muss zu nichts zerfallen 
 Wenn es im seyn beharren tcill, ' &c. ; 
 
 * All must ever keep dissolving 
 Would it continue still to be ; ' 
 
 which are stupid, and which my Berlin friends took 
 occasion, at the late assembly of natural philosophers, 
 to put up in golden letters, much to my vexation." 
 
 Goethe extolled the character of the great mathema- 
 tician, Lagrange. 
 
 " He was a good," said he, " and even on that 
 account, a great man. For when a good man is 
 gifted with talent also, he works morally for the 
 salvation of the world, as poet, philosopher, artist, or 
 some other way. 
 
 " I am glad you had so good an opportunity 
 yesterday of knowing Coudray. He says little in 
 general society, but, among us, you can see his 
 excellent mind and character. He had, at first, 
 many contradictions to encounter, but has fought 
 through them all, and enjoys now the entire con- 
 fidence and favor of the court. He is one of the 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 275 
 
 most skilful architects of our time. He has always 
 relied on me, and I on him. We have been useful 
 to one another. If I could but have known him 
 fifty years ago!" 
 
 I asked if Goethe had not learned much in Italy 
 about architecture. 
 
 " I got the idea of earnestness and greatness," said 
 he, " but no skill in application. Building the castle 
 here in Weimar helped me more than any thing. I 
 assisted and even made drawings for it. I was, at 
 least in design, superior to the professional people." 
 
 We talked of Zelter. 
 
 "I have," said Goethe, "just received a letter from 
 him, in which he complains that his attempt to give 
 the oratorio of the Messiah was frustrated by the 
 weak, sentimental singing of one of his female 
 scholars. This weakness is characteristic of our 
 age. My hypothesis is, that this is a consequence of 
 the great efforts made in Germany to get rid of 
 French influence. Painters, natural philosophers, 
 poets, musicians, with but few exceptions, show this 
 weakness." 
 
 " Yet I hope," said I, " suitable music may be 
 composed for ' Faust.' " 
 
 " Impossible ! '"' said Goethe. " Those awful or 
 repulsive elements are not in the style of the time. 
 The music should be like that of Don Giovanni. 
 Mozart should have composed for ' Faust.' Meyerbeer 
 might, perhaps, do it ; but he is too much engaged 
 with the Italian theatres." 
 
 Afterwards, I do not recollect in what connection, 
 he said — 
 
276 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " The great, the wise, are always in a minority. 
 There have been ministers who were obliged to carry 
 through their great plans with both king and people 
 against them. Let us not dream that Reason can 
 ever be popular. Passions, emotions, may be made 
 popular ; but Reason remains ever the property of an 
 elect few." 
 
 Friday, 13th February. 
 
 Dined with Goethe alone. 
 
 " After I have finished the Wanderjahre" said he, 
 " I shall turn to botany again, though I fear it may 
 guide me too far about, and at last show itself as an 
 Alp in my way. Great secrets still lie hidden ; some 
 I know ; of others, have intimations. Somewhat won- 
 derful I will to you confide and express. 
 
 " The plant goes from knot to knot, closing at last 
 with the flower and the seed. So the tape-worm, the 
 caterpillar, goes from knot to knot, and closes with 
 the head. Man and the higher animals are built up 
 through the vertebrae, the powers being concentrated 
 in the head. 
 
 " With corporations it is the same as with individ- 
 uals. The bees form a similar scale of individuals, 
 closing and perfected in their king. How this is 
 managed is a mystery, hard to be expressed in words, 
 but I may say that I have my thoughts upon it. 
 
 " Thus does a nation bring forth its hero, who stands 
 at the head, like a demigod, to protect and save. 
 Thus were the poetic powers of the French concen- 
 trated in Voltaire. Such heads of a nation are always 
 great in the generation for which they work. Many 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 277 
 
 have enduring life ; but the majority are succeeded by 
 others, and forgotten by after times." 
 ## # * # # 
 
 " One must grow old to have time to look into all 
 these matters, and have money enough to pay for 
 experience. Each bon mot of mine has cost a 
 purse of gold ; half a million of my own money, the 
 fortune I inherited, .my salary, and the large income 
 derived from my writings for fifty years back, have 
 been expended to instruct me in what I now know. 
 I have, besides, seen a million and a half expended 
 on great designs, by the royal personages with whom 
 I have been so nearly connected, and in whose 
 measures, failures, and successes I bore part. 
 
 " It is not enough to have talent : to be wise, great 
 connections are also needed, that one may see how the 
 cards of the time are played, and even assist oneself 
 in winning or losing. 
 
 " Without my inquiries into natural science, I 
 could never so well have learned man as he is. In 
 all other pursuits it is easier to evade exposure of 
 weakness. But Nature understands no joke ; she is 
 always true, earnest, and severe ; she is always right, 
 and all failing and error must belong to man. She 
 disdains the inadequate; only to the adequate, true, 
 and genuine will she reveal her mysteries. 
 
 " The Understanding can never scale such heights. 
 Man must rise through the highest Reason, to approach 
 the Divinity which manifests itself in the primitive 
 phenomena, (Urphänomenen,) physical and moral, 
 behind which it dwells, and which proceed from it. 
 
 " Divinity works in the living, and not in the dead ; 
 
 Y 
 
278 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 in the becoming and changing, not in the become and 
 changed. Therefore Reason, aspiring to the Divine, 
 deals with the becoming, the living ; but Understand- 
 ing with the become, the already stiffened, which it 
 can apply to use. 
 
 " Mineralogy is a science for the Understanding, 
 for practical life ; its subject is the dead, which cannot 
 rise again, and gives no room for synthesis. 
 
 " The subject of Meteorology, on the contrary, is 
 living, what we daily see working and changing ; so 
 this science supposes synthesis, only so great an 
 accumulation of observations is needed for this, that 
 man is not yet prepared. We steer by hypotheses, 
 by imaginary islands ; but the proper synthesis will 
 probably remain an undiscovered country ; and I do 
 not wonder, when I see how difficult it is to obtain 
 a synthesis about such simple things as plants and 
 colors." 
 
 #* 
 
 Tuesday, 17th February. 
 
 We talked of Goethe's Grosskophta. 
 
 " Lavater," said Goethe, " believed in Cagliostro 
 and his wonders. When the impostor was unmasked, 
 Lavater maintained — : This is another ; Cagliostro, 
 who did the wonders, was a holy person.' 
 
 " Lavater was a truly good man, but subject to 
 strong delusions, and not to be depended on for truth ; 
 he deceived himself and others. This made a breach 
 betwixt him and me. The last time I saw him was in 
 Zurich ; and he did not see me. I was coming in 
 disguise down an alley ; seeing him approach, I stepped 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 279 
 
 aside, and he passed without seeing me. He walked 
 like a crane, and therefore figures as such on the 
 Blocksberg." 
 
 I asked whether Lavater had a tendency to observe 
 nature, as we might infer from the " Physiognomy." 
 
 M Not in the least," said Goethe. " His tendency 
 was wholly towards the moral — the religious. That 
 part of his book which relates to the skulls of animals, 
 he got from me." 
 
 The conversation turned upon the French — upon 
 the lectures of Guizot, Villemain, and Cousin. Goethe 
 spoke with high esteem of the stand they had taken ; 
 saying that they observed every thing on a free and 
 new side, and went straight to their aim. 
 
 " It is," said Goethe, " as if, till now, we had been 
 forced to reach a garden through roundabout, crooked 
 ways ; and now these men have broken a door in the 
 wall, and get at once into the broadest walk of the 
 garden." 
 
 From Cousin we passed to the Indian philosophy. 
 
 "This philosophy," said Goethe, " has, if we may 
 believe what the English tell us, nothing foreign, but 
 rather repeats the epochs through which we all pass. 
 While we are children, we are Sensualists ; Idealists 
 when we love, and attribute to the beloved object 
 qualities which she does not possess. Love wavers ; 
 we doubt her fidelity, and are Skeptics before we 
 think of it. The rest of life is indifferent ; we let 
 it go as it will, and end, like the Indian philosophers, 
 with Quietism. 
 
 " In the German philosophy, there are still two 
 great works to do. Kant did a vast deal, when he 
 
280 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 wrote the ' Critique of Pure Reason ; ' but the circle 
 is not yet complete. Now, some able man must write 
 the ' Critique of the Senses and Understanding of 
 Man ; ' and, if this could be as well done, we should 
 have little more to wish in German philosophy. 
 
 " Hegel has written, in the ' Berlin Yearly Register,' 
 a criticism upon Hamann, which I, of late, have 
 read and re-read, and must highly praise. Hegel's 
 judgments as a critic have always been excellent. 
 
 " Villemain, too, stands very high in criticism. The 
 French will never boast another genius to equal 
 Voltaire ; but we can say of Villemain, that he is so 
 far elevated above Voltaire by his intellectual stand- 
 point, as to be able to judge his virtues and faults." 
 
 Wednesday, 18th February. 
 We talked of the Farbenlehre. 
 
 " The highest," said Goethe, " which man can 
 attain in these matters, is astonishment ; if the primary 
 phenomena bring him this, let him be satisfied, and 
 forbear to seek above or behind ; for here is the limit. 
 But men will not stop here ; they are like children, 
 who, after peeping into the mirror, turn it round to 
 see what is on the other side." 
 
 I asked whether Merck loved natural history. 
 
 " Very much," said Goethe, "and had fine collec- 
 tions. He was an uncommonly many-sided man. He 
 loved art also; and, if he saw a fine work in the 
 hands of a Philistine who could not know how to 
 value it, he used every means to get it for himself. 
 In such matters he had no conscience, and would 
 cheat in a grandiose style." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 281 
 
 Goethe related some interesting anecdotes of this. 
 
 N A man like Merck," continued he, " will not 
 again be born ; or, if he be, the world will model 
 him into a very different person. That was a good 
 time, when Merck and I were young ! German 
 literature was yet a clean tablet, on which one could 
 hope to paint good things with pleasure. Now, it is 
 so scribbled over and soiled, that there is no pleasure 
 in looking at it, and a wise man is not sure he had 
 best make any mark upon it." 
 
 Thursday, 19th February. 
 
 Dined with Goethe tete a tete, in his work-room. 
 
 We talked of the alterations which Schiller had 
 made in " Egmont," to adapt it to the stage. 
 
 " The Regent," said I, " should not have been left 
 out. Not only does her presence impart to the whole 
 a nobler character, but the political relations and state 
 of the Spanish Court are brought much more clearly 
 to view by her conversation with Machiavelli." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," said Goethe. "And then Egmont 
 gains in dignity from the lustre which the partiality 
 of this princess casts upon him, as also Clara seems 
 more lovely when we see that Egmont prefers her 
 even to princesses. These are very delicate shades, 
 which cannot be obliterated without hurting the 
 whole." 
 
 " Then," said I, " when Clara is alone, the male 
 parts preponderate too much. The Regent helps 
 balance the picture." 
 
 "You judge rightly," said Goethe. "All this I 
 carefully weighed when I wrote the piece ; and it 
 
 Y 2 
 
282 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 cannot but suffer when an important figure is taken 
 out. But Schiller had a dash of violence in his 
 nature, and acted often upon his preconceived idea, 
 without due consideration of the subject of his 
 action." 
 
 " You, perhaps, may be blamed," said I, " that you 
 suffered him to do as he pleased in so important an 
 affair." 
 
 " One is often more indifferent than is right," said 
 Goethe. " I was at that time deeply engaged in other 
 matters. I cared neither for ' Egmont ' nor the 
 theatre, and let them do as they liked. Now, T am 
 consoled by knowing that the piece is printed as 
 I wrote it, and that other theatres have the good 
 taste to play it entire." 
 
 # * * * * * * * 
 [Here are omitted some pages on the subject of 
 
 Goethe's " Theory of Colors."] 
 
 * * * * # # * * 
 
 Monday, 23d March. 
 " I have found, among my papers," said Goethe, 
 " a leaf, in which T call architecture frozen music. 
 There is something in the remark ; the influence that 
 flows upon us from architecture is like that from 
 music. 
 
 " Magnificent buildings and apartments are for 
 princes and empires. When a man lives in such, 
 he feels satisfied, and asks no more. 
 
 " This is contrary to my nature. In a splendid 
 dwelling, such as I had at Carlsbad, I become slothful. 
 A decent little room like this in which we are — 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 283 
 
 somewhat disorderly-orderly — somewhat in the gipsy 
 fashion — is what suits me ; it leaves my inner nature 
 free to act and create." 
 
 We talked of Schiller's letters, and how they two 
 had daily incited one another to new activity. 
 
 " Schiller," said I, " seems to have felt an especial 
 interest in ' Faust ; ' it is pleasant to see how he urges 
 you, or, in his impetuosity, would himself continue the 
 work according to his own idea. I perceive his nature 
 made him precipitate." 
 
 " It did so," said Goethe, " and all men are so who 
 lay too much stress upon an idea. He was never in 
 repose, and could never have done ; as you may see by 
 his letters on 4 Wilhelm Meister,' which he would have 
 modelled such different ways. I had enough to do to 
 stand my ground, and keep my works free from such 
 influences." 
 
 " I have," said I, " been reading this morning his 
 'Indian Death Song,' and been delighted with it." 
 
 " You see," said Goethe, " what an artist he was, 
 and how he could manage the objective also, when 
 it was once before his eyes. I wish he had made a 
 dozen such poems as that * Indian Death Song ; ' it is 
 one of his very best. And yet — can you believe it ? — 
 some of his nearest friends found fault with this poem, 
 thinking it was not sufficiently tinctured with his 
 Ideality. Yes, my good friend, such things one has to 
 suffer from friends. Even so Humboldt found fault 
 with my Dorothea, because she took up arms against 
 the assailing soldiery. And yet, without that trait, the 
 character of the extraordinary maiden, so proportioned 
 
284 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 to that time and situation, would sink into common 
 place. But the longer you live, the more you will see 
 how few men are capable of understanding the proper 
 law of a production: instead of taking its ground, and 
 seeing what it should be, they praise or blame, accord- 
 ing as it harmonizes with their own condition. These 
 of whom I spoke were the first and best ; so you may 
 judge how much the opinion of the multitude is to be 
 valued, and how one in fact must always stand alone. 
 
 " Had I not had some solid foundation in the plastic 
 arts and natural science, I would scarce have kept 
 myself upright; but this was my protection, and enabled 
 me to aid Schiller also." 
 
 Tuesday, 24th March. 
 
 " The nobler a man is," said Goethe, " so much 
 the more is he under the influence of demons, and he 
 must take heed and not let his guiding will counsel 
 him to a wrong path. 
 
 " There was something of demonology in my con- 
 nection with Schiller ; it might have happened earlier 
 or later without so much significance ; but that it 
 should occur just at this time, when I had my Italian 
 journey behind me, and Schiller began to be weary 
 of his philosophical speculations, led to very important 
 consequences for both." 
 
 Thursday, 2d April. 
 "I will discover to you," said Goethe to-day at 
 dinner, * a political secret, which must erelong be 
 made public. Capo d'Istria cannot long continue to 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 285 
 
 administer the affairs of Greece ; he wants one requisite 
 indispensable in that position ; he is no soldier. There 
 is no instance on record, in which a mere statesman 
 has been able to organize a revolutionary state, and 
 keep under his control the military and their leaders. 
 With the sabre in his hand, at the head of an army, 
 a man may command and make laws, secure of being 
 obeyed ; otherwise, the attempt is hazardous. Napo- 
 leon, if he had not been a soldier, could never have 
 attained the highest power ; and Capo d'Istria will 
 soon be forced to play a secondary part. I tell you 
 this beforehand, and you will see it come. It lies in 
 the nature of things, and must happen so." 
 
 We talked again of the French, especially Cousin, 
 Villemain, and Guizot. 
 
 " These men," said he, " look into, through, and 
 round a subject, with great success. They combine 
 perfect knowledge of the past with the spirit of this 
 nineteenth century ; and the result is wonderful." 
 
 We then talked of the late French poets, and of the 
 terms " classic " and " romantic." 
 
 " I," said Goethe, " should define the classic by the 
 word health)/, the romantic by the word sickly. In 
 this sense, the Nibelungenlied is as much a classic 
 as the Iliad, being equally vigorous and healthy. 
 Most modern productions are not romantic because 
 they are new, but because they are weak, morbid, 
 and sickly ; and the old are not classics because 
 they are old, but because they are strong, fresh, 
 healthy, and cheerful. If we make this distinction 
 between 1 classic ' and ' romantic,' it will be easy to 
 see our way clearly." 
 
286 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 The conversation turning upon the imprisonment 
 of Beranger — 
 
 " He is rightly served," said Goethe. " His late 
 poems are really immodest and disorderly ; and he 
 has deserved punishment from king, state, and all 
 peaceful citizens. His early poems were cheerful 
 and harmless, well adapted to make a circle of human 
 beings gay and happy, which is the best that can be 
 said of songs." 
 
 " I am sure," said I, " that he has been injured by 
 the society in which he lives, and has said, to please 
 his revolutionary friends, many things which he other- 
 wise would not have said. Y,our excellency should 
 fulfil your intention of writing a chapter on influences. 
 The more I think on that subject, the richer and more 
 important it seems." 
 
 "It is only too rich," said Goethe; "for in truth 
 all is influence, except in so far as we ourselves 
 are it." 
 
 " But we can examine," said I, " what influences 
 are injurious, and what beneficial, to our natures." 
 
 " That is the difficult point," said Goethe, " to 
 decide how far it is best to keep fast hold on our 
 natures, and allow the demons no more power than 
 is right." 
 
 After dinner, Goethe had a laurel, in full flower, 
 and a Japanese plant, placed before us on the table. 
 I remarked what different feelings were excited by 
 these two plants ; that the sight of the laurel was 
 calculated to produce a mild, serene, cheerful mood — 
 that of the Japanese plant, one of barbaric melan- 
 choly. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 287 
 
 " You are right," said Goethe ; " and great power 
 over the mind of man has been conceded to the 
 vegetable world which surrounds him. Surely, he 
 who passes his life amid solemn, lofty oaks, must be 
 a different man from him who lives among the airy 
 birches. Yet we must remember that men, in general, 
 have not cultivated sensibilities like us, and live away 
 busily, without being so much affected by such im- 
 pressions. Nevertheless, this much is certain : not 
 only the inborn peculiarities of a race, but soil and 
 climate, aliment and occupations, combine to form 
 the character of a people. Also, we must remember 
 that the primitive races took possession of such 
 countries as pleased them ; so that the characteristics 
 of the country were originally in harmony with those 
 of its inhabitants." 
 
 " Look upon the desk," continued Goethe ; " there 
 is a paper which I wish you to look at." 
 
 " This blue cover ? " said I. 
 
 " Yes," he replied. " Now, what do you say to that 
 hand-writing ? Is it not that of a man who felt himself 
 noble and free, as he wrote? Whose do you think 
 it is?" 
 
 I looked at the paper with partiality. 
 
 " It is indeed free and grandiose,'''' said 1. " Merck 
 « might have written so." 
 
 " No," said Goethe ; " he was not sufficiently noble 
 and positive. It is from Zelter. Pen and paper were 
 favorable on this occasion ; so that the writing is 
 happily expressive of his noble character. I shall 
 put that paper into my collection of autographs." 
 
288 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Friday, 3d April 
 
 Dined with Coudray at Goethe's house. We talked 
 of the new staircase now making in the ducal palace, 
 and also of laying out the roads. 
 
 * * * * # * 
 
 Coudray showed Goethe the instructions which he 
 had been drawing up for a young architect, whom 
 the Board for overseeing the buildings here are about 
 sending to Paris, that he may become more instructed 
 in his art. Goethe approved them. Goethe had 
 obtained the money from the Ministry for the young 
 man, and they were now planning how he could get 
 most profit from its use. On his return, they thought 
 of making him a teacher in the workman's school 
 soon to be established, which could not fail to give 
 an opportunity to use his talents, and thus open to 
 himself a proper sphere of action. The plan was 
 good, and I gave it my blessing in silence. 
 
 They then examined Schinkel's plans, with which 
 Coudray was pleased. 
 
 They talked of sound, and how to avoid it, and 
 of the great strength and firmness of the buildings 
 of the Jesuits. 
 
 " In Messina," said Goethe, " when all other build- 
 ings were shaken to pieces by the earthquake, the 
 church and cloister of the Jesuits remained as | 
 undefaced as if they had been built the day before. 
 It could not be seen that the earthquake had produced 
 the slightest impression upon them." 
 
 From the Jesuits we were led to speak of the 
 Catholics, and their emancipation in Ireland. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 289 
 
 " This measure," said Coudray, " may be agreed 
 to, but with so many clauses and restrictions on the 
 part of Parliament, that it cannot be dangerous to 
 England." 
 
 " All preventive measures," said Goethe, " are 
 ineffectual in dealing with Catholics. The Papal see 
 has interests and means silently to subserve them", 
 of which we never dream. If I were a member 
 of Parliament, I would not hinder emancipation ; but 
 I would have inserted in the protocol, that when 
 the first distinguished Protestant head should fall by 
 a Catholic vote, I wished them to remember me." 
 
 Speaking again of Cousin, Villemain, and Guizot, 
 Goethe said — 
 
 " Instead of the light, superficial treatment of 
 Voltaire, they display an erudition, such as, in earlier 
 days, was unknown out of Germany. And such 
 intellect ! such searching and pressing out of the 
 subject ! superb ! It is as if they trod the wine-press. 
 All three are excellent, but Guizot is my favorite." 
 
 Speaking on topics of universal history, Goethe 
 said — 
 
 " A great ruler needs no means to make him popular 
 other than his greatness. If he has striven and 
 worked to make his realm happy at home, and honored 
 abroad, it matters not whether he ride about in a 
 state coach, dressed in all his orders, or in a bearskin, 
 with his cigar in his mouth, on a miserable droska. 
 He is sure of love and esteem from his people. 
 
 " But, if a prince has not this real weight and 
 personal dignity, he had best betake himself to 
 religion, and a sympathy with the customs of his 
 
 z 
 
290 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 people. To appear at church every Sunday ; to look 
 down upon, and let himself be looked at by the 
 common people, is the best means of becoming popular 
 which can be recommended to a young sovereign, and 
 one which Napoleon, at the height of his greatness, 
 did not disdain." 
 
 Speaking again of the Catholics, it was remarked 
 how great the influence of the ecclesiastics is, though 
 used in silence. It was observed that a young writer 
 of Henault having of late made merry with the rosary 
 in a periodical which he edited, the paper was imme- 
 diately bought up through the influence of the priests 
 in their dioceses. 
 
 "An Italian translation of my 'Werther,'" said 
 Goethe, "appeared at Milan. Not a single copy of it 
 was to be had a very short time after. The bishop had 
 bought up the whole edition. I was not vexed, but 
 pleased by the sagacity he showed in seeing that 
 4 Werther ' was a bad book for the Catholics, and in 
 taking such effective measures quietly to suppress it." 
 
 Sunday, 5th April. 
 Goethe said he had driven out to Belvidere this 
 morning, to look at Coudray's new staircase, and 
 was much pleased with it ; also that a great petrified 
 log had been sent him, which he should like to 
 show me. 
 
 " Such petrified trunks," said he, " are found about 
 the fifty-first degree, here and in America, round 
 about the earth like a girdle. With all these wonders, 
 we have no idea of the early organization of the 
 earth, and I cannot blame Herr von Buch for trying to 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 291 
 
 spread his theory. He knows nothing ; but nobody 
 knows more, and it is something to have even a 
 plausible appearance of reason on such subjects." 
 This morning he read me the little poem — 
 
 " Cupido, loser, eigensinniger Knabe." 
 
 *■ * # * 
 He spoke of a lately-published book about Napo- 
 leon, written by one who had known that hero in his 
 youth. 
 
 " It is a dry book," said he, " written without any 
 enthusiasm ; but it shows how grand the truth would 
 seem, if it were properly told." 
 
 He spoke of a tragedy by one of our young writers, 
 as " a pathological product," and said — 
 
 " The juices are not advantageously distributed. 
 The subject is good ; but I did not find the scenes which 
 I looked for, while others, which I did not expect, 
 are worked out with love and diligence. It is patho- 
 logical or romantic, according to our late definition." 
 
 We had more pleasant chat, and Goethe entertained 
 me with honey and some dates. 
 
 Monday, 6th April. 
 
 Goethe gave me a letter from Egon Ebert, which 
 I read with pleasure. We said much in praise of 
 Ebert, and of Bohemia, remembering also Professor 
 Zauper with love. 
 
 u Bohemia is a peculiar country," said Goethe, "and 
 was always a favorite of mine. The culture of the 
 Bohemian literati retains more clearness and purity 
 
292 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 than that of Northern Germany. Here every dunce 
 writes, without any regard to moral basis or high 
 views." 
 
 Goethe spoke of Ebert's lately-written epic, and 
 of the female rule of early days in Bohemia, whence 
 comes the Saga of the Amazons; also, of the epic 
 of another poet, who has taken great pains to get 
 favorable notices of his work from the newspapers. 
 
 " Such notices," said Goethe, " did appear here and 
 there. Then comes the ' Halle Literary Gazette,' and 
 tells the exact truth about the poem, and nullifies all 
 that the others had done for it. Truth will out now-a- 
 days; the public cannot any longer be imposed upon." 
 
 " I wonder," said I, " that a man can care enough 
 for a little fame, to stoop to falsities to obtain it." 
 
 " Dear child," said Goethe, " fame is no despicable 
 matter. Napoleon, for the sake of a great name, broke 
 in pieces almost half a world." 
 
 He told me more of the new book about Napoleon, 
 adding — 
 
 " The power of truth is great. Each cloud, each 
 illusion which historians, journalists, and poets have 
 conjured up about Napoleon, vanishes before the 
 terrible reality of this book ; but the hero looks no 
 less than before ; rather he grows in stature as we see 
 him more truly." 
 
 " His personal influence," said I, " must have been 
 magical, that men would suffer themselves to be so 
 drawn to him, and wholly governed by him." 
 
 " Certainly," said Goethe, " his personal influence 
 was great. Yet the chief reason was, that men under 
 him were sure of attaining their object. They were 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 293 
 
 drawn towards him, as they always are to him who 
 gives them this certainty, as actors are towards the 
 manager, on whom they can depend to assign them 
 good parts. 'Tis an old story constantly repeated ; for 
 human nature is so constituted that no man serves 
 another disinterestedly, but does it willingly, if thereby 
 he can also serve himself. Napoleon knew men 
 well ; he knew how to make proper use of their weak- 
 nesses." 
 
 The conversation turned upon Zelter. 
 
 " You know," said Goethe, " that Zelter has 
 received the Prussian Order. But he has no coat 
 of arms, yet, from his large family, may hope a contin- 
 uance of his name. I have taken the whim to make 
 him a coat of arms. Here it is on paper." 
 
 The arms looked very stately, and I could not but 
 praise the invention. In the lower field were the 
 battlements of a city wall, intimating that Zelter had 
 been, in early days, a skilful mason. Thence rises a 
 winged horse, indicating his genius and aspirations. 
 Above was a lyre, over which shone a star, symbol 
 of the art by which the excellent friend, under the 
 influence and protection of favoring stars, had won 
 his fame. Beneath was annexed the Order which his 
 king, in recognition of his great merits, had bestowed 
 upon him. 
 
 "I have had an engraving made from it by Facius," 
 said Goethe, " which you shall see. Is it not pleasant 
 to make a coat of arms for a friend, and thus, as 
 it were, bestow nobility upon him 1 " 
 
 * * ## 
 
 We spoke of the poem " Cupido, loser," &c. I 
 
 Z2 
 
294 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 observed it made upon me the impression of a Flemish 
 picture. 
 
 " Yet it could not be painted," said Goethe. 
 
 " It is," said I, " a fine instance of poetry verging 
 as nearly on painting as is possible, without going out 
 of its own sphere. Such poems are to me the dearest ; 
 inspiring both contemplation and feeling. But I 
 hardly understand how you could obtain the feeling 
 of such a situation; the poem is as if from another 
 time and another world." 
 
 " I could not," said Goethe, " have written such 
 another, and know not how it came to me, as often 
 happens about such matters." 
 
 "One peculiarity of this poem," said I, " is, that it 
 produces the effect of rhyme, though it is not in rhyme. 
 Why is this?" 
 
 " 'Tis the rhythm," he replied. " The lines, begin- 
 ning with an accented syllable, proceed in trochees till 
 the dactyle near the close, which gives them a sad, 
 bewailing character." 
 
 He took a pencil, and divided the line — 
 
 " Von I meinem \ breiten \ Läger \ bin ich ver \ trieben." 
 
 We then talked of rhythm in general, and came to 
 the conclusion that no certain rules can be laid down 
 upon the subject. 
 
 " The measure," said Goethe, " flows spontaneously 
 from the mood of the poet. All would be spoiled 
 if he thought about it while writing the poem." 
 
 He spoke again of Guizot — 
 
 " I am going on with his Lectures, and continue to 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 295 
 
 find them excellent. I know no historian more 
 profound or more penetrating. For instance, what 
 influence certain religious opinions, such as those 
 upon grace and good works, have had upon certain 
 epochs, is shown us with the utmost clearness; also, 
 the enduring life of Roman law, which, like a diving 
 duck, would hide itself from time to time, but was 
 never quite lost, and sure to reappear, is well set 
 forth ; on which occasion, we may again thank our 
 excellent Savigny. 
 
 " I was particularly struck by what he says of the 
 Germans, in speaking of the influence which other 
 nations exercised on his in former times. 
 
 " ' The Germans,' says he, ' brought us the idea 
 of personal freedom, which was possessed by that 
 nation more than any other.' 
 
 " Is not that good 1 He is perfectly right ; and it is 
 this idea which works upon us still. The Reformation 
 is as much attributable to this cause as the Burschen 
 conspiracy on the Wartburg — wise as well as foolish 
 enterprises. The motley hues of our literature ; the 
 thirst of our poets for originality, and the belief of 
 each one that he must strike out a new path; the 
 separation and isolation observable among our learned 
 men, each one standing by himself, and drawing out 
 his thread from a point of his own, — all this comes 
 from one source. 
 
 " The French and English keep more together, 
 and modify one another's tendencies far more. They 
 harmonize in dress and manners ; indeed, fear to differ 
 widely from one another, lest there should be some- 
 
296 ECKERMANN. 
 
 thing to excite ridicule. The German never thinks 
 of others, but suits himself ; and from this love of 
 personal freedom comes indeed much that is excellent, 
 but also much absurdity." 
 
 Tuesday, 7th April. 
 
 I found Hofrath Meyer, who has been ill of late, 
 at table with Goethe to-day, and was rejoiced to see 
 him so much better. They spoke of things relating 
 to art, — of Peel, who has of late established himself 
 in Meyer's good graces by giving four thousand pounds 
 for a Claude Lorraine. 
 
 The newspapers were brought, and the question 
 of emancipation in Ireland came up again. 
 
 " It is instructive," said Goethe, " to see how things 
 come up on this occasion, whose existence was not 
 suspected, and would never have been spoken of, but 
 for the present crisis. We cannot get a clear notion 
 of the present state of Ireland ; the materials are too 
 much entangled. But this we can see, that she suffers 
 from evils which will not be removed by emancipation. 
 If it has been unfortunate that Ireland must endure 
 those evils alone, it is now unfortunate that England 
 is engaged with her. Then, no confidence can be put 
 in the Catholics. We see with what difficulty the two 
 million of Protestants have kept their ground hitherto 
 against the five million of Catholics ; how, for in- 
 stance, the Protestant, farmer has been pressed, tricked, 
 and tormented by his Catholic neighbors. The 
 Catholics, though they do not agree among themselves, 
 will always unite against a Protestant. They are like 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 297 
 
 a pack of hounds, who will be biting one another until 
 a stag comes in view, when they all unite to run it 
 down." 
 
 From Ireland we passed to the affairs of Turkey. 
 Surprise was expressed that the great power of Russia 
 did not effect more in the late campaign. 
 
 " The means provided," said Goethe, " were in- 
 adequate, and therefore overgreat requisitions were 
 made upon individuals ; this produced great deeds 
 and individual sacrifices, but which were of little 
 avail to the cause." 
 
 " It may be," said Meyer, " that the locality presents 
 peculiar difficulties. We see, in the earliest times, 
 that, if an enemy attempted to enter any where on 
 that side, from the Danube to the northern mountains, 
 he always encountered the most obstinate resistance, 
 and almost invariably failed. Could the Russians 
 only keep the sea-side open, and furnish themselves 
 with stores in that way ! " 
 
 " That may be done yet," said Goethe. " I am 
 reading Napoleon's campaign in Egypt. What is 
 related by his every-day companion, Bourrienne, de- 
 stroys the romantic cast of many scenes, and displays 
 the facts in naked and sublime truth. It is evident 
 that he went upon this expedition merely to fill out 
 an epoch when he could not be doing any thing in 
 France to pave his way to supreme power. He was 
 at first undecided what to do ; he visited all the 
 harbors on the Atlantic coast, to inspect the fleets, 
 and see whether an expedition against England were 
 practicable. He found it was not, and then decided 
 on going to Egypt." 
 
293 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " It is surprising," said I, " how Napoleon, at that 
 early age, could play with the great affairs of the 
 world as easy and secure as if familiarized to them 
 by many years' practice and experience." 
 
 " That, dear child," said Goethe, " is inborn with 
 great geniuses. Napoleon managed the world as 
 Hummel manages his harpsichord; we understand 
 the skill of neither, though the whole is done before 
 our eyes. Napoleon was in this especially great — 
 that he was at all hours the same. Before and during 
 a battle, after victory or defeat, he stood always firm, 
 was always clear and decided what to do. He was 
 always in his element, and equal to each situation, 
 and each moment, just as Hummel is to an adagio or 
 allegro, bass or treble. This facility we find wherever 
 is real talent, in peace or war ; at the harpsichord, 
 or behind the cannon. 
 
 " We see, by this book, how many fables have been 
 invented about the Egyptian campaign. Some anec- 
 dotes are corroborated, but most of them contradicted. 
 It is true that he had eight hundred Turkish prisoners 
 shot; but it was in conformity with the deliberate 
 judgment of a council of war that nothing else could 
 be done with them. It is not true that he descended 
 into the Pyramids. He stood at ease on the outside, 
 while others descended, and told him, on their return, 
 what they had seen. He was not in the habit of 
 wearing the Eastern dress. He put it on once at home, 
 and wore it among his followers, to see how he liked 
 it. But the turban does not suit such long heads, 
 and he laid it aside. 
 
 " He really visited those sick of the plague, and, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 299 
 
 indeed, in order to prove that the man who could 
 vanquish fear, was proof against the plague also. And 
 he was right ! I could instance a similar passage in 
 my own life, where I was exposed to infection from 
 putrid fever, and warded it off by force of will. It is 
 incredible what power the moral will has in such 
 cases. It penetrates, as it were, the body, and puts it 
 into a state of activity which repels all hurtful influ- 
 ences. Fear, on the other hand, induces a state of 
 indolent weakness and susceptibility, which makes it 
 easy for the foe to take possession of us. This 
 Napoleon knew well, and he felt that he risked nothing 
 in setting his army an example so imposing." 
 
 " But," continued he, gayly, " pay your respects. 
 See what book Napoleon carried in his field library — 
 my ' Werther ! ' " 
 
 " He showed at Erfurt," said I, " how faithfully he 
 had studied it." 
 
 " He had studied it as the judge does his Acts," said 
 Goethe, " and talked with me conformably about it. 
 Bourrienne gives a list of the books which Napoleon 
 took to Egypt, among which is ' Werther.' What is 
 worth noticing in this list, is the manner in which the 
 works are classed, under different rubrics. Under the 
 head Politique we find mentioned the Old Testament, 
 the New Testament, the Koran ; from which we may 
 judge what Napoleon's view was on religious matters." 
 
 He told us many other interesting passages from the 
 book. Among others, we talked of Napoleon's passing 
 with his army through the narrow part of the Red 
 Sea, at time of ebb ; but that the flood returned before 
 they had got through, so that the last men waded up 
 
300 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 to their waists in water, and had like to have come to 
 the same end as Pharaoh's followers. This led Goethe 
 to speak of the rise of the flood. He compared it with 
 that of the clouds, which come not from afar, but arise 
 at once in various parts, and pass off in the same 
 manner. 
 
 Wednesday, 8th April. 
 
 Goethe received me with a cheerful air. 
 
 " From whence, and from whom, think you," said 
 he, "I have received a letter? From Rome — from 
 the King of Bavaria." 
 
 " I sympathize in the pleasure you feel," said I. 
 "And is it not odd? Not an hour since, during my 
 walk, I had many thoughts about the King of Ba- 
 varia; and now I receive this pleasant intelligence 
 from you." 
 
 " Our minds often give us intimations of that sort," 
 said Goethe. " Here is the letter ; sit down and 
 read it." 
 
 I took the letter, Goethe the newspaper, and I read 
 undisturbed the royal words. The letter was dated 
 Rome, 26th March, 1829; written in a very legible 
 and dignified hand. The King told Goethe that he had 
 bought an estate in Rome, the Villa di Malta, with 
 the adjacent gardens in the neighborhood of the Villa 
 Ludovisi, in the north-west part of the city. It stands 
 upon a hill, which gives him a full view over all 
 Rome, and towards the north-east of St. Peter's. 
 
 " It is a prospect," he writes, " to enjoy which one 
 would travel a long way, and which I have at my 
 command every hour, from the windows of my house." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 301 
 
 He goes on to express his joy at being so advanta- 
 geously settled in Rome. 
 
 " I had not," he continues, " seen Rome for twelve 
 years, and longed for it with the impatience of a lover ; 
 but now I shall be able to return with that feeling of 
 tranquil happiness with which one visits a beloved 
 friend." 
 
 He spoke of the magnificent treasures of art, and 
 the edifices, with the animation of a connoisseur who 
 has at heart the interests of the truly beautiful, and 
 who keenly feels every sin against good taste. The 
 letter throughout had a beautiful humanity of feeling 
 and expression, such as we do not ordinarily expect 
 from persons of so high rank. I mentioned this to 
 Goethe. 
 
 *' You see in it," he replied, " a monarch whose 
 royal dignity has not destroyed the beautiful feelings 
 natural to him as a man — a rare phenomenon, and to 
 be rejoiced at when seen." 
 
 I read other fine passages from the letter. 
 
 " Here in Rome," he writes, "I refresh myself after 
 the cares of a throne ; Art, Nature, are my daily 
 delight ; artists are my table companions." 
 
 He mentions how often he thinks of Goethe y in 
 passing by the house where he once lived. Some 
 passages were quoted from the Romish elegies, which 
 showed that the King treasures them in his memory, 
 and probably reads them again on the spot where they 
 were written. 
 
 " He loves those elegies," said Goethe, " and has 
 teazed me much to know how far they are matter 
 of fact ; because those poems have so attractive an 
 
 A A 
 
 / 
 
302 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 air, it seems as if there must be something in the 
 incidents. Few people can realize that the poet is 
 usually prompted to his highest efforts by slight 
 occasions. 
 
 " I wish," continued he, " that I had the King's 
 poems by me, that I might allude to them in my 
 answer. I should think they were good, to judge from 
 the little I have read. In form and mode of treatment 
 he resembles Schiller, and, if he has put high thoughts 
 into so fine a vase, the result must be good." 
 
 He bade the servant spread out the large engraving 
 of Rome in the next room, that he might show me the 
 King's villa. I felt much obliged to him. While this 
 was doing, we talked over Claudine von Villa Bella, 
 &LC ; praised the music, which is by Reichardt. 
 
 " He has," said Goethe, " been especially successful 
 with Ciqrido, loser" &,c. 
 
 " This song," I remarked, " throws me into a 
 pleasant, dreamy mood." 
 
 " It should do so," said Goethe, " for it was born 
 of such a one." 
 
 Frederic came and told us that the engraving was 
 ready. We went in. Goethe soon found the Villa 
 Ludovisi, and, near it, the Villa di Malta. 
 
 " See," said he, " what a superb situation ! The 
 whole city is spread out before him, and the hill is so 
 high, that he can see quite over the buildings towards 
 south and east. I have often visited this villa, and en- 
 joyed the view from the windows. Here, where the city 
 extends out towards the north-east beyond the Tiber, 
 you see St. Peter's and the Vatican. The long road 
 which enters the city by the Porta del Popolo comes 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 303 
 
 from Germany. I lived in one of these streets near 
 the gate, in a corner house. They show another in 
 Rome as the place where I lived ; but it is no matter : 
 these things are, at bottom, quite indifferent, and we 
 must let tradition take its course." 
 
 We returned into the dining-room. 
 
 " The Chancellor," said I, " would enjoy that 
 letter." 
 
 " He shall see it," said Goethe. 
 
 " When I am reading in the Paris newspapers the 
 debates of the Chambers, I think always how truly 
 the Chancellor would be in his place there. Not only 
 wisdom is required for that element, but an inclination 
 for and a pleasure in speaking ; both of which are 
 united in our Chancellor. Napoleon liked to speak ; 
 when he had no proper opportunity, he wrote or 
 dictated. Blucher, too, liked it ; he spoke well and 
 with emphasis; he had cultivated his talent at the 
 theatre. Our Grand Duke liked it, though he was by 
 nature laconic. When he could not speak, he wrote. 
 He has prepared many laws, many treaties, generally 
 very well ; only princes have not time or quiet to 
 obtain the necessary knowledge of details. In his 
 later days he issued an order about paying for the 
 restoration of pictures; and, princelike, he had made 
 a mathematical calculation for paying by the foot. If 
 the restored picture hold four square feet, pay four 
 dollars ; if twelve feet, twelve dollars. This was like 
 a prince, but not like an artist; for a twelve-foot 
 picture may be in such a state, that it can be cleaned 
 jn a day, while a four-foot picture may require a week. 
 
304 ECKERMANN. 
 
 But princes, like good military men, are fond of 
 mathematical arrangements." 
 We talked of Art. 
 
 " I possess drawings," said he, " after pictures by 
 Raphael and Dominichino, which called from Meyer 
 this valuable observation : — 
 
 " ' The drawings,' said Meyer, ' do not show great 
 practice of hand ; but it is evident that whoever made 
 them had a delicate and just feeling about the pictures 
 which lay before him, which has passed into the 
 drawing, and brings the originals faithfully before the 
 soul. If an artist of our day should copy these same 
 pictures, his drawing would be more correct, and 
 better finished ; but he would probably want this true 
 feeling of the originals, and we should not get from 
 him, by any means, so correct or full an idea of 
 Raphael or Dominichino.' 
 
 " Is not that good ? And the same may be said 
 of translations. Voss, for instance, has certainly made 
 an excellent translation from Homer ; yet, I am in- 
 clined to think, a more naive and faithful representa- 
 tion of the original might have been given by one 
 not in all respects so masterly." 
 
 * # # # * # # # 
 
 Friday, 10th April. 
 
 " While we are waiting for our soup, I will provide 
 you with refreshment for your eyes." 
 
 With these friendly words, Goethe placed before 
 me a volume, containing landscapes by Claude 
 Lorraine. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 305 
 
 I had never before seen any productions of this 
 great master. The impression they made upon me 
 was extraordinary ; and my surprise and rapture rose 
 with every leaf I turned over. 
 
 The power of the shadowy masses on either side, 
 the splendid sun-light streaming from the back-ground, 
 and its reflection in the water, producing so clear and 
 decisive an impression, struck me like the always- 
 recurring maxims upon art of the great masters. 
 I also was delighted to find each picture a little 
 world by itself, in which every part harmonized with 
 and enhanced the ruling thought. Whether it was a 
 harbor with vessels at anchor, active fishermen and 
 magnificent buildings on the water's edge, or a lonely, 
 barren hill-country, with its grazing goats, little brook 
 and bridge, a few low bushes, and a shady tree, under 
 which a shepherd was amusing himself with his pipe, 
 or low moorlands with the standing pools, which, 
 under powerful summer heat, give so pleasant an 
 impression of coolness, — each picture was by itself, 
 and at one with itself ; no trace of any thing foreign 
 to its element was to be seen in it. 
 
 " Here you see, for once, a complete man," said 
 Goethe. " Beautiful were his thoughts and feelings, 
 and in his mind lay a world, such as you will not 
 easily find elsewhere. The pictures have the highest 
 truth, not the truth of actual life. Claude Lorraine 
 knew the real world by heart, but used it only as 
 means to express the world of his fair soul. That 
 is the true Ideality, so to use the means afforded by 
 the actual world, that the truth evolved may at first 
 appear to be actual too." 
 
306 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " Those are good words," said I, " and would apply 
 as well to poetry as to the plastic arts." 
 
 " Even so," replied Goethe. " Meanwhile, you had 
 better defer further enjoyment of the admirable Claude 
 till after dinner ; for the pictures are too good to look 
 at many of them at once." 
 
 * * * * # » * . . * 
 
 " Here," said Goethe, " you will see in the Gazette 
 a poem addressed to the King of Bavaria." 
 
 I read it to myself. 
 
 "What think you of it?" said he. 
 
 " They are," I replied, " the feelings of a Dilettant, 
 who has more good-will than talent, and to whom the 
 high state of literature presents language ready made, 
 which sings and rhymes for him, while he imagines 
 that he himself is speaking." 
 
 " You are perfectly right," said he ; "I also think 
 it a very weak production. It bears no trace of 
 observation of any thing external ; it is wholly mental, 
 and that not in the right way." 
 
 " To write a good poem," said I, " requires great 
 knowledge of the subject ; and he who has not, like 
 Claude Lorraine, a whole world at his command, 
 will seldom produce any thing good." 
 
 " And then," said Goethe, " only native genius 
 knows what is to be done, while others go blundering 
 on their way." 
 
 " Your aesthetic teachers," said I, " are a proof of 
 this ; for scarce one of them knows what properly 
 should be taught, and they only confuse young poets. 
 They speak not of the Ideal, but of the Real ; instead 
 of helping the young poet to what he has not, they 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 307 
 
 confuse him about what he has. He who has from 
 nature wit or humor, will use them to the best advan- 
 tage, while scarcely conscious of possessing them ; 
 if, by these treatises, he is made conscious of his 
 powers, they will be paralyzed." 
 
 " You are right," he replied, " and a great deal 
 might be said on that chapter." 
 
 Speaking of the new epic of Egon Ebert, he said — 
 
 " It shows much talent, but wants the true ground- 
 work for a poem in Reality. What he takes from 
 observation of the external world, landscapes, sunset, 
 and sunrise, the stars, could not be better done. But 
 the rest, which lies in ages gone by, and belongs to the 
 Sagas, is not painted with its proper truth ; it has no 
 pith or kernel. The Amazons, with their life and 
 actions, are described in that general way which young 
 people esteem poetic or romantic, and which passes 
 for such in the aesthetic world." 
 
 " This," said 1, " is the pervading fault of our 
 present literature. Writers avoid special truths, for 
 fear they should not be poetical, and thus fall into 
 common place." 
 
 " Egon Ebert," said Goethe, <k should have adhered 
 strictly to the chronicles; he would then have made 
 something of his poem. When I remember how 
 Schiller studied tradition, what trouble he gave 
 himself about Switzerland when he wrote his ' Tell,' 
 and how Shakspeare used the chronicles, copying 
 into his plays whole passages word for word, I am 
 inclined to prescribe the same course to a young 
 poet. I have, in my 1 Clavigo,' made use of whole 
 passages from the 1 Memoirs ' of Beaumarchais." 
 
308 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " But they are so interwoven with the rest," said I, 
 " that the fact is not observed." 
 
 44 That is well," said Goethe, " if so it be. 
 Beaumarchais was a mad Christian, and you must read 
 his ' Memoirs.' Lawsuits were his element, in which 
 he felt truly at home. There are arguments from one 
 of his lawsuits, among the boldest, most impressive, 
 and full of talent, which have ever been known in the 
 kind. He lost this famous lawsuit. As he was going 
 down the stairs from the court, he met the Chancellor 
 coming up. Beaumarchais ought to have given place ; 
 he would not, but took half the stair. The Chan- 
 cellor, thinking himself insulted, commanded his 
 people to push Beaumarchais aside, which they did. 
 Beaumarchais immediately returned into court, and 
 took steps to begin a process against the Chancellor, 
 in which he came off victor." 
 
 We talked of Goethe's " Second Residence in 
 Rome." He said — 
 
 " I have now taken it up once more, that I may 
 finally get rid of it, and turn my attention to something 
 else. You know that my published Italian journey 
 was prepared from my letters. But I cannot use those 
 in the same way which I wrote during my second visit 
 to Rome ; they contain too much about home ; about 
 my connections in Weimar ; and too little about my 
 Italian life. Yet there are many utterances of my 
 inward life. I think of extracting these, and inserting 
 them in my narrative, to which they will give tone 
 and harmony." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 309 
 
 " It has from olden time been said and repeated, 
 that man should strive to know himself. To this 
 singular requisition no man either has fully answered 
 or shall answer. Man is by sense and custom led 
 outwards into the world, and has a great deal to do 
 that he may know and make use of this. He knows 
 himself only from joy or sorrow, and is only in this 
 way instructed what to seek, and what to shun. Man 
 is a darkened being ; he knows not whence he comes, 
 nor whither he goes ; he knows little of the world, 
 and less of himself. I know not myself, and may God 
 protect me from it ! But this I can say, in my fortieth 
 year, while living in Italy, I became wise enough to 
 know thus much of myself — that I had no talent for 
 the plastic arts, and that this tendency of mine was 
 a false one. If I drew any thing, I had not a sufficient 
 inclination for the corporeal. I felt a certain fear lest 
 objects should press too much upon me ; rather was 
 I suited with the weak, the moderate. If I drew a 
 landscape, and got well through the back- and middle- 
 ground, I never dared making the fore-ground powerful 
 enough ; so that my pictures never produced the right 
 impression. Then I made no progress except by 
 practice, and was always obliged to go back, if I left 
 off practising for a while. Yet I was not absolutely 
 destitute of talent, and Hackert was wont to say, « If 
 you would stay with me eighteen months, you might; 
 do something which would give pleasure to yourself 
 and others.' " 
 
 I listened with great interest. 
 
 " But how," said I, " can one be sure of possessing 
 real talent for an art ? " 
 
310 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 "Real talent," said Goethe, "possesses an innate 
 sense for form, relations, and color, so as to manage 
 all that well with little instruction. Especially has it 
 a sense for the corporeal, and brings it out into 
 palpable existence, by judicious distribution of the 
 lights. In the intervals of practice it pauses not, 
 but grows inwardly. Such a talent is not hard to 
 recognize, yet best recognized by a master. 
 
 " I visited the palace this morning," continued he, 
 in a lively tone. " The apartments of the Grand 
 Duchess are furnished with great taste ; and Coudray 
 has shown with his Italian people his fine judgment 
 anew. The painters were still busy with the walls ; 
 *ey are two Milanese. I spoke Italian with them, and 
 was glad to see that I had not lost the power. The 
 language brings back, as it were, the atmosphere of the 
 country." 
 
 After dinner, he sent for a small plan of Rome. 
 
 " Rome," said he, " would not do for the permanent 
 abode of people like us. He who would settle there 
 must marry and turn Catholic, else would he lead an 
 uncomfortable life. Hackert is not a little proud of 
 having lived there so long a Protestant." 
 
 He showed me the Villa Farnese. 
 
 " Was not," said I, "the witch scene, in ' Faust,' 
 written in those gardens ? " 
 
 * " No," he replied, " in the Borghese gardens." 
 
 I now refreshed myself with more landscapes by 
 Claude. 
 
 " Could not now a young artist," said I, " model 
 himself on this great master?" 
 
 " He whose mind is cast in a like mould," answered 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 311 
 
 Goethe, " would, without doubt, best unfold himself on 
 Claude Lorraine. But he whom nature did not so 
 endow will at best know only particulars of this great 
 master, and make use of him by way of phrase." 
 
 Saturday, 11th April. 
 I found the table set to-day in the long hall, with 
 covers for many persons. Goethe and Frau von 
 Goethe received me with great cordiality. One by 
 one entered — Madame Schopenhauer, young Count 
 Reinhard of the French embassy, his brother-in-law, 
 
 Von D , passing through to enter the Russian 
 
 army against the Turks, Fraulein Ulrica, and Hofrath 
 Vogel. 
 
 Goethe was in a particularly cheerful mood, and 
 entertained us before dinner with some pleasant 
 Frankfort stories, especially about Rothschild and 
 Bethmann's interference with one another's specu- 
 lations. 
 
 Count Reinhard went to Court, and the others sat 
 down to dinner. The conversation was lively and 
 agreeable. They talked of travelling; of the bathing 
 places ; and Madame Schopenhauer interested us in 
 the arrangements going on at her new estate on the 
 Rhine, near the Island Nonnen werth. 
 
 After dinner, Count Reinhard returned, and was 
 much complimented on the quickness of his motions, 
 as he not only had dined at Court, but changed his 
 dress twice, since he left us. 
 
 He brought us news, that a pope was chosen, and 
 from the family of the Castiglioni. Goethe detailed to 
 
312 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 the company the ceremonies usual when a pope is 
 chosen. 
 
 Count Reinhard, who had passed the winter at 
 Paris, gave us a great deal of desirable information 
 about celebrated statesmen, literati, and poets — Cha- 
 teaubriand, Guizot, Salvandy, Beranger, Merimee, 
 and others. 
 
 After dinner, when all except myself had taken 
 leave, Goethe showed me two very interesting papers. 
 They were two letters written in his youth, one in 
 1770, from Strasburg, to his friend, Dr. Horn, at 
 Frankfort ; one in July, the other in December. In 
 both spoke a young man who had a presentiment of 
 the great things which lay before him to do. In the 
 last, traces of " Werther" are visible; the Sesenheim 
 connection had been formed, and the happy youth, 
 dizzy with the sweetest feelings, seemed lavishing 
 away his days, as if in a dream. The hand-writing 
 was calm, clear, and elegant ; it had already formed 
 to the character it always afterwards preserved. I 
 could not forbear reading again and again these 
 charming letters, and left Goethe full of emotions of 
 happiness and gratitude. 
 
 Sunday, 12th April. 
 
 Goethe read me his answer to the King of Bavaria. 
 He had represented himself as if ascending the steps 
 of the Villa, and expressing his feelings to the King, 
 by word of mouth. 
 
 "It must be difficult," said I, " to preserve exactly 
 the proper tone and manner in such a connection." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 313 
 
 "Not difficult," said Goethe, " to one who has had, 
 during a long life, so much intercourse as I with 
 persons of high rank. Yet perfect nature will not do ; 
 we do not meet them man to man, but must keep 
 within the line of a certain conventional propriety." 
 
 He spoke of the papers belonging to his " Second 
 Residence at Rome," which he is now looking over. 
 
 " From the letters," said he, " which were written 
 at that period, I can easily see what advantages and 
 disadvantages come with every time of life, to balance 
 these of earlier and later periods. In my fortieth 
 year, I was as clear and decided on some subjects 
 as at present, and, in many respects, superior to my 
 present self ; yet, now, in my eightieth, I possess 
 advantages which I would not exchange for these." 
 
 " While you made that remark," said 1, " the 
 metamorphosis of plants came before my eyes, and 
 I can well understand that one would not return from 
 the flower to the green leaf, from the fruit or seed 
 to the flower." 
 
 " The simile," he replied, " expresses perfectly my 
 meaning." 
 
 " It is bad, however, that we are so hindered in life 
 by false tendencies, and cannot know them to be false 
 until we are already freed from them." 
 
 " How," said I, " shall we know whether a tendency 
 be false or no ? " 
 
 " Either," he replied, " the false tendency produces 
 nothing, or nothing of worth. It is easy enough to 
 judge about this in others ; but to be just upon one- 
 self requires great freedom of spirit. And, even if we 
 
 B B 
 
314 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 do perceive the truth with regard to ourselves, that is 
 not always enough ; we delay, doubt, cannot resolve 
 to part, even as the lover cannot leave the beloved 
 maiden of whose infidelity he had repeated proofs long 
 since. This I say, because I remember how many 
 years I was finding out that my tendency to the plastic 
 arts was a false one, and how many, after I was sure 
 that it was so, to separate myself entirely from it." 
 
 " But," said I, " that tendency has been of such 
 advantage to you, that it can hardly be considered 
 false." 
 
 " I make myself easy about it," said Goethe, " by 
 recollecting how much it has done for me in the way 
 of insight. That is the good we draw from these 
 errors. He who, with inadequate abilities, devotes 
 himself to music, will never, indeed, become a master, 
 but may learn to know and to value a masterly pro- 
 duction. With all my toil, I could not be an artist ; 
 but, as I tried every department of art, I learned to 
 take cognizance of each stroke, and to know success 
 from failure. This is no small gain ; and false tenden- 
 cies scarce ever fail to produce the like. Even such 
 misdirected efforts were the Crusades ; but, though 
 they could not free the holy sepulchre, they weakened 
 the Turks, and prevented them from gaining ground 
 in Europe." 
 
 He spoke to me of a book on Peter the Great, by 
 Segur, which had interested and given him much 
 light. 
 
 " The situation of Petersburg," said he, " is quite 
 unpardonable, especially as the ground rises in the 
 neighborhood, and the Emperor could have had a 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 315 
 
 city quite exempt from all this trouble from overflow 
 of the stream, if he had but gone a little higher 
 up, and had only the haven in this low place. An 
 old shipmaster represented this to him, and prophesied 
 that the people of the city would all be drowned every 
 seventy years. There stood also an old tree, with 
 various marks from times when the waters had risen 
 to a great height. It was all in vain ; the Emperor 
 stood to his whim, and had the tree cut down, that it 
 might not bear witness against him. 
 
 " You will be surprised at such conduct in so great 
 a man. I explain it to myself thus : — Man cannot 
 cast aside his youthful impressions ; even bad things, 
 to which he was accustomed in those early years, 
 remain so dear to him that he cannot see their faults. 
 So would Peter the Great repeat Amsterdam, so dear 
 to his youth, upon the Neva ; as the Dutch always 
 try to build new Amsterdams in the distant regions 
 where they sometimes go to live." 
 
 Monday, 13th April. 
 
 I looked again at some of Claude's landscapes. 
 
 " The collection," said Goethe, " bears the title 
 Liber Veritatis, and might, with equal propriety, 
 be styled Liber Natures et Artis, — for here we find 
 Nature and Art in the highest state and fairest 
 agreement." 
 
 I asked in what school Claude Lorraine formed 
 himself. 
 
 " His nearest master," said Goethe, " was Antonio 
 Tasso, who was, however, a pupil of Paul Brill, whose 
 maxims afforded Claude a foundation, and whose 
 
316 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 school came in him to flower ; for what appeared too 
 earnest and severe in those masters, is, in Claude 
 Lorraine, unfolded to the serenest sweetness and 
 loveliest freedom. There is no going beyond him. 
 
 " It is difficult to say from whom so great a genius, 
 and who lived in so remarkable a time and situation, 
 did learn. He looked about, and appropriated every 
 thing which could afford nourishment to his designs. 
 No doubt he was as much indebted to the Caracci 
 school as to his immediate masters. 
 
 " Thus, it is usual to say, Julio Romano was the 
 scholar of Raphael ; but we might, with as much 
 propriety, say he was the scholar of his age. Only 
 Guido Reni had a scholar, who received so entirely 
 into himself the spirit, intellect, and art of his master, 
 that he was and did almost exactly the same as he. 
 This is a case by itself, and which will hardly be 
 repeated. 
 
 " The Caracci school, on the contrary, was calcu- 
 lated to set free and remove obstacles, so that each 
 talent was developed in its natural direction, and 
 masters proceeded from it, all entirely different one 
 from another. The Caracci seemed born to be 
 teachers of Art ; they lived in a time when the best 
 had already been done, and they could show their 
 scholars the finest models in all departments. They 
 were great artists, great teachers ; but I could not 
 say that they were truly gifted with the spirit, (geist- 
 reich.) It is a somewhat bold saying, but so it seems 
 to me." 
 
 After I had looked at a few more landscapes of 
 Claude's, I opened an Artist's Lexicon, to see what is 
 
 r 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 317 
 
 said of this great master. We found " His chief merit 
 was in his palette." 
 
 "We looked at one another, and laughed. 
 
 " There you see," said Goethe, " how much he 
 learns who relies on books, and receives all that he 
 finds written." 
 
 Tuesday, 14th April. 
 
 I found Meyer with Goethe. He showed us in the 
 Claude Lorraine volume, the engraving of the land- 
 scape, for which we lately saw in the newspapers that 
 Peel had given four thousand pounds. He has got a 
 beautiful picture ; it is no bad bargain. 
 
 On the right side of the picture is a group of people 
 sitting and standing. A shepherd is leaning over a 
 girl, whom he seems to be instructing to play upon the 
 pipe. In the middle is a lake, in the full light of the 
 sun ; on the left, cattle grazing in the shade of a 
 grove. The two groups balance one another ad- 
 mirably, and the full light has the magical effect usual 
 with that artist. 
 
 Meyer said he knew well the villa which the King 
 of Bavaria has bought, and had often been there. 
 
 " The house is of moderate size. The King, no 
 doubt, will adorn it, and make it attractive. In my 
 time, the Duchess Amelia lived there, and Herder 
 in the next house. Afterwards, the Duke of Sussex 
 and Lord Munster lived there. Strangers of high 
 rank preferred it on account of the healthy situation 
 and superb prospect." 
 
 I asked Meyer how far it was from this Villa to the 
 Vatican. 
 
 b b 2 
 
318 
 
 ECKERM A XX. 
 
 " From Trinita di Monte, which is near the Villa, 
 and where the artists live," said Meyer, " it is a good 
 half league. We went over the ground daily, and 
 often more than once a day. Sometimes we crossed 
 the Tiber in a boat, instead of going by the bridge. I 
 remember we were returning one fine moonlight night 
 from the Vatican; Bury, Hirt, and Lips, were with 
 me, and we were engaged in the customary dispute, 
 which is the greater, Raphael or Michael Angelo. 
 When we reached the shore, we were fully engaged in 
 argument ; some merry rogue — I think it was Bury — 
 proposed we should remain upon the water till the 
 strife was settled, and the parties agreed. The 
 proposal was acceded to, and the boatman bid to put 
 off again. Now indeed the dispute grew lively, and 
 when we reached the opposite shore, we put back, and 
 so on, hour after hour, which suited nobody better 
 than the boatman, who had a new fee each time. 
 He had with him, as his helper, a boy of twelve years 
 old, who knew not what to make of our conduct. 
 
 " ' Father,' said he, ' what is the matter with these 
 men, that they will not land, and we must keep going 
 back ? ' 
 
 " ' I know not, my son,' replied the boatman ; ' but I 
 believe they are mad.' 
 
 " Finally, in order not to row to and fro the whole 
 night, we agreed, and landed." 
 
 We laughed at this anecdote. Meyer was in the 
 best humor ; he continued talking of Rome, and 
 Goethe and I took pleasure in listening to him. 
 
 " This dispute about Raphael and Michael Angelo," 
 continued Meyer, " was the order of every day, and 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 319 
 
 always introduced when there were a sufficient number 
 of artists present to support both sides. It usually 
 began at some inn where they had good wine at a 
 cheap rate ; pictures were referred to, and, if the 
 adversary disputed the instances adduced, we would 
 adjourn to the Sistine Chapel. The key was kept 
 by a shoemaker, who would open it at any time, for 
 four groschen. After having demonstrated from the 
 pictures, and disputed long enough, we would return 
 to the inn, to be reconciled, and forget all controversy 
 over another bottle of wine. So was it each day ; and 
 the shoemaker of the Sistine Chapel got many times 
 the four groschen." 
 
 Mention was made of another shoemaker, who was 
 in the habit of beating out his leather on an antique 
 marble head. 
 
 " It was the portrait of a Roman Emperor," said 
 Meyer. " The antique stood before the shoemaker's 
 door, and we have often seen him engaged in this 
 laudable occupation as we passed by." 
 
 Wednesday, 15th April. 
 
 We talked of people who, without having any real 
 talent, were excited to productivity, and of those who 
 write upon subjects which they do not understand. 
 
 " What misleads young people," said Goethe, " is 
 this : We live in a time when culture is so diffused, 
 that it has become the atmosphere which a young man 
 breathes ; poetical and philosophical thoughts, which 
 he has imbibed with the air he breathes, live and move 
 within him; he fancies them his own, and utters them 
 as such. But after he has restored to the time what it 
 
320 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 gave him, he remains a poor man. He is like a 
 fountain, which spouts forth a little while the water 
 which is drawn into it, but ceases to give a drop when 
 the loan is exhausted." 
 
 Tuesday, 1st September. 
 
 I mentioned a person now visiting Weimar, who had 
 heard Hegel's Lectures on the proof of the existence 
 of God. Goethe agreed with me, that the time for 
 such lectures was gone by. 
 
 " The period of doubt," said he, " is past ; men 
 now doubt as little the existence of God as their own. 
 And the nature of the Divinity, immortality, the 
 existence of our own souls, and their connection with 
 our bodies, are eternal problems, which our philoso- 
 phers make no progress in solving. A late French 
 philosopher begins confidently thus : — 
 
 " ' It is acknowledged that man consists of two parts, 
 body and soul ; accordingly, we will begin by speaking 
 of the body, and pass on to the soul.' 
 
 " Fichte went somewhat farther, and extricated 
 himself more skilfully from the dilemma, when he 
 said — 
 
 " ' We shall speak of man regarded as a body, and 
 of man regarded as a soul.' 
 
 " He felt that a so closely combined whole could not 
 be separated. Kant has given more satisfaction than 
 others, by drawing the limits, beyond which, human 
 intellect has not strength to penetrate, and leaving at 
 rest the insoluble problems. I doubt not of our 
 immortality, for nature cannot dispense with our con- 
 tinued activity. But we are not all, in like manner, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 321 
 
 immortal ; and he who would manifest himself as a 
 great Entelecheia to future ages, must begin now. 
 
 " While the Germans are tormenting themselves with 
 these philosophical problems, the English, with their 
 fine practical understanding, laugh at us, and win the 
 world. Every body knows how they have declaimed 
 against the slave trade ; and, while they have made 
 us believe they were incited solely by motives of 
 humanity, we at last discover that they have an object, 
 such as they do nothing without ; and this we should 
 have known before. They themselves need the blacks, 
 in their extensive domains on the western coast of 
 Africa, and they do not like the trade which carries 
 them off. They have large colonies of negroes in 
 America, which are very profitable. From these they 
 can supply the demand from JNorth America, and, if 
 slaves are brought from other places, it injures their 
 traffic; so they preach against the inhuman African 
 slave trade. At the Congress of Vienna, the English 
 envoy denouncing it with great zeal, the Portuguese 
 envoy had the good sense quietly to reply, he did not 
 know they came together to sit in judgment on the 
 world, or to decide upon maxims of morality. He 
 well understood the object of England ; he also had 
 his, which he knew how to plead for and obtain." 
 
 Sunday, 6th December. 
 To-day, after dinner, Goethe read me the first scene 
 of the second act of " Faust." The effect was great, 
 and gave my soul a high satisfaction. We are once 
 more in Faust's study, where Mephistophiles finds all 
 
 ft 
 
322 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 just as he had left it. He takes from the hook Faust's 
 old study-gown, and a thousand moths and insects 
 flutter out from it. While these are quieting down 
 again, and Mephistophiles is speaking, the locality is 
 brought very clearly before our eyes. He puts on the 
 gown, while Faust lies behind a curtain, in a state of 
 paralysis, intending to play the Doctor's part once 
 more. He pulls the bell, and such an awful tone 
 reverberates into the cloister, that the doors spring 
 open and the walls tremble. The servant rushes up, 
 and finds Mephistophiles in Faust's seat ; he does not 
 recognize, but pays him respect. Being asked, he 
 replies that Wagner is now become a celebrated man, 
 but is always hoping the return of his master ; that he 
 is at this moment busy in his laboratory, seeking to 
 produce an Homunculus. The servant retires, and the 
 Bachelor enters ; he is the same whom we knew some 
 years ago as a shy young student, when Mephistoph- 
 iles (in Faust's gown) made such a joke of him. 
 He is now become a man, but still is so in dark- 
 ness that even Mephistophiles can do nothing with 
 him. 
 
 " The conception," said Goethe, " is now so old, 
 for I have had it in my mind for fifty years ; the 
 materials have consequently accumulated to such a 
 degree, that separation and choice are by no means 
 easy. The scheme, even of the second part, is as old 
 as I say ; but it may be an advantage that I have not 
 written it down till now, that I have so much 
 knowledge of the world. I am like one who began life 
 with a small sum in silver and copper money, which he 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 323 
 
 has during his course exchanged again and again with 
 such profit that he has it now in pure gold." 
 
 I asked whether the Bachelor was not meant to 
 represent a certain class of ideal philosophers. 
 
 " No," said Goethe, " I only meant to personify the 
 arrogance which is natural to youth, and of which we 
 had such striking examples after our war for freedom. 
 A man believes, in his youth, that the world properly 
 began with him, and that all exists for his sake. 
 
 "In the East, there was a man who, every morning, 
 collected his people about him, and never would go to 
 work till he had commanded the sun to arise. But he 
 was wise enough not to speak his command till the sun 
 of its own accord was ready to appear." 
 
 Goethe remained awhile absorbed in silent thought ; 
 then he said — 
 
 "I cannot but think that the demons, dallying with 
 men, have placed among them single figures, so 
 alluring that every one strives after them, so great 
 that nobody can reach them. Raphael was one — he 
 whose thoughts and acts were equally perfect ; some 
 distinguished followers have come near, but none has 
 ever equalled him. Mozart represents the unattainable 
 in music ; Shakspeare in poetry. I know what you 
 can say on the other side ; but I refer to the natural 
 dowry, the inborn wealth. Even so, none can stand by 
 the side of Napoleon. It was great that the Russians 
 were so moderate as not to go to Constantinople ; but 
 we find a similar trait in Napoleon — he too had the 
 moderation not to go to Rome." 
 
 I thought to myself that the demons had made 
 
324 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Goethe even so — a form too alluring not to be striven 
 after ; too great to be reached. 
 
 Wednesday, lCth December. 
 
 To-day, after dinner, Goethe read me the second 
 scene of the second act of " Faust," where Mephistoph- 
 iles visits Wagner, who is hoping to make a human 
 being by chemical means. The work succeeds ; the 
 Homunculus appears in the phial, a shining being, and 
 becomes at once active. He repels Wagner's questions 
 upon incomprehensible subjects ; reasoning is not his 
 business ; he wishes to act, and begins with our hero, 
 Faust, who needs a higher aid to shake off the 
 paralysis. He sees into the soul of Faust, and, by 
 describing the dream he is enjoying, brings a most 
 charming picture before our eyes. Mephistophiles 
 sees nothing in it, and the Homunculus jeers at his 
 northern nature. 
 
 " Generally," said Goethe, " you will perceive that 
 Mephistophiles appears to disadvantage beside the 
 Homunculus, who is like him in clearness of intellect, 
 superior to him in his tendency to the beautiful, and 
 to a beneficent activity. For the rest, he styles him 
 cousin ; for such intellectual beings as this Homun- 
 culus, not yet saddened and limited by the assumption 
 of a human nature, belong to the class of demons, and 
 thus there is a sort of relationship between him and 
 Mephisto." 
 
 " Certainly," said I, " Mephistophiles occupies here 
 but a subordinate situation ; yet I cannot help thinking 
 that he has been at work, in his secret way, to produce 
 the Homunculus. It would be like what I have seen 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 325 
 
 of him before. Thus superior in the whole, he can 
 well afford to Jet himself down a little in partic- 
 ulars." 
 
 "Your feeling is correct," said Goethe; 44 indeed, 
 1 have doubted whether it would not be well to put 
 some verses into the mouth of Mephistophiles, to make 
 the reader aware of the truth." 
 
 " It would do no harm," said I. " Yet is this inti- 
 mated by the words with which Mephistophiles closes 
 the scene — 
 
 4 Am Ende hängen wir doch ah 
 Von Creaturen die wir machten. ' " 
 
 44 True," said Goethe, " that would be almost enough 
 for the attentive ; but I will think about adding some 
 verses." 
 
 # * * * - * # * # 
 I thought again of Faust's dream about Leda. 
 44 How," said I, " the parts of such a work bear 
 
 upon, perfect, and sustain one another ! This dream 
 
 of Leda is the groundwork of 4 Helena.' " 
 
 Goethe was pleased that I remarked this. 
 
 " So you will see," said he, 44 how much there is 
 in these earlier acts to harmonize the classic and 
 romantic ; this is the rising ground to the spot where 
 both those forms of poetry are brought out, and in 
 some sort balance one another. 
 
 44 The French begin to think justly of these forms. 
 Both classic and romantic, say they, are equally good; 
 only let the form be used with judgment, and be the 
 
 c c 
 
326 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 medium of valuable thoughts. You can be absurd in 
 either, and then it is good for nothing." 
 
 Sunday, 20th December. 
 
 Dined with Goethe. We spoke of the Chancellor, 
 and I asked whether he did not bring any news of 
 Manzoni, on his return from Italy. 
 
 " He wrote to me about him," said Goethe. " The 
 Chancellor paid Manzoni a visit ; he lives on his 
 estate near Milan, and is, to my sorrow, always 
 sick." 
 
 " 'Tis singular," said I, " that we generally find 
 persons of distinguished talents, and especially poets, 
 with very weak constitutions." 
 
 " The extraordinary performances of these men," he 
 replied, " show that they are of uncommonly delicate 
 organization, which makes them more susceptible to 
 unusual emotions, and enables them to hear more 
 easily the celestial voices. Such an organization is 
 easily injured or destroyed by conflict with the world 
 and the elements ; and he who does not, like Voltaire, 
 combine with great sensibility an equally uncommon 
 tenacity, must lose his health entirely. Schiller was 
 always sick. When I first knew him, I thought he 
 could not live four weeks ; but he had something of 
 the tenacity I spoke of; he sustained himself many 
 years, and would have done so longer, if he would 
 have lived in a way more favorable to health." 
 
 We spoke of the theatre, and of a certain part. 
 
 "I have seen Unzelmann in it," said Goethe; " we 
 always enjoyed seeing him ; for he had a perfect 
 freedom of spirit, which he imparted to us. 'Tis 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 327 
 
 with acting as with all the other arts. What the 
 artist does or has done is sure to excite in us the 
 self-same mood in which he did it. A free mood 
 in the artist makes us free ; a restrained one restrains 
 us. We usually find this freedom in the artist who 
 is fully grown up to his work. ( This is what pleases 
 us in the Flemish school ; those artists painted the 
 life around them, of which they were perfect masters. 
 An actor, to have this freedom, must, by study, fancy, 
 and disposition, have become perfect master of his 
 part, must have all bodily requisites at his command, 
 and be upheld by a certain youthful energy. But 
 study is not enough without imagination; imagination 
 is not enough without suitableness of disposition. 
 Women do the most through imagination and tem- 
 perament ; thence came the excellence of Madame 
 Wolff." 
 
 We discussed the possibility of acting this sequel to 
 " Faust." 
 
 ******** 
 
 I spoke of the elephant in the carnival. 
 
 " He would not be the first elephant that has 
 appeared on the stage," said Goethe. " In Paris, they 
 have one who plays a whole part. He is on a side in 
 some public dispute, takes the crown from the head 
 of one king, and sets it upon that of another, which, 
 of course, must have a grand effect. When he is 
 called for, at the close of the piece, he comes out 
 alone, makes his reverence, and then returns. So you 
 see that we need not want for elephants at our 
 carnival. But it is on too large a scale, and would 
 
328 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 demand such a manager as is not easily to be 
 found." 
 
 # # * # * * * # 
 "If," said I, "it could be represented as you have 
 
 designed it, the public would sit astonished, and 
 confess that it wanted power of thought and sense 
 fitly to receive such an empire of apparitions." 
 
 " Go," said Goethe, " leave your public, of which 
 I would not willingly hear any thing. The most 
 important is to put it in writing ; then let the public 
 receive it as it will, and use it as far as it can." 
 
 We spoke of the boy Lenker. 
 
 " You have discovered Faust under the mask of 
 Plutus, Mephistophiles under that of Avarice; but 
 who is the boy Lenker ?" 
 
 I hesitated, and knew not what to say. 
 
 " It is Euphorion," said Goethe. 
 
 " But how," said I, " can, he, who is not born till 
 the third act, appear here at the carnival I" 
 
 " Euphorion," he replied, " is not a human, but an 
 allegorical being. In him is Poetry personified, which 
 is bound down to no time, no place, and no person. 
 The same spirit, who is afterwards pleased to appear 
 as Euphorion, is here the boy Lenker, like ghosts 
 which are present every where, and can appear at any 
 hour." 
 
 # # -* * # # * # 
 [Goethe afterwards read other scenes to Eckermann ; 
 
 but, as only an outline of them is given, unaccom- 
 panied by any explanatory hints, they are omitted.] 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 329 
 
 Sunday, January 3, 1830. 
 
 Goethe showed me the " English Keepsake," for 
 1830, with very fine engravings, and some extremely 
 interesting letters from Lord Byron, which I read after 
 dinner. He was, meanwhile, reading the French 
 translation of his " Faust," by Gerard. 
 
 " I have some singular thoughts in my head," said 
 he, " on finding this book translated into a language 
 over which Voltaire had the mastery fifty years since. 
 You cannot understand my thoughts upon this subject, 
 because you can have no idea of the influence which 
 Voltaire and his great contemporaries had over me 
 in my youth, as over the whole civilized world. My 
 biography does not clearly show how powerful was the 
 influence of these men over me in those years ; how 
 difficult it was for me to defend myself against them, 
 to maintain my own ground, and true relation to 
 nature." 
 
 We talked further about Voltaire, and Goethe 
 recited to me his poem Les Systemcs, from which I 
 perceived how he had studied and appropriated such 
 things in early life. 
 
 He praised Gerard's translation as very successful, 
 although mostly in prose. 
 
 " I cannot read my ' Faust,' " said he, " now, in 
 German, but this French translation gives it back to 
 me in all its original freshness and significance." 
 
 " ' Faust,' " continued he, " is, indeed, incommen- 
 surable ; and all attempts to bring it nearer to the 
 understanding are in vain. Also, it should be con- 
 sidered, that the first part is the product of a some- 
 what obscure era in my mental progress. How- 
 
330 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 ever, its very obscurity has a charm for men's minds, 
 exciting them to thought, as all insoluble problems do." 
 
 Sunday, 10th January. 
 This afternoon, Goethe did me the great pleasure 
 of reading those scenes in which Faust visits the 
 Mothers. 
 
 The novelty and unexpectedness of this subject, 
 with his manner of reading the scene, struck me so 
 forcibly, that I felt myself translated into the situation 
 of Faust, shuddering at the communication from 
 Mephistophiles. 
 
 Although I had heard and felt the whole, yet so 
 much remained an enigma to me, that I felt, myself 
 compelled to ask Goethe for some explanation. But 
 he, in his usual manner, wrapped himself up in 
 mystery, looking on me with wide, open eyes, and 
 repeating the words — 
 
 " * Die Mutter ! Mütter ! 's klingt so wunderlich.' 
 
 " I can betray to you no more, except that I found, 
 in Plutarch, that in ancient Greece the Mothers were 
 spoken of as divinities. This is all for which I am 
 indebted to tradition ; the rest is my own invention. 
 Take the manuscript home with you, study it carefully, 
 and see to what conclusion you come." 
 
 I was very glad of an opportunity to study these 
 interesting scenes in quiet, and took thereby the 
 following view of the peculiar characters and opera- 
 tions, the abode and outward circumstances, of the 
 Mothers : — 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 331 
 
 Could we imagine that our earth had an empty space 
 in its centre, permitting one to go hundreds of miles 
 in one direction, without coming in contact with any 
 thing corporeal, this might be the abode of those 
 unknown goddesses to whom Faust descends. They 
 do not live in any place; for nothing stands firm in 
 their neighborhood. Neither can we attach to them 
 
 o 
 
 the idea of time; for no heavenly body shines upon 
 them, which, by its rising or setting, can mark the 
 alternation of day and night. 
 
 Thus, dwelling in eternal obscurity and loneliness, 
 these Mothers are creative beings. They are the 
 creating and sustaining principles from which all 
 phenomena on the surface of the earth proceed. 
 Whatever ceases to breathe, returns in its spiritual 
 nature to them, and they preserve it until a fit occasion 
 rises to imbody it anew. All souls and forms of what 
 has been, or will be, hover like clouds in the vast 
 space of their abode. 
 
 So are the Mothers surrounded, and the magician 
 must be able to enter their dominion, if he would 
 obtain power over the forms of beings, and be able 
 to call back former existences to seeming life. 
 
 The eternal metamorphoses of earthly being, birth 
 and growth, destruction and new formation, are also 
 the unceasing care of the Mothers ; and, as in all 
 which receives new life on earth, female influences 
 are most busy, these creating and sustaining divinities 
 are thought of as female, and may rightly receive 
 the title of Mothers. 
 
 Really, this is all only poetic creation ; but the 
 limited human mind cannot penetrate far into these 
 
332 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 subjects, and is well satisfied to find something on 
 which it may rest. We see on earth apparitions, and 
 feel influences, whose origin and aim are equally 
 unknown to us ; this leads the mind to the idea of a 
 spiritual source of divinity, for which we have no 
 adequate thought and no fit expression; which we 
 must draw down to us, and anthropomorphize, in order 
 in some measure to imbody and make comprehensible 
 our obscure sentiments. 
 
 So have all Mythi arisen, which from century to 
 century have lived with nations, and, in like man- 
 ner, this new one of Goethe's, which has at least the 
 semblance of a truth of nature, and may indeed bear 
 comparison with the best in its kind. 
 
 Sunday, 24th January. 
 
 " I have to-day received a letter from our famous 
 director of the mines in Stotternheim," said Goethe, 
 " whose introduction I must communicate to you. 
 
 <{ C I have had an experience,' writes he, ' which will 
 not be lost upon me ; ' and what do you suppose this 
 is ? It involves the loss of at least a thousand dollars. 
 The shaft by which you descend through earth and 
 stone, twelve hundred feet down to the rock salt, he 
 improvidently omitted to prop up sufficiently at the 
 sides. The soft ground has crumbled away, and so 
 filled up the pit, that it will be a very expensive piece 
 of work to clear it out again. He will then, 1200 feet 
 down, put in metal pipes, to secure him for the future 
 against a similar mischance. He should have done it 
 at first ; but such people as he have a fearlessness in 
 their undertakings, which those of a different tempera- 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 333 
 
 ment cannot understand, without whose aid they would 
 never venture on such enterprises. He takes his misfor- 
 tune very coolly, and simply thinks " I have gained an 
 experience which will not be lost upon me." This is 
 the conduct of such a man as I find true pleasure in ; 
 who rises from his fall, and begins to act again 
 immediately. What say you to it 1 Does it not 
 please you ? " 
 
 " It reminds me of Sterne's complaint," I replied, 
 " that he had not used his sorrows like a reasonable 
 man." 
 
 " It is something similar," said Goethe. 
 
 " I am also reminded of Behrisch," continued I. 
 " Accidentally, this very day, I have been reading his 
 chapter on experience. 
 
 " ( Experience,' says he, ' is only to be gained by 
 doing something which one would not willingly have 
 done.'" 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, smiling, " such is the ancient 
 pastime in which we so shamefully lose our time." 
 
 " Behrisch," said I, " seems to have been a man 
 full of sweetness and elegance. How pleasant is the 
 joke in the wine-cellar, when he prevents the young 
 man in such whimsical ways from visiting his 
 mistress ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Goethe, " that is pretty ; 'twould have 
 been a most attractive scene on the stage, as, 
 indeed, Behrisch every way shows a talent for the 
 theatre." 
 
 We then talked over all the odd anecdotes told of 
 Behrisch in Goethe's " Life ; " his gray clothes, where 
 silk, satin, and wool are shaded one with another, as 
 
334 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 if all his care had been to find some new shade of 
 gray; how he wrote his poems imitating the com- 
 positor ; his favorite pastime of lying at the window to 
 observe the dress of the passers-by, and in his thoughts 
 to alter it in the most ludicrous manner. 
 
 " Then his way of amusing himself with the post- 
 boys ; is not that droll 1 " 
 
 " I do not remember that," said I ; " it is not 
 mentioned in your memoirs." 
 
 " Indeed,' 5 said Goethe, " then will I tell it you. 
 When we were lying together at the window, and he 
 saw the letter-carrier coming up the street, and going 
 from one house to another, he would take out a penny, 
 and lay it on the window-sill. 
 
 " ' Seest thou the letter-carrier ? ' says he, turning 
 to me. ' He is coming here immediately : he has a 
 letter to thee ; and what a letter ! no every-day affair ; 
 but a letter with a check on the bank ; with a check 
 for, I dare not say how much ; see, he is coming in. 
 No ! but he will come immediately. There he is 
 again now ; here ! here ! my friend, this is the place. 
 He goes by — how stupid ! O, how stupid ! how can 
 one be so stupid, and act so shamefully in two ways ! — 
 towards thee, to whom he does not give the check 
 which he had in his hand all ready for thee, and 
 towards himself, to lose this penny, which I had taken 
 out for him, and must now put up again.' Then he 
 would put, with the most ludicrous air of dignity, the 
 penny again in his pocket." 
 
 I was amused with this anecdote, so like the rest. 
 I asked Goethe whether he did not see Behrisch in 
 later days. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 335 
 
 " Yes," said he, « in 1776, when I went with the 
 Duke to Dessau, where he lived as governor of the 
 hereditary prince. I found him, as formerly, the 
 graceful courtier, and of the pleasantest humor." 
 ******** 
 
 " I saw him last in 1801. He was an old man then, 
 and still in the best humor. He had very handsome 
 chambers in the castle, and had filled one of them 
 with geraniums, of which he was then very fond. 
 
 " At that time, the botanists had made a new 
 classification among the geraniums, and given a certain 
 sort the name of Pelargoniums. This made Behrisch 
 very angry. He was always scolding at the botanists. 
 ' Blockheads ! ' said he ; 'I think I have a whole room 
 full of geraniums, and they come and tell me they 
 are Pelargoniums. What shall I do with them if 
 they are not geraniums? What do I care for their 
 Pelargoniums?' And so he talked by the half hour 
 together." 
 
 We talked then of the classic " Carnival," the 
 beginning of which Goethe had read me some day3 
 since. 
 
 " Mythological figures," said he, " press upon me 
 in crowds; but I take care to use only such as will 
 produce a picturesque effect. Faust is now with 
 Chiron, and I hope to satisfy myself with the scene. 
 If I am diligent, I shall finish my ' Carnival ' in a few 
 months. Nothing shall again distract me from 
 ' Faust.' It will be strange if I live to complete it ; 
 yet it is possible. The fifth act is as good as done, 
 and the fourth will all but write itself." 
 
336 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 He then spoke of his health, and said how happy 
 he was to find himself so perfectly well. 
 
 " For this," said he, " I may thank Vogel ; but for 
 him I should have said farewell to earth long since. He 
 is a born physician, besides being one of the most 
 genial men that I have ever known ; but we will not 
 say how good he is, lest he be taken from us." 
 
 Sunday, 31st January. 
 
 Dined with Goethe. We talked of Milton. 
 
 " I have lately," said Goethe, " been reading his 
 ' Samson,' which has more of the spirit of ancient 
 times, than any production of any other modern 
 poet. He is great, indeed, and his own blindness 
 enabled him adequately to describe the situation of 
 Samson. Milton was truly a poet; one to whom we 
 owe all possible respect." 
 
 The newspapers were brought in, and we saw in the 
 "Berlin Gazette," that whales and sea-monsters had 
 been introduced on the stage there. 
 
 Goethe read in the French periodical, the " Times," 
 an article on the enormous salaries of the English 
 clergy, who receive more than all other ecclesiastics 
 in Christendom put together. 
 
 " It has been maintained, said Goethe, " that the 
 world is governed by pay ; this I know, by examining 
 the distribution of pay, we can find out whether it is 
 well or ill governed." 
 
 Wednesday, 3d February. 
 
 We talked of Mozart. 
 
 " I saw him," said Goethe, " at seven years old, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 337 
 
 when he gave us a concert while travelling on that 
 route. I myself was about fourteen years old, and 
 remember perfectly the little man, with his frisure 
 and sword." 
 
 I stared, hardly able to realize that Goethe was old 
 enough to have known Mozart when a child. 
 
 (fc- ' Ül 4lc <n 
 
 Wednesday, 10th February. 
 
 Dined with Goethe. He spoke with real gratifi- 
 cation of the poem written by Riemer, for the festival 
 of the 2d February. 
 
 "All," said Goethe, "which Riemer writes, is fit 
 to be seen both by master and journeymen." 
 
 We talked also of the classic Walpurgis night. 
 He said I should see no more of it till it be finished, 
 and then I might have it, and examine it in quiet. 
 He sent his servant to inquire after the Grand 
 Duchess Mother, who is very ill, and seems in a 
 dangerous situation. 
 
 " She should not have seen the masquerade," said 
 he ; " but princes are accustomed to take their own 
 way, and the protests of her physician and attendants 
 were in vain. With the same strong will with which 
 she once confronted Napoleon, she now resists 
 sickness ; and I see what this leads to : she will pass 
 away, like the Grand Duke, in the full force and 
 health of a mind which the body will no longer 
 obey." 
 
 He was visibly saddened, and kept silence for a 
 while ; but soon we spoke again on pleasanter themes, 
 
 D D 
 
338 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 and he gave me an account of a book written in justifi- 
 cation of Sir Hudson Lowe's conduct. 
 
 "It contains fine anecdotes," said he, "such as 
 are to be had only from eye-witnesses. You know 
 Napoleon was in the habit of wearing a dark green 
 uniform. This was, after a while, so tarnished and 
 faded by sunlight and constant wear, that he needed 
 another. He wished another of the same color ; but 
 nothing of the kind was to be found on the island. 
 There was, indeed, a piece of green cloth ; but the 
 color was imperfect, and inclined to the yellowish. 
 The lord of the world found it impossible to put on 
 such a color as that ; and he was obliged to have 
 his old uniform turned, and wear it so. 
 
 " Is not that tragic 1 Is it not pathetic, that the 
 ruler of the world should be so reduced, that he 
 must wear a turned uniform ? Yet, when you re- 
 member how this man trampled upon the lives and 
 happiness of millions to accomplish his objects, the 
 retribution of destiny seems a very mild one. Neme- 
 sis could not help showing a little complaisance to so 
 great a hero. Napoleon gives us a warning how 
 dangerous it is to rise into the region of the absolute, 
 and sacrifice all to the carrying out of an idea." 
 
 I went to see the " Star of Seville," at the theatre. 
 
 Sunday, 14th February. 
 To-day, on my way to Goethe, I heard the news 
 of the Grand Duchess Mother's death. I entered 
 the house full of apprehensions for the effect which 
 this news might have on Goethe at his advanced age. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 339 
 
 The servants said his daughter-in-law was gone to tell 
 him the sad news. 
 
 " He has been, for fifty years," thought I, " attached 
 to this princess, and blessed with her especial favor 
 and friendship ; her death must deeply move him." 
 
 When I entered his room, I was surprised to find 
 him in his usual cheerfulness and vigor, taking his 
 soup with his daughter-in-law and grandchildren, as 
 if nothing had happened. 
 
 We talked of indifferent things. Presently, all the 
 bells began to toll ; Frau von Goethe looked at me, 
 and we talked louder, that the tone of the death-bells 
 might not come so near him. We thought he felt like 
 us ; but he did not feel like us. His mind was in a 
 wholly different position. He sat before us, like a 
 being of a higher nature, inaccessible to earthly 
 woes. 
 
 Vogel was announced. He sat down, and told us 
 all the circumstances of the last hours of the noble 
 departed ; to Avhich Goethe listened with the same 
 calmness and composure. He went away, and we 
 talked awhile on other subjects. 
 
 Goethe praised the " Reflections upon Play," in the 
 last number of " Chaos." 
 
 Frau von Goethe took the children away, and left 
 me alone with Goethe. 
 
 He then talked to me of his classic Walpurgis 
 night, saying he was getting forward in it every day, 
 and effecting wonderful things, quite beyond his 
 expectation. 
 
 He then showed me a letter which he had to-day 
 received from the King of Bavaria, and which I read 
 
340 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 with great interest. The King's true and noble way 
 of thinking was manifest in every line ; and Goethe 
 seemed much pleased by his constant interest in 
 himself. 
 
 Hofrath Soret now entered, with a message of friend- 
 ly condolence from His Imperial Highness to Goethe, 
 which contributed to maintain his serenity. He spoke 
 of the celebrated Ninon de L'Enclos. In her six- 
 teenth year, this transcendent beauty lay, apparently, 
 on her death-bed, and, with the most perfect com- 
 posure, comforted those who stood around it, saying, 
 " Do I leave mere mortals behind me?" However, 
 she lived to the age of ninety ; and from that time to 
 her eightieth year made happy or desperate hundreds 
 of lovers. 
 
 He then talked of Gozzi, and his theatre at Venice, 
 where the actors had merely subjects given them, and 
 filled up the details impromptu. Gozzi said there 
 were only six-and-thirty tragic situations. Schiller 
 thought there were more, but could never succeed in 
 finding so many. 
 
 Then were said many interesting things about 
 Grimm ; about his life, his character, and his distrust 
 of paper money. 
 
 Wednesday, 17th February. 
 
 We talked of the theatre, — of the colors of deco- 
 rations and dresses. The result was as follows : — 
 
 Generally speaking, decorations should have a tone 
 suitable to bring out the colors of dresses, like 
 Beuther's, which fall more or less into the brownish. 
 But, if the scene-painter cannot use one of these 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 341 
 
 undecided colors, — if, for instance, he must introduce 
 a red or a yellow room, a white tent, or a green 
 garden, — the actor should have the judgment to avoid 
 similar colors in his dress. If he comes into a red 
 room, dressed in a red uniform and green pantaloons, 
 his body vanishes, and you see only his legs ; if he 
 goes into a green garden, in the same dress, an 
 opposite result takes place. I have seen this happen 
 where an actor in a white uniform and dark pantaloons 
 appeared in a white tent. And if the scene-painter 
 must use a green, or red, or yellow back-ground, he 
 should make it as soft and aerial as possible, that the 
 contrast with the dresses in the fore-ground may not 
 be violent. 
 
 We talked of the Iliad, and Goethe called my 
 attention to the judgment shown in leaving Achilles 
 inactive for a time, that the other heroes may have 
 an opportunity to come forward and unfold their 
 characters. 
 
 Of the " Elective Affinities," he said that it con- 
 tained no stroke which was not taken from his own 
 experience, though nothing was told just as it had 
 happened ; the same of the Sesenheim history. 
 
 After dinner, we looked through a portfolio of de- 
 signs from the Flemish school. One painting of a 
 harbor, where men on one side are drawing fresh 
 water, and on the other are playing dice on a barrel, 
 gave occasion to interesting remarks, as to how far 
 the Real must be avoided if we would not mar the 
 effect of a work of Art. The cover of the barrel 
 takes the principal light; you see, by the men's 
 gestures, that they are throwing the dice, which, 
 
342 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 however, are not painted upon the cover, because they 
 would break the light, and have a bad effect. 
 
 Ruysdael's studies plainly showed what toil is need- 
 ful to form such an artist. 
 
 Sunday, 21st February. 
 
 Dined with Goethe. He showed me the air-plant, 
 (Luft-planze,) which I looked at with great interest. 
 I remarked therein an effort to continue its existence 
 as long as possible, before permitting its successor to 
 manifest itself. 
 
 " I have determined," said Goethe, " to read neither 
 the ' Times,' nor the ' Globe,' for a month to come. 
 Things are in such a position, that some event of 
 importance must happen within that time ; I will wait 
 till the news comes to me. My Walpurgis night will 
 gain from this abstinence ; and, besides, one gets 
 nothing from such interests — a consideration often- 
 times left too much out of mind." 
 
 He showed me a letter, written by Boisseree, from 
 Munich, which had given him great pleasure. Boisse- 
 ree spoke especially of the " Second Residence in 
 Rome," and on some points in the last sheets of " Art 
 and Antiquity." His observations showed equal good 
 will and judgment ; and we found cause highly to 
 praise the activity and knowledge of this valuable 
 man. 
 
 Goethe then spoke of a new picture, by Cornelius, 
 as being equally fine in conception and execution ; and 
 the remark was made that opportunity for coloring a 
 picture well must be found in the composition. 
 
 Later, while walking, the air-plant came again into 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 343 
 
 my mind, and I thought how necessary it becomes to 
 every being, after a while, to reproduce itself. This 
 law of nature reminded me of the history of God 
 living alone for a while, and then creating the Son, 
 who is like him. So, too, good masters find nothing 
 more appropriate to do than to form good scholars, 
 by whom their efforts and opinions may be carried 
 down into the next generation. Even so does the 
 poet or artist reproduce himself in his work ; if that 
 is excellent, he also must have been excellent. Thus 
 no good work of another shall excite envy in me, 
 while from its existence I must infer that of a man 
 worthy to be its author. 
 
 Wednesday, 24th February. 
 Dined with Goethe. We talked of Homer. I 
 remarked how real and direct the interposition of the 
 gods seems. 
 
 " That is infinitely delicate and human," said Goethe, 
 " and I thank Heaven the times are gone by when the 
 French were permitted to call this interposition of the 
 gods machinery. But, really, to learn to appreciate 
 merits so vast required some time, for it demanded a 
 complete regeneration of their modes of culture." 
 
 He said he had given a new touch to enhance the 
 beauty of the apparition of Helena, which was sug- 
 gested by a remark of mine, and did honor to my 
 perceptions. 
 
 After dinner, he showed me a sketch from a picture 
 by Cornelius — Orpheus, before the throne of Pluto, 
 supplicating for the release of Eurydice. The picture 
 
344 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 seemed to us well conceived, and the details excellent ; 
 yet it did not satisfy or yield a genuine pleasure to the 
 mind. Perhaps, we thought, the coloring may give it 
 the effect of greater harmony, or perhaps the following 
 moment, when Orpheus has conquered the heart of 
 Pluto, and Eurydice is about to be restored, would 
 have been more propitious. The situation, in that 
 case, not being so fraught with excitement and expec- 
 tation, the effect would have been more satisfactory 
 to the beholder. 
 
 Monday, 1st March. 
 
 Dined at Goethe's, with Hofrath Voigt, of Jena. 
 The conversation turned entirely on subjects of natural 
 history, in which Hofrath Voigt displayed the most 
 various and comprehensive knowledge. 
 
 Goethe mentioned that he had received a letter, 
 containing this objection to his system, — that the 
 cotyledons are not leaves, because they had no eyes 
 behind them. But we satisfied ourselves, by examining 
 various plants, that the cotyledons have eyes, as well 
 as all the following leaves. 
 
 Voigt says that the aperpi of the " Metamorphosis 
 of Plants" is one of the most fruitful discoveries 
 which researches into natural history have given to 
 modern times. 
 
 We spoke of collections of stuffed birds; and 
 Goethe told us how an Englishman kept, in great 
 cages, hundreds of living birds, which he fed daily. 
 Some of these died, and he had them stuffed. These 
 stuffed birds pleased him so well, that he thought 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 345 
 
 perhaps it might be better to kill them all, and have 
 them stuffed ; and this whim he actually carried into 
 effect. 
 
 Voigt mentioned that he had thoughts of translating 
 Cuvier's " Natural History," and publishing it, with 
 some additions of his own. 
 
 After dinner, when Voigt had gone, Goethe showed 
 me the manuscript of his Walpurgis Nacht, and I was 
 astonished to see to .what bulk it had grown. 
 
 Wednesday, 3d March. 
 
 Went to walk with Goethe before dinner. He 
 spoke favorably of my poem on the King of Bavaria, 
 observing that Lord Byron had had a favorable 
 influence upon me, but that I still wanted that tact 
 and propriety of which Voltaire was such a master; 
 and he recommended me to take Voltaire as my model 
 in this respect. 
 
 At table, we talked of Wieland, more particularly 
 of his " Oberon ; " and Goethe was of opinion that the 
 foundation of this poem was weak, and that the plan 
 had not been sufficiently thought over before the 
 author began to work upon it. It was not well judged 
 to let the Fairy King procure the hairs and teeth, 
 because the hero is left inactive all that time. But the 
 pregnant, graceful, picturesque treatment of the sub- 
 ject makes the book so attractive to the reader that 
 he never thinks of these faults. 
 
 We continued talking on various subjects, till at 
 last we came upon Entelecheia. 
 
 " The obstinacy of the individual, and the power 
 possessed by man of shaking off what does not suit 
 
346 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 him," said Goethe, " is to me a proof that some such 
 thing exists." 
 
 I was just thinking the same thing, and was the 
 better pleased when Goethe spoke it out. 
 
 " Leibnitz," continued he, " had similar thoughts 
 about such independent existences ; and, indeed, what 
 we style Entelecheia is the same with his Monads." 
 
 I resolved to read Leibnitz on this subject. 
 
 Sunday, 7th March. 
 
 Went to Goethe about twelve, and found him in fine 
 health and spirits. He said he must lay aside the 
 Walpurgis night for a while, to attend to the new 
 edition of his works. 
 
 " I have been wise enough," said he, " to stop short 
 in mid career while I had yet many things in my mind 
 to say. Thus it will be much easier to me to join on 
 again, than if I had continued to write till I came to 
 a stand." I marked this in my mind as a valuable 
 precept. 
 
 We were to have taken a drive before dinner, but 
 found it so pleasant within doors, that Goethe had the 
 horses taken out. 
 
 Meanwhile, the servant, Frederic, had been un- 
 packing a great chest, just come from Paris. It was a 
 present from David, the sculptor — bass-relief portraits, 
 in plaster, of fifty-seven celebrated persons. We had 
 great pleasure in examining them, and observing 
 characteristic traits. 
 
 I was particularly interested by Merimee ; the head 
 was powerful and bold as his genius, and, as Goethe 
 remarked, had somewhat of the humorist. Victor 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 347 
 
 Hugo, Alfred de Vigny, Emile Deschamps, showed 
 themselves as free, tranquil, and of decided character. 
 We were rejoiced to see Mademoiselle Gay, Madame 
 Tastii, and other young female writers. The powerful 
 head of Fabvier reminded us of the men of earlier 
 ages ; we looked at it again and again. 
 
 Goethe said repeatedly that he could not. adequately 
 show his gratitude to David for sending him such a 
 treasure. He would show this collection to strangers, 
 and, in that way, get light on some of these personages, 
 who were not well known to him. 
 
 Some books also were in the chest, which he had 
 taken into another room. Before looking at them, we 
 were to dine. We had a very pleasant talk on plans 
 and modes of working. 
 
 "It is not good for man to be alone," said Goethe. 
 " He needs sympathy and suggestion to do any thing 
 well. I owe to Schiller ' Achilleis,' and many of my 
 ballads, to which he urged me; and shall be in like 
 manner indebted to you, if I should complete the 
 second part of ' Faust.' I have often said so before, 
 but I repeat it, to make sure that you are aware 
 of it." 
 
 These words rejoiced me, for I felt that there was 
 much truth in what he said. After dinner, Goethe 
 opened one of the packets. This contained the poems 
 of Emile Deschamps, accompanied by a letter, which 
 Goethe showed me. I saw with delight what influence 
 was attributed to Goethe over the new life of French 
 literature, and how the young poets loved and revered 
 him as their intellectual head. So had Shakspeare 
 worked upon the youth of Goethe. It could not be 
 
348 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 said of Voltaire, that he had any such influence on 
 the young poets of other countries ; so that they 
 combined to work according to his ideas, esteeming 
 him as their teacher and master. The letter of 
 Deschamps was written with a charming cordiality and 
 freedom. 
 
 "You see there the spring time of a beautiful 
 mind," said Goethe. 
 
 We found also a leaf, which David had sent with 
 various drawings of the hats of Napoleon. 
 
 ''That is something for my son," said Goethe, and 
 sent him the leaf immediately. 
 
 The young Goethe came down, full of glee, declaring 
 that these hats were the non plus ultra for his 
 collection. Five minutes had not passed before the 
 leaf, under glass and in a frame, was in its place 
 among other mementoes of the hero. 
 
 Next day, Herr von Goethe came to see me, and 
 informed me that he was now to set forth on his long- 
 expected journey to Italy ; that his father had given 
 him the necessary sum, and that he wished I should 
 be his companion. We rejoiced together, and talked 
 over our preparations. 
 
 At noon I went to Goethe's house. As soon as 
 I came in, he beckoned me to the window. He 
 expressed his satisfaction at his son's project, and 
 spoke with pleasure of the advantages I should derive 
 from it as to my general culture. 
 
 He showed me then a Christ with twelve apostles, 
 and we spoke of the imperfections of such figures as 
 subjects for the sculptor. 
 
 " One apostle," said Goethe, " generally looks just 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 349 
 
 as the other; for very few have lives and deeds which 
 would give them distinct character and meaning. I 
 have lately amused myself with inventing a cycle of 
 twelve biblical figures, where each one has meaning, 
 each a distinct character, and therefore each one 
 is a suitable object for the artist. 
 
 " First, Adam, the handsomest of men, as perfect 
 in his form as can be imagined. He may lean one 
 hand upon a spade, as a symbol that it is the vocation 
 of man to till the earth. 
 
 " Next, Noah, with whom a new creation begins. 
 He cultivates the vine ; and this figure may have 
 something of the expression of the Indian Bacchus. 
 
 " Next, Moses, as the first lawgiver. 
 
 " Then, David, warrior and king. 
 
 " Next, Isaiah, prince and prophet. 
 
 w Daniel, as bearing a reference to the future Mes- 
 siah. 
 
 " Christ. 
 
 " Next to him, John, who loves the present Mes- 
 siah. 
 
 " In this way, Christ would be placed between two 
 youthful figures; of which, the one, Daniel, should be 
 painted as of a gentle countenance, with long hair ; 
 but John with more impassioned looks, and short, 
 clustering locks. 
 
 " The Captain of Capernaum, as a representative 
 of the believing souls, who were expecting immediate 
 assistance. 
 
 " Next, Mary Magdalene, as representative of the 
 penitent — of those who need forgiveness and ref- 
 ormation. 
 
 EE 
 
350 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " The idea of Christianity is contained in these two 
 figures. 
 
 " Then Paul might come, who most contributed to 
 spread abroad the new law. 
 
 " Then James, who went to the farthest nations, and 
 represents missionaries. 
 
 " You might close with Peter. The artist should 
 place him near the door, and give him an expression, 
 as if he were carefully examining those who wish to 
 enter, to see whether they are worthy the sanctuary. 
 
 " What say you to this cycle? Would it not be 
 richer than that of the twelve apostles, where each 
 looks just like the others ? I would paint the Moses 
 and the Magdalen sitting." 
 
 I begged Goethe to put this on paper, and he 
 promised to do so, and give it me for the thirty-ninth 
 volume. 
 
 #• * * * # * # * 
 
 Sunday, 21st March. 
 
 Dined with Goethe. He spoke upon the journey 
 of his son, and that we ought not to delude ourselves 
 with over-great expectations. 
 
 " Men usually come back much as they went away," 
 said he ; " indeed, we must beware lest we return 
 with thoughts which unfit us for the life we must 
 afterwards leave. I brought from Italy the idea of 
 their fine staircases, and have consequently spoiled 
 my house since, by introducing such a one there; 
 the rooms are all smaller than they should have been. 
 The most important thing is to learn to rule oneself. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 351 
 
 If I gave way to my impulses, I have such as might 
 ruin me and all about me." 
 
 We talked then about ill health, and about the 
 reciprocal influences of body and mind. 
 
 " The mind," said Goethe, «' is capable of incredible 
 efforts to sustain the body. I suffer much from pain 
 and oppression, but a strong will keeps me up. The 
 mind need only refuse to indulge the body. Thus I 
 cannot work as well when the barometer stands low, 
 as when it is high : since I have observed this, I have 
 exerted myself the more when it is low, and not 
 without success. 
 
 " But there are things in the way of poetry which 
 suffer no constraint ; and we must wait the favorable 
 hour for what we cannot obtain by mental determination. 
 So I have left myself time for my classical Carnival, 
 that I may work upon it in the fulness of strength 
 and serenity. 
 
 " I have endeavored to make distinct sketches of 
 every part, in the true antique style, so that there may 
 be nothing vague or undecided, which might suit 
 the romantic style well enough. 
 
 " The idea of the distinction between classical and 
 romantic poetry, which is spread over the civilized 
 world, and occasioned so many quarrels and divisions, 
 came originally from Schiller and myself. I preferred 
 an objective treatment in poetry, and drew thence my 
 rules of criticism ; but Schiller, who worked in the 
 subjective way, defended his own fashion, and wrote, 
 with that design, the treatise upon • Naive and Sen- 
 timental Poetry.' He proved to me that I myself, 
 
352 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 though against my will, was a romantic poet, and 
 my ' Iphigenia ' too much animated by sentiment to 
 be as classical as some people supposed. 
 
 " The Schlegels took up this idea, and carried it 
 further, so that it has since been diffused over the 
 whole world ; and now every one talks about classical 
 and romantic — a distinction of which nobody dreamed 
 fifty years ago." 
 
 I turned the conversation again upon the cycle 
 of twelve figures, and Goethe further explained it to 
 me thus — 
 
 " It would be best to take Adam after the fall : 
 therefore he should be clothed with a thin deer-skin ; 
 and, at the same time, in order to express that he is 
 the father of the human race, it would be well to place 
 by him his eldest son, a fearless boy, looking boldly 
 about him — a little Hercules stifling a snake in his 
 hand. 
 
 " And I have had another thought about Noah, 
 which pleases me better. I would not have him like 
 an Indian Bacchus ; but I will have him as a vintager, 
 which would give the idea of a benefactor, who, as 
 fosterer of the vine, made men free from the sorrows 
 of care and poverty." 
 
 He showed me the engraving of Neureuther, for his 
 legend of the horse-shoe. 
 
 " The artist," said I, " has given the Savior only 
 eight disciples." 
 
 " Eight are too many," replied Goethe; " and he did 
 wisely to divide them into two groups, and thus avoid 
 the monotony of an unmeaning procession." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 353 
 
 Wednesday, 34th March. 
 
 The pleasantest conversation at table to-day with 
 Goethe. He told me about a French poem which he 
 had found, in manuscript, in the collection of David, 
 under the title " The Laugh of Mirabeau." 
 
 "This poem is full of spirit and boldness," said 
 Goethe. " You must see it. It seems as if Mephis- 
 tophiles had prepared the ink for the poet. It is great 
 if he wrote it without having read ' Faust,' and no less 
 great if he had read it." 
 
 Wednesday, 21st April. 
 
 I took my leave to-day of Goethe, as we were to set 
 out next morning early for Italy. He charged me to 
 observe very carefully, and write to him now and then. 
 I felt some pain at bidding him farewell ; but the sight 
 of his firm health, and my trust that we should meet 
 again in happiness, were my comfort. 
 
 He gave me an album, in which he had written 
 these words — 
 
 " TO THE TRAVELLER. 
 
 " ' Es geht vorüber eh' ich's gewahr werde, 
 Und verwandelt sich eh' ich's merke.' 1 
 
 "Weimar, 21st April, 1830." 
 
 [Here follows a short sketch of Eckermann's visit 
 to Italy. A few letters are inserted from Goethe, 
 
 1 [ " Lo, he goeth by me, and I see him not; he passeth on also, 
 but I perceive him not." Job. — Transl.] 
 
354 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 of little interest, chiefly valuable as showing the 
 confidence and affection which he felt towards the 
 absent friend. In November, Eckermann set out 
 on his return to Weimar, leaving young Goethe 
 behind him in Italy. On his journey, Eckermann 
 heard, at an inn on the road to Göttingen, of that 
 blow, — the last and heaviest of Goethe's life, — the 
 death of his only son. He says — ] 
 
 I took a light, and went to my chamber, that I 
 might not exhibit my agitation before strangers. I 
 passed a sleepless night. I could not, for a moment, 
 forget the misfortune which touched me so nearly. 
 On the journey, I fared no better. Vainly did I seek, 
 in the desolate country, beneath a gloomy November 
 sky, for some object that might distract my attention; 
 whenever I stopped at an inn, I heard the subject 
 of my grief mentioned as the latest topic of the day. 
 I was most of all distressed by the fear that Goethe, 
 at so advanced an age, could not outlive the tempest 
 of paternal grief. 
 
 " And what an impression," said I to myself, " must 
 my return produce ! I, who went out with his son, 
 and now come back alone! He will feel, when he 
 sees me, as if he had never before realized his 
 loss ! " 
 
 Amid such thoughts and feelings, I reached Weimar, 
 at six o'clock, the evening of the 23d November. I 
 felt once again what cruel moments human beings 
 must go through. In thought, I conversed with 
 higher beings ; and when the moon, which had been 
 veiled in thick clouds, emerged for a few moments, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 355 
 
 I received it, whether accident or no, as a token 
 of favor from above, and was thus unexpectedly 
 strengthened and reassured. 
 
 I went almost immediately to Goethe's house. I 
 saw first Frau von Goethe. I found her already clad 
 in deep mourning, but collected and tranquil ; and we 
 had much to say to one another. 
 
 I then went to Goethe. He stood upright and firm, 
 and clasped me in his arms. I found him perfectly 
 serene and tranquil. We sat down, and began to talk 
 immediately. I was extremely happy in being with 
 him once more. He showed me two letters which 
 he had begun while I was at Nordheim, but did not 
 send. We talked of the Grand Duchess, the Prince, 
 and many others ; but no word was said of his son. 
 
 Thursday, 25th November. 
 
 Goethe sent me some books, which had arrived as 
 presents for me from English and German authors. 
 
 At noon, I went to him. I found him looking at 
 a portfolio of engravings and drawings, which had 
 been offered him for sale. He told me he had had 
 the pleasure, that morning, of a visit from the Grand 
 Duchess, to whom he had mentioned my return. 
 
 Frau von Goethe joined us, and we sat down to 
 dinner. Goethe asked an account of my travels. I 
 spoke of Milan, Venice, Genoa; and he seemed 
 particularly interested about the family of the English 
 consul there. I then spoke of Geneva ; and he asked 
 with sympathy after the Soret family, and Herr von 
 Bonstetten. He wished a particular account of this 
 last, and I satisfied him as well as I could. 
 
356 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 After dinner, I was pleased that he spoke of my 
 " Conversations." 
 
 "It must be your first work," said he; " and we 
 will not let it go till the whole be distinct and 
 complete." 
 
 But Goethe to-day appeared to me unusually silent, 
 and oftentimes lost in thought, which I feared was 
 no good sign. 
 
 Tuesday, 30th November. 
 Last Friday, we were thrown into a state of great 
 anxiety. Goethe was seized with a hemorrhage in the 
 night, and was near death all the day. He lost, counting 
 the vein they opened, six pounds of blood — a great 
 quantity, at his age. However, the great skill of his 
 physician, Hofrath Vogel, and his incomparable con- 
 stitution, have saved him this time. He recovers 
 rapidly, has already an excellent appetite, and sleeps 
 again all night. Nobody is admitted, as he is for- 
 bidden to speak ; but his always active mind cannot 
 rest. He is already thinking of his work. This 
 morning, I received from him the following note, 
 written in bed, with a lead pencil : — 
 
 " Have the goodness, my best Doctor, to look yet 
 once again at the accompanying poems, and to 
 rearrange the others, so as to adapt these to their 
 place in the whole. ' Faust ' shall presently follow. 
 
 " In hope of a happy meeting, 
 
 " Goethe, 
 
 " Weimar, 30th November, 1830." 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 357 
 
 As soon as Goethe had recovered, he busied himself 
 with finishing " Faust," and with the fourth volume 
 of Dichtung und Wahrheit. 
 
 He wished me to examine his heretofore unpub- 
 lished writings, his journals and letters, that we 
 might know exactly what we had best do about the 
 new edition. 
 
 Examining my "Conversations" with him was at 
 present out of the question. I thought it wiser, 
 instead of arranging what I had already, to add to 
 my stock while opportunity was still vouchsafed me 
 by a kindly fate. 
 
 1831. 
 
 [Some pages are here occupied by an account of 
 the method which Eckermann proposed to adopt in 
 publishing Goethe's letters. He detailed it to Goethe, 
 who replied — ] 
 
 " I will appoint you, in my will, editor of these 
 letters, and mention that we agreed entirely as to the 
 method best to adopt in their arrangement." 
 
 * # * # # # # * 
 
 Apropos to some remarks upon Voss's "Luise," 
 Goethe said — 
 
 " The critics, now-a-days, trouble themselves greatly 
 if in rhyme an s instead of a ss alternates with an s ; 
 such is the devotion to the technics of poetry. Were 
 I young and daring enough, I would, intentionally, 
 sin against their technical fastidiousness. I would use 
 alliterations, assonances, and false rhymes, whenever 
 they came in my way, and suited my convenience. I 
 would fix my attention on what is important, and say 
 
358 
 
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 such good things, that every one would be anxious to 
 read and learn them by heart." 
 
 Friday, 11th February, 1831. 
 
 Goethe spoke with high praise of Carl Schöne, a 
 young philologist of Leipsic, who has written a work 
 upon the costume proper for the plays of Euripides ; 
 and, though possessed of extensive learning, has made 
 use of it only so far as was necessary to his aim. 
 
 " I am delighted," said Goethe, " to see the 
 productive intelligence with which he seizes upon 
 his subject ; for other philologists have of late wasted 
 much time upon technics, and long and short 
 syllables. 
 
 " Too great attention to technical minutiae is a 
 sign of an unproductive time and an unproductive 
 individual. 
 
 " Some have other hinderances. Count Platen, for 
 instance, has almost all the essentials for a good 
 poet — imagination, invention, soul to feel, fertility to 
 reproduce ; he is complete in the technical part, and 
 has a studiousness and an earnestness which few could 
 rival ; but he is hindered by his unfortunate polemical 
 tendency. That he cannot, amid the magnificence 
 of Rome and Naples, forget the paltry concerns of 
 German literature, is unpardonable in a man of such 
 abilities. 
 
 " The ' Romantic CEdipus' gives tokens that, espe- 
 cially as to technics, Platen was just the man to write 
 a first-rate German tragedy ; but how will he do it 
 after he has used the springs of tragedy to set his 
 parody in motion ? 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 359 
 
 " And then (what is not duly kept in mind) these 
 quarrels occupy the thoughts ; the images of our foes 
 are like ghosts gliding between us and all free 
 creation, and disturbing the otherwise sufficiently 
 fragile harmony of nature. 
 
 " Lord Byron was ruined by his love for polemics ; 
 and Platen should, for the honor of German literature, 
 quit forever a path which can lead to no good." 
 
 Saturday, 12th February. 
 
 I have been reading in the New Testament, and 
 thinking of a picture Goethe showed me of Christ 
 walking on the water, and Peter coming towards him, 
 at the moment when the apostle begins to sink, in 
 consequence of losing his faith for a moment. 
 
 " This," said Goethe, " is a most beautiful history, 
 and one which I love better than any. It expresses 
 the noble doctrine, that man, through faith and 
 animated courage, may come off victor in the most 
 dangerous enterprises, while he may be ruined by a 
 momentary paroxysm of doubt." 
 
 Sunday, 13th February. 
 
 Goethe told me that he was engaged with the fourth 
 act of " Faust," and had succeeded to his wish in 
 the beginning. 
 
 "I had," said he, "long since the what, as you 
 know, but was not easy about the how ; it is the more 
 pleasant that good thoughts come to me. 
 
 " I will now invent throughout, from * Helena ' to the 
 fifth act, which is finished, and make out a detailed 
 
360 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 plan, that I may work with pleasure and security on 
 parts, as they attract me. 
 
 " This act is to bear a quite peculiar character, so 
 that it, like a by-itself-existing little world, need never 
 touch the others, and is only connected with the 
 whole by a slight reference to what precedes and 
 follows it." 
 
 " It will also," said I, ''be perfectly in character 
 with the rest; for, in fact, are not Auerbach's cellar, 
 the witches' kitchen, the Blocksberg, the imperial diet, 
 the masquerade, the paper money, the laboratory, 
 the classic Walpurgis night, Helena, also by them- 
 selves, existing little worlds, which, each shut up 
 within itself, do indeed work upon, yet do not depend 
 upon, one another ? The poet, wishing to speak out 
 a manifold world, uses the story of a famous personage 
 as a thread on which he may string what he pleases. 
 Even so are ' Gil Bias ' and the ' Odyssey ' con- 
 structed." 
 
 " True," said Goethe ; " and what is important in 
 such compositions is, that the parts should be clear 
 and significant, while the whole is incommensurable, 
 and even on that account, like an unsolved problem, 
 lures men to busy themselves with it again and 
 again." 
 
 I spoke of a letter from a young soldier, whom I 
 and other friends had advised to go into foreign 
 service. Now, not being pleased with his situation, 
 he blames his advisers. 
 
 " When one," said Goethe, " has looked about him 
 in the world long enough, to see how the most 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 361 
 
 judicious enterprises frequently fail, and the most 
 absurd have the good fortune to succeed, he becomes 
 disinclined to give any one advice. At bottom, he 
 who asks advice shows himself limited ; he who gives 
 it gives also proof that he is presumptuous. If any one 
 asks me for good advice, I say I will give it, but only 
 on condition that you will promise not to take it." 
 
 The conversation turning on the New Testament, 
 I mentioned that I had been reading again the 
 account of Christ walking on the sea, &,c. 
 
 " When one has not, for some time, read the 
 Evangelists," said T, " he is astonished at the moral 
 grandeur of the figures. We find in the lofty demands 
 made upon our moral power of will a sort of categor- 
 ical imperative." 
 
 " Especially," said Goethe, " do we find the 
 categorical imperative of faith, which, indeed, Ma- 
 homet carried still farther." 
 
 " For the rest," said I, " the Evangelists are, if you 
 look closely into them, full of differences and contradic- 
 tions ; and the books must have gone through strange 
 revolutions of destiny, before they were brought 
 together in their present arrangement." 
 
 " 'Tis like trying to drink out a sea," said Goethe, 
 " to enter into an historical and critical examination 
 of them. Tt is the best way to appropriate from what is 
 really there such portions as we can use, to strengthen 
 our characters and advance our moral culture. But, as 
 it is pleasant to get a clear notion of the localities, 
 I recommend to you Röhr's admirable book on 
 Palestine. The late Grand Duke was so pleased 
 with this book, that he bought it twice, givi^sr the 
 
 F F 
 
362 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 first copy to the library, after he had read it, and 
 keeping the other always by him." 
 
 I wondered that the Grand Duke should take an 
 interest in this subject. 
 
 " Therein," said Goethe, " was he great. He was 
 interested in every thing significant, in whatsoever 
 department it lay. He was always progressive, and 
 sought to domesticate all the good inventions and 
 institutions of his time. If any failed, he spoke of 
 it no more. I often thought how I should excuse 
 to him this or that failure ; but he always ignored it 
 in the cheerfulest way, and was immediately engaged 
 with some new plan. This greatness was a part of 
 his being — not acquired, but inborn." 
 
 We looked, after dinner, at some engravings, from 
 pictures by the most modern artists. 
 
 * * * # * # * * 
 
 " You see," said Goethe, " that none of these are 
 manly. Good natural talents are here, that have 
 attained a high degree of taste and skill. But 
 manliness, (mark and underscore the word,) a certain 
 determined energy which was always to be found 
 in the earlier ages, is wanting to the present, not 
 only in painting, but in all the other arts. The 
 present is a weaker race, whether by birth, or from 
 some fault in their education and nourishment." 
 
 # # # # # # * * 
 
 " Certainly, in art and poetry, the personality of the 
 artist is all in all, though certain weak critics and 
 connoisseurs of our day will not acknowledge this, 
 and treat a grand personality as an accessory of little 
 importance to a work. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 363 
 
 " But, really, in order to feel and admire a grand 
 personality, a man must himself be somewhat. All 
 who have denied Euripides the praise of sublimity, 
 were either poor herrings, incapable of such exaltation, 
 or shameless charlatans, who, by dint of presumption, 
 seemed to the world more than they really were." 
 
 Monday, 14th February. 
 * # # * *# # # 
 Dined with Goethe. 
 
 " It is remarkable," said I, " that, of all talents, 
 the musical shows itself earliest ; so that Mozart 
 in his fifth, Beethoven in his eighth, and Hummel 
 in his ninth year, astonished all near them by their 
 performance and compositions." 
 
 ''The musical talent," said Goethe, "may well 
 show itself earliest of any ; for it is innate ; its life 
 is within ; it needs little nourishment from without, 
 and little experience drawn from life. Really, an 
 apparition like that of Mozart remains always an 
 inexplicable prodigy. But how would the Divinity 
 find every where opportunity to do wonders, if it did 
 not sometimes try its powers on extraordinary indi- 
 viduals, at whom we stand astonished, unable to 
 understand whence they come 1 " 
 
 Tuesday, 15th February. 
 
 Dined with Goethe. I told him about the theatre ; 
 he praised the piece given yesterday — " Henry III.," 
 by Dumas — as of great excellence, but found it very 
 natural that such a dish should not suit the public. 
 
 "I should not," said he, "have ventured to give it, 
 
364 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 when I was director ; for I remember well what 
 trouble we had to smuggle upon the public the 
 ' Constant Prince,' which has far more general human 
 interest, is more poetic, and lies nearer us, than 
 ' Henry III.'" 
 
 I spoke of the "Grand Cophta," which I had been 
 re-perusing. I expressed a wish to see it on the 
 stage. 
 
 " I am pleased," said Goethe, " that you like that 
 piece, and find there what I have labored to put in. It 
 was indeed no little labor to make an entirely real 
 fact first poetical, and then theatrical. And yet you 
 will grant that it is, throughout, suited to the stage. 
 Schiller was, also, very partial to it ; and we gave it 
 once, with brilliant effect, for the higher order of men. 
 But it is not for the public in general ; the criminal 
 transactions preserve an apprehensive character, which 
 prevents their coming home to the people. Its bold 
 character places it, indeed, in the sphere of ' Clara 
 Gazul ; ' and the French poet might envy me for taking 
 from him so good a subject ; — so good a subject, 
 because not merely of moral, but also of great 
 historical significance ; for this fact immediately pre- 
 ceded the French Revolution, and was, in some sort, 
 its foundation. That fatal story of the necklace 
 destroyed the dignity of the Queen, and deprived 
 her of esteem ; thus she lost, in the eyes of the people, 
 that stand-point where she was unassailable. Hate 
 injures no one ; it is contempt that casts men 
 headlong. Kotzebue had been hated long: but not 
 till certain journals had made him contemptible, did 
 the student dare to use his dagger upon him ! " 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 365 
 
 Thursday, 17th February. 
 
 Dined with Goethe. I brought him his " Residence 
 at Carlsbad," from the year 1807, which I had finished 
 examining that morning. We spoke of wise passages 
 inserted there as hasty remarks of the day. 
 
 " People always fancy," said Goethe, laughing, 
 " that we cannot become wise, without becoming old 
 also; but, in truth, as years accumulate, it is hard 
 to keep ourselves as wise as we were. Man becomes, 
 in the different stages of his life, indeed, a different 
 being ; but he cannot say that he will surely be a 
 better as he goes onward, and, in certain matters, 
 he is as likely to be right in his twentieth, as in his 
 sixtieth year. 
 
 " We see the world one way from a plain, another 
 way from the promontory, another from the glacier 
 fields of the Alps. We see, from one of these 
 points, a larger piece of world than from the other ; 
 but who can say that we see most truly from any one 
 of them ? When a writer leaves monuments on the 
 different steps of his life, it is chiefly important that 
 he should have from nature a foundation, and good- 
 will ; that he should, at each step, see and feel clearly, 
 and say distinctly and truly, what has passed in his 
 mind. Then will his writings, if they were true to 
 the season in which they originated, remain always 
 true and right, however the writer may unfold or 
 alter. 
 
 " Lately, I found, on a piece of waste paper, some- 
 thing that pleased me. I said to myself, ' Thou 
 wouldst have said much the same.' But, as I looked 
 more closely at the leaf, it was from one of my own 
 
366 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 works. For, as I am always striving onwards, I forget 
 what I have written, and soon regard my things as 
 foreign matter." 
 
 I asked about " Faust." 
 
 " That," said Goethe, " will not again let me loose. 
 I daily think and invent more and more upon it. 1 
 have now had the whole manuscript of the second 
 part sewed into books, that it may lie a palpable mass 
 before my eye. The place of the yet wanting fourth 
 act is filled with white paper ; and, undoubtedly, what 
 is finished will allure and urge me to complete the 
 whole. There is more than is thought in these 
 matters of sense, and we must come to the aid of the 
 spiritual by all manner of devices." 
 
 He sent for the manuscript, and I was surprised 
 to see how much he had written. 
 
 " And all," said I, " in the six years that I have 
 been here, amid so many occupations and hinderances ! 
 How much a work grows, even if we can only now 
 and then attend to it ! " 
 
 " Of that one is still more convinced as he grows 
 older," said Goethe ; " while youth believes all must 
 be done in one day. Next spring, if fortune favor, 
 and I continue in good health, I hope to get a great 
 way on with this fourth act. It was, as you know, 
 long since invented ; only the other parts have, in the 
 mean time, grown so much that I can use only the 
 outline of my first invention for this, and must fill out 
 so as to make it of a piece with the rest." 
 
 "A far richer world is displayed," said I, " in this 
 second part than in the first." 
 
 " I should think so," said Goethe. " The first part 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 367 
 
 is almost entirely subjective ; it proceeded from that 
 oppressed, impassioned state of the individual charac- 
 ter, whose semi-darkness excites such agreeable feelings 
 in the minds of men. But, in the second part, there 
 is scarce any thing of the subjective ; here is seen a 
 higher, broader, clearer, more passionless world, and 
 he who has not lived and looked about him some time, 
 will not know what to make of it." 
 
 " There may be found exercise for thought," said I ; 
 " some learning is also needful. I was glad that I had 
 read Schelling's Kabirenschrift ; for else had I not 
 known the meaning of that famous passage in the 
 Walpurgis night." 
 
 " I have always found," said Goethe, laughing, 
 " that it is well to know something." 
 
 «► 
 
 Friday, 18th February. 
 Dined with Goethe. We talked of different forms 
 of government ; and it was remarked what difficulties 
 a too liberal form presents, calling forth the demands 
 of individuals, and wishes in such multitudes, that 
 it is hopeless to try to satisfy them. It will be found 
 that the greatest goodness, mildness, and moral del- 
 icacy, in those who have the upper places, will not 
 suffice, while they have beneath, a mixed and vicious 
 world to manage and hold in respect. 
 
 It was also remarked that the art of governing is 
 a great one, requiring the whole man, and that it is 
 therefore not well for a ruler to have too strong 
 tendencies to other affairs ; the fine arts, for instance, 
 by which means not only the interest of the Prince, 
 but the powers of the State must be withdrawn from 
 
3G8 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 what is more necessary. An overruling partiality for 
 the fine arts suits best a rich private man. 
 
 Goethe told me that his " Metamorphosis of Plants," 
 with Soret's translation, was going on well, and that, 
 in his supplementary labors on these subjects, par- 
 ticularly on the " Spiral," quite unexpected favorable 
 things had come to his aid from without. 
 
 "We have," said he, "as you know, been busy 
 with this translation already more than a year; a 
 thousand hinderances have come in our way ; the 
 enterprise has often stood still, quite refractory, and 
 I have often cursed it in silence. But now I could do 
 reverence to those very hinderances ; for these delays 
 have given opportunity for excellent men to ripen 
 matters abroad, which now bring the finest water to 
 my mill, and will bring my work to a far better 
 conclusion than I could have imagined a year ago. 
 The like has often happened to me in life ; and 
 thence one is led to believe in the interposition 
 of a demoniacal power — a higher influence, which 
 we adore without presuming to explain it." 
 
 Saturday, 19th February. 
 
 Dined at Goethe's, with Hofrath Vogel. A slight 
 sketch of the island Heligoland had been sent to 
 Goethe, which he read with great interest, telling us 
 what he found important in it. 
 
 Vogel told, as news of the day, how the natural 
 small-pox, in defiance of inoculation, had broken out 
 in Eisenach, carrying many off in a short time. 
 
 " Nature," said Vogel, " plays us a trick every now 
 and then; and we must waylay her, if our theory is to 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 3G9 
 
 keep up with her. Inoculation was thought so sure 
 a remedy, that a law was made to enforce it ; but this 
 Eisenach affair, in which the natural followed the 
 artificial disease, makes the remedy suspicious, and 
 weakens the law." 
 
 l ' Yet," said Goethe, " I would enforce inoculation 
 as strictly as before : these little exceptions should 
 not be thought of when compared with the immeas- 
 urable benefits it has conferred." 
 
 " I think so too," said Vogel, " and am inclined to 
 maintain that, in all such cases as this of Eisenach, 
 the inoculation was imperfect. If inoculation is to 
 be a protection, it must induce fever ; mere irritation 
 of the skin, without fever, is not enough. I have, 
 therefore, proposed a measure to-day to the council, 
 which, I think, will insure safety." 
 
 Sunday, 20th February. 
 # * # * * * * * 
 " It is natural to man," said Goethe, " to regard 
 himself as the object of the creation, and to think 
 of all things in relation to himself, and the degree 
 in which they can serve and be useful to him. He 
 takes possession of the animal and vegetable world, 
 and, while he swallows other creatures as his proper 
 food, he acknowledges his God, and thanks the 
 paternal kindness which has made such provision 
 for him. He takes her milk from the cow, honey 
 from the bee, wool from the sheep, and, while he 
 turns these things to his own use, believes they were 
 made for him. Indeed, he cannot believe that the 
 
370 
 
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 smallest herb is here, except for his use, and, if he 
 has not yet found out how to serve himself with it, 
 doubts not he shall do so at some future time. But, 
 if he aims at science, he soon finds that progress is 
 inconsistent with such low views. 
 
 " These utilitarian teachers say, ' The ox has horns 
 to defend himself.' Then I ask, ' Why has the sheep 
 none ? or, if he has, why are they so wrapped up 
 with his ears as to be useless to him ? ' But it is 
 another thing if I say, 'The ox defends himself with' 
 his horns because he has them. ' 
 
 " Inquiry after the aim, the question wherefore, is, 
 at any rate, not scientific. We get a little further 
 with the question how ; for, if I ask, ' How is it that 
 the ox has horns ? ' I am led to examine his organi- 
 zation, and learn at the same time why the lion 
 neither has nor can have horns. 
 
 " So has man in his skull two unfilled cavities. 
 The question lohercfore would not carry us far ; but 
 the question hoio teaches us that these hollows are 
 remains of the animal organization frequently to be 
 met in those lower organizations, which man, with 
 all his dignity, has not yet got beyond. 
 
 " The teachers of whom I speak would think they 
 lost their divinity, if they did not adore him who 
 gave the ox horns to defend himself with. But let 
 them permit me to venerate him who was so great 
 in the magnificence of his creations, as, after making 
 a thousand-fold plants, to comprehend them all in one ; 
 and, after a thousand-fold animals, to make that one 
 which comprehends them all — Man. 
 
 " Further, they venerate him who gives the beast 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 371 
 
 his fodder, and to man meat and drink, as much 
 as he can enjoy. But 1 worship him who has infused 
 into the world such a power of production, that, 
 if only the millionth part of it should pass out into 
 life, the world must swarm with creatures to such 
 a degree that war, pestilence, fire, and water cannot 
 prevail against them. That is my God ! " 
 
 Monday, 21st February. 
 
 Goethe praised Schelling's last discourse, delivered 
 for the satisfaction of the students at Munich. 
 
 " It is good through and through," said he ; " and 
 we rejoice once again at the distinguished talents 
 which we have long known and admired. In this 
 case he had an excellent subject and a worthy design, 
 and his success has been proportionably great. If the 
 same could be said of the subject and design of his 
 Kabirensclirift, that would claim equal praise, he 
 has displayed in it such rhetorical talent and art." 
 
 From this we were led to the Walpurgis night. 
 
 " The old Walpurgis night," said Goethe, " is 
 monarchical, while the devil is there throughout 
 respected as chief. But the classic Walpurgis night 
 is republican ; while all stand on a plain near one 
 another, so that each is as prominent as his asso- 
 ciates, nobody is subordinated or troubled about the 
 others." 
 
 "And," said I, "the classic assembly is composed 
 of sharply outlined individualities, while, on the 
 German Blocksberg, each individuality is lost in the 
 general witch-mass." 
 
 ** Therefore," said Goethe, " Mephistophiles knows 
 
372 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 what is meant when the Homunculus speaks to him 
 of Thcssalian witches. One acquainted with ancient 
 times will have many thoughts suggested by these 
 words, (Thessalian witches,) while, to the unlearned, 
 it remains a mere name." 
 
 " Antiquity," said I, " must be very living to you, 
 else you could not endow the figures with such fresh 
 new life, and use them with such freedom as you 
 have." 
 
 " Without a life-long acquaintance with plastic 
 art," said Goethe, " it would not have been possible 
 to me. The difficulty lay in observing due moderation 
 amid such plenty, and resolutely avoiding figures that 
 did not fit into my plan. I avoided, for instance, 
 using the Minotaur, the Harpies, and other monsters." 
 * # # # * # * # 
 
 Tuesday, 22d February. 
 Upper-Consistorial Counsellor Schwabe met me in 
 the street. I walked with him a little way; he told 
 me of his manifold occupations, and I was interested 
 in looking at the sphere of action of this distinguished 
 man. He observed that he employed his spare hours 
 in editing a volume of new sermons ; that one of his 
 school-books had lately been translated into Danish, 
 and forty thousand copies of it sold, and that it had 
 been introduced into the best schools of Prussia. He 
 begged me to visit him, which I gladly promised 
 to do. 
 
 At dinner, I spoke to Goethe of Schwabe, and 
 he agreed entirely with my praises of him. 
 
 " The Grand Duchess," said he, " who always 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 373 
 
 appreciates the people she has about her so justly, 
 values him at a high rate. You do well to visit him, 
 and I should like to have you ask his permission for 
 me to have a drawing of him for my collection of 
 portraits. 
 
 " If you show sympathy in what he is doing and 
 planning, you will have an opportunity of observing 
 a peculiar sphere of action, which cannot be rightly 
 understood, unless by close intercourse with such 
 a man." 
 
 Wednesday, 23d February. 
 
 I took a drive with Goethe. 
 
 # # * * # # # # 
 
 We spoke of the high significance of the original 
 phenomena, ( Urphänomene,) behind which we believe 
 the Divinity may directly be discerned. 
 
 " I ask not," said Goethe, " whether this highest 
 Being has reason and understanding, for I feel that 
 He is Reason, is Understanding itself. Therewith 
 are all creatures penetrated ; ai.id man so much so, 
 that he can recognize parts of the Highest." 
 
 At table, the efforts of certain inquirers into nature 
 were mentioned to penetrate the organic world by 
 ascending through mineralogy. 
 
 " This," said Goethe, " is a great mistake. In 
 the mineralogical world, the simplest, in the organic 
 world, the most complex, is the most excellent. We 
 see, too, that these two worlds have quite different 
 tendencies, and that no stepwise progress from one 
 to the other is to be expected." 
 
 I treasured this remark as of great significance 
 
 G G 
 
374 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Thursday, 24th February. 
 " The difficulty with nature," said Goethe, " is, to 
 see the law where it hides itself from us, and not to 
 be led astray by appearances which are contradicted 
 by our senses. Many things in nature, which are 
 contradicted by our senses, are nevertheless true. 
 That the sun stands still, neither rises nor sets, and 
 that the earth turns about daily with inconceivable 
 swiftness, contradicts our senses as much as any thing 
 can ; yet no well-instructed person doubts that it is so. 
 Even such contradictory phenomena are found in the 
 world of plants ; and we must take heed lest they 
 lead us astray." 
 
 #*## ## 
 
 Monday, 28th February. 
 
 I busied myself all day with the manuscript of the 
 fourth volume of Goethe's " Life," which he sent me 
 yesterday, that I might see what was yet to be done 
 to it. I was very happy with this work, thinking 
 what it already is, and what it may become. Some 
 books of it seem quite complete, and leave nothing 
 further to wish. In others may be perceived a certain 
 want of congruity, which may be caused by Goethe's 
 having worked upon them at different times. 
 
 All this fourth volume is quite different from the 
 three that precede it. They are, throughout, pro- 
 gressive in a given direction, so that the way passes 
 through many years. In this one, time seems scarce 
 to be in motion, and no decided exertions are percep- 
 tible in the principal person. Many things are under- 
 taken, but not finished; many willed, but otherwise 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 375 
 
 guided; every where we feel a secret influence, a kind 
 of Destiny, drawing out many threads for the web 
 which future years must complete. 
 
 This volume, therefore, affords a suitable occasion 
 to speak of that secret, problematical power, which 
 all men feel, which no philosopher explains, and over 
 which the religious help themselves with courageous 
 words. 
 
 Goethe names this unspeakable world and life- 
 enigma the Demoniacal, {Dämonische ;) and, while 
 he defines its existence, we feel that so it is, and a 
 curtain seems to have been drawn away from a certain 
 background of our life. We seem to see further and 
 more clearly, but, after a while, perceive that the 
 object is too great and manifold, and that our eyesight 
 cannot penetrate beyond a certain limit. 
 
 Man is born only for the Little ; only what is 
 known to him can be appreciated by him, or give 
 him pleasure. A great connoisseur understands a 
 picture; he knows how to combine the various par- 
 ticulars with the Universal, which is familiar to him; 
 the whole is, to his mind, as living as any one part. 
 Neither does he entertain a partiality for detached 
 portions; he asks not whether such a face is ugly 
 or beautiful, such a part clear or dark, but whether 
 each be in its place, and in harmony with the law 
 of the whole. Show an ignorant man a picture of 
 some compass, and we shall see that, as a whole, it 
 either does not move or confuses him ; that some parts 
 attract, others repel him ; and that he at last abides 
 by little things which are known to him, praising, 
 perhaps, the execution of a helmet or plume. 
 
376 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 But, in fact, we men play more or less the part of 
 this ignoramus before the great destiny-picture of the 
 world. The well-lighted parts, the Agreeable attracts 
 us, the shadowy or unpleasant parts repel us, the whole 
 confuses us, and we vainly seek the idea of a single 
 being, to whom we attribute all these contradic- 
 tions. 
 
 And if it be possible, in human things, to become 
 a great connoisseur, appropriating the art and knowl- 
 edge of a master, yet, in divine things, this is only 
 possible to a being equal in nature to the Highest. 
 If any one attempts to make such mysteries clear to 
 us, we cannot receive or understand what is offered ; 
 but are like that ignoramus before the picture, to 
 whom the connoisseur cannot impart the premises 
 from which he judges by any forms of speech he can 
 use. On this account is it right that forms of religion 
 should not be bestowed directly by God himself, but 
 should, as the work of eminent men, be conformed 
 to the wants and the understanding of the masses. 
 If they were the work of God, no man could under- 
 stand them ; but, being the work of men, they do not 
 express the Inscrutable. 
 
 The religion of the highly-cultivated ancient Greeks 
 went no further than to give sensible representations 
 of attributes of this inscrutable essence. As only 
 limited beings were thus produced, and a gap was 
 obvious in the connection of the whole, they invented 
 the idea of a Fate to preside over all. As this again 
 remained a many-sided Inscrutable, the difficulty was 
 rather set aside than met. 
 
 Christ thought of a God, comprising all in one, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 377 
 
 to whom he ascribed all properties which he found 
 excellent in himself. This God was the essence of his 
 own fair inward being ; full of love and goodness, like 
 himself ; every way suited to induce good men to give 
 themselves up trustingly to him, and to receive his 
 Idea, as the sweetest connection with a higher sphere. 
 But, as the great being whom we name the Divinity, 
 manifests himself, not in men only, but in a rich, 
 powerful nature, and mighty world-adventures, so, 
 naturally, a representation of him, framed from human 
 attributes, cannot be adequate, and the attentive 
 observer will soon discern imperfections and con- 
 tradictions, which will drive him to doubt, nay, to 
 despair, unless he be either little enough to let himself 
 be soothed by an artful evasion, or great enough to 
 rise to the stand-point of a higher view. 
 
 Such a stand-point Goethe early found in Spinoza ; 
 and he acknowledges with joy how truly the views of 
 that great thinker answered to the wants of his youth. 
 In him he found himself, and could therefore fortify 
 himself with Spinoza to the best advantage. 
 
 And as their views were not of the subjective sort, 
 but had their foundation in the works and manifesta- 
 tions of God throughout the world, so were they not 
 mere shells which he, after his own later, deeper search 
 into the world and nature, threw aside as useless, but 
 were the root and germ of a plant that grew up in 
 healthy energy through many years, and at last 
 unfolded the flower of a rich knowledge. 
 
 His opponents have often accused him of having no 
 faith ; but he had not such as theirs, simply because 
 
378 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 it was too little for him. If he should speak out his 
 own, they would be astonished ; but they would not 
 be able to comprehend him. 
 
 But Goethe is far from believing that he knows the 
 highest being as it is. All his written and verbal 
 expressions intimate that it is a somewhat inscruta- 
 ble, to which men can only obtain approximating 
 perceptions and feelings. 
 
 For the rest, Nature and we men are so penetrated 
 by the Divinity, that it holds us ; we live, weave, and 
 are in it ; that we, under eternal laws, suffer and 
 enjoy ; that we practise them, and they are practised 
 on us, whether we recognize them or not. 
 
 The child enjoys his cake without knowing who the 
 baker was ; the sparrow the cherries, without thinking 
 how they were made to grow. 
 
 Wednesday, 2d March. 
 
 I dined with Goethe, and, the conversation turning 
 on Demonology, he said — 
 
 " The Demoniacal is that which cannot be explained 
 by Reason or Understanding ; it lies not in my nature, 
 but I am subject to it." 
 
 " Napoleon," said I, " seems to have been of the 
 demoniacal sort." 
 
 " He was so," said Goethe ; " so thoroughly, and in 
 so high a degree, that scarce any one is to be 
 compared with him. Also, our late Grand Duke was 
 such a nature, full of unlimited power of action, and 
 unrest, so that his own dominion was too little for him, 
 and the greatest would have been too little. Demo- 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 379 
 
 niac beings of such sort the Greeks reckoned among 
 their demigods." 
 
 " Is not this element," said I, " perceptible in 
 events also 1 " 
 
 " In a high degree," said Goethe, '« and, indeed, in 
 all which Reason and Understanding cannot explain. 
 It manifests itself in all nature — in the invisible as in 
 the visible. Many creatures are of purely demoniac 
 sort ; in many are parts of it effective." 
 
 "Has not Mephistophiles," said I, "traits of this 
 nature 1 " 
 
 " No," he replied, " Mephistophiles is too negative 
 a being. The Demoniacal manifests itself in positive 
 active power among artists : it is found often among 
 musicians ; more rarely among painters. In Paganini, 
 it shows itself in a high degree ; and it is by means 
 of it that he produces such great effects." 
 
 I was rejoiced at these remarks, which made more 
 clear to me Goethe's notions of the Demoniacal. 
 
 Thursday, 3d March. 
 Went to Goethe at noon. Found him looking 
 through some architectural designs. He observed 
 it required good courage to build palaces, uncertain 
 as we are how long one stone will remain upon 
 another. 
 
 " Those are most fortunate," said he, " who live in 
 tents, or who, like some Englishmen, are always going 
 from one city and inn to another, sure of finding every 
 where a good table ready for them." 
 
 Dined with Goethe. We talked of children and 
 their naughty tricks, which Goethe compared to the 
 
380 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 stem leaves of a plant, which fall away gradually of 
 their own accord ; so that it is unnecessary to correct 
 them with great severity. 
 
 " Man," said he, " must go through various stages, 
 each bringing with it its peculiar virtues and faults, 
 which, in the epoch to which they belong, may be 
 considered natural, and in a manner right. On the 
 next step you see him another man ; there is no trace 
 left of the earlier virtues or faults ; others have taken 
 their places. And so on to the final transformation, 
 after which we know not what we shall be." 
 
 After dinner, Goethe read me fragments, which he 
 had kept from 1775, of Hanswurst's wedding. Kilian 
 Brustfleck opens the piece with a monologue, in which 
 he complains that Hanswurst's education, despite all 
 his care, has come to no good. This part, and all the 
 others, were written in the tone of Faust. A produc- 
 tive force, powerful even to wantonness, displayed 
 itself in every line; and I could not but lament that 
 it went so beyond all bounds, that even the fragments 
 are not communicable. 
 
 Goethe read me the list of the proposed dramatis 
 perso?ice, nearly a hundred in number. All had sig- 
 nificant nicknames ; some truly ludicrous : some 
 expressed bodily defects, and so distinguished a 
 figure, that it came like life before the eye ; others, 
 taken from various follies and vices, gave a deep look 
 into an immoral world. Had the piece been finished, 
 the power must have excited wonder, that could give 
 life to such various symbolical figures within the 
 limits of one invention. 
 
 " It was impossible for me to finish the piece," 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 381 
 
 said Goethe; " for it demanded a degree of wanton 
 daring, which I had for moments, but which did not 
 lie in the general tenor of my nature, and on which 
 I could not depend. Then our German circle is too 
 limited to favor such an undertaking. On a broad 
 ground, like Paris, one might venture on the giddy- 
 whirl ; for there a Ber anger can live, which would be 
 quite impossible at Frankfort or Weimar." 
 
 Tuesday, 8th March. 
 
 Goethe had been reading Ivanhoe. 
 
 " Walter Scott," said he, " is a great genius; he has 
 not his equal ; and we need not wonder at the extraor- 
 dinary effect he has produced on the reading world. 
 He gives me much to think of ; and I discover in him 
 a wholly new art, with laws of its own." 
 
 We spoke then of the fourth volume of the biog- 
 raphy, and came .upon the subject of Demonology 
 before we were aware. 
 
 " In poetry," said Goethe, "especially in that which 
 is unconscious, before which Reason and Understand- 
 ing fall short, and which, therefore, produces effects 
 so far surpassing all expectation, there is always 
 something of the Demoniacal. 
 
 " The same is true of music, in the highest degree. 
 Understanding cannot reach its elevation, and influ- 
 ences flow from it which master all, and of which 
 none is able to give himself an account. Therefore 
 cannot religious worship dispense with it ; it is one 
 of the chief means of working wonders upon men. 
 It throws itself willingly into significant individuals, 
 
382 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 especially when they are in high places, like Frederic 
 and Peter the Great. 
 
 " Our late Grand Duke had it to such a degree, that 
 nobody could resist him. He influenced men by his 
 mere tranquil presence, without needing even to show 
 himself good-humored and friendly. All that I under- 
 took by his advice succeeded ; so that, when my own 
 mind could not decide, I needed only to ask him, and 
 he instinctively prescribed what was sure of happy 
 results. 
 
 " He would have been enviable indeed if he could 
 have possessed himself of my ideas and higher 
 strivings ; for when the demon forsook him, and only 
 the human was left, he knew not how to set to work, 
 and was much troubled at it. 
 
 " In Byron, also, this element was probably very 
 active, giving him such powers of attraction, especially 
 with women." 
 
 " In the idea of the Divinity," said I, by way of 
 experiment, " this power, which we name the Demo- 
 niacal, would not seem to enter." 
 
 " Dear child," said Goethe, " what know we of the 
 idea of the Divinity ? and what can our narrow ideas 
 tell of the Highest Being? Should I, like a Turk, 
 name it with a hundred names, I should still fall short, 
 and, in comparison with the infinite attributes, have 
 said nothing." 
 
 Wednesday, 9th March. 
 Goethe continued his acknowledgments to Sir 
 Walter Scott. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 383 
 
 " We read many, too many, poor things," said he ; 
 " thus losing our time, and gaining nothing. We 
 should only read what we can admire, as I did in 
 my youth, and as I now experience with Sir Walter 
 Scott. I have now begun " Rob Roy," and will read 
 all his romances in succession. All is great — 
 material, import, characters, execution ; and then 
 what infinite diligence in the preparatory studies ! 
 what truth of detail in the composition ! Here we 
 see what English history is ; what an inheritance 
 to a poet able to make use of it. Our German 
 history, in five volumes, is, comparatively, sheer 
 poverty ; so that, after Goetz von Berlichingen, writers 
 went immediately into private life, giving us what 
 really was no great gain, an Agnes Vernauerin, and 
 an Otto von Wittelsbach." 
 
 I said that I had been reading "Daphnis and Chloe" 
 in Courier's translation. 
 
 " That, also," said Goethe, " is a masterpiece, 
 which I have often read and marvelled at, in which 
 Understanding, Art, and Taste, appear at their highest 
 point, and beside which the good Virgil retreats 
 somewhat into the back-ground. The landscape is 
 quite in the Poussin style, and appears, behind the 
 personages, finished, though with very few strokes. 
 
 " You know Courier found, in the Florentine 
 Library, a new manuscript, containing the principal 
 passage of the poem which had been lost from the 
 preceding editions. Now, I must acknowledge that 
 I had always read the poem in its imperfect state, 
 without observing or feeling that the apex was wanting. 
 But this may be a proof of the excellence of the 
 
334 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 poem, since what we had satisfied us so completely 
 that we never thought of what was wanting." 
 
 After dinner, Goethe showed me a drawing, by 
 Coudray, of an extremely tasteful door for the 
 Dornburg Castle, with a Latin inscription, signifying, 
 that he who would enter should find friendly reception 
 and entertainment, and that to him who passed by a 
 happy journey was wished. 
 
 Goethe had translated this inscription into a German 
 distich, and placed it as a motto over a letter which 
 he had written, in the summer of 1828, during his 
 residence at Dornburg, to Oberst von Beulwitz. I had 
 heard much in public of this letter, and was very glad 
 when Goethe showed it me, at the same time with the 
 drawing. 
 
 I read the letter with great interest, admiring the 
 skill with which he had used the localities of Dorn- 
 burg to introduce the noblest views suited to raise 
 up man again, however great a loss he may have 
 sustained, and place him on his feet ready for action. 
 
 I rejoiced in this letter, observing that it is needless 
 to travel far in search of good material, but that all 
 depends on the strength in the mind of the poet, 
 which is able to produce something valuable from the 
 lowest occasions. 
 
 Goethe put the letter and drawing in a portfolio by 
 themselves. 
 
 Friday, 11th March. 
 " It is remarkable in Sir Walter Scott," said Goethe, 
 " how his great descriptive talent sometimes leads him 
 into error. There is a scene in ' Ivanhoe/ where a 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 385 
 
 company are seated at table in the hall of a castle, by 
 evening light, and a stranger enters. Now, it is right 
 for him to describe the upper part of this stranger's 
 person and dress, but a mistake also to describe his 
 feet, shoes, and stockings. If we sit at table in the 
 evening, and any one comes in, we observe only the 
 upper part of his figure. Describe his feet, and you 
 introduce daylight, destroying the nocturnal character 
 of the scene." 
 
 Goethe went on expressing his admiration of Walter 
 Scott. I asked him to put his views on paper ; but he 
 declined, observing that art stands so high in this 
 writer that it would be difficult to tell the public 
 what he thought of him. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Wednesday, 16th March. 
 
 Speaking of " William Tell," I expressed my sur- 
 prise that Schiller should have made such a mistake 
 as to degrade his hero by unworthy treatment of the 
 flying Duke of Swabia, making him judge the Duke 
 so severely, while he boasts of his own deed. 
 
 " It would be incomprehensible," said Goethe, 
 " only that Schiller was, like others, subject to the 
 influence of women, and this mistake happened rather 
 from such interference than from his own fine nature." 
 
 Friday, 18th March. 
 We talked of higher maxims, and whether it be 
 advisable or possible^ to communicate them to other 
 men. 
 
 " A disposition to receive what is high," said 
 
 H H 
 
386 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Goethe, " is very rare ; and, therefore, in common 
 life, a man does well to keep such things for himself, 
 and only to give out what part seems needful to place 
 others at some advantage." 
 
 We touched upon the point that many men, 
 especially critics and poets, wholly ignore true great- 
 ness, and therefore over-praise mediocrity. 
 
 11 Man," said Goethe, " recognizes and praises only 
 that which he himself is capable of doing ; and those 
 who, by nature, are mediocre, have the trick of 
 depreciating productions, which, if they have faults, 
 have also good points, so as to elevate the mediocre 
 productions which they are fitted to praise." 
 
 We spoke of the Farbenlehre, and of those German 
 professors who continue to warn their pupils against 
 it as a great error. 
 
 "I am sorry, for the sake of many a good scholar," 
 said Goethe ; " but, for myself, it is all one ; my 
 Farbenlehre is as old as the world, and cannot always 
 be calumniated and set aside." 
 
 He spoke of Soret's translation of the " Metamor- 
 phosis of Plants." 
 
 " * m * I have had inserted," said he, " some 
 passages, by valuable young inquirers into nature, in 
 which it is pleasant to see that, among the best people 
 here in Germany, a good style has become so common 
 that you cannot tell which is speaking. The book, 
 however, gives me more trouble than I expected ; 
 indeed, I was drawn into the undertaking, almost 
 against my will, by some demoniacal influence which I 
 could not resist." 
 
 "You did well," said I, " to yield to the influence; 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 387 
 
 for this Demoniacal seems so mighty a nature as to be 
 always in the right at last." 
 
 " Yet must man," he replied, " exert himself to do 
 his part ; and I must, in the present instance, do my 
 work with that care and diligence which my strength 
 and circumstances permit. In such matters, it is like 
 the game which the French call codillc, where throws 
 of the dice, indeed, decide in a great measure, but 
 placing the pawns judiciously on the table is left to 
 the discretion of the player." 
 
 I venerated this good doctrine, and took it to heart, 
 that it might regulate my future actions. 
 
 Monday, 21st March. 
 We talked on political subjects, — of the incessant 
 disturbances at Paris, and the unwise desire of young 
 people to meddle in the most important affairs of 
 state. 
 
 " In England, also," said I, " the students some 
 time ago tried to obtain an influence on the decision 
 of the Catholic question by sending in petitions ; but 
 they were laughed at, and no further notice taken 
 of them." 
 
 " The example of Napoleon," said Goethe, " has, 
 especially in the young people of France who grew 
 up under that hero, excited a spirit of egotism ; 
 and they will not rest until a great despot once again 
 rises up among them, in whom they may see the 
 perfection of what they themselves wish to be. The 
 misfortune is, that a man like Napoleon will not so 
 soon again be born; and I fear that some hundred 
 
388 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 thousands of human lives must be wasted before the 
 world can again be tranquillized. 
 
 " Of literary operations there can be no thought 
 at present ; all that is to be done is quietly to prepare 
 good things for a more peaceful time." 
 
 We spoke again of " Daphnis and Chloe." Goethe 
 said that Courier's translation was perfect. 
 
 " Courier did well," said he, " to respect Amyot's 
 old translation, and only in parts to improve, to purify, 
 and- bring it nearer the original. The old French 
 is so naive, and suits the subject so perfectly, that 
 it would not be easy to make, in any language, a 
 more perfect translation of this book." 
 
 We spoke of Courier's own works, — of his little 
 fugitive pieces, and the defence of the famous ink- 
 spots on the manuscript at Florence. 
 
 " Courier," said Goethe, " is a great natural genius. 
 He has features of Lord Byron, as also of Beaumar- 
 chais and Diderot. He is like Byron in command 
 over all things which may serve him as argument, — 
 like Beaumarchais in his adroitness as an advocate, — 
 like Diderot in dialectic skill, — and it is not possible 
 to be more spirited and witty. However, he seems 
 not to have entirely cleared himself from the ink-spot 
 accusation, and is, in his whole tendency, not suffi- 
 ciently positive to claim unqualified praise. He is 
 at variance with all the world, and we must suppose 
 that the fault is in part his own." 
 
 We spoke of the difference between the German 
 word Geist, and the French Esprit. 
 
 " The French Esprit," said he, " means nearly the 
 same with our German word Witz. Our Geist might, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 389 
 
 perhaps, be expressed in French by Esprit and Arne. 
 It includes the idea of productivity, which is not the 
 case with the French Esprit." 
 
 " Voltaire," said I, " had a clear idea of that which 
 we name Geist. And when Esprit does not suffice 
 to express this, what word do the French use?" 
 
 " Genie" he replied. 
 
 u I am reading," said I, " a volume of Diderot, and 
 am astonished by the extraordinary talent of the man. 
 And what knowledge ! what a power of language ! 
 We see that, in a great animated world, where each 
 was constantly exciting the other to create, and mind 
 and character were kept in such constant action, both 
 must be flexible and strong. But it is extraordinary 
 to see what men French literature could boast in the 
 last century. I am astonished wherever I take a look 
 at it." 
 
 " It was the metamorphosis of a hundred-year-old 
 literature," said Goethe, " which had been growing 
 ever since Louis XIV., and stood now in full flower, 
 Voltaire excited the emulation of such men as Diderot, 
 D'Alembert, and Beaumarchais. To be somewhat near 
 him, a man needed to be much, and could allow him- 
 self no holidays." 
 
 * * # * # # * * 
 
 As I went, he gave me an essay, by Schrön, on the 
 expected comet, that I might not remain entirely a 
 stranger to such matters. 
 
 Tuesday, 22d March. 
 Goethe read to me passages from the letter of a 
 young friend, now at Rome. Therein figured certain 
 
 h h 2 
 
390 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 German artists, with long hair, mustachios, shirt-collars 
 turned over on old-fashioned German coats, tobacco- 
 pipes, and bull-dogs. They do not seem to visit Rome 
 for the sake of the great masters, or to learn any thing.* 
 To them Raphael seems weak, and Titian merely a 
 good colorist. 
 
 " Niebuhr," said Goethe, " was right in predicting 
 an era of barbarism. It is already here, and we are 
 in the midst of it ; for wherein does barbarism consist, 
 unless in not appreciating what is excellent ?" 
 
 Our young friend also gave an account of the carni- 
 val, the choice of the Pope, and the revolution which 
 broke out immediately after. 
 
 Horace Vernet ensconces himself like a knight, 
 while some young German artists stay quietly at home, 
 and cut off their beards, which seems to intimate that 
 they may not have made themselves, by their conduct, 
 very popular among the Romans. 
 
 We discussed the question whether the errors per- 
 ceptible in certain young artists of Germany, originated 
 with individuals, and had spread abroad by intellectual 
 contagion, or whether they were the effect of the 
 general tendency of the time. 
 
 " They come," said Goethe, " from a few individ- 
 uals ; and the work has been doing these forty years. 
 The doctrine was, the artist needs, chiefly, piety and 
 genius, in order to produce master-pieces. Disciples 
 seized with both hands upon this flattering doctrine. 
 For, to become pious, a man need learn nothing, and 
 genius each one inherited from his lady mother. One 
 need only utter what flatters indolence and conceit, 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 391 
 
 and he is sure of plenty of adherents among the 
 ordinary set of people." 
 
 Friday, 25th March. 
 
 Goethe showed me an elegant green elbow-chair, 
 which he had bought to-day at an auction. 
 
 " However," said he, " I shall use it little or none ; 
 for all indolent habits are against my nature. You see 
 in my chamber no sofa ; I sit always in my old wooden 
 chair, and never, till a few weeks ago, have permitted 
 even a leaning-place for my head to be added. If 
 surrounded by tasteful furniture, my thoughts are 
 arrested, and I am placed in an agreeable, but passive 
 state. Unless we are accustomed to them from early 
 youth, splendid chambers and elegant furniture had 
 best be left to people who neither have nor can have 
 any thoughts." 
 
 Sunday, 27th March. 
 
 The long-expected fine spring weather has come at 
 last. Over the perfectly blue heaven hovers only some 
 little white cloud now and then, and it is warm enough 
 for summer clothing. 
 
 Goethe had the table covered in a pavilion in the 
 garden, and we dined once more away from the house. 
 We talked of the Grand Duchess ; how she is quietly 
 at work in all directions, doing good, and winning the 
 hearts of all her subjects. 
 
 " The Grand Duchess," said Goethe, " has as much 
 intellect and sweetness, as good will ; she is truly a 
 blessing to the country. And as men are every where 
 quick to feel whence they receive benefits, worshipping 
 
392 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 the sun and kindly elements, I wonder not that all 
 hearts turn to her with love, and that she is speedily 
 known as she deserves to be." 
 
 I mentioned that I had begun " Minna von Barnhelm " 
 with the Prince, and observed how excellent it appeared 
 to me. 
 
 " Lessing," said I, M has been spoken of as a cold 
 man of understanding ; but I find in this drama as 
 much heart, soul, charming naturalness, and free 
 world-culture, of a fresh, cheerful, living man, as any 
 one could desire." 
 
 " You may imagine," said Goethe, " what an effect 
 that work produced on us young people at the dark 
 day in which it came out. Truly it was a glittering 
 meteor. It taught us to perceive a higher state of 
 things, of which the weak literary productions of that 
 time gave no idea. The two first acts are models in the 
 art of exposition ; from which much has been, and much 
 may still be learned. Now-a-days, indeed, writers are 
 not curious about this art : what was once expected 
 only in the third act, may now be found in the first 
 scene: they are not aware that it is with poetry as 
 in going to sea ; we should push from the shore, and 
 reach a certain elevation, before we unfurl all our 
 sails to the wind." 
 
 Goethe had some excellent Rhine wine brought, 
 sent by his Frankfort friends as a present on his last 
 birth-day. He told some stories about Merck, and 
 how he could not pardon the Grand Duke for having 
 once praised an ordinary wine as excellent. 
 
 " Merck and I," he continued, " were always to 
 one another as Mephistophiles to Faust. Even so 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 393 
 
 did he mock at a letter written by my father from 
 Italy, in which he complained of the miserable way 
 of living, bad wine, food to which he was unac- 
 customed, and mosquitoes. Merck could not forgive 
 him, in that delicious country, and surrounded by 
 objects so magnificent, for being troubled about such 
 little matters as eating, drinking, and flies. 
 
 " All Merck's ironical ways had, no doubt, their 
 foundation in a high state of culture ; only, as he was 
 not productive, but had, on the contrary, a decidedly 
 negative tendency, he was ever more inclined to 
 blame than to praise, and involuntarily was always 
 seeking for means of gratifying this inclination." 
 
 We talked of Vogel, and his ministerial talents; of 
 * * * , and his character. 
 
 " * * * ," said Goethe, " is a man by himself — 
 a man who can be compared with no other. He alone 
 sided with me in opposing the freedom of the press : 
 he stands fast ; one can depend on him ; he will always 
 abide by what is legitimate." 
 
 After dinner, we walked up and down in the garden, 
 taking our pleasure in the snow-drops and crocuses, 
 now in full flower. The tulips, too, are coming out ; 
 and we talked of the splendor and costliness of these 
 children of Holland. 
 
 " A great flower-painter," said Goethe, " is not now 
 to be expected : we have attained too high a degree 
 of scientific truth ; and the botanist, having no eye 
 for picturesque lights and grouping, counts the stamina 
 after the painter." 
 
394 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Monday, 28th March. 
 
 I passed some delightful hours with Goethe. He 
 said he had as good as finished his " Metamorphosis 
 of Plants/' had turned this morning to the fourth 
 volume of his " Biography," and made an outline 
 of what is yet to be done, adding — 
 
 "I may in some sort name myself enviable, in that 
 I am permitted at so advanced an age to write the 
 history of my youth, and, indeed, of an epoch, in many 
 respects, of high significance." 
 
 We talked over the particulars, which were perfectly 
 familiar both to him and me. 
 
 " In the description of your love for Lili," said I, 
 " we no way miss your youth ; rather have such scenes 
 the very breath of earlier years." 
 
 " It is," said Goethe, " because those scenes are 
 poetical ; and I can, by the power of poetry, supply 
 the want of the youthful feelings of love." 
 
 He spoke also of his sister. 
 
 " What relates to her," said he, " will be read with 
 interest by accomplished women, of whom many, like 
 her, do not combine the advantage of personal beauty 
 with their intellectual and moral endowments." 
 
 ###*##*# 
 
 Tuesday, 29th March. 
 
 We talked of Merck. 
 
 " The late Grand Duke," said Goethe, " was very 
 partial to Merck, so much so that he once became his 
 security for a debt of four thousand dollars. Very 
 soon Merck, to our surprise, gave him back his bond. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 395 
 
 As Merck's circumstances were not improved, we 
 could not divine how he had been able to do this. 
 When I saw him again, he explained the enigma 
 thus — 
 
 " ' The Duke, 5 said he, « is an excellent, generous 
 man, who trusts and helps men whenever he can. So 
 I thought to myself, " Now, if you cozen him out of his 
 money, that will prejudice a thousand others; for he 
 will lose his precious trustfulness, and many unfortu- 
 nate but worthy men will suffer, because one was 
 worthless." So I made a speculation, and borrowed 
 the money from a scoundrel, whom it will be no matter 
 if I do cheat ; but if I had not paid our good lord, 
 the Duke, it would have been a pity.' " 
 
 We laughed at the whimsical greatness of the man. 
 
 " Merck had a habit," continued Goethe, " of 
 continually shouting he, he, as he talked. This grew 
 upon him, with advancing years, till at last it became 
 like the bark of a dog. He fell at last into a hypo- 
 chondriacal gloom, the consequence of his many 
 speculations, and finished by shooting himself. He 
 imagined he must become bankrupt ; but they found 
 his affairs by no means in so bad a state as he had 
 supposed." 
 
 Wednesday, 30th March. 
 
 We talked again of the demoniacal element. 
 
 " It throws itself willingly into figures of impor- 
 tance," said Goethe, " and prefers somewhat darkened 
 times. In a clear prosaic city, like Berlin, for 
 instance, it would scarcely find occasion to manifest 
 itself." 
 
396 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 In this remark Goethe expressed what I had been 
 thinking some days since. This gave me the pleasure 
 we always feel in finding our thought confirmed. 
 
 Yesterday and this morning I had been reading his 
 " Biography," and fared like one who, after making 
 progress in a foreign language, reads again a book, 
 which he thought he understood in an earlier day, but 
 now first perceives its minute touches and delicate 
 shades. 
 
 " Your ' Biography,' " said I, "is a book by which 
 you see our culture greatly assisted." 
 
 " Those are mere results from my life," said he ; 
 " the particular facts that are related serve only to 
 confirm a general reflection, or higher truth." 
 
 # * # # # # * # 
 
 c ' I named the book Dichtung und Wahrheit ^ 
 (Poetry and Truth,) because it raises itself by higher 
 tendencies from the region of a low Reality. Now 
 has Jean Paul, in the spirit of contradiction, written 
 Wahrheit aus meinem Leben, (Truth out of my Life;) 
 as if the truth from the life of such a man could be 
 any other than that the author was a Philistine. But 
 the Germans do not easily understand how to receive 
 any thing out of the common course, and what is 
 of a high nature often passes them by .without their 
 being aware of it. A fact of our lives is valuable, not 
 according as it is true, but as it is significant." 
 
 Thursday, 31st March. 
 Dined at the Prince's with Soret and Meyer. We 
 talked of literary matters. Meyer gave an account 
 of his first acquaintance with Schiller. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 397 
 
 " I was walking with Goethe," said he, " in the place 
 called Paradise, near Jena, where we met Schiller, and 
 conversed with him for the first time. He had not 
 then completed Don Carlos ; he had just returned from 
 Swabia, and seemed very sick, and in a state of 
 nervous suffering. His face was like the pictures 
 of the Crucified One. Goethe thought he could not 
 live fourteen days ; but, as his situation became more 
 agreeable, he grew better, and, indeed, wrote all his 
 best things after that period." 
 
 Meyer then related some traits of Jean Paul and 
 Schlegel, — both of whom he met at a public house in 
 Heidelberg, — and pleasant stories about Italy, which 
 entertained us highly. 
 
 I always feel happy near Meyer ; probably because 
 he is a self-relying, satisfied person, little affected by 
 the circumstances which surround him, but, at suitable 
 intervals, uttering the feelings of his happy, inward 
 existence. He is every where well grounded, possesses 
 great treasures of knowledge, and a memory to which 
 the most remote events are as* present as if they 
 happened yesterday. He has a preponderance of 
 understanding, which might make us dread him, 
 if it did not rest upon the noblest culture ; but, 
 as it is, his quiet presence is always agreeable, always 
 instructive. 
 
 Friday, 1st April. 
 
 Goethe showed me a picture, in water colors, by 
 Herr von Reutern, representing a young peasant, who, 
 in the village market, stands beside a female basket- 
 seller. The young man is looking at the baskets 
 
 1 1 
 
398 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 which lie before him, while two women, who are 
 seated, and a buxom girl, who is standing by, look 
 with an expression of pleasure at the handsome young 
 man. The composition of the picture was so graceful, 
 the expression of the figures so true and naive, that 
 one could not be weary of looking at it. 
 
 " Simpletons," said Goethe, " say Von Reutern has 
 nobody but himself to thank in his art ; he has done 
 every thing for himself ; as if a man got any thing 
 from himself but ignorance and awkwardness. If Von 
 Reutern had no nominal master, yet has he been 
 acquainted with excellent masters, and has from them 
 and their great predecessors, and omnipresent nature, 
 learnt what is now his. Nature gave him excellent 
 talents, which Art and Nature have unfolded. He is 
 admirable, in many respects unique ; but they should 
 not say he has all from himself. This may be said 
 of a bad artist, never of a good." 
 
 He then showed me, from the same artist, a rich 
 frame, painted with various colors, and gilt, having in 
 the midst a space left free for writing. Above was 
 a building in the Gothic style; on both sides, rich 
 arabesques, with landscapes and domestic scenes inter- 
 woven ; beneath, a gay wood party, with the freshest 
 verdure and turf. 
 
 " Von Reutern," said he, " wishes that I should 
 write something in the place he has left open ; but his 
 frame is so splendid, and so rich in art, that I fear 
 lest I spoil the picture by my hand-writing. I have 
 composed some verses for the occasion, and have been 
 thinking whether I had not better have them copied 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 399 
 
 there by a caligrapher, and only subscribe them with 
 my own hand. What should you advise ? " 
 
 "If I were Von Reutern," said I, "I should be 
 grieved to hg,ve them in the hand of another ; happy, 
 if in your own. The painter has made the frame so 
 rich in art, that none is needed in the writing ; it 
 is only important that it should be in your own hand. 
 I advise you not to use the Roman, but the German 
 text ; for your hand has in that a more peculiar char- 
 acter, and it harmonizes better with the Gothic 
 designs in the frame." 
 
 " You may be right," said Goethe; " and in the end 
 it will be my shortest way. Perhaps to-day will bring 
 a courageous moment, in which I may venture upon 
 it. But if I make a blot on the beautiful picture/' 
 added he, laughing, "you shall answer for it." 
 
 " Write only," said I, " and it will be well, however 
 it be." 
 
 Tuesday, 5th April. 
 " In Art," said Goethe, " we meet not easily a talent 
 that gives us more pleasure than that of Neureuther. 
 Few artists know how to confine themselves to what 
 they can do well ; most are constantly trespassing 
 beyond the circle in which Nature intended them to 
 work. But of Neureuther, we can say that he stands 
 above his talent. All the departments of nature are 
 at his command; he draws ground, rocks, and trees, 
 with as much skill as men or animals, and, while he 
 lavishes such wealth on slight marginal drawings, 
 seems to play with his capabilities, and that pleasure 
 which is wont to accompany the spending a rich 
 
400 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 income in a free and easy manner, passes over to the 
 spectator. 
 
 " No one can vie with him in these marginal 
 drawings ; even the great talent of Albert Dürer has 
 been less his pattern than his excitement. I will send 
 a copy of these drawings to Scotland, to Mr. Carlyle, 
 and hope they will prove no unwelcome present to 
 that friend." 
 
 Monday, 2d May. 
 
 Goethe spoke of a certain well-known writer. 
 
 " His is a talent," said he, " which, independent 
 of its alliance with party hate, would have produced 
 no effect. There are many such instances in litera- 
 ture, where hatred supplies the place of genius, and 
 where vulgar abilities make a sensation by lending 
 themselves to be the organ of a party. So we find in 
 life a multitude of persons who have not character 
 enough to stand by themselves : these enlist in some 
 party, and thus feel stronger and make some figure. 
 Beranger, on the other hand, is a genius sufficient 
 to itself, and therefore has never served any party. 
 He enjoys too much satisfaction in his inner life, for 
 the world to have power over him, either to give or 
 to take away." 
 
 Sunday, 15th May. 
 
 Dined with Goethe alone in his work-room. After 
 much pleasant conversation, he rose and took from 
 his desk a written paper. 
 
 " One," said he, " who has, like myself, passed the 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 401 
 
 age of eighty, has hardly a right to live, and ought 
 each day to hold himself ready to be called away. I 
 have, as I lately told you, appointed you in my will 
 as the editor of my literary legacy, and have this 
 morning drawn up a sort of contract, which I wish 
 you to subscribe with me." 
 
 He placed before me the paper, in which I found 
 myself, with certain stipulations and conditions, 
 appointed the editor of the works, partly finished and 
 partly not, which were to be published after his death. 
 I had come to an understanding with him upon 
 essentials, and we both signed the contract. 
 
 I supposed the material, which I had already from 
 time to time been busy in revising, might make out 
 fifteen volumes. 
 
 " It may chance," said Goethe, " that the publisher 
 is unwilling to go beyond a certain number of volumes, 
 and that some part of the materials cannot be used. 
 In that case, omit the polemics of my Farbenlehre. 
 My peculiar doctrine is contained in the theoretical 
 part ; and there is enough of polemics in the historical, 
 as the leading errors of the Newtonian theory are 
 pointed out there. I nowise disavow my severe 
 dissection of the Newtonian maxims ; it was necessary 
 at the time, and will, also, have its value hereafter ; 
 but, at bottom, all polemical activity is repugnant to 
 my disposition, and I can take but little pleasure 
 in it." 
 
 We also talked about the best way of disposing of 
 the Maxims and Reflections, which had been printed 
 in the second and third volumes of the Wanderjahre. 
 
 Il2 
 
402 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 When he began to work over and finish this 
 romance, which had, originally, been published in one 
 volume, Goethe intended to expand it into two, and 
 so announced it for the new edition. But, as the man- 
 uscript grew beneath his hands more than he expected, 
 and as his secretary wrote it out in so loose a way 
 as to spread it over more paper than was necessary, 
 he was deceived into thinking he had enough for three 
 volumes, and sent it so arranged to the publishers. 
 But when the press had reached a certain point, it was 
 found that Goethe had made a miscalculation, and 
 that the two last volumes would be too small. They 
 sent for more manuscript, and, as the course of the 
 whole could not be altered, and no new novel could be 
 invented, written, and inserted, on the spur of the 
 occasion, Goethe was much perplexed about filling 
 up the space. 
 
 He sent for me, told me the difficulty, and men- 
 tioned, at the same time, what means had occurred 
 to him for helping himself out of the difficulty. 
 He showed me two large bundles of manuscript, 
 saying — 
 
 " In these two parcels you will find various hitherto 
 unpublished and unfinished works, essays on natural 
 science, art, literature, and life, all mingled together. 
 Suppose you should prepare from these six or eight 
 sheets, to fill the gap in my romance. Though, 
 closely looked to, they do not belong there, yet, as 
 Makaria's Archive is mentioned, an excuse is afforded 
 for inserting them ; and thus we shall not only get 
 over the present difficulty, but find a vehicle for 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 403 
 
 introducing to the world a number of interesting 
 things." 
 
 I prepared them, accordingly, with speed, and Goethe 
 seemed well satisfied with the course I had adopted. 
 I put together the whole in two parts, one under the 
 title " From Makaria's Archive ; " the other, under the 
 head " According to the Thoughts of the Wanderer." 
 And, as Goethe, just at this time, had finished two 
 fine poems, one Auf Schiller $ Schädel, and the other 
 Kein Wesen kann zu nichts zerfallen, he was desirous 
 also to bring out these poems, and we added them 
 at the close of the two divisions. 
 
 But when the Wanderjahre came out, no one knew 
 what to make of all this. The progress of the 
 romance was seen to be interrupted by a parcel of 
 enigmatical sayings, whose explanation could be 
 expected only from men of a certain class, such as 
 artists, literati, and natural philosophers, and which 
 greatly annoyed all other readers, especially lady 
 readers. And the two poems were as far from being 
 understood as may be supposed when found so out 
 of place. Goethe laughed at all this. 
 
 " What is done is done," said he to-day, " and all 
 you have to do is, in a future edition, to insert these 
 things in their proper places, and republish the 
 Wanderjahre in two volumes, according to my original 
 intention." 
 
 We agreed that I should arrange all that belonged 
 to Art, Nature, Literature, and Ethics, each in a 
 volume, under a suitable title. 
 
404 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 Wednesday, 25th May. 
 We talked of " Wallenstein's Camp." I had often 
 heard that Goethe had assisted in the composition of 
 this, and, in particular, that the Capuchin sermon 
 came from him. To-day, I asked him, and he re- 
 plied — 
 
 " At bottom, it is all Schiller's own work. But, 
 as we lived in such a relation that Schiller not only 
 told me his plan, and talked it over with me, but also 
 communicated what he did from day to day, hearing 
 and using my remarks, I may be said to have had some 
 share in it. As to the Capuchin's sermon, I sent him 
 a discourse, by Abraham a Sancta Clara, and he 
 immediately prepared his with great talent. 
 
 " I scarcely remember any passages to have come 
 from me except the two verses — 
 
 ' Ein Hauptmann den ein andrer erstach 
 Liess mir ein paar glückliche Würfel nach,' 
 
 For, wishing to give some motive for the peasant's 
 use of the false dice, I wrote down these lines in the 
 manuscript with my own hand. Schiller did not 
 trouble himself about that, but, in his bold way, gave 
 the peasant the dice without inquiring how he came 
 by them. A careful linking together of motives was, 
 as I have said, not in his way ; whence, perhaps, his 
 pieces had so much the greater effect on the stage." 
 
 Sunday, 29th May. 
 Goethe told me of a boy who could not tranquillize 
 himself after he had committed a trifling error. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 405 
 
 " I was sorry to observe this," said he; " it shows 
 a too great tenderness of conscience, which values 
 so highly the peculiar moral self that it will excuse 
 nothing in it. Such a conscience makes hypochon- 
 driacal men, unless it is balanced by great activity." 
 
 A nest of young hedge-sparrows, with one of the 
 old birds, had lately been brought me. I saw with 
 admiration the bird not only continue to feed the 
 young in my chamber, but, when set free through the 
 window, return to take charge of them. Such pa- 
 rental love, superior to danger and imprisonment, 
 moved me deeply, and I, to-day, expressed my feelings 
 of surprise to Goethe. 
 
 "Simple man!" he replied, with a meaning smile ; 
 " if you believed in God, you would not wonder. 
 
 " ' Ihm ziemt's, die Welt im Innern zu beicegcn, 
 Natur in Sich, Sich in Natur zu hegen, 
 So dass, xoas in Ihm lebt, und xoebt, und ist, 
 Nie Seine Kraft, nie Seinen Geist vermisst.' 
 
 " He from within lives through all Nature rather, 
 Nature and Spirit fostering each other ; 
 So that what in Him lives, and moves, and is, 
 Still feels His power, and owns itself still His." 
 
 " Did not God inspire the bird with this all-powerful 
 love for his young, and did not similar impulses 
 pervade all animate nature, the world could not 
 subsist. But even so is the divine energy every 
 where diffused, and divine love every where active." 
 
 So, a few days since, when a model from Myron's 
 cow, with the suckling calf, was sent him by a young 
 artist — 
 
406 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 " Here," said he, " we have a subject of the highest 
 sort — the nourishing principle which upholds the 
 world, and pervades all nature, is brought before our 
 eyes by this beautiful symbol. This, and others of a 
 like nature, I esteem the true symbols of the omni- 
 presence of God." 
 
 Monday, 6th June. 
 
 Goethe showed me the till now wanting beginning 
 of the fifth act of " Faust." I read to the place 
 where the cottage of Philemon and Baucis is burnt, 
 and Faust, standing by night on the balcony of his 
 palace, perceives the smoke, which is borne to him 
 by a light breeze. 
 
 " These names of Philemon and Baucis," said I, 
 " transport me to the Phrygian coast, recalling the 
 famous couple of antiquity. But this scene belongs 
 to modern days, and a Christian land." 
 
 " My Philemon and Baucis," said Goethe, " have 
 nothing to do with the ancient characters and their 
 story. I gave this couple the names merely to mark 
 their characters. The persons and relations being 
 similar, the use of the names has a good effect." 
 
 We then spoke of Faust, whom his hereditary 
 portion of discontent has not left in his old age, and 
 whom, amid all the treasures of the world, and in a 
 new dominion of his own making, a couple of lindens, 
 a cottage, and a bell, which are not his, have power 
 to annoy. He is therein not unlike Ahab, King of 
 Israel, who fancied he possessed nothing, unless he 
 could also make the vineyard of Naboth his own. 
 
 " Faust," said Goethe, " should, according to my 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 407 
 
 design, appear just a hundred years old in the fifth 
 act ; and perhaps it would be well, in some passage, 
 expressly to say so." 
 
 We then spoke of the conclusion, and Goethe 
 directed my attention to the passage — 
 
 " Delivered is the noble spirit 
 
 From the control of evil powers ; 
 Wlw ceaselessly doth strive must merit 
 
 That ice should save and make him ours : 
 Celestial Love did never cease 
 
 To watch him from its upper sphere; 
 The children of eternal peace 
 
 Bear him to cordial welcome there." 
 
 " These lines," said he, " contain the key to Faust's 
 salvation. In himself, an activity becoming constantly 
 higher and purer, eternal love coming from heaven 
 to his aid. This harmonizes perfectly with our 
 religious view, that we cannot obtain heavenly bliss 
 through our own strength, unassisted by divine grace. 
 
 " You will confess that the conclusion, where the 
 redeemed soul is carried up, was difficult to manage ; 
 and that I, amid these supersensual matters, about 
 which we scarce have even an intimation, might 
 easily have lost myself in the vague, if I had not, 
 by means of sharply-drawn figures and images from 
 the Christian church, given my poetical design the 
 desirable form and compactness." 
 
 In the following weeks, Goethe finished the fourth 
 act ; so that, in August, the second part was entirely 
 finished and sewed together. Goethe was extremely 
 
408 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 happy in having attained this object towards which 
 he had been striving so long. 
 
 " My remaining days," said he, " I may now 
 consider a free gift ; and it is truly of little conse- 
 quence what I now do, or whether I do any thing." 
 
 Wednesday, 21st December. 
 Dined with Goethe. The question came up why 
 his Farbenlehre had not spread abroad more exten- 
 sively. 
 
 "It is not easily to be propagated," said he ; 
 " because it must, as you know, not only be read 
 and studied, but also be done, which is difficult. The 
 laws of poetry and painting are also communicable 
 up to a certain degree ; but, to be a good poet or 
 painter, genius is required, which is not communicable. 
 To receive a primitive phenomenon in its simplicity, 
 to recognize its high significance, and work with it 
 accordingly, demands a productive intellect, capable 
 of taking a wide survey, and is a rare gift, only to 
 be found in highly-favored natures. 
 
 "And even this is not enough. For, as no man, 
 with all the rules, and all the genius requisite, is a 
 painter, except by unwearied practice, so with the 
 Farbenlehre — it is not enough that the disciple know 
 the true laws, and have a suitable intellect, unless he 
 is continually busy observing, combining, and drawing 
 inferences from the individual, often very mysterious, 
 phenomena." 
 
 #**####* 
 
 After dinner, we looked at some landscapes, by 
 Poussin. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 409 
 
 " Those places," observed Goethe, " on which the 
 painter throws the principal light, do not admit of 
 detail in the execution ; and, therefore, water, masses 
 of rock, bare ground, and buildings, are most suitable 
 subjects for the reception of the principal light. 
 Things, on the contrary, which require more detail, 
 should not be used by the artist in those light places. 
 
 " A landscape-painter should possess various sorts 
 of knowledge. It is not enough for him to understand 
 perspective, architecture, and the anatomy of men 
 and animals ; he must also have some insight into 
 botany and mineralogy, that he may know how to 
 express properly the characteristics of trees, plants, 
 and the different sorts of mountains. It is not, indeed, 
 necessary that he should be an accomplished mineral- 
 ogist, since he has to do chiefly with lime, slate, or 
 sandstone mountains, and only needs know in what 
 forms they lie, how they are acted upon by the 
 atmosphere, what trees thrive, and what are stinted 
 of their growth upon them." 
 
 He showed me then some landscapes, by Hermann 
 von Schwanefeld, making various remarks upon the 
 art and personality of that eminent man. 
 
 " We find in him," said he, " art and inclination 
 more completely identified than in any other. He 
 has a deep love for nature, and a divine tranquillity, 
 which pass into us as we look upon his pictures. 
 He was born in the Netherlands, and studied at Rome, 
 under Claude Lorraine. On this master he formed 
 himself, and unfolded his fine capacities with perfect 
 success." 
 
 We looked into an " Artist's Lexicon," to see what 
 
 KK 
 
410 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 was said of Von Schwanefeld, and found him censured 
 for not having equalled his master. 
 
 "The fools!" said Goethe; "Von Schwanefeld 
 was a different man from Claude Lorraine, and the 
 latter could not boast of being the better of the two. 
 If there were nothing more in one's life than is told 
 by your writers of biographies and lexicons, it would 
 be a bad business, not worth the trouble it costs." 
 
 At the close of this, and in the beginning of the 
 next year, Goethe turned again to his darling studies, 
 the natural sciences, and, at the suggestion of Boisse- 
 ree, occupied himself with inquiries into the laws 
 of the rainbow ; and also, from sympathy with the 
 dispute between Cuvier and St. Hilaire, with subjects 
 referring to the metamorphoses of the plant and 
 animal world. Also, he aided me in revising the 
 historical part of the Farbenlehre, taking also lively 
 interest in a chapter on the blending of colors, which 
 I, by his desire, was arranging to be inserted in the 
 volume upon the theory. 
 
 During this time, there was no lack of interesting 
 conversations between us, or of valuable utterances 
 on his side. But, as he was daily before my eyes, 
 fresh and energetic as ever, I fancied this must 
 always be so, and was too careless of recording his 
 words, till, on the 22d March, 1832, I, with thousands 
 of noble Germans, was called to weep for his irrepara- 
 ble loss. 
 
 The following I noted down shortly after, from 
 memory : — 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 411 
 
 Early in March, 1832. 
 
 Goethe mentioned at table that he had received a 
 visit from Baron Carl Von Spiegel, with whom he 
 was uncommonly well pleased. 
 
 " He is a very fine young man," said Goethe ; " in 
 his mien and manners the nobleman is seen at once. 
 He can as little dissemble his descent as another 
 man could his intellect; for both birth and intellect 
 give their possessor a stamp which no incognito can 
 conceal. Like beauty, these are powers which one 
 cannot approach without some feeling of their high 
 nature." 
 
 Some days later. 
 
 We talked of the Greek idea of Destiny, as 
 exhibited in their tragedy. 
 
 " It does not suit our way of thinking," said 
 Goethe ; " it is obsolete, and contradicts our views 
 of religion. If a modern poet- introduces those 
 antique ideas into his dramas, he gives them an air 
 of affectation. The dress is, long since, out of 
 fashion, and suits us as ill as the Roman toga 
 would. 
 
 " It is better for us moderns to say with Napoleon, 
 'Political Science is Destiny.' But let us beware 
 of fancying, with our late literati, that politics are 
 poetry, or a suitable subject for the poet. 
 
 " The English poet Thomson wrote a very good 
 poem on the Seasons, a very bad one on Liberty ; 
 and, truly not from want of poetry in the poet, but 
 in the subject. 
 
 "If a poet would work politically, he must give 
 
412 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 himself up to a party ; and so soon as he does that, 
 he is lost as a poet; he must bid farewell to his 
 freedom of spirit, his unlimited prospect, and draw 
 over his ears the cap of bigotry and blind hatred. 
 
 " The poet may, as a man and citizen, love his native 
 land ; but the native land of his poetic energies and 
 poetic action is the Good, Noble, and Beautiful, which 
 is confined to no province nor country, which he is 
 to seize upon and body forth wherever he finds it. 
 Therein is he like the eagle, which hovers, with free 
 gaze, over all countries, and to which it is of no 
 consequence whether the hare, on which he pounces 
 down, is running through Prussia or through Saxony. 
 
 " And what, then, is meant by love of one's country ? 
 what is meant by patriotic deeds ? If the poet has 
 employed a life in battling with pernicious prejudices, 
 in setting aside narrow views, in enlightening the 
 intellects, purifying the tastes, ennobling the feelings 
 and thoughts of his countrymen, what better could 
 he have done 1 how showed himself more truly a 
 patriot? 
 
 " The ungrateful and unsuitable demands made 
 upon a poet are even as if they demanded of the 
 captain of a regiment to show himself a patriot, by 
 taking part in political innovations, which would 
 oblige him to neglect his proper calling. The country 
 of the captain is his regiment, and he will show 
 himself a good patriot by taking only his due part in 
 politics, and bestowing his whole mind, and all his 
 care, so to train and discipline the battalion confided 
 to him, that they may play the desired part, if the 
 native land should be in peril. 
 
CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 413 
 
 " I hate all bungling, like sin ; but, most of all, 
 bungling in state affairs, which produces nothing but 
 mischief to thousands and millions. 
 
 " You know that I, generally speaking, care little 
 what is written about me ; but it comes to my ears, 
 and T know well that, in the eyes of certain people, 
 all my life-long toils and labors are as nothing, merely 
 because I have disdained to mingle in party squabbles 
 about politics. To please such people I must have 
 become a member of a Jacobin club, preaching up 
 bloodshed and murder ; but not a word more upon 
 this subject, lest I show myself unwise in railing 
 against folly." 
 
 Also, he blamed the political course, so much 
 praised by others, of Uhland. 
 
 " Watch well," said he, u and you will see the 
 politician devour the poet. To be a member of the 
 Estates, and live amid perpetual jostlings and excite- 
 ments, is not the life for a poet. His song will cease 
 soon, and that ,is in some sort to be lamented. 
 Swabia has plenty of men, sufficiently well educated, 
 well meaning, able, and fluent of tongue, to be 
 members of the Estates ; but only one poet of 
 Uhland's class." 
 
 The last stranger whom Goethe entertained as his 
 guest was the eldest son of Frau von Arnim ; the 
 last words he wrote were some verses in the album 
 of the above-named young friend. 
 
 The morning after Goethe's death, a deep longing 
 seized me to look yet once again upon his earthly 
 
414 
 
 ECKERMANN. 
 
 garment. His faithful servant, Frederic, opened for 
 me the chamber in which he was laid out. Stretched 
 upon his back, he reposed as if in sleep ; profound 
 peace and security reigned in the features of his 
 noble, dignified countenance. The mighty brow 
 seemed yet the dwelling-place of thought. I wished 
 for a lock of his hair; but reverence prevented me 
 from cutting it off. The body lay naked, only 
 wrapped in a white sheet ; large pieces of ice had 
 been placed around, to keep it fresh as long as 
 possible. Frederic drew aside the sheet, and I was 
 astonished at the divine magnificence of the form. 
 The breast was so powerful, broad, and arched ; 
 the limbs full, and softly muscular ; the feet elegant, 
 and of the most perfect shape ; nowhere, on the 
 whole body, a trace either of fat or of leanness 
 and decay. A perfect man lay in- great beauty 
 before me ; and the rapture which the sight caused, 
 made me forget, for a moment, that the immortal 
 spirit had left such an abode. I laid my hand on 
 his heart — there was a deep silence — and I turned 
 away to give free vent to my tears. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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