Delphi Collected Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe \(Illustrated\) pdfdrive com

CHAPTER IV.

One of the conditions under which our friend had gone upon the stage was not

acceded  to  by  Serlo  without  some  limitations.  Wilhelm  had  required  that

“Hamlet” should be played entire and unmutilated: the other had agreed to this

strange  stipulation,  in  so  far  as  it  was  possible.  On  this  point  they  had  many  a

contest; for as to what was possible or not possible, and what parts of the piece

could be omitted without mutilating it, the two were of very different opinions.

Wilhelm  was  still  in  that  happy  season  when  one  cannot  understand  how,  in

the  woman  one  loves,  in  the  writer  one  honors,  there  should  be  any  thing

defective. The feeling they excite in us is so entire, so accordant with itself, that

we cannot help attributing the same perfect harmony to the objects themselves.

Serlo  again  was  willing  to  discriminate,  perhaps  too  willing:  his  acute

understanding could usually discern in any work of art nothing but a more or less

imperfect whole. He thought, that as pieces usually stood, there was little reason

to  be  chary  about  meddling  with  them;  that  of  course  Shakspeare,  and

particularly “Hamlet,” would need to suffer much curtailment.

But, when Serlo talked of separating the wheat from the chaff, Wilhelm would

not  hear  of  it.  “It  is  not  chaff  and  wheat  together,”  said  he:  “it  is  a  trunk  with

boughs,  twigs,  leaves,  buds,  blossoms,  and  fruit.  Is  not  the  one  there  with  the

others, and by means of them?” To which Serlo would reply, that people did not

bring  a  whole  tree  upon  the  table;  that  the  artist  was  required  to  present  his

guests with silver apples in platters of silver. They exhausted their invention in

similitudes, and their opinions seemed still farther to diverge.

Our friend was on the borders of despair, when on one occasion, after much

debating,  Serlo  counselled  him  to  take  the  simple  plan,    —    to  make  a  brief

resolution, to grasp his pen, to peruse the tragedy; dashing out whatever would

not answer, compressing several personages into one: and if he was not skilled in

such  proceedings,  or  had  not  heart  enough  for  going  through  with  them,  he

might leave the task to him, the manager, who would engage to make short work

with it.

“That  is  not  our  bargain,”  answered  Wilhelm.  “How  can  you,  with  all  your

taste, show so much levity?”

“My  friend,”  cried  Serlo,  “you  yourself  will  erelong  feel  it  and  show  it.  I

know too well how shocking such a mode of treating works is: perhaps it never

was allowed on any theatre till now. But where, indeed, was ever one so slighted

as  ours?  Authors  force  us  on  this  wretched  clipping  system,  and  the  public

---

tolerates it. How many pieces have we, pray, which do not overstep the measure

of our numbers, of our decorations and theatrical machinery, of the proper time,

of the fit alternation of dialogue, and the physical strength of the actor? And yet

we are to play, and play, and constantly give novelties. Ought we not to profit by

our privilege, then, since we accomplish just as much by mutilated works as by

entire ones? It is the public itself that grants the privilege. Few Germans, perhaps

few men of any modern nation, have a proper sense of an æsthetic whole: —

they praise and blame by passages; they are charmed by passages; and who has

greater reason to rejoice at this than actors, since the stage is ever but a patched

and piece-work matter?”

“Is!”  cried  Wilhelm;  “but  must  it  ever  be  so?  Must  every  thing  that  is

continue? Convince me not that you are right, for no power on earth should force

me  to  abide  by  any  contract  which  I  had  concluded  with  the  grossest

misconceptions.”

Serlo  gave  a  merry  turn  to  the  business,  and  persuaded  Wilhelm  to  review

once  more  the  many  conversations  they  had  had  together  about  “Hamlet,”  and

himself to invent some means of properly re-forming the piece.

After  a  few  days,  which  he  had  spent  alone,  our  friend  returned  with  a

cheerful  look.  “I  am  much  mistaken,”  cried  he,  “if  I  have  not  now  discovered

how the  whole  is  to be  managed:  nay,  I am  convinced  that  Shakspeare  himself

would have arranged it so, had not his mind been too exclusively directed to the

ruling  interest,  and  perhaps  misled  by  the  novels  which  furnished  him  with  his

materials.”

“Let  us  hear,”  said  Serlo,  placing  himself  with  an  air  of  solemnity  upon  the

sofa: “I will listen calmly, but judge with rigor.”

“I am not afraid of you,” said Wilhelm: “only hear me. In the composition of

this play, after the most accurate investigation and the most mature reflection, I

distinguish two classes of objects. The first are the grand internal relations of the

persons  and  events,  the  powerful  effects  which  arise  from  the  characters  and

proceedings of the main figures: these, I hold, are individually excellent; and the

order  in  which  they  are  presented  cannot  be  improved.  No  kind  of  interference

must be suffered to destroy them, or even essentially to change their form. These

are the things which stamp themselves deep into the soul, which all men long to

see,  which  no  one  dares  to  meddle  with.  Accordingly,  I  understand,  they  have

almost  wholly  been  retained  in  all  our  German  theatres.  But  our  countrymen

have erred, in my opinion, with regard to the second class of objects, which may

be  observed  in  this  tragedy:  I  allude  to  the  external  relations  of  the  persons,

whereby they are brought from place to place, or combined in various ways, by

certain accidental incidents. These they have looked upon as very unimportant;

---

have spoken of them only in passing, or left them out altogether. Now, indeed, it

must  be  owned,  these  threads  are  slack  and  slender;  yet  they  run  through  the

entire piece, and bind together much that would otherwise fall asunder, and does

actually fall asunder, when you cut them off, and imagine you have done enough

and more, if you have left the ends hanging.

“Among these external relations I include the disturbances in Norway, the war

with  young  Fortinbras,  the  embassy  to  his  uncle,  the  settling  of  that  feud,  the

march  of  young  Fortinbras  to  Poland,  and  his  coming  back  at  the  end;  of  the

same sort are Horatio’s return from Wittenberg, Hamlet’s wish to go thither, the

journey of Laertes to France, his return, the despatch of Hamlet into England, his

capture by pirates, the death of the two courtiers by the letter which they carried.

All  these  circumstances  and  events  would  be  very  fit  for  expanding  and

lengthening  a  novel;  but  here  they  injure  exceedingly  the  unity  of  the  piece,

particularly  as  the  hero  has  no  plan,  and  are,  in  consequence,  entirely  out  of

place.”

“For once in the right!” cried Serlo.

“Do not interrupt me,” answered Wilhelm: “perhaps you will not always think

me right. These errors are like temporary props of an edifice: they must not be

removed  till  we  have  built  a  firm  wall  in  their  stead.  My  project,  therefore,  is,

not at all to change those first-mentioned grand situations, or at least as much as

possible  to  spare  them,  both  collectively  and  individually;  but  with  respect  to

these  external,  single,  dissipated,  and  dissipating  motives,  to  cast  them  all  at

once away, and substitute a solitary one instead of them.”

“And this?” inquired Serlo, springing up from his recumbent posture.

“It lies in the piece itself,” answered Wilhelm, “only I employ it rightly. There

are disturbances in Norway. You shall hear my plan, and try it.”

“After the death of Hamlet the father, the Norwegians, lately conquered, grow

unruly. The viceroy of that country sends his son, Horatio, an old school-friend

of Hamlet’s, and distinguished above every other for his bravery and prudence,

to Denmark, to press forward the equipment of the fleet, which, under the new

luxurious king, proceeds but slowly. Horatio has known the former king, having

fought in his battles, having even stood in favor with him, — a circumstance by

which  the  first  ghost-scene  will  be  nothing  injured.  The  new  sovereign  gives

Horatio audience, and sends Laertes into Norway with intelligence that the fleet

will soon arrive; whilst Horatio is commissioned to accelerate the preparation of

it: and the Queen, on the other hand, will not consent that Hamlet, as he wishes,

should go to sea along with him.”

“Heaven be praised!” cried Serlo: “we shall now get rid of Wittenberg and the

university,  which  was  always  a  sorry  piece  of  business.  I  think  your  idea

---

extremely good; for, except these two distant objects, Norway and the fleet, the

spectator  will  not  be  required  to  fancy  any  thing:  the  rest  he  will  see;  the  rest

takes place before him; whereas, his imagination, on the other plan, was hunted

over all the world.”

“You easily perceive,” said Wilhelm, “how I shall contrive to keep the other

parts together. When Hamlet tells Horatio of his uncle’s crime, Horatio counsels

him to go to Norway in his company, to secure the affections of the army, and

return  in  warlike  force.  Hamlet  also  is  becoming  dangerous  to  the  King  and

Queen; they find no readier method of deliverance, than to send him in the fleet,

with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to be spies upon him; and, as Laertes in the

mean time comes from France, they determine that this youth, exasperated even

to  murder,  shall  go  after  him.  Unfavorable  winds  detain  the  fleet:  Hamlet

returns;  for  his  wandering  through  the  churchyard,  perhaps  some  lucky  motive

may  be  thought  of;  his  meeting  with  Laertes  in  Ophelia’s  grave  is  a  grand

moment,  which  we  must  not  part  with.  After  this,  the  King  resolves  that  it  is

better  to  get  quit  of  Hamlet  on  the  spot:  the  festival  of  his  departure,  the

pretended  reconcilement  with  Laertes,  are  now  solemnized;  on  which  occasion

knightly  sports  are  held,  and  Laertes  fights  with  Hamlet.  Without  the  four

corpses, I cannot end the play: no one must survive. The right of popular election

now again comes in force; and Hamlet, while dying, gives his vote to Horatio.”

“Quick!  quick!”  said  Serlo,  “sit  down  and  work  the  play:  your  plan  has  my

entire approbation; only let not your zeal evaporate.”

---