Conversations of Goethe, with Eckermann and Soret by Johann Peter Eckermann

Author:Johann Peter Eckermann
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature, Non-Fiction, German, 19th Century, Biographical, Goethe
Publisher: HXA7241
Published: 1835-09-04T16:00:00+00:00

Mon., Sep. 24.

I went with Goethe to Berka. We drove off soon after eight o'clock; the morning was very beautiful. The road is up-hill at first, and, as there was nothing in the scenery worth looking at, Goethe talked on literary subjects. A well-known German poet had lately passed through Weimar, and shown Goethe his album.

“You cannot imagine what stuff it contains,” said Goethe. “All the poets write as if they were ill, and the whole world were a lazaretto. They all speak of the woe and the misery of this earth, and of the joys of a hereafter; all are discontented, and one draws the other into a state of still greater discontent. This is a real abuse of poetry, which was given to us to hide the little discords of life, and to make man contented with the world and his condition. But the present generation is afraid of all such strength, and only feels poetical when it has weakness to deal with.

“I have hit on a good word,” continued Goethe, “to tease these gentlemen. I will call their poetry ‘Lazaretto-poetry,’ and I will give the name of Tyrtæan-poetry to that which not only sings war-songs, but also arms men with courage to undergo the conflicts of life.”

Goethe's words received my full assent.

At the bottom of the carriage lay a basket made of rushes, with two handles, which attracted my attention. “I brought it with me from Marienbad,” said Goethe, “where there are baskets of the sort of every variety of size, and I am so accustomed to it that I cannot travel without it. You see when it is empty it folds up, and occupies but little room, but when it is full it stretches out very wide, and holds more than you would imagine. It is soft and pliant, and at the same time so tough and strong, that the heaviest things can be carried in it.”

“It has a very picturesque and even an antique appearance,” said I.

“You are right,” said Goethe; “it does approach the antique character, since it is not only as fit for its purpose as possible; but it has the simplest and most pleasing form, so that we may say it stands on the highest point of perfection. During my mineralogical excursions in the Bohemian mountains, I have found it especially serviceable; now, it contains our breakfast. If I had a hammer, I should not lack an opportunity to-day to knock off a piece here and there, and bring home the basket full of stones.”

We had now reached the heights, and had a free prospect towards the hills behind which Berka lies. A little to the left we saw into the valley which leads to Hetschburg, and where, on the other side of the Ilm, is a hill, which now turned towards us its shadowy side, and, on account of the vapours of the valley which hovered before it, seemed blue to my eye. I looked at the same spot through my glass, and the blue was obviously diminished.

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