Jane K. Brown

Interpreting Goethe's 'Faust' Today

This collection of essays on Goethes Faust by prominent American and German scholars explores the works significance in the context of recent historical, political, and scholarly developments and points to new directions for research. Topics include translation (into Indo-European languages), Fausts relationship to Mephistopheles, Faust and the feminine, sexual imagery, gothic allusions, musical representations of Faust, political and moral implications, Faust in the contemporary theatre, devils in German literature, Faust in the continuing debate over modern and postmodern, Goethes stylistic use of complementary points of view, and his use of myth.

Building Bridges: Goethe's Fairy-Tale Aesthetics

IN MY FIRST COURSE WITH STUART ATKINS, German Romanticism it was, the first text on the syllabus was Goethe’s “Das Märchen” (The Fairy Tale) and the last was his Novelle (Novella). This essay begins to address what I learned from those choices. It also addresses another experience I had with an equally eminent scholar who shall, however, remain nameless here. That person asked me what my favorite Goethe text was, apart from Faust. Floored, I finally said, “the Märchen.” “Wrong!” came the answer, “Die Wahlverwandtschaften (Elective Affinities).” What was I thinking? I was identifying what seemed to me the most paradigmatic, the most Goethean, of Goethe’s works, while my interlocutor was identifying the work that spoke most directly to the turn of the millennium. Today I want to see what might be learned from my answer and to show how Goethe’s fairy tale illuminates some of his less paradigmatic works. In fact, I want to claim that fairy tale is Goethe’s basic modus operandi, even though he wrote only three of them (“Das Märchen,” “Die neue Melusine,” and “Der neue Paris”). I made a comparable argument once for “Hexenküche” (Witch’s Kitchen) as the paradigm for Goethe’s new conception of Faust when he returned to the work in Italy.1 I now think that this scene with its talking animals and witch comes from the realm of fairy tale; furthermore, I will argue shortly that the “Märchen,” like “Hexenküche,” also evokes Goethe’s Italian experiences. I will begin with a reading of it and then discuss another of Goethe’s fairy tales, “Die neue Melusine” from the Wanderjahre (Wilhelm Meister’s Journeyman Years), to show not only the centrality of the genre for Goethe but also what it means that he took this arch-Romantic genre so seriously.

Revolution and Renunciation, 1790-1803, Vol. 2 of Goethe: The Poet and the Age (review)

When Nicholas Boyle published the first volume of his Goethe biography in 1991, there was widespread agreement that this elegantly written work would remain the standard for several generations.1 With the second of the now-projected three volumes Boyle not only matches his earlier achievement for general informativeness and accuracy but also has written a book that is considerably more original as well. Where volume 1 precisely delineated a Goethe through the Italian journey well known to Goethe scholars and probably to most informed readers, volume 2 will change—I think correctly—the way that Goethe’s mature works are read and the context in which they are understood. It explains in terms that even German scholars will have to accept why Goethe is one of the most thoughtful Kantians of the age, and on this basis it rearranges the German pantheon to make Goethe and Hölderlin the most similar and most important poets of German Romanticism. Boyle’s view of Goethe’s personal life in the 1790s is also strikingly individual and convincing. The gun-shy poet was coming to terms with his common-law marriage to Christiane Vulpius and to the loss of inspiration that accompanied the satisfaction of desire. The adjustment was difficult, especially since only one of their children survived the first week of life, and the demands of family life conflicted with Goethe’s need for peace and for the intellectual stimulation of both Jena and Italy. Traditionally, this is about as much as anyone has said about the relationship (except to quote the cattiness of the Weimar court on the subject). In 1998 Sigrid Damm published an imaginative, extensively researched reconstruction of Christiane’s life.2 It rehabilitates Christiane as a person of dignity and interest but generally ignores or obscures Goethe’s feelings. Boyle, by contrast, argues that Goethe loved Christiane so deeply that he gave up his most cherished dream—his long-desired third voyage to Italy in 1798—to return to her. Indeed, Boyle asserts that this was one of the most profound, most positive experiences of the poet’s life and that it represents his paradigmatic experience of renunciation, the theme that dominates his later work. The journey was prevented not only by Goethe’s commitment to his family but also by the Napoleonic Wars; the French Revolution, which broke out during the year of his “marriage” to Christiane, was the second great impulse to renunciation in his life. On the surface it made the period cov300 MLQ ❙ September 2001

Dramen (Gesamtausgabe) (review)

Jahrmarktsfest zu Plundersweilern. She also loved the theater and engaged troupes whenever possible. And, last but not least, her inteUectual curiosity made her an unportant member of several Weimar societies and social gatherings. If Werners biography is so entertaining and colorful, it is due to the fact that Anna AmaUas story is embedded in the larger context of the city of WeÃ1⁄4nar. Werner provides information on everyday Ufe, contemporary fashion and cosmetics, and social and cultural history. She introduces us to WeÃ1⁄4nars inteUectual leaders, to amusing WeUnar gossip and anecdotes, as weU as to major poUtical events. At tunes, however, Werners desire to make her book accessible to non-academic readers leads to simplifications and easy generaUzations. Furthermore, the wealth of background information occasionaUy threatens to obfuscate the mam subject of the study. Thus, we lack proof where we most want it. Werners claim, for example, that Anna AmaUa saw her son Carl August as partner substitute and that his coming of age catapulted her into an identity crisis remanÃ-s largely unsubstantiated. Instead of taking recourse to Oedipal feelings, one could easUy assume that, after sixteen years as regent, Anna AmaUa simply dreaded the loss of her poUtical power. In spite of such occasional shortcomings, Werners biography is an unportant work. Not only does it ful many gaps in our knowledge of Goethes duchess, it is also very weU suited to introducing this interesting personaUty to the wide readership she deserves.

Goethe und die amerikanische Literatur — der Fall Edith Wharton

In den vier Jahrzehnten vor dem ersten Weltkrieg war die deutsche Literatur dem amerikanischen Lesepublikum wie sonst zu keiner Zeit vor- oder nachher weitgehend bekannt. Auerbach, Freytag, Reuter, Spielhagen sowie auch die popularen Schriftstellerinnen der Zeit fanden eine ausgedehnte Leserschaft in Nordamerika, und zwar nicht nur unter deutschen Ausgewanderten; Schiller und vor allem Goethe nahmen selbstverstandlich ihren Platz unter den grosten Dichtern der Weltliteratur ein. Besondere Kenntnisse der deutschen Literatur lassen sich bei Edith Wharton (1862–1937) feststellen, die zu den beruhmtesten amerikanischen Romanschriftstellern ihrer Zeit gehorte. Diese Tochter des New Yorker Patriziats wurde Chevalier der franzosischen Ehrenlegion, Pulitzer-Preistragerin und Ehrendoktorin der Yale Universitat. In ihren von einem breiten Publikum wohlaufgenommenen Romanen und Erzahlungen nahm sie bestandig auf ihren Lieblingsautor Goethe Bezug. Ich mochte sie heute als Beispiel nehmen, um diese Goethe-Rezeption darzustellen und sie auch in gewissem Sinne zu „messen“.