Goethe, On Greatness 1825
Goethe, On Greatness 1825
Goethe, On Greatness 1825
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appeared a far more complete character, and far more clear as to himself and his
views, than in anything else written about him.
"Major Parry," continued Goethe, "must be an elevated a noble person; —
so fully to have conceived, and so perfectly to have described his friend. One
passage in his book has pleased me particularly; it is worthy of an old Greek
of a Plutarch. 'The noble lord,' says Parry, 'was destitute of all those virtues
which adorn the bourgeois class, and which he was prevented from attaining
by his birth, education, and mode of life. Now all his unfavourable judges are
from the middle class; and these censoriously pity him, because they miss in
him that which they have reason to prize in themselves. The good folks do not
reflect that for his own high station he possessed virtues of which they can form
no conception.' How do you like that?" said Goethe: "we do not hear so good
a thing every day."
"I am glad," said I, "to see publicly expressed an opinion by which all the
puny censors and detractors of a man higher than themselves must be at once
disabled and overthrown."
We then discussed subjects of universal history in relation to poetry, and
how far the history of one nation may be more favourable to the poet than that
of another.
"The poet," said Goethe, "should seize the Particular; and he should, if there
be anything sound in it, thus represent the Universal. English history is excel-
lent for poetry; because it is something genuine, healthy, and therefore univer-
sal, which repeats itself over and over again. French history, on the contrary, is
not for poetry; as it represents an era that carmot come again. The literature of
the French, so far asit is founded on that era, stands as something of merely
Wednesday, October 12
I found Goethe in a very elevated mood this evening. We talked about the state
of the newest literature, when Goethe expressed himself as follows:
"Deficiency of character in individual investigators and writers is the source
of all the evils of our newest literature.
"In criticism especially, this defect produces mischief to the world; for it
either diffuses the false instead of the true, or by a pitiful truth deprives us of
something great that would be better.
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1825
Scasvola — and suffered itself by this belief to be warmed and inspired. But
now comes your historical criticism, and says that those persons never lived,
but are to be regarded as fables and fictions divined by the great mind of the
Romans. What are we to do with so pitiful a truth? If the Romans were great
enough to invent such stories, we should at least be great enough to believe
them.
was always pleased with a great fact in the thirteenth century,
"Till lately, I
when the Emperor Frederick the Second was at variance with the Pope, and
the north of Germany was open to all sorts of hostile attacks. Asiatic hordes
had actually penetrated as far as Silesia, when the Duke of Liegnitz terrified
them by one great defeat. They then turned to Moravia, but were there de-
feated by Count Sternberg. These valiant men had on this account been hving
in my heart as the great saviours of the German nation. But now comes histor-
ical criticism, and says that these heroes sacrificed themselves quite uselessly,
as the Asiatic army was would have returned of its own
already recalled and
accord. Thus is a great national fact crippled and destroyed, which seems to me
most abominable."
Goethe spoke of another class of seekers and literary men.
"I could never," said he, "have known so well how paltry men are, and how
little they care for really high aims, if I had not tested them by my scientific
researches. Thus I saw thatmost men only care for science so far as they get a
living by it, and that they worship even error when it affords them a subsis-
tence.
"In belles lettres it is no better. There, too, high aims, and genuine love for the
true and sound and for their diffusion, are very rare phenomena. 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 drive it from the
world, so that only such as they might be of importance in it. Such are the
masses; and the prominent individuals are no better.
"
's great talents and world-embracing learning might have done
much for his country. But his want of character has deprived the world of such
great results, and himself of the esteem of the country.
"We want a man like Lessing. For how was he great, except in character in —
firmness? There are many men as clever and as cultivated, but where is such
character?
"Many are full of esprit and knowledge, but they arc also full of vanity; and,
that they may shine as wits before the short-sighted multitude, they have no
—
shame or delicacy nothing is sacred to them. Madame de Genlis was there-
fore perfectly right when she declaimed against the freedoms and profanities
of Voltaire. Clever as they all may be, the world has derived no profit from
them; they afford a foundation for nothing. Nay, they have been of the greatest
'
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injury; since they have confused men, and robbed them of their needful sup-
port.
"After what do we know, and how far can we go with all our wit? Man is
all,
born, not to solve the problems of the universe, but to find out where the prob-
lem applies, and then to restrain himself within the limits of the comprehensi-
ble. His faculties are not sufficient to measure the actions of the universe; and
an attempt to explain the outer world by reason is, with his narrow view, vain.
The reason of man and the reason of the Deity are two very different things.
"If we grant freedom to man, there is an end to the omniscience of God; for
if the Divinity knows how I shall act, I must act so perforce. I give this merely
as a sign how Uttle we know, and to show that it is not good to meddle with
divine mysteries.
"Moreover, we should only utter higher maxims so far as they can benefit
the world. The rest we should keep within ourselves, and they will diffiise over
our actions a lustre like the mild radiance of a hidden sun."
Sunday, December 25
I went to Goethe this evening at six. I found him alone, and passed with him
some dehghtful hours.
"My mind," said he, "has of late been burdened. So much good has been
flowing in to me on all sides, that the mere ceremony of returning thanks has
prevented me from having any practical life. The privileges respecting the
pubhcation of my
works have been gradually coming in from the different
courts; and, as the position was different in each case, each required a different
answer. Then came the proposals of innumerable booksellers, which also had
to be considered, acted upon, and answered. Then myjubilee has brought me
such thousandfold attentions that I have not yet got through my letters of ac-
knowledgment. I cannot be content with hollow generalities, but wish to say
something appropriate to everyone. Now I am gradually becoming free, and
feel again disposed for conversation.
"I have of late made an observation, which I will impart to you.
"Everything we do has But that which is right and prudent does not
a result.
always lead to good, nor the contrary to what is bad; frequently the reverse
takes place. Some time since, I made a mistake in one of these transactions with
booksellers, and was sorry that I had done so. But now circumstances have so
altered, that, if I had not made that very mistake, I should have made a greater
one. Such instances occur frequently in life; and hence we see men of the
world, who know this, going to work with great freedom and boldness."
This remark was new to me. I then turned the conversation to some of his
works, and we came to the elegy Alexis and Dora.
"In this poem," said Goethe, "people have blamed the strong passionate
conclusion, and would have liked the elegy to end gently and peacefully with-
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