O N EDITING AND COMMENTING REFLECTIONS PROMPTED BY TWO RECENT VOLUMES

OF THE SCHILLER NATIONALAUSGABE

BY L. A. WILLOUGHBY

THE authoritative-or, as the meaningless jargon of the trade has it, ‘defini- tive’pdition of &hillers Werke has now effectively come of age. I say ‘effectively’, for though started during the Second World War-the first volume came out in 1g43-the rest could not, for obvious reasons, start appearing until the end of the 1940s. And even then, owing to the change of general editors, necessitated in part by the death of its original founders, in part by the severance of Germany into East and West-with the con- sequent separation by more than geographical distance of the archives in Marbach from those in Weimar-they did not materialize with any degree of regularity or rapidity until the early 1950s. I have already reviewed several of them, for the most part favourably,

in the pages of this Journal. There are many more to come-more than half of the planned forty-three-and I can have few years still to go. So perhaps I may take the opportunity of the appearance of two morel for some general remarks on the principles and emergent pattern of the edition as a whole.

It plainly shows signs of stresses and strains. Strains arising, on the one hand, from the unavoidable delay between original plans and initial im- plementation; on the other hand, from the-maybe less direly critical but nonetheless operative-practical and political events which continue to affect and afflict its progress towards long-awaited completion. To point to a discrepancy between the title of the edition and its contents would be as churlish as it is pernickety: to get not only Schiller’s Works, but his Corre- spondence and Conversations too-and not only the letters he himself wrote, but also those that were written to him-is to be in receipt of a bonus; and this presumably reflects an editorial flexibility in face of special, and even changing, circumstances which is wholly conimendable.2 Nor would there be any point in deploring the tardy rate of publication as such: there is no virtue in speed for its own sake, least of all in the world of scholarship, where we have far too much of it as it is. Though an enquiry into the causes of the slowness by contrast with earlier comparable editions might not be without its sociological interest. Goedeke’s ‘Historischkritische Ausgabe’ of &hillers satrrmtliclae Schrifteen in fifteen volumes took only nine years to appear (I 867-76) ; the ‘Siikular-Ausgabe’-in sixteen volumes at that -only two, if the recorded dates of publication are anything to go by (1904-5); Jonas’s edition of his letters, in seven volumes, only four (1892-6). Or, to turn to Goethe: the ‘Jubilzums-Ausgabe’, in forty volumes, was published within five years (1goz-7)-though its incomparably valuable

~~ ~~

94 T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S OF THE SCHILLER N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E

‘Registerband’ admittedly took another five (1912). For the ‘Registerband’ of the ‘Artemis-Gedenkausgabe’, by contrast, we have had to wait nearly twenty! Its value over against that of the ‘Jubilaums-Ausgabe’ is that it includes the letters and conversations too. It is to be hoped that it will prove more useful in practice than the Lexikon deer Goethe-Zitate published by the same house in 1968.

Such sharp contrasts in production time provide food for speculation. Of course we all know that in former times the scholar-and not just the ‘Privatgelehrter’ either-was far more favourably placed as regards domestic tranquillity: servants were easy to come by. And as regards professional tranquillity too: that hoary old chestnut about the professor’s wife who, candle in hand, regularly roused her spouse from his slumbers at crack of dawn with the words ‘Heinrich, steh‘ auf und forsche !’ undoubtedly reflects the order of academic priorities then prevailing. Is the answer, then, or part of it at least, that those socially privileged and sheltered beings possessed-or had the opportunity for-more ‘Sitzfleisch‘ than we do today? Maybe! On the other hand they had far fewer ‘Hilfsmittel’ : no tape-recorders, no mimeo- graphs; no photostats, no microfilms; fewer, if any, research assistants; fewer still, if any, secretaries. Of course team-work was involved in many of those older projects. But involved apparently in a different way. For one certainly has the impression that they were master-minded. Whether in fact by a single mind, or by the careful devising of a planning committee, is irrelevant. And master-minded not just in respect of such technicalities as can be provided by a style-sheet or house-rules, but as regards the inner coherence, the very spirit, of the edition as a whole. Just as-to come nearer to the present-almost all the volumes of the ‘ Artemis-Ausgabe’ bear the stamp of Ernst Beutler’s mind, almost all those of the ‘Hamburger Ausgabe’ that of Erich Trunz: those that don’t, stand out a mile, and to their gross detriment. Above all one never has the impression with those older editions -which is not to say that it did not exist-that that most disastrous of all pressures to which the modern scholar is subject (where not actually prosti- tuted), the pressure of publishers, had affected the basic scholarly design. Yet something of the sort must be affecting the ‘Nationalausgabe’ of Schiller’s Works. And indeed that most impeccable of scholarly editors, and one of its present editors-in-chief, Lieselotte Blumenthal, seemed to be making tacit admission of some such extraneous pressures when she wrote in NA 30 (1961), p. 230:

Der grossere Umfang dieses Bandes (262 Briefe gegenuber 126 in Bd 23 und 169 in Bd 27) erforderte leider eine grossere Knappheit der Kommentierung. Auf umfangreiche hiufige Zitate und Literaturangaben musste verzichtet werden. [. . .] Die Erlauterungen beschranken sich auf die zum Verstindnis des vorliegenden Briefes notwendigen Sacherkhrungen.

T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S O F T H E S C H I L L E R N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E 95

This last sentence begs many questions. But quite apart from that, anything coming from the workshop of Dr Blumenthal which has to be compressed or suppressed for other than strictly editorial reasons is to be deplored as a loss to Schiller scholarship as a whole.

But if speed of publication has nothing to do with scholarship the order in which the volumes of a great scholarly edition appear may well be of its very essence. It may be of no great account if Maria Stuart (1948) appeared before Die Ruuber (1953), or Die Jtiigjau (1948) before Kabale tind Liebe (1957), or if we are still awaiting Fiesco though we have long had Wallemtein (1949). Schiller’s development as dramatist is of course important. But it might legitimately be argued that to trace its course is a task that can be left to the literary critic or historian, and that editorially speaking each one of his plays can stand on its own feet. The sequence of the volumes of his correspondence, however, is a very different matter. A writer’s correspond- ence is, after all, a crucially important part of the record of his life-history. And history is inseparable from chronology. Planned in ten volumes, it was of good augury that the first of them (NA 23, 1956) should have contained Schiller’s earliest letters, those from 1772-85. Unfortunately, however, the sequence was immediately broken by the appearance in 1958 of those from 1794-5 (NA 27), to be followed in 1961 by those from 1798-1800 (NA 30). For the immediate continuation of NA 27, those from 1795-6-one of the two volumes which provoked this review-article-we had to wait for over ten years. What we already have thus represents only half of his letter- writing life. Enormously important gaps still remain to be filled: the ten years from 1785-94, containing-among other things-those letters to Korner which provide an amazingly frank revelation of the violent ambiva- lence he felt towards Goethe before the image he had of him could be checked against the reality of personal acquaintance; the two crucial years from 1796-8, in which he definitely decided to ‘shut up his philosophical shop’ and devote himself to poetic creation ; the last five, tragically triumphant, years of his life, in which the dramatist, against all odds of body and mind, successfully prevailed, culminating in the magnificent if unfinished Demetrius. Nor is there evidence of editorial consistency in the scholarly apparatus of the existing volumes of correspondence. Only two of them-the two first, NA 23 and 27-have an ‘Einfuhrung’; the two later ones make do with ‘Anmerkungen’ and ‘Register’. To some extent the existing gaps in Schiller’s epistolary record are filled by his Gespruche (1764-1805), accommodated in one volume (NA 42, 19679, and one of the eight projected volumes of the Bride an Schiller, i.e. 1794-5 (NA 35, 1964). Each of these has extensive ‘ Anmerkungen’-though again no ‘Einfuhrung’ : a general Introduction to all eight volumes of the letters was apparently planned for NA 33 which is still outstanding.

96 TWO RECENT VOLUMES OF THE SCHILLER NATIONALAUSGABE

Clearly the Correspondence as a whole will have to be subjected to searching retrospective review once all eighteen volumes of it are available. And not only in order to uncover omissions and discrepancies which are unavoidable in a series which has spread itself over so many years and in such unpredictably-and no doubt unavoidably-fortuitous order, or to take account of scholarship which will have (and indeed already has) mean- while appeared. It will also have to be done in order to point up those mutually illuminating connections, whether of anticipation or fulfilment, which have been missed by the sheer impossibility of adequate editorial cross-referencing in a project which has suffered more than most from the element of randomness in its execution.

But the anomalies and discrepancies, whether of planning or principle- or implementation of either-are by no means confined to the volumes of correspondence. And it is not just the unpredictable order of appearance, lack of adequate introductions, or occasionally reduced commentary which is at issue. Why-to take examples at random, and in reverse order of importance-should the ‘Inhaltsverzeichnis’ of Die Horen have gone into the volume of Bride 1794-95 (NA 27, 1958) while a facsimile of its ‘Titel- blatt’ was put-where it plausibly belongs-along with other relevant fac- similes in the ‘Verrnischte Schrifterz of NA 22 which appeared in that same year? How much more convenient to have had everything to do with Die Horeii in one and the same volume! Or if it was thought more appropriate that its table of contents and list of contributors should accompany Schiller’s letters of the corresponding period, would it not have been logical to do the same with the Musen-AlrnunuchJir dus Juhr 1796 which was, as he told Korner in one of the earliest letters included in NA 28 (1969), almost ready by August 1795? As it is, one has to rummage through the ‘Personenregister’ of this later volume in order to get a comparable ‘Uberblick’ of what the Almunuch contained. Have the editorial principles changed during the inter- vening ten years? Or is the omission merely due to shortage of space?

Or, again, there is the question of how to accommodate editorial apparatus. Ideally, as every serious scholar knows, variant readings, glosses, and refer- ences should appear on the same page as the text itself-with the inevitable concomitants of an enormous book and the ‘Stehpult’ familiar to us from earlier ages. To put it all at the back is something to which we have had to resign ourselves. But we should be perfectly clear in our minds that we have had to do this because of printers’ costs and convenience-and because of publishers’ increasing interest in the aesthetic look of the page. For the scholar himself it can never be more than an uncomfortable pis alley. The only reasonable alternative as far as he is concerned is to have the whole of the apparatus and commentary in a separate volume. And this the ‘National- ausgabe’ has in fact achieved once or twice. But more by good luck than

T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S OF THE SCHILLER N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E 97

good management ! Not, that is to say, as in-to cite a project with whose ‘Entstehungsgeschichte’ I have been intimately acquainted since its inception -Kathleen Coburn’s complete edition of Coleridge’s Notebooks, because a companion volume of notes was from the start planned as a companion to each volume of text in order to facilitate physical ease of reference by having them open side by side, but-as far as one can judge from the Plilosoyhische Schrifteiz (NA 30-21, 1962-3)-because some of the text, under a hundred pages, simply overflowed into a second volume which was then mainly devoted to apparatus and comnicntary. How this is going to work out with the three volumes of Historische Schriften (NA 17-19) remains to be seen. All we have at present is the bare text of the first of them. Let us hope that we shall not have to wait as long for the scholarship which alone makes it usable, let alone useful, as we are having to do for the indispensable com- plement to the ‘erste Gestalt’ of the Gedichte which appeared close on thirty years ago. For a text by itself, however reliable it may eventually turn out to be, remains a dead loss as far as scholars are concerned without the editorial reasoning which may or may not justify the textual decisions taken. This is the trouble with the ‘Akademie-Ausgabe’ of Goethe’s Works, which threatens to be as long in reaching completion as the ‘Schiller Nationalaus- gabe’ itself. Only twenty of its volumes have appeared over the same number of years; and of these twenty only two provide variant readings and textual apparatus. Its first general editor, the late Ernst Grumach, was apparently able, by strict application of the principles of classical philology, to introduce some important new readings into the text of the West-Ostlicher Divati. But in the absence of editorial reasoning one has no means of judging how important they are or why they were thought preferable.

The mention of editorial reasoning brings me from the outward techni- calities of planning to the methodological convictions behind the principles. Of late there has been-both ‘jenseits und diesseits’ the Atlantic-a vcritable proliferation of conferences and symposia on the art and science of editing? A proliferation which suggests that the old established principles, whether of classical or Germanic philology, have been called in question and are now in a state of flux. I myself was brought up in the school of Lachniann, and applied the principles there learnt not only in my edition of the medieval text Von dem jzingesten Tuge (1918) but also in my edition of Schiller’s Ruder (193 3) . The principles themselves were clearly defined-and relatively simple, if not always easy to apply in practice. And both the definiteness and the simplicity derived from the fact that the ‘objectivity’ of scholarship had not yet become a matter of dispute. The aim was to provide the most authentic text. And this was achieved, in the case of manuscripts, by the construction of a ‘Stamnibauni’ based on the assumption that texts are inevitably prone to corruption in thc course of transcription and transmission.

98 T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S O F THE SCHILLER N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E

In the case of printed texts, the authentic version was assumed to be the ‘Ausgabe letzter Hand’, unless there were strong extrinsic reasons against it, such as the known participation of scribe or proof-reader other than the author. Or unless the editor was seized with that ‘romantic’ preconception that first thoughts are always best and that an ‘Urfassung’ must therefore have the monopoly of authenticity. Not that there is anything against the publication of first versions-or any number of interim versions-as well as end-products. And with my edition of Ufazrst atzd Faust, Eiii Fragment I myself played a part in making earlier stages of composition easily avail- able with, I hope, reasonably appropriate textual and historical annotation. But not, I trust, with any iniplication that because they were earlier and, as the saying goes, more ‘spontaneous’, they are therefore of greater artistic merit than Faust, Part I itself. What knowledgc of earlier versions can do is to allow us a peep into the artist’s workshop, throw light on some aspects of the process of artistic creation. What it can never do is to provide a text which can automatically lay claim to greater ‘authenticity’ than the one he chose to give to the world. No one is thereby relieved of the challenge to aesthetic judgement.

The salient feature of that older style of editing was that the editor kept himself and his views very much in the background. The text was the thing. Of course he stated his principles in general terms. And of course he provided variant readings or a selection of them. But he left his readers to come to terms, not with his reasoning-for the case was rarely argued in particulars -but with the raw material itself. That is to say, by going through the whole editorial process unaided. Which may explain why some of the reviews of that period were in themselves outstanding editorial achievements. It was not, ironically enough, through embarking on further editorial work, let alone pondering the problems in theory, that I came to revise my own views on the principles. It was through embarking on a major task of trans- lation. As Professor Wilkinson and I explained in the Preface to our bilingual edition of Schillcr’s Astlzetische Erziehr~ng,~ and more explicitly still in an article written for the Schillerjuhrbuch in 1967 entitled ‘Nachlese zu Schillers A~thetik’,~ it was only through comparing earlier translations with each other, and then with standard editions of the original, that we-reluctantly -came to the conclusion that there was no German text we were prepared to reprint exactly as it stood. If we also stated there that ours was essentially a translators’ edition, and made no pretence of being a ‘textkritische’ edition in the strict sense of that term, it was partly because, the ‘Erstdruck’ of the 1801 version not being available in this country, we relied on Goedeke’s ‘Lesartenapparat’, but chiefly-and more interestingly-because we were in fact helped at every stage of textual editing by our translating activity and by the Glossary of terms which arose out of it. To their credit, the majority

~~ ~

TWO R E C E N T V O L U M E S OF THE S C H I L L E R N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E 99

of reviewers did not let themselves be misled by the element of understate- ment. For what we did do was not only to give, in an Appendix, a full account of the ‘Entstehungsgeschichte’ of Schiller’s treatise and all the crucial variants for each version: at every point in our Commentary where a dis- puted reading was involved we adduced arguments for and against the one we had chosen-as indeed we did at points where the interpretation of other translators and scholars had shown the sense to be debatable.

This is something that German editions of the work, including the ‘Nationalausgabe’ itself, consistently fail to do. And with unfortunate con- sequences. As we wrote in our ‘Nachlese’ (p. 379) :

Was uns bei allen Editionen am meisten beunruhigte, war das vollige Fehlen jeglicher Argumentation fur oder gegen eine Lesart, Emendation oder Erganzung aus der fruheren Fassung. Es will uns scheinen, daB Herausgeber sich auf diese Weise einer kritischen Aufgabe entziehen, fur die sie auf Grund ihrer engen Vertrautheit mit Text und Textgeschichte hervorragend geeignet waren. Die Deutung einzelner Stellen uberlassen sie Interpreten und Kom- mentatoren, die vie1 weniger damit vertraut sind. Wenn dem Interpreten kein textkritischer Apparat geboten wird, so kann es geschehen, daB eine ganze Theorie auf einer Lesart aufgebaut wird, die sich schlimmstenfalls als offensichtliches Miaverstandnis erweisen kann oder bestenfalls diejenige ist, die er selbst nicht gewahlt hstte, hatte man ihm die Moglichkeit der Wahl geboten. Wird ihm aber diese Moglichkeit durch Bereitstellung eines bloBen Apparates, ohne Erklarung und Stellungnahrne geboten, so ist er auch nicht besser dran; denn um eine vernunftige Entscheidung zu Gllen, miiBte er die ganze Arbeit des Edierens noch einmal selbst vornehmen. So erweitert sich die oft beklagte Kluft zwischen wissenschaftlicher Forschung und literarischer -in diesem Falle auch philosophischer-Kritik : Kritiker argumentieren oft mit Einsicht und Scharfblick, aber auch oft-wegen mangelhaften oder puristischen Verfahrens der Herausgeber-ohne angemessene Kenntnis der in Frage kommenden textlichen Probleme. Herausgeber-die Herausgeber von Schillers Abhandlung wenigstens-argumentieren uberhaupt nicht. Oder aber sie beschranken das Argument auf editorische Prinzipien im allgemeinen und leisten wenig Hilfe, wo es darauf ankommt, uber die Absicht des Verfassers in einem besonderen Falle zu entscheiden.

What they often do instead is to offer seemingly apodictic statements which in fact beg important questions. Thus the Hanser ‘Klassikerausgabe’ of 1962 (Vol. 5, p. 1132) : ‘Die wenigen von Schiller vorgenommenen Streichungen und Abweichungen vom Erstdruck werden, soweit sie von Bedeutung sind, in den Anmerkungen vermerkt.’ To which we objected (“achlese’, p, 380) : ‘Dies setzt die entscheidenden Fragen als bewiesen voraus. Wann sind sie von Bedeutung? Und von welcher Bedeutung sind sie? Einige der von Schiller vorgenommenen Streichungen und Anderungen waren von nicht geringer Tragweite.’6 And we went on to show (p. 387 K) how, by failing to note a

I00 TWO R E C E N T V O L U M E S O F THE SCHILLER N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E

misprint which Schiller himself had been at pains to correct, the ‘Volksaus- gabe’ of the same Hanser Verlag has perpetuated a most unfortunate mis- understanding-and in the most unfortunate place: in the peroration on the Aesthetic State right at the end of the treatise. Had editorial practice over the decades required that variants should not simply be listed, but their relative importance assessed, and the claims to authenticity of each one of the more important explicitly justified, we might have been spared the irony of an edition expressly designed for Schiller’s own ‘volk’ presenting a model of his ideal State in which the ‘freie Burger’ is asked about his ‘Bestimmung’ instead of for his ‘Beistimmung’! And were the editors (or publisher) to excuse such an omission on grounds of mere proof-reading, scholars should retort that the very fact that the same printer’s error occurred in Schiller’s own lifetime ought to have alerted any modern editor to the likelihood of its recurrence-and to the disastrous consequences thereof. For the ‘Jota’ here is no less crucial in the political sphere than that notorious one to which Mephisto was alluding in a theological context when trying to persuade the ‘Schuler’ of the importance of the Letter. However devilish his motives may have been in that dramatic context, the fact remains that disregard of the Letter is unlikely to lead an editor to authentic transmission of the Spirit of his text.

A similar tendency to apodictic statements which beg the crucial questions is increasingly apparent in the way individual editors of the NA volumes cope with the obviously embarrassing problem of space. Thus in the-by now apparently obligatory-introduction to the ‘Anmerkungen’ of the latest volume ofBrieJe (why, if space is so important, is the same information repeated in successive volumes?) we read : ‘Die Erlauterungen . . . sind wieder so knapp wie moglich, d.h. zugleich so umfangreich wie notig’ (NA 28, p. 332). Is the second statement really a self-evident corollary of the first? And what criteria have determined the ‘notwendige Ausfiihrlichkeit’? In what sort of cases has this been allowed to take precedence over the ‘notige Knappheit’? The only example adduced by the editors themselves is that of ‘Fremdworter’. But if, as one supposes, this edition is primarily designed for scholars, to repeat what can be found in the relevant dictionaries is surely superfluous. Far more to the point-since the language can be misleading even for scholars unless they happen to be specialists in that particular period -would have been information about German words which have undergone a change of meaning since Schiller’s own time. That seemingly innocuous word Kunst, for example: still at the end of the eighteenth century almost as labile in meaning as ‘art’ in English or in French. Misprision of its specific meaning in particular contexts has-as we have shown in our Glossary and elsewhere7-led to serious misunderstanding, not only of Schiller’s aesthetic theory, but of his political theory too. And in a review in this journal

~~ ____

T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S OF THE S C H I L L E R N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E I01

(XXIII, 287) I pointed out that it was in fact a misprision of this word, and of its related locution ‘technische Form’, that led the editors of the Philoso- phische Schriftevl to offer as a gloss to Letter I of the Asthetische Erxiehuizg a long passage from the Kulliusbriejie which was not merely irrelevant but downright misleading. But even if it had been to the point, why-since space seems to be such a problem-quote it in extenso? All that the scholar needs is to have his attention drawn to it. Like the ‘Fremdworter’, he can then look it up for himself. Space would thereby have been saved for that editorial argumentation which is so conspicuous by its absence.

Similar questions might be asked about the criteria governing the selection of secondary literature. Here again it is often difficult to escape the impression of sheer randomness. And it would be all too easy to ascribe this to the sheer bulk of scholarly publications which now weighs upon us all. But to do so would be to subscribe to current counsels of despair. For though we can never hope to recover that certainty of having read ‘everything’ which nineteenth-century scholars enjoyed, there are nevertheless certain measures that can be taken if one does not, on the one hand, let oneself be panicked by the ideal of conipleteness into total abdication from scholarly responsi- bility or, on the other, have recourse to that ‘scholarly’ shop-window dressing which consists in simply citing as many ‘established’ sources as possible. To take an example close to home: this latest Volume of Bride (1969) clearly has to take account of scholarship concerning Schiller’s relation to Fichte in the summer of 179s. What the editors do (NA 28, 358) is to start with nineteenth-century authorities and end with Herman Meyer’s splendid article on ‘Schillers philosophische Rhetorik’ of 1959. It is of course more than probable that the long passage through the press of any such complicated product of scholarship precluded mention of the way in which we came to terms with both Meyer himself and Gunter Schulz in our edition of the AestheticEducution of 1967 (pp. cxii E). But my point here is that both Meyer and Schulz themselves came to terms with earlier literature on the subject. Why cite it all again here? Since the ‘Personenregister’ does not include the names of scholars, the following conjecture would be difficult to validate. But I would hazard a guess that the number of genuinely super- seded sources-superseded, that is, in the sense that they have been assimilated into the body of scholarship-is unnecessarily high.

If I may seem to have harped on the problem of space it is not only because the editors of NA themselves increasingly do so. It is also because it represents a crucial point of intersection between external planning and internal principles. Faced with limited ‘wordage’, whether in space or in time, a scholar-whether author of an edition or a book, an article or a lecture, a review or a broadcast-can do one of two things. Either, with panic-stricken flapping of his scholarly wings, he asks himself: What can I leave out-

I02 T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S OF T H E SCHILLER N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E

here, here and here? In other words, he makes ad hoc decisions. Or, alterna- tively, he can adopt an attitude analogous to, though not wholly identical with, an artist’s positive acceptance of the limitations of his medium. An attitude akin to that of a Goethe or a Wordsworth, finding not only ‘brief solace’ but actual fulfilment ‘within the Sonnet’s scanty plot of ground’. A fulfilment which, as the artist best knows, comes of exploiting the poten- tialities of limitation:

In der Beschrankung zeigt sich erst der Meister, Und das Gesetz nur kann uns Freiheit geben.

In other words, the space available-like the public to which the edition is primarily addressed-may then become as much a factor in shaping an editor’s conception of his task as the textual material itself. With the resultant impression of a thought-through policy as to what he should include, and how he should include it, rather than vain lamentations over what has had to be excluded.

* * * *

What ought to have emerged from the above is the undesirability of letting certain perfectly feasible distinctions harden into totally unacceptable dichotomies.

I Editorial activity should not be separatedfrom a critical appraisal Ofthe ‘Stand der Forschung’. This all too familiar feature of ‘textkritische Ausgaben’ reflects one aspect of that more fundamental, and wholly pernicious, separation of ‘Literaturkritik‘ from ‘Literatmwissenschaft’. In a review in this journal a couple of years ago (XXIII, 378) Professor Idris Parry argued persuasively that this wholly artificial split is, if not a German invention, certainly a German preconception: ‘[They] do not find it so easy to combine the two without a guilty conscience.’ However that may be, the fact remains-and Parry was right to insist on it again-that ‘wissenschaftliche Methode’ cannot be separated from either interpretation or critical evaluation. To suggest that it can-worse still, to suggest that it should-is to be less than ‘wissenschaftlich‘.

2 The textual ‘Endprodukt’ ought not to be separated fyonz the editorial processes which have led up to it. To offer a selection-whether of variant readings or ‘Literaturangaben’-might be (and often is) rejected by purist editors as an infringement of the reader’s freedom: decisions have been made for him, and hence choice denied him. Paradoxically enough, however, to offer him completeness of either is to infringe his freedom no less. For the onus is then upon him to perform a whole series of mental operations which he is in no position to do. Or, if that is too radical a formulation: he is not so well placed to perform them as the editor himself, who has-presumably-worked

~~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~

T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S OF T H E SCHILLER N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E 103

through all available material in order to reach his decisions. It is with the editor that the responsibility must ultimately lie, not only for pinpointing cruxes and problems, or indicating which have been solved and which still await solution, but for provoking other scholars to assent or dissent by the cogency of his reasoning. Only thereby does he set the mind of the reader genuinely free, put it in the way of pursuing its own operations (as Schiller, and Coleridge following him, express it). Which is why in the Preface to our edition of T h e Aesthetic Education o f M a n (see also ‘Nachlese’, p. 382) we said that we made no apology for the forthright tone we had adopted in arguing for our own decisions. It was adopted deliberately in the conviction that a ‘too modest tentativeness is less likely to uncover the issue at stake and provoke to further, and fruitfill, disagreement’.

3 T h e editorial sirbject not only shoirld not, but cannot, be separated-from the textual object. This is something that Germanists in particular should have realized long ago, since Goethe was never tired of stressing the intervolvement of subject and object in field after field of ‘wissenschaftliche’ activity. But it has taken ‘mehr als ein Jahrhundert’ for workers in both the human and the natural sciences to reach the same conclusion by independent reflection about their own methodology.

It was encouraging to find this last principle confirmed in a review-article on changing trends in the style of editing by the Director of the ‘Thomas Mann Archiv’ which was sent to mc just as I was completing my own.8 Dr Wysling does not mention the ‘Nationalausgabe’, or indeed Schiller editions at all. His point of departure is a collection of essays on T e x t e und Varianten. Problem ihrer Edition zind I n t e r p r e t ~ t i o n . ~ And he does not place the changing trends in editorial activity within the wider context of an increasing recognition of ‘subject-objectivity’ in other fields. But some of the quotations he offers from his author-editors afford interesting confirma- tion of what we wrote twenty years ago: ‘To know, and to say boldly, where one stands is, then, the first condition of objectivity in Goethe’s sense . . .’.lo Thus Hans Zeller, editor of C. F. Meyer’s Gedichte, on the editor’s duty ‘jene unumggnglichen interpretierenden Entscheide (die er weder umgehen kann noch umgehen soll) als solche erkennbar und . . . nachprufbar zu niachen dadurch, dass er auch ihre Kriterien und ihre Grund- lagen mitliefert‘ :

Eine solche Ausgabe wurde nicht nur erlauben, gewisse Fragen anders zu beantworten, als der Herausgeber sie beantwortet hat, sondern auch Ant- worten auf Fragen zu finden, die der Herausgeber nicht beantwortet, noch nicht gestellt hat und nicht voraussehen konnte.

O r again, Klaus Briegleb’s polemical punch-lines on the ‘Fiktion einer sub- jektlosen Philologie’ :

104 T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S OF THE SCHILLER N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E

. . . kernige Sltze wie ‘Wir Philologen haben den Texten zu dienen und nichts als den Texten’ tragen das Merkmal jener Attituden-Urteile, die wir nicht widerlegen konnen, weil sie leer sind: nicht bereit oder fiihig, zu definieren, was i i m tut, weicht man auf ein Ethos aus, das man nicht reflektiert.

It is the unrivalled intimacy of an editor with his material, his constant ‘handling’ of it-physical as well as mental-that puts him in such a favour- able position to appraise the intrinsic significance of his text and to place it in the most relevant context. And it is this that makes me regret the absence of an Introduction in some of the later NA volumes. Here are a few of the significances and perspectives I myself should have likcd to see high-lighted in an Introduction to the most recent volume of Schiller’s letters. Of all the two hundred and sixty-three letters he wrote between July 1795 and October 1796 only two contain a reference to the revolution- ary events of the day. The one is his far too often quoted ‘admission’ to Reichardt of 3 August 1795 that it was ‘in the literal sense’ true that he did not live in his own century: ‘und ob ich gleich mir habe sagen lassen, dass in Frankreich cine Revolution vorgefallen, so ist diess ohngefehr das wich- tigste, was ich davon weiss’. The deliberate irony of the understatement is, one would have thought, self-evident-yet rarely recorded. The other shows that he was at any rate still interested in the point at which contem- porary events become ripe for presentation as history. On 10 July 1795 he urges the historian, J. W. Archenholtz, to write a ‘kurzes, gedrangtes Tableau’ of the American ‘Freiheitskrieg’, since he can think of no more attractive subject in recent history : ‘denn die franzosische Revolutioii ist wenigstens vor der Hand noch nicht reif fur die historische Kunst’. I should want to place this paucity of political references in proper perspective by recalling first the frequency of his observations on contemporary events during the years 1789-94, especially in his correspondence with Korner ; and, second, his decision in the Spring of this latter year not to pursue his proposed project of a political journal (Ewopuische Stuatenzeitzrizg), but to restrict himself instead to Die Horen-a decision taken partly because he doubted whether he could keep to the publisher’s schedule for a journal devoted to day-by- day events ; partly because increasingly precarious health made him anxious to devote what time he had left to projects offering scope to that rare com- bination of gifts with which he had been endowed, those of philosopher- poet.ll One result of this decision was his treatise On the Aesthetic Educatiotz of Man, in which-as he wrote to Garve on zs January 1795-he had ‘made his profession of political faith‘, expressing not only his ‘true and sincere opinions . . . on the wretchedness of the actual political situation’,l2 but also his abiding belief in the political ideal from which this was a grievous falling away. But now, after a year’s friendship with the great rival he had once hated as well as admired, he begins to feel a gathering confidence in his own

T W O R E C E N T VOLUMES OF THE S C H I L L E R N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E 10s

creative powers. And the main emphasis in the letters of 1795-6 lies in the day-by-day account of this return to his art. No reader interested in the making of poetry can fail to be fascinated by the details of craftsmanship. For the first time in his life Schiller had found someone who understood what he was talking about at every level: from the concrete technicalities of versification to the abstractions of aesthetic theory. And his critical empathy into the production of Wilhelm Meister (which Goethe was sending him in instalments) was rewarded by a grateful insight into common prob- lems of creativity. It is now that his heart began to ‘schmachte[n] nach einem betastlichen Objekt’ (to Goethe, 17. xii. 1795)’ and that he was re- currently moved to continue work on his Wallenstein. And it is now that- having discovered through ‘knowledge by acquaintance’ that Goethe was no less a ‘reflective’ than a ‘spontaneous’ poet-he himself found the courage to come to terms with his own peculiar blend of these two poles of artistic creation. And to project this answer to a private need into a public piece of brilliant reasoning in the typological manner later to be pursued by Nietzsche and C. G. Jung. What I have long wanted to know from those who have devoted intensive study to Naive irnd seritinzentalische Dichtung is whether Schiller is not there operating with that same type of ‘binary synthesis’ which we ourselves uncovered in his Asthetische Erziehung. The NA edition of it throws no light on the pr0b1em.l~ And neither does this latest volume of his letters. Yet not far from the beginning of his essay we read: ‘Naiv muss jedes wahre Genie sein, oder cs ist keines. Seine Naivetat allein macht es zum Genie . . .’. If he then goes on to distinguish between naive and sentimental poets, he is obviously operating with two terms only, and must therefore be constructing his synthcses-however manifold they turn out to be--not by the introduction of a third term, but by raising one or other of the original terms to a higher power. His letter to Wilhelm von Humboldt of Christmas Day 1795 really provides the answer to my question:

Wir mussen also hier sorgfiiltig die Wirklichkeit von dem absoluten Begriffe scheiden. Dem Bcgriffc nach ist die scntimentalische Dichtkunst freilich der Gipfel und die naive kann init ihr nicht verglichen werden, aber sie kann ihren Begriff nic crfiillen, und erfullte sie ihn, so wiirde sie nztfhoreiz eine yoetische Art zii seyn. Der Wirklichkeit nach ist es aber eben so gewiss, dass die sentimen- talische Poesie, qua Poesie, die naive nicht erreicht.

Here is a classic example of how, without undue expense of space-by adequate cross-referencing-the attention of scholars might have been drawn to a fundamental feature of Schiller’s mature thinking: his way of handling antitheses so that they never become fused (let alone confused), but that now the one, now the other, is allowed to become dominant. Everything depends on managing the movement between them within the dimension of time.

106 T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S O F THE SCHILLER N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E

If this is true of his theoretical thinking, it is also true of his practical management of himself: his handling of the opposites in what he termed his own ‘hybrid’ condition, the poet and the philosopher within him. He was, he told Goethe on 16 October 1795, determined to maintain these two forces at full, and equal, stretch-‘und nur durch eine ewige Bewegung in mir kann ich die 2 heterogenen Elemente in einer Art von Solution erhalten’. The measure of his immediate success is the series of great philosophical poems in which, as Goethe wrote on 6 October 1795, that ‘sonderbare Mischung von Anschauen und Abstractionen, die in Ihrer Natur ist, sich nun in vollkommenem Gleichgewicht [zeigt]’ ; poems which entirely justified his new view of himself as a poet of the ‘SENTIMENTALISCH-Naiv’ type. One of these, Der Spaziergang, has particularly close bearing on his treatise. Originally entitled Ekgie, it was his attempt to vie with his great rival by writing, in one of the three major genres of ‘sentimental’ poetry, a counter- part to those Rornische Elegierz he had recently published, along with the concluding Letters of his own Asthetische Erziehung, in the ‘sechstes Stuck der Horen’-the ‘Centaur-Stuck’, as they called it. But pleased as he was with this example of a union of ‘sentimentalisch‘ and ‘naiv’ located in the past, he was even more concerned with presenting its transformation into an ideal for the future. On the 29-30 November 1795 he wrote to Wilhelrn von Huniboldt :

Ich will eine Idylle schreiben, wie ich hier eine Elegie schrieb. Alle nieine poetischen Krafte spannen sich zu dieser Energie noch an-das Ideal der Schonheit objektiv Z U individualisieren, und daraus eine Idylle in nzeiizem Sinne zu bilden. . . . In der sentimentalischeii Dichtkuiist (und aus dieser heraus kann ich nicht) ist die Idylle das hochste aber auch das schwurigste Problem.

His own was to have set forth the marriage of Hercules to Hebe-‘dieser Ubertritt des Menschen in den Gott’-and so to have symbolized that recon- ciliation of humanity with itself which was the avowed aim of his Asthetisclze Erziehung, leading man not back to an Arcadian past, but forwards to a Utopian future: ‘so hoffte ich dadurch mit der sentimentalischen Poesie uber die naive selbst triumphiert zu haben’.

Another of these philosophical poems which I would have singled out for special mention in an Introduction to this Volume of letters would have been Der Tanz. Chiefly because of its bearing on a much misunderstood description of his own process of poetic composition in his letter to Goethe of 18 March 1796. It took its origins, he wrote, in an ‘Empfindung’ which was ‘anfangs ohne bestimmten und klaren Gegenstand’. This latter was preceded by a ‘gewisse musikalische Gemuthsstimmung . . . und auf diese folgt bey mir erst [spzter] die poetische Idee’. This fascinating piece of evidence for any study of the creative process in general, and the most

T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S O F T H E S C H I L L E R N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E 107

crucial we possess for Schiller’s in particular, does not rate an ‘Anmerkung’ in NA 28. Yet the vocabulary itself is in need of elucidation. ‘Gemiitsstinl- mung’ (not ‘Stimmung’ tout court, as it is often misquoted) is not adequately rendered by ‘mood’. It is rather, as we have shown in our Glossary, to be understood as a modality, or modulation, of the whole psyche: one among many of its possible ‘Bestimmungen’. And ‘Idee’ is not for Schiller, any more than it was for Goethe, an abstraction approximating to a ‘Begriff’ (in the modern sense of this term). It is rather, as it had been for the Greeks, a ‘material idea’, an image seen with the eye and the mind’s eye, an ‘Anschau- ung’ which-in this particular context-is subsequently reflected in the forms and symbols of art. The most relevant glosses to the passage would be his review of Matthisson’s Gedichte and the footnote in Naive tind sentimen- talische Dichtung in which he defines the meaning he attaches to ‘musikalisch’ in similar ~0ntexts.I~ From these we learn the extent to which Schiller was interested in the rhythmic aspects of music as a vehicle for symbolizing ‘felt thought’ ; in the different processes whereby this is objectified through the medium of music on the one hand, of poetry on the other. His poem Der Tanx shows how for him the related rhythms of dance-the figure dance in particular, with its semblance of ‘ordered freedom’-could symbol- ize at one and the same time the movements of the inner life and the move- ments of the outer universe, the harmony of the spheres. More than this: the figure dance was also for him a perfect symbol of the dynamics of social relations in the Aesthetic State.15 No wonder Coleridge was moved to creative response to this poem, offering in his paraphrase of it a felicitously exact formulation for those first obscure encounters between the forms of expression and the feeling to be expressed which was Schiller’s focus of interest when he spoke of a ‘niusikalische Gemuthsstinimung’ : ‘those con- ceits of words which are analogous to sudden fleeting affinities of mind / even as in a dance touch &join & off again, & rejoin your partner that leads down with you the whole dance . . .’.l‘j In other words Schiller’s famous phrase makes no sense if we think primarily of the sound of music. Nor is it relevant to speculate how ‘musical’, or musically knowledgeable, he hin~self may have been. We have rather to think, on the one hand, of the non-referential character of music, the self-containedness of its forms ; on the other, of its intimate connexion with bodily movement. As Professor Wilkinson put it in her Taylorian Lecture over a decade the first intimations of poetic inspiration seem in his case to have been ‘at the as yet verbally inarticulate level where bodily rhythms encounter the shapes and movements of syntax and rhetorical figures, but the ideational content of these dynamic structures is still something which has to be sought’. It is a nice reflection on the present state of scholarship that I have never seen this interpretation confirmed, or refuted, or-as can also happen-simply taken over.

108 T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S OF T H E S C H I L L E R N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E

If these are some of the points of special interest that I should have liked to see mentioned in an Introduction to the latest Volume of Briefe, here are some which I shall hope to see in an Introduction to the Historische Schriften -if and when it materializes. First I should want to see Schiiler’s approach to the writing of history firmly placed within the context of changing attitudes to historical method over the last fifty years or so. A great deal of water has flowed under many historiographical bridges since H. T. Buckle could write in the middle of the last century:

Schiller, perhaps the most eloquent and popular of all the German writers, wrote in 1788, an elaborate history of the revolt of the Netherlands, but he openly avows his ignorance of the Dutch language, and, rnistakirzg the mere form o j history -for its spirit, seems to think that he will have done sufficient if ’he amuses the reader by aiz artistic arrangement of striking events. (My italics.)l*

Buckle was paraphrasing a letter, dated 8 July 1825, of the German professor of ancient history B. G. Niebuhr,lg who had expressed his satisfaction at the positivistic turn he had been able to give to the science of history by con- trasting it with histories of the immediately preceding age: the numbers may have dropped 06 but those who remain in his lectures ‘erkennen, dass sie urzstutt eines asthetiscken oder philosopkirerzden Gcfratsckes nun wirklich achte Geschichte horen’ (my italics).2O It is precisely against the methodological naivety of ‘really genuine history’, as envisaged by a Niebuhr or a Buckle, that much recent historiographical mind-searching has been directed. It has taken as its butt the famous words-frequently, where not actually mis- quoted, taken out of context, and by now reduced to a clicht-of the greatest exponent of that nineteenth-century trend, Leopold von Ranke, about the importance of trying to tell the past like it was: ‘wie es eigentlich gewesen’. At its worst this increasing recognition of the historian’s ‘sub- jective’ involvement in his ‘objective’ material has lent support to those who would justify any sort of personal or ideological bias in the writing of history by reference to the unavoidability of such intervolvement. At its sophisti- cated best, in the hands of an E. H. Carr for example, it has brought home to us just how much the ‘facts of history’ are to be distinguished from the but partially recorded, the infinitely unrecorded, ‘events of the past’. It seems unlikely, in view of Schiller’s prompt, and never shaken, recognition of the fundamental ‘rightness’ of Kant’s epistemology, that he should have been unaware of the historian’s ‘construing’ activity vis-A-vis the recorded events of the past. Any more than Goethe was unaware of Kant’s influence when he wrote ‘Das Hochste ware: zu begreifen, dass alles Faktische schon Theorie ist’, or ‘. . . mit jedem aufmerksanien Blick in die Welt theoretisieren [wir schon]’. What undoubtedly gives force to such aphorisnis is the weight of devoted observation of phenomena and a lifetime’s inspection of his own

T W O R E C E N T V O L U M E S O F THE SCHILLER N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E 109

mental processes. But they nevertheless represent the culmination of a century’s reflection about the relations between mind and world. And in this process of reflection and self-reflection Schiller was as much engaged as anyone. In other words, we have to assume that he knew exactly what he was doing when he wrote the kind ofhistory he did. Whether he succeeded is another matter, and would demand quite different processes of appraisal. All I am concerned with here is his intention. And the key to this is offered in the ‘Vorrede’ to the first version of his Geschichte des Abfalls der veveinigten Niederlande von der spanischeiz Regierung of 1788 (printed here, in NA 17, where it clearly belongs, at the beginning of the work itself; in tlie ‘Sakular- Ausgabe’ it was severed from it, and relegated to the Verniischte Schrijen in Vol. XVI). He concluded it thus:

Meine Absicht bei diesem Versuche ist mehr als erreicht, wenn er einen Theil des lesenden Publikums von der Moglichkeit uberfuhrt, dass eine Geschichte historisch treu geschrieben seyn kann, ohne darum eine Geduldprobe fur den Leser zu seyn, und wenn er einem andern das Gestandnis abgewinnt, dass die Geschichte von einer verwandten Kunst etwas borgen kann, ohne deswegen nothwendig zum Roman zu werden.

Anyone who has studied Schiller’s later theory of popularization will recognize the germ of it here. Here already is the same insistence on a scrupulous distinction between ‘science’ and ‘art’; the same conviction that they can be appropriately related without being confused-provided that one operates with a principle of subordination as well as co-ordination (the binary-type synthesis he was later to make explicit is plainly implicit here) ; the same belief that the raising of science, philosophy, or history to a higher, an aesthetic, power is essential if the even then widening gap between experts and the ‘common’ man is to be bridged. This theory of populariza- tion depends on his concept of ‘asthetische Mitteilung’, as set forth in the last Letter of his Asthetische Erziehung and related essays, and is an integral part of the aestlietic education of man as he conceived it. A prerequisite for understanding it is not to confuse it with ‘education through art’ in the narrower sense.21 Like Voltaire, Schiller had come to the writing of history through the creation of an historical play. And to the writing of historical plays he was to return. However one may judge his achievement in either field, the difference in kind is palpable; and no good purpose is served by confusing them, whether in appraising his practice or in analysing the theoretical intention behind it.

This, then-his theory of popularization-is a second context in which I shall hope to see his Historische Schrijien placed. A third gives me pause for reflection because the word ‘relevance’ has become so unfortunately loaded. Yet it would surely not be ‘irrelevant’ to remind readers of even the most

B

I10 T W O RECENT VOLUMES OF T H E S C H I L L E R NATIONALAUSGABE

purist ‘historisch-kritisclie Ausgabe’ that Schiller’s essay on ‘Die Gesetz- gebung des Lykurgus und Solon’-the last of his Schrijen xtlr Universal- geschichte (NA 17,414 %) was used as a manifesto by the tragically courageous Geschwister Scholl in a student revolt against For Schiller the study of ‘Universalgeschichte’ derived its justification from its power to shed light on the temporal and the regional. From the conviction that out of the rich heritage of truth and error, of freedom and bondage, of high moral ideals and inevitable human frailty, to which we have succeeded by virtue of our knowledge of the past, we may perhaps anchor our fleeting existence to the indestructible bond which entwines all human beings, past and present.

In conclusion 1 should perhaps confess to a niggling doubt at the back of my mind about the practical wisdom of such grandiose editorial enterprises. It might perhaps be designated-by analogy with ‘the fallacy of misplaced concretion’-as the fallacy of misplaced completeness. That is to say, my reservations are focussed not on the ideal of completeness as such, but on its displacement in the direction of mere ‘Stoff’ and away from the ‘Wie’ and the ‘Wozu‘ of editorial activity. These doubts were not in fact precipi- tated by the ‘Schiller Nationalausgabe’, but by the ‘Akademie-Ausgabe’ of Kant’s Gesammelte Schriften. Started in 1900, its twenty-three volumes were finally brought to completion in 1955. For the completion of its ‘Personen- index’ we had to wait until 1970. For the completion of its ‘Allgemeiner Index’ we are still waiting. What would scholars meanwhile have done without Cassirer’s profoundly intelligent edition in eleven volumes? How much valuable Goethe scholarship would have remained undone without the ‘Jubilaums-Ausgabe’ and its ‘Registerband’? Or without the courageous enterprises of Trunz and Beutler? The ‘Sophienausgabe’, as every serious Goethe scholar knows, is more often a liability than an asset. Will the ‘ Akademie-Ausgabe’ prove to be more? And will the ‘Schiller National- ausgabe’, if-as we hope-it is completed before it reaches the age of seventy? The trouble with these so-called definitive editions is that they really do become ‘definitive’, not for reasons of scholarship alone, but because these are inextricably intervolved with economic factors-and with prestige. When so much capital expenditure has been invested, when to the non- scholar the original aim of providing absolute completeness seems to have been achieved, what publisher can reasonably be expected to embark on another for another century or more? And meanwhile what hope is there that-in the present state of scholarship, with its plethora of publications with which even the most conscientious can scarcely hope to come to terms -corrections and criticisms of particulars will be absorbed into the body of knowledge? To quote from what has the appearance of authority will seem -and will understandably seem-not only the right, but the duty, of every up-and-coming scholar.

T W O RECENT V O L U M E S OF T H E SCHILLER N A T I O N A L A U S G A B E I11

NOTES

1 Schillers Werke. Nafiorralaitsgrtbe. Bd. 28: Schillers Briefe 1.vii.179~-3 1.v.1796. Hrsg. von Norbert Oellers, 1969; Bd. 17: Histurisclre Schrifteti, Erskr Tcil. Hrsg. von Karl-Heinz Hahn, 1970. Weimar: Hermann Bahlaus Nachfolger.

2 See Lieselotte Blumenthal’s opening remarks, in the ‘Anmerkungen’ of NA 42, on the need to include Gesprache in a ‘Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe’ of Schiller’s works because of the paucity of auto- biographical material in his particular case: ‘Wenn dies hier zum erstenmal geschieht, so sind sich die Herausgeber . . . des Ungewohnlicben ihrer Entscheidung und ihrer Verfahrensweise durchaus bewusst’

3 The latest book, claimed as the first comprehensive study of the basic principles underlying the practice of textual criticism, is by James Thorpe: Principles o j Textual Criticism, San Marino, California: Huntington Library Publications, 1972.

Friedrich Schiller, On the Aesthetic Edircatiorr of‘ Man. In a Series of Letters. Edited and translated, with an Introduction, Commentary and Glossary of Terms, by Elizabeth M. Wilkinson and L. A. Willoughby, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967. Henceforth cited as WW.

‘Nachlese zu Schillers Asthetik. Auf Wegen der Herausgeber’, Jb. d. dt. Schillergesellsdt~~, XI (1967). 374-403.

W e also objected (pp. 379 E; cf. Appendix I, p. 335 of our bilingual edition) to the niisleading practice of calling the Horen version ‘Erstdruck’ and Schiller’s 1793 letters to his patron ‘erste Fassitng’. The former is the ‘erste Fassung’; the latter are niere drafts.

7 ‘Nachlese’. ed. cit., pp. 391 5.; Wilkinson ‘Schiller and the Gutenberg Galaxy: A Question of Appropriate Contexts’, GLL, XVIII (1965), 309-31R.

Neue Ziircher Zei fuq , 7 November 1971, p. 49 f. C. H. Becksche Verlagsbuchhandlung, Munchen, 1971.

(P. 439).

lo Reprinted in Goethe, Poet and Thinker, London, 1970, p. 137. l1 See the Introduction to our edition of his Rsthetisclre Erziehung, WW, p. xix f. l2 Letter to Goethe, zo.x.1794. l3 Nor does the latest translation and commentary by an American professor of philosophy: Naive

and Sentimental Poetry and ON the Sublime. Two Essays. Translated, with Introduction and Notes, by Julius A. Elias. Milestones of Thought. New York: Frederick Ungar Publishing Co., 1966.

l4 N A 20, pp. 455 f. ~~ l5 See . his letter to Korner, 23.ii.1793 and our Commentary on the last paragraph of his &~efDrhe Erziehnng.

thereto. l6 The Notebooks ufSamnel Taylor Coleridge, ed. Kathleen Coburn. Vol. 11, entries 2363, 2396 and notes

l7 Schiller: Poet or Philosopher? Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1961, p. 24 f. Miscellaneous and Posthtrmoirs Works. Ed. with a Biographical Notice by Helen Taylor. 3 Vols.,

London, 1872. I, 201. l9 Lebensnarhrichten uber Barthold Georg Niebuhr. 3 Bde., Hamburg, 1838-9. 111, 150. 2o See G. A. Wells, Herder and After. A Study in the Development qf Sociology (Anglica Germanica, I,

’s Gravenhage, 1959), p. 158 and fn. 109. From this it is not, however, entirely clear just what Buckle is taking from Niebuhr and what he i s adding himself. And in rendering Getratsch by ‘twaddle’ Professor Wells is perhaps inclining more to the pejorative end of the word’s range of meaning than Buckle himself did.

21 O n the importance of these distinctions, and on Schiller’s theory of popularization in general, see WW, pp. ci-cxxi.

22 See Die weisse Rose by Inge Scholl, Fischerbiicherei, 88, Frankfurt am Main, 1952; trsl. as Six against Tyranny by C. Brooks, London, 1955; and see J. P. Stern, ‘The White Rose’ in this journal, GLL, XI (1957/8), 81 ff.