Significant Furtherance through a Single Ingenious Word

Translated from: "Bedeutende Fördernis durch ein einziges geistreiches Wort," in Zur Morphologie, Band II, Heft 1 (1823). Text from the Berliner Ausgabe, Band 16 (1960 ff.).

Translation note: This short essay, written in response to Johann Christian August Heinroth's characterisation of Goethe's thinking as gegenständlich, is among Goethe's most concentrated reflections on his own method — the inseparability of thinking and perceiving, and the patient, object-directed unfolding of knowledge over decades.

Dr Heinroth, in his Anthropologie — a work to which we shall return on several occasions — speaks favourably of my nature and activity; indeed he characterises my method as a peculiar one: namely, that my faculty of thought is object-directedly active [gegenständlich tätig],Gegenständlich — from Gegenstand, literally "that which stands against [the subject]": gegen (against, toward), from Proto-Germanic *gagin, and Stand (standing), from PIE *steh₂- (to stand). We translate as "object-directed" to preserve the etymological link to Gegenstand (object) and the active, directed quality Goethe emphasises. Distinguished from objektiv (objective), which connotes neutrality or freedom from bias, gegenständlich denotes a thinking that proceeds from and remains bound to the concrete objects themselves — a thinking in which the thinker's activity and the object's determinacy are inseparable. by which he means to say: that my thinking does not separate itself from objects, that the elements of the objects, the contemplations [Anschauungen],Anschauung — from anschauen (to look at, behold): an- (at, toward) + schauen (to gaze), from Old High German scouwōn, Proto-Germanic *skawwōną (to look at), likely from PIE *kewh₂- (to perceive, observe) — the same root as English "show." We translate as "contemplation" to capture the sustained, attentive quality of Goethe's looking. In Kantian philosophy Anschauung is standardly rendered "intuition" (immediate, non-discursive cognition), while Goethe's usage is more concrete and perceptual — an active beholding of the thing itself, in which perception and thought are not yet divided. enter into it and are most intimately pervaded by it, that my contemplating is itself a thinking, my thinking a contemplating; a method to which the aforementioned friend is not unwilling to lend his approval.

What reflections that single word, accompanied by such approbation, has stirred in me, the following few pages may express, which I commend to the sympathetic reader, provided he has first acquainted himself with the fuller account on page 387 of the aforementioned book.

In the present as in the earlier issues I have pursued the intention: to express how I contemplate nature, but at the same time, in a certain measure, to reveal myself, my inner being, my manner of existence, insofar as it might be possible. To this end an older essay, "The Experiment as Mediator between Subject and Object," will be found especially useful.

Here I confess that the great and so portentous-sounding injunction — "Know thyself!" — has always seemed suspicious to me, as a ruse of secretly confederated priests who sought to confuse mankind through unattainable demands and to divert them from activity directed toward the outer world into an inward false contemplation. Man knows himself only insofar as he knows the world; he becomes aware of the world only within himself and of himself only within the world. Each new object, truly contemplated, opens up a new organ within us.

But most furthering of all are our fellow men, who have the advantage of comparing us with the world from their standpoint, and thereby of gaining a closer knowledge of us than we ourselves may attain.

I have therefore, in maturer years, paid great attention to the extent to which others might come to know me, so that in and through them, as through so many mirrors, I might become clearer to myself about my own nature and my inner being.

Adversaries come not into consideration, for my existence is hateful to them; they reject the ends toward which my activity is directed, and the means thereto they regard as so much false endeavour. I therefore dismiss and ignore them, for they cannot further me, and that is what everything in life depends upon; but from friends I let myself be as gladly constrained as directed toward the infinite, attending always to them with pure confidence toward genuine edification.

What has now been said of my object-directed thinking, I may well apply in equal measure to an object-directed poetry. Certain great motifs, legends, traditions of the most ancient history impressed themselves so deeply upon my mind that I kept them alive and active within for forty to fifty years; it seemed to me the finest possession to see such worthy images renewed often in the imagination, for though they continually reshaped themselves, they ripened — without changing — toward a purer form, a more decisive presentation. Of these I will name only "The Bride of Corinth," "The God and the Bayadère," "The Count and the Dwarfs," "The Singer and the Children," and lastly the "Pariah," which is soon to be communicated.

From the above my inclination toward occasional poems [Gelegenheitsgedichte] is also explained, for every particular feature of any given situation stirred me irresistibly. And so one notices in my songs, too, that something specific lies at the foundation of each, that a certain kernel inhabits a more or less significant fruit; for which reason they also went unsung for many years, especially those of decided character, because they make of the performer the demand that he transport himself from his general state of indifference into a particular, foreign contemplation and mood, and articulate the words distinctly, so that one may also know what is being spoken of. Stanzas of yearning content, by contrast, more readily found favour, and they have also entered into some circulation together with other German productions of their kind.

To this very reflection the many-years' direction of my spirit against the French Revolution immediately attaches itself, and there is explained the boundless exertion of mastering poetically this most terrible of all events in its causes and consequences. If I look back over the many years, I see clearly how the attachment to this immeasurable subject has for so long a time consumed my poetic powers almost uselessly; and yet that impression has taken such deep root in me that I cannot deny how I still think of the continuation of The Natural Daughter, developing this remarkable creation in my thoughts without the courage to devote myself in detail to its execution.

If I turn now to the object-directed thinking that is conceded to me, I find that I was compelled to observe precisely the same method also with regard to natural-historical objects. What a series of contemplation and reflection did I not pursue before the idea of plant metamorphosis arose in me, as my Italian Journey has confided to friends.

So it was likewise with the concept that the skull is composed of vertebral bones. The three rearmost I recognised readily, but only in the year 1790, when I picked up a shattered sheep's skull from the sand of the dune-like Jewish cemetery of Venice, did I perceive at once that the facial bones were likewise to be derived from vertebrae, for I saw quite distinctly before my eyes the transition from the first sphenoid bone to the ethmoid bone and the turbinal bones; and there I had the whole in its most general form assembled. This much may suffice for the present to elucidate what was earlier accomplished. But how that expression of the well-meaning, discerning man furthers me also in the present — of this, a few more brief preliminary words.

For some years now I have sought to revise my geognostic studies, particularly with a view to how far I might bring them, and the conviction derived from them, even remotely into accord with the new doctrine of fire that is spreading everywhere — which has hitherto seemed impossible to me. But now, through the word object-directed, I was at once enlightened, for I saw clearly before my eyes that all the objects I had contemplated and investigated for fifty years must have aroused precisely those representations and convictions in me from which I now cannot desist. I am able, to be sure, to transport myself for a short time to that other standpoint, but I must always, if I am to become at all comfortable, return again to my old manner of thinking.

Stirred now by these very reflections, I continued to examine myself, and found that my entire method rests upon derivation [Ableiten];Ableiten — from ab- (from, off) + leiten (to lead, guide), from Old High German leitan, Proto-Germanic *laidijaną, from PIE *leyt- (to go, depart) — the same root as English "lead." Literally "to lead away from" a source point: to derive, to deduce. Goethe's method seeks a single pregnant point from which manifold phenomena may be led forth. I do not rest until I find a pregnant point from which much may be derived, or rather which of its own accord brings forth much and bears it toward me, whereupon I proceed in striving and receiving carefully and faithfully. Should there be found in experience any phenomenon that I do not know how to derive, I leave it lying as a problem, and I have found this method of proceeding to be very advantageous in a long life: for even when I could not for a long time unriddle the origin and connection of some phenomenon, and had to set it aside, everything at once appeared after years, clarified in the most beautiful coherence. I shall therefore take the liberty of continuing to set forth historically in these pages my experiences and observations hitherto, and the manner of thought arising from them; at least there is thereby to be achieved a characteristic profession of faith — for opponents, toward insight; for those of like mind, toward furtherance [Fördernis];Fördernis — from fördern (to further, advance), from Middle High German vürdern, from vürder (further), Old High German furdir, Proto-Germanic *furþerą, from PIE *per- (forward, through) — the same root as English "further," "forth," "forward," and Latin pro-. The essay's title thus circles back upon itself: the word that furthered Goethe is repaid in kind. for posterity, toward knowledge; and, if it succeeds, toward some reconciliation.