the name of a religion of spirituality, as it represents the synthetic totality of previous stages out of nature into the human in religion.

GOETHE'S MÄRCHEN:*

A POLITICO-NATIONAL CONFESSION OF FAITH OF THE POET.

BY DR. HERMANN BAUMGART.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY ISAAC N. JUDSON.

CHAPTER I.

Goethe composed the Märchen in the latter part of the summer of 1795, and it was published in the August and September numbers of the first issue of the "Horen."

Immediately upon its first appearance, in spite of the disturbed condition of the times, it not only aroused great interest, but was subjected to manifold interpretations.

"In matters of this sort, the imagination itself does not invent so much as the folly of men discovers; and I am convinced that the interpretations already at hand will surpass all expectation," writes Schiller to Goethe on December 25th. To this the latter answers: "I thank you for your contribution to the interpretation of the Märchen; we will wait a little longer, however. I still hope for a favorable turn in my affairs, so as to be able to have such fun as I choose over it in the 'Unterhaltungen.'"

Of this intended continuation Goethe writes on November 21st: "The new Märchen can scarcely be ready in December; indeed, I do not venture to pass on to it till I have said something in one way or another about the meaning of the first. If I can offer some

* From "The Diversions (Unterhaltungen) of German Emigrants" (see translation in Bohn's Library). These emigrants were the French nobility (émigrés) fleeing from the French Revolution. The reader of this Journal will remember the interpretation of this Märchen ("The Story of the Snake") by Rosenkranz, published in Volume V, and will welcome this explanation of Baumgart, which seems to hit the very thoughts of Goethe himself. Of course every one has read the marvellous rendering of "The Tale," by Thomas Carlyle. It is one of those literary works which should be read once a year, through life.-EDITOR.

thing neat of this kind in December, I shall be glad to take part in this way in the first number of the new year."

Again in February, 1797, and still again in February, 1798, Goethe mentions this purpose of a continuation of the "Unterhaltungen" in a series of projected Märchen; but he did not carry it out.

He therefore failed to leave a definite hint for the interpretation of the Märchen; also from Schiller we learn nothing of the kind, and are thus thrown upon our own conjectures and upon a few chance and not very clear hints. From that time on a great many attempts at interpretation have been made, especially in the thirties and forties and even later, which are all to a greater or less degree inconsistent with one another, and no one of which has stood before criticism. In this one point all the later editors and commentators are agreed, but in every other respect their opinions are divided. Some consider the matter as not yet settled, and still look for the solution of the question under different conditions; others think that a satisfactory interpretation is altogether impossible. One of our most meritorious historians of literature, Carl Goedeke, in his recently published book, "Goethe's Life and Writings," concludes the paragraph upon the Märchen in the following manner: "In view of the praiseworthy habit of learned men, to seek for method even in madness, there is no doubt that there will still be no lack of attempts at interpretation, some of a very bold. nature." He is of the opinion that the Märchen is merely designed to provoke the interpreter with its "motley and droll" inven

tions.

Opposed to this opinion stand the extraordinary praise and the great interest that the Märchen has aroused from its first appearance to the present day. William von Humboldt, as well as Körner, felt himself attracted not only by the form, but especially by the thoughtful and soul-satisfying contents; and Schiller, after reading the first half, expressed the opinion that Goethe had laid upon himself the obligation to make the whole symbolic.

He finds the idea of the Märchen expressed in the Märchen itself, and the majority of commentators also have followed him in this opinion; he finds it in the help which the faculties render one another and in their mutual dependence.

"An individual helps not," says the man with the lamp, "but

he who combines with many at the right time," and shortly after: "We are assembled at the propitious hour; let each perform his task, let each do his duty; and a universal happiness will swallow up individual sorrows, as a universal grief consumes individual joys."

There is no doubt that the idea of the Märchen, which becomes clearer as the narrative advances, is to be sought for in this direction; but the working out of the idea is much too general and is thoroughly obscure. It must be remembered, however, that Goethe was by no means the man to talk about "forces," "ideas," "developments," etc., in general (let alone to enter thus upon a detailed treatment), without thinking of particular, concrete forces, without starting out from actual conditions, or at least from conditions which are present to his conception; or to base abstraction upon these general ideas, to think of them in reciprocal action and then deduce from them his observations and conclusions. I think that I do not mistake when I say that precisely to this fact is owing the truth, attained by no other, and the vigor of his shortest expressions as well as of his greatest creations. And is it possible that he thought of nothing further than the general ideas of wisdom, force, the whole, and the educating love, which by their joint influence make possible a salutary sovereignty? It requires no effort to answer this question. Goethe no more sought in his poems, be it in the long or the short ones, to bring to view a single so-called "idea," than did Homer, Sophocles, and Shakespeare. On the other hand, his poems are so constructed (as is true of all true poetry) that, while they contain a concentrated view of life and present it in higher truth, so in each part and at each step quickening and determining ideas spring to light. Thus each of his poems contains a wealth of ideas, each of which by itself is capable of further development. Thus life presents itself to the spiritual observer, and thus the artist copies it in his works. And further Is it possible that the other numerous and important characters of the Märchen are without real participation in the setting forth of these "ideas"? are invented solely for the amusement of a thoroughly arbitrary, playful fancy are designed to provoke and lead astray the lovers of riddles? This would be the work of a mediocre poet, or rather of a dull mind; it may not be charged against a Goethe.

Let us consider the nature and scope of a Märchen. No doubt the objection will quickly be raised that with the nature of the genuine Volksmärchen men were not yet acquainted at that time; that the Märchen of Goethe is a "manufactured" affair, imitated from a French example. Very true! But how manufactured? So that it fascinated the greatest and finest minds, and still to-day charms every one by its grace. Compare it with the best productions of the romantic school, and its true Märchen-character is recognized by an unmistakable sign in contrast with the false and corrupt character of the romantic Märchen. The imagination which creates in a thoroughly arbitrary manner, confusing all contrasts, and harassing the mind like a bad dream, as it prevails, for example, in the Phantasus-Märchen, or, indeed, the strange spectre of Hoffmann's inventions, releases the reader the more deeply affected with a stifling sensation of depression and bewilderment according as he has the more completely surrendered himself to its influence. On the other hand, the Märchen of Goethe (in this altogether like the true Märchen) possesses not only a pleasing grace, but also a sound pragmatism, which, without detriment to the many wonder-working powers, even in the Märchen world, has its unassailable rights.

The question how this has come about, upon what this influence rests, I might answer in general by another question, which suggests itself at the same time. It is this: How can an altogether allegorical Märchen stand before æsthetic criticism? By the rules of art, is not allegory excluded from the realm of art, and by no less a critic than Lessing himself? The answer is, Yes, and very rightly; yet, in spite of this unassailable judgment of Lessing, it has happened more than once that poems of the highest rank, which satisfy the demands of the highest æsthetic criticism, have been considered altogether allegorical, and been made dependent in every detail upon an allegorical interpretation. The truth is, that Lessing pronounces judgment against nothing but the abuse. of allegory, against a cold, repellent "Allegoristerei," and against this especially in so far as it has done harm in the art of painting. True allegory, on the other hand, is in the highest degree poetic. The allegorical manner of representation causes that which it wishes to present to be recognized by the presentation of another, similar thing. Thus it does nothing more than every figurative

method of expression does. However, it does not content itself (as its name would indicate, meaning a narrative method of presentation) with putting a similar, concrete thing to represent a single idea; but it understands how to present the relations and mutual influences of ideas by means of objects and beings set in action. In this manner of treatment two very serious faults can be committed in opposite ways, and they have been regularly committed by minds of the lesser order as soon as they have ventured upon allegory. It is well known to be a very troublesome matter to employ good figures in speech, but the carrying out of good figures in allegory is infinitely more difficult, for a close resemblance has here to be kept up; and so the majority of writers have attained to a half resemblance only, or to a resemblance corresponding in position merely, and in consequence have become unintelligible—that is, the means employed come into conflict with the abstract aim, and thus the result is inartistic. But it happens more frequently that writers allow the meaning which they wish to present to so dominate the concrete means of presentation that the characters and objects which make the action lose their freedom-that is, do not speak, act, and conduct themselves according to their nature and the conditions in which they are placed, but as is dictated by a law lying entirely outside themselves namely, that of the abstract purpose which exists in the poet's intention. For this reason this whole class of poems is completely shut out from the sphere of art. The beautiful arises only in the realm of perfect freedom and of the highest internal justice and truth. The discordant, heterogeneous intention of the would-be poet rules everywhere in these faulty allegories.

It is evident, however, that there remains a third case: it is when figure and meaning always completely conceal themselves in the details and in the whole by means of a perfect resemblance. The poet so chooses or invents his objects and beings and their changes, which make the action, that they are and continue to be in perfect harmony with themselves and with one another, and, what is more, that they are beautiful in themselves, or at least that the reader attains to a perception of the beautiful through what is brought to pass by them. What the poet offers must in itself completely satisfy in form and content all the demands of art. There is, moreover, a second point to be noticed. At every