Autobiography of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe | Page 4

difficult,' observes a writer on this subject, 'to name two
books which have exercised a deeper influence on the subsequent
literature of Europe, than these two performances of a young author;
his first-fruits, the produce of his twenty-fourth year. /Werter/ appeared
to seize the hearts of men in all quarters of the world, and to utter for
them the word which they had long been waiting to hear. As usually
happens, too, this same word, once uttered, was soon abundantly
repeated; spoken in all dialects, and chaunted through all notes of the
gamut, till the sound of it had grown a weariness rather than a pleasure.
Sceptical sentimentality, view-hunting, love, friendship, suicide, and
desperation, became the staple of literary ware; and though the
epidemic, after a long course of years, subsided in Germany, it
reappeared with various modifications in other countries, and
everywhere abundant traces of its good and bad effects are still to be
discerned. The fortune of /Berlichingen with the Iron Hand,/ though
less sudden, was by no means less exalted. In his own county, /Götz,/
though he now stands solitary and childless, became the parent of an
innumerable progeny of chivalry plays, feudal delineations, and
poetico- antiquarian performances; which, though long ago deceased,
made noise enough in their day and generation: and with ourselves, his
influence has been perhaps still more remarkable. Sir Walter Scott's
first literary enterprise was a translation of /Götz von Berlichingen/;
and, if genius could be communicated like instruction, we might call
this work of Goethe's the prime cause of /Marmion/ and the /Lady of

the Lake/, with all that has followed from the same creative hand. Truly,
a grain of seed that has lighted on the right soil! For if not firmer and
fairer, it has grown to be taller and broader than any other tree; and all
the nations of the earth are still yearly gathering of its fruit.
'But overlooking these spiritual genealogies, which bring little certainty
and little profit, it may be sufficient to observe of /Berlichingen/ and
/Werter/, that they stand prominent among the causes, or, at the very
least, among the signals of a great change in modern literature. The
former directed men's attention with a new force to the picturesque
effects of the Past; and the latter, for the first time, attempted the more
accurate delineation of a class of feelings deeply important to modern
minds, but for which our elder poetry offered no exponent, and perhaps
could offer none, because they are feelings that arise from Passion
incapable of being converted into Action, and belong chiefly to an age
as indolent, cultivated and unbelieving as our own. This,
notwithstanding the dash of falsehood which may exist in /Werter/
itself, and the boundless delirium of extravagance which it called forth
in others, is a high praise which cannot justly be denied it.'
To the same dark wayward mood, which, in /Werter/, pours itself forth
in bitter wailings over human life; and, in /Berlichingen/, appears as a
fond and sad looking back into the Past, belong various other
productions of Goethe's; for example, the /Mitschuldigen/, and the first
idea of Faust, which, however, was not realized in actual composition
till a calmer period of his history. Of this early harsh and crude, yet
fervid and genial period, /Werter/ may stand here as the representative;
and, viewed in its external and internal relation, will help to illustrate
both the writer and the public he was writing for.
At the present day, it would be difficult for us, satisfied, nay sated to
nausea, as we have been with the doctrines of Sentimentality, to
estimate the boundless interest which /Werter/ must have excited when
first given to the world. It was then new in all senses; it was wonderful,
yet wished for, both in its own country and in every other. The
Literature of Germany had as yet but partially awakened from its long
torpor: deep learning, deep reflection, have at no time been wanting

there; but the creative spirit had for above a century been almost extinct.
Of late, however, the Ramlers, Rabeners, Gellerts, had attained to no
inconsiderable polish of style; Klopstock's /Messias/ had called forth
the admiration, and perhaps still more the pride, of the country, as a
piece of art; a high enthusiasm was abroad; Lessing had roused the
minds of men to a deeper and truer interest in Literature, had even
decidedly begun to introduce a heartier, warmer and more expressive
style. The Germans were on the alert; in expectation, or at least in full
readiness for some far bolder impulse; waiting for the Poet that might
speak to them from the heart to the heart. It was in Goethe that such a
Poet was to be given them.
Nay, the Literature of other countries, placid, self-satisfied