SHAKSPEARE EVERLASTING.

III.

SHAKSPEARE AS DRAMATIC POET.

1816.

FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE.

When friends and lovers of art desire to be pleased with uncommon gratification at any work, they penetrate themselves with the unity, and enjoy within themselves the fulness, which the artist was enabled to produce. On the contrary, he who speaks theoretically about such a work, may maintain something in regard to it and may therefore teach and advise, but he does not fulfil his duty. This we hoped to fulfil while we contemplated Shakspeare first as a poet in general and then in comparison with the ancients and moderns. But now we will conclude our essay while we are contemplating him as a dramatic poet.

Shakspeare's name and merit belong to the history of poesy; but it is an injustice to all dramatic poets of the earlier and of the later times to represent their entire merit in the history of the drama.

An universally acknowledged genius can by his abilities establish a fashion which is problematical. The excellent works he produces are not always finished in the most excellent style. Therefore Shakspeare necessarily belongs to the history of poesy; he enters only accidentally into the history of the drama. While one can there unconditionally honor him, yet must one here deliberate upon the conditions with which he joins himself, and extol these conditions not as virtues or as models.

We make a distinction between styles of poetry which have a close affinity and which by lively management often flow in union with one another. Epic, dialogue, drama, stage plays may be separated. Epic requires oral delivery by an individual to the crowd; dialogue, conversation in private company, where the crowd may listen by chance; drama conversation in action, when also it is conducted only before the power-of-imagination; stage plays all three together, so far as the sense of the eye is engaged, and under certain conditions local and personal presence may be easily comprehended.

Shakspeare's works are in this sense particularly dramatic; by his style of treatment, in the representation of internal life, he wins the reader; the stage requirements appear as nothing to him, and so he makes it easy for himself, and every one allows it, taken spirituously, in order to be easy with him. We spring with him from place to place. Our imagination seizes hold of all the inter

ludes he offers, aye we thank him cordially that he arouses up our spirit-power in such a worthy way. By the representation of every thing under the dramatic form he alleviates the operation of the imagination; for as

"All the world's a stage,"

we become acquainted with it as with the world itself, and as we may read and hear the most wonderful things, so we imagine, that what transpires on high can pass at once before our eyes: for this reason there are so many abortive efforts at dramatizing popular

romances.

But taken strictly, there is nothing dramatic except that which is at the same time symbolical for the eyes; an important action which is significant of one still more important. That Shakspeare was conscious of the way to seize upon this high point also, is proved at that moment, where the son and successor took the crown away from the side of the death-sick slumbering king, put it on and strutted about. But these are only instances, scattered jewels, which among many undramatic things are separately esteemed. Shakspeare's whole style of treatment is characterized by something in opposition to the peculiarity of the stage; his great talent is that of an epitomizer; and there the poet in general appears as the epitomizer of nature: therefore we must here also acknowledge. Shakspeare's great merit, but we must at the same time and indeed to his honor avow that the stage was not a fit space for his genius. However it was just this narrowness of the stage requirements that induced him to put a limitation upon himself. But here he did not, like other poets, choose particular materials for his separate labors, for he laid a conception at the centre, and drew on this the world and the universe. Into what a narrow space he condensed ancient and modern history, how he could use the material of every era, on which he often sustained himself even literally. He treated novels less conscientiously as Hamlet testifies. The treatment of Romeo and Juliet is more faithful, yet he destroys the tragic value of the piece almost entirely by the two comic figures Mercutio and the nurse, probably by two popular play actors. The nurse is also in reality made to play a man's part. Let one contemplate the economy of the pieces accurately and he will observe, that both these figures and that which borders on them, appear only as ludicrous intermezzos, which according to our own conclusions must be a harmony of loving intellection intolerable on the stage.

Yet Shakspeare appears most worthy of observation when he edits and re-arranges pieces already existing. Taking King John and Lear, we can apply this comparison, for the older pieces are still remaining. But also in these cases he is again manifestly more of a poet in general than dramatic poet.

But let us hasten in conclusion to the explanation of this enig

ma.

Well-informed men have described the imperfection of the English stage-scenes. There is no trace of the promotion of natural effects which we by degrees, through improvements in machinery, the perspective art and the wardrobe have heightened and advanced to such a point that it would be really difficult for us to be led back again to the infancy of the art: on a scaffolding where one saw little of any thing, where all only signified in general, where the audience were allowed to amuse themselves, to perceive the chamber of a king behind a green curtain, the trumpeter who always blew his horn on a certain spot and much more of the like, who will now at the present time permit such things? Under such circumstances Shakspeare's pieces were the most highly interesting legends told only of several persons, who, in order to make a greater impression, had characteristically masked themselves and who as necessity required moved themselves about here and there, came and went, yet allowed the spectator, to imagine for himself upon the bare boards that he was near the paradise and palace of his choice.

Wherefore Schroeder acquired great merit by bringing Shakspeare's pieces on the German boards, as he is the epitomizer of epitomizers! Schroeder seized hold of nothing but the effective, everything else he threw away, yes, even much that was necessary, when it appeared to him to disturb the influence on his nation, on his time. Therefore for example it is true that by the omission of the first scene in, King Lear, he has exalted the character of the piece; still he is right, for Lear appears so absurd in this scene, that one cannot, in the following, consider his daughters altogether unjust. The old man excites pity but not sympathy, and Schroeder's idea was to arouse a sympathy in his favor, as also an antipathy against the truly unnatural, but yet not altogether blamable daughters.

In the old piece which Shakspeare edited, this scene represents the most admirable effects in the event of the piece. Lear fices towards France, daughter and son-in-law out of romantic caprice make a disguised ramble on the coast, and without recognizing strike the old man. Here that which Shakspeare's high tragic spirit embittered, becomes all sweetened. A comparison of these pieces affords to the pensive friend of art a continually renewed. enjoyment.

But now since many years a notion has been entertained in Germany, that we must represent Shakspeare on the German stage word for word, even although the actors and the spectators might be choked in the attempt. An effort prompted by an excellently accurate translation, would be a total failure, of which the stage at Weimar by honest and repeated endeavors can afford the best testimony. If one would see a Shakspearian piece, he must get it according to Schroeder's treatment; but the phrase allows not an iota to be omitted in the representation of Shakspeare, as

senseless as it may be, one hears it resounding always. The asserter of this opinion maintains its supremacy, also that Shakspeare will in a few years be entirely banished from the German stage, which will be indeed even no misfortune, for the solitary or public reader will experience from him so much the purer enjoy

ment.

Notwithstanding an effort has been made to edit Romeo and Juliet for the theatre at Weimar according to the sense, as we have diffusely described it above. At the first opportunity we will explain the principles on which this is done, when perhaps it will also be acknowledged why this critique, the conception of which is by no means difficult, but which must nevertheless be treated accurately and according to art, has not embraced the German drama. Essays of a similar kind are in operation, and perhaps something will be done for the future, as extraordinary pains produce their main influence not always at the moment.

BIOGRAPHICAL INDIVIDUALITIES.

JACOBI.

FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE.

As the long-tried friend Jacobi was on his journey back from northern Germany he called on me and staid several days. The annunciation instantly gave me great pleasure. His arrival made me happy affection, love, friendship, participation, all were as lively as in former times. But an extraordinary dispute arose in the course of the conversation.

With Schiller, whose character and existence stood perfectly opposed to my own, I had lived along for several years in unbroken intercourse, and our mutual influence had worked upon us in such a manner, that we understood one another even there, where we could not agree. Each held fast to his personality continually until we could agree together again on some other thought and action.

With Jacobi I found just the contrary. We had not seen one another for several years; all that we had experienced, done and suffered, had been elaborated by each one for himself. When we met again that unbound loving confidence manifested itself in all its purity and splendor, animated faith to a perfect participation, as through disposition, so therefore also through thought and deep emotion. But the scene was soon changed, we loved, without understanding one another. No longer could I comprehend the language of his philosophy. He could not suit himself to the world of my emotions. How earnestly I wished to see Schiller here, as

third man, who stood in conjunction, as a thinker with him, as a meditator with me, and then we would have been attracted together into a beautiful union, which at the moment could not be formed between the two over-livers. In this state of feeling we satisfied ourselves in taking mutual notice, only in the most common manner, of our persuasions and philosophical and poetical conduct, and in confirming the old bond faithfully and full of love.

Jacobi had spirit in sense, I nature; that, which should have united, separated us. The first principles of our relation remained unshaken. Affection, love, confidence, were steadily the same, but the animating participation was lost by degrees; until at last it was completely gone. We have never interchanged a friendly word about our later labors. Singular! that persons, who in such a manner give a finished education to their faculties of thinking, are unabled to explain their mutual condition to one another, troubling themselves on account of the one-sided peculiarity of their language, yes allowing themselves to become perplexed from a slight to a prominent error.

Wherefore did you not say in time: He who will rise to the highest point, must have a free will for all; he who acts from the spirit must presuppose nature, he who speaks from nature must presuppose the spirit, or agree with it in silence. Thought will not allow itself to be separated from the thing well considered, neither will the will be severed from the emotion! If an understanding had existed on this, or on that manner, then you could have gone through life hand in hand, instead of that, you are now at the end of the course of your life, contemplating with consciousness the different traveled routes, greeted indeed friendly and cordially but yet with regret.

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FURTHER RESPECTING MY RELATION TO SCHILLER.

Every man must by degrees form a method for himself in the restrained condition of his life, so that he may live comfortably. He is always learning to know himself, also the condition of the outer world; he unites himself into it, but throws himself back again upon himself, and at last forms maxims for himself, to regulate his conduct, by which he may be able to come out through it in an admirable manner; he imparts himself to others, receives impartations from others, and as he is continually experiencing opposition or harmony, he binds himself to, or places a barrier between himself and others, and so we hold on to ourselves and to our friends. But it is seldom the case that persons, who are constituted almost one half different from each other, do not repel but attach themselves to and complete one another.