"This is an example of Eckermann making Goethe swallow Goethe in order to digest Eckermann . . . " - Avital Ronell
Marvelous surprise of the summer so far, an expected "stumble" in Avital Ronell's book with a title that hypnotized me into blind purchase of it, Dictations: On Haunted Writing. Midway into the slow (for me) read cuz I have not caught up in my philosophy education yet, alas, but am learning as I go, even in my early '70's...and besides, she's actually a damned good and brilliant writer. I know. I know. There was a controversy about her at NYU 10 years ago. But such does not discount her intellectual work. At least for me. Just my opinion. And her Dictations book is just the kind of "stretch" intellectually and more that I yearn for in this most boring of klutch-ures. Terrors a'plenty though so let me take deep dives and get lost in Ronell, others....being above ground among humans smothers me much (of more than late - say when the nightmare of "W" appeared and brought with it international fly-by's and karma kola with a krunch bar kaught up with England and others' invader Pilgrim-mores.
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Her essay about Alexander Graham Bell, from Heidegger to Bell to Cinderella to Frankenstein themes of haunted dictation focussed on the Telephone's symbolic function of connecting the remote and distant spectral Other "not close" but inwardly present as haunting; Bell invented the phone (a happy accident did the trick) just after his mother died, his longing for her voice, to hear it, to evoke her presence...
COME ON! Such writing (at least for me) is rare....an event.
What motivates such inventions (Bells) and event-ions (Ronell's) is human, all too human...and Ronell is masterful and lengthy in her amplifications...just breath taking (at least for me). This in her compacted, dense yet surprising writing if one goes with her flow and then gets caught up in her tectonic undertow - best title going (love it - since she published this right at the end of 1900's, last decade in prep. for 2000's, the nightmare that continues in the fall of Western Civ. and Empire:
Infinitude's Score: Essays for the Millennium:
This will open up to that chapter....but first must sign in/join (free to join):
https://archive.org/details/finitudesscorees0000rone/page/237/mode/1up
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So midway through the accounts, Goethe's an elderly man who has allowed one Johann Peter Eckermann, in his early 30's, to accompany him and to record their conversations, the events, settings in which they take, and it is a delight to read cuz, you know, GOETHE, the massive Western "mana personality" still turning heads and minds, and I imagine, some stomachs too but...anyhow this excerpt below is about a dream Eckermann reports to Goerthe day after he had it.
And I work a lot with dreams so I was almost licking the pages of the book to read more, to see what Eckermann and Goethe made of it. Ronell writes a long passage about this dream, of Eckermann's "attachment" to Goethe, a kind of artificial limb, a prosthesis, a prosthetic attachment ot Goethe who, in modern psychology parlance (on of many) Goethe is a "self-object" for Eckermann...what early Jung refers to as a mana personality, one imbued with and informed energetically by an archetypal energy which others pick up on, are tranced by...one could call it charisma on steroids.
As I read Ronell's take (she knows her Freud so he informs her takes on Eck.s dream plus her own more than two cents), I immediately read the dream as being one that I most certainly have had in various periods of my life, my projections upon "mana" others, places, activities and things (art, books, degrees, etc.) which held for me projections of self and, as Jung would say, Self, greater personality - archetypally more deeply sourced than just the personal level of the unconscious.
And now, aged 72, more than a bit mottled and throttled by 7 decades behind me and right in my crepe-ing face, I really identify with the younger Eckermann's experience of himself, in his dream - his BODY as Other, as Burden, as more than inadequate. Weak, lacking presence.
Something happens in the dream, however, where a robust, abled-bodied young man sees Eck.s struggles swimming in deep water (they must swim from a tiny rock island over a wide expanse of water to get to a distant wide shore, they have no alternative but swim - the able bodied excellent swimmer suggests that they, Eck. and he, exchange bodies, they do so, and Eckermann experiences his body with the all the tremendous vitality of the other man's; Eck. easily makes it to the shore with energy to spare! feels light, energized, positive (unlike his familiar melancholy, heady (intellectual) self.
BINGO! I'm all in that dream, Ronell's spins, so at 3 am ordered Eckermann's book of his time with Goethe, the daily accounts, the conversations, the meals had, the wine drunk, the dreams discussed, the books, philosophy, history, lit., birds and bees (the literal ones, plus the, ahem, "birds and bees and flowers" and such, all these topics more than prosthetics but resonating as authentic "self objects" requiring honest attention.
I paid extra to have it delivered ASAP (though was reading it online, easy to find via google and archive. org.).
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Here's the section I read, that Ronell expounds upon in her book, Dictations: On Haunted Writing, page 108
(Supplement) Wednesday, March 12, 1828.
https://archive.org/details/dictationsonhaun0000rone
"AFTER I HAD quitted Goethe yesterday evening, the
important conversation I had carried on with him re-
mained constantly in my mind. The discourse had
also been upon the sea and sea air ; and Goethe had
expressed the opinion, that he considered all islanders
and inhabitants of the sea-shore in temperate climates
far more productive, and possessed of more active force,
than the people in the interior of large continents.
Whether or not it was that I had fallen asleep with
these thoughts, and with a certain longing for the in-
spiring powers of the sea ; suffice it to say, I had in
the night the following pleasant, and to me very re-
markable dream : —
I saw myself in an unknown region, amongst
strange men, thoroughly cheerful and happy. The
most beautiful summer day surrounded me in a charm-
ing scene, such as might be witnessed somewhere on
the shores of the Mediterranean, in the south of Spain
or France, or in the neighbourhood of Genoa. We
had been drinking at noon round a merry table, and 1
went with some others, rather young people, to make
another party for the afternoon.
We had loitered along through bushy and pleasant
low lands, when we suddenly found ourselves in the
sea, upon the smallest of islands, on a jutting rock,
where there was scarcely room for five or six men, and
where one could not stir for fear of slipping into the
water. Behind us, whence we had come, there was
nothing to be seen but sea ; but before us lay the shore
at about a quarter of an hour's distance, spread out
most invitingly. The shore was in some places flat,
in others rocky and somewhat elevated ; and one might
observe, between green leaves and white tents, a crowd
of joyous men in light-coloured clothes, recreating
themselves with music, which sounded from the tents.
"There is nothing else to be done," said one of
us to the other« " we must undress and swim over."
u It is all very well to say so," said I, "you are young,
handsome fellows, and good swimmers; but I swim
badly, and I do not possess a shape fine enough to ap-
pear, with pleasure and comfort, before the strange
people on shore." "You are a fool," said one of the
handsomest, "undress yourself, give me your form
and you shall have mine." At these words I undressed
myself quickly, and was soon in the water, and imme-
diately found myself in the body of the other as a
powerful swimmer. I soon reached the shore, and,
naked and dripping, stepped with the most easy con-
fidence amongst the men. I was happy in the sen-
sation of these fine limbs ; my deportment was uncon-
strained, and I at once became intimate with the
strangers, at a table before an arbour, where there
was a great deal of mirth. My comrades had now
reached land one by one, and had joined us, and the
only one missing was the youth with my form, in
whose limbs I found myself so comfortable. At last
he also approached the shore, and I was asked if I
was not glad to see my former self? At these words
experienced a certain discomfort, partly because I did
not expect any great joy from myself, and partly because
I feared that my young friend would ask for his own
body back again. However, I turned to the water,
and saw my second self swimming close up to me, and
laughing at me with his head turned a little on one side.
u There is no swimming with those limbs of yours,"
exclaimed he, " I have had a fine struggle against waves
and breakers, and it is not to be wondered at that I
have come so late, and am last of all." I at once re-
cognised the countenance ; it was my own, but grown
young, and rather fuller and broader, with the freshest
complexion. He now came to land, and whilst he raised
himself, and first stepped along the sand, I had a view
of his back and legs, and was delighted with the per-
fection of the form. He came up the rocky shore to
us, and as he came up to me he had completely my
new stature. <c How is it," thought I to myself, " that
your little body has grown so handsome. Have the
primeval powers of the sea operated so wonderfully
upon it, or is it because the youthful spirit of my friend
has penetrated the limbs ? " Whilst we enjoyed our-
selves together for some time, I silently wondered that
my friend did not show any inclination to resume his
own body. " Truly," thought I, " he looks bravely,
and it may be a matter of indifference to him in which
body he is placed, but it is not the same thing to me ;
for I am not sure whether in that body I may not
shrink and become as diminutive as before." In order
to satisfy myself on this point, I took my friend aside,
and asked him how he felt in my limbs ? " Perfectly
well," said he ; " I have the same sensation of my own
natural power as before; I do not know what you
have to complain of in your limbs. They are quite
right with me ; and you see one only has to make the
best of oneself. Remain in my body as long as you
please ; for I am perfectly contented to remain in yours
through all futurity. ,, I was much pleased by this ex-
planation, and as in all my sensations, thoughts, and
recollections, I felt quite as usual, my dream gave me
the impression of a perfect independence of the soul,
and the possibility of a future existence in another
body."
"That is a very pretty dream," said Goethe, when,
after dinner to-day, I imparted to him the principal
features. " We see," continued he, a that the muses
visit you even in sleep, and, indeed, with particular
favour ; for you must confess that it would be difficult
for you to invent anything so peculiar and pretty in
your waking moments."
"I can scarcely conceive how it happened to me,"
returned I ; u for I had felt so dejected all day that
the contemplation of so fresh a life was far from my
mind."
"Human nature possesses wonderful powers," re-
turned Goethe, " and has something good in readiness
for us when we least hope for it. There have been
times in my life when I have fallen asleep in tears;
but in my dreams the most charming forms have come
to console and to cheer me, and I have risen the next
morning fresh and joyful."
"There is something more or less wrong among
us old Europeans ; our relations are far too artifi-
cial and complicated, our nutriment and mode of life
are without their proper nature, and our social inter-
course is without proper love and good will. Every
one is polished and courteous j but no one has the
courage to be hearty and true, so that an honest man,
with natural views and feelings, stands in a very bad
position. Often one cannot help wishing that one
had been born upon one of the South Sea Islands, a so-
called savage, so as to have thoroughly enjoyed human
existence in all its purity, without any adulteration."
"If in a depressed mood one reflects deeply upon the
wretchedness of our age, it often occurs to one that the
world is gradually approaching the last day. And the
evil accumulates from generation to generation ! For
it is not enough that we have to suffer for the sins of
our fathers, but we hand down to posterity these in-
herited vices increased by our own."
" Similar thoughts often occur to me," answered I;
"but if, at such a time, I see a regiment of German
dragoons ride by me, and observe the beauty and power
of these young people, I again derive some consolation,
and say to myself, that the durability of mankind is after
all not in such a desperate plight."
"Our country people," returned Goethe, u have
certainly kept up their strength, and will, I hope, long
be able not only to furnish us with good horsemen,
but also to secure us from total decay and destruction.
The rural population may be regarded as a magazine,
from which the forces of declining mankind are always
recruited and refreshed. But just go into our great
towns, and you will feel quite differently. Just take
a turn by the side of a second diable boiteux y or a
physician with a large practice, and he will whisper to
you tales which will horrify you at the misery, and
astonish you at the vice with which human nature is
visited, and from which society suffers."
"But let us banish these hypochondriacal thoughts.
How are you going on ? What are you doing ? What
else have you seen to-day ? Tell me, and inspire me
with good thoughts."
"I have been reading Sterne/' returned I, " where
Yorick is sauntering about the streets of Paris, and
makes the remark that every tenth man is a dwarf.
I thought of that when you mentioned the vices of
great towns. I also remember to have seen, in
Napoleon's time, among the French infantry, one bat-
talion which consisted entirely of Parisians, who were
all such puny, diminutive people, that one could not
comprehend what could be done with them in battle."
"The Scotch Highlanders under the Duke of Wel-
lington," rejoined Goethe, " were doubtless heroes of
another description."
"I saw them in Brussels a year before the battle of
Waterloo," returned I. " They were, indeed, fine
men; all strong, fresh, and active, as if just from
the hand of their Maker. They all carried their heads
so freely and gallantly, and stepped so lightly along with
their strong bare legs, that it seemed as if there were
no original sin, and no ancestral failing, as far as they
were concerned."
" There is something peculiar in this," said Goethe.
"Whether it lies in the race, in the soil, in the free
political constitution, or in the healthy tone of education,
— certainly, the English in general appear to have cer-
tain advantages over many others. Here in Weimar, we
see only a few of them, and, probably, by no means the
best ; but what fine, handsome people they are. And
however young they come here, they feel themselves
by no means strange or embarrassed in this foreign
atmosphere ; on the contrary, their deportment in
society is as full of confidence, and as easy, as if they
were lords everywhere, and the whole world belonged
to them. This it is which pleases our women, and
by which they make such havoc in the hearts of our
young ladies. As a German father of a family, who is
concerned for the tranquillity of his household, I often
feel a slight shudder, when my daughter-in-law an-
nounces to me the expected arrival of some fresh,
young islander. I already see in my mind's eye, the
tears which will one day flow when he takes his de-
parture. They are dangerous young people ; but this
very quality of being dangerous is their virtue."
"Still, I would not assert," answered I, " that the
young Englishmen in Weimar are more clever, more
intelligent, better informed, or more excellent at heart
than other people."
" The secret does not lie in these things, my good
friend," returned Goethe. " Neither does it lie in
birth and riches ; it lies in the courage which they
have to be that for which nature has made them.
There is nothing vitiated or spoilt about them, there
is nothing half-way or crooked ; but such as they are,
they are thoroughly complete men. That they are
also sometimes complete fools, I allow with all my
heart ; but that is still something, and has still always
some weight in the scale of nature.
"The happiness of personal freedom, the conscious-
ness of an English name, and of the importance at-
tached to it by other nations, is an advantage even to
the children ; for in their own family, as well as in
scholastic establishments, they are treated with far
more respect, and enjoy a for freer development, than
is the case with us Germans.
"In our own dear Weimar, I need only look out at the
window to discover how matters stand with us. Lately,
when the snow was lying upon the ground, and my
neighbour's children were trying their little sledges in
the street, the police was immediately at hand, and I
saw the poor little things fly as quickly as they could.
Now, when the spring sun tempts them from the
houses, and they would like to play with their com-
panions before the door, I see them always constrained,
as if they were not safe, and feared the approach of
some despot of the police. Not a boy may crack a
whip, or sing or shout; the police is immediately at
hand to forbid it. This has the effect with us all
of taming youth prematurely, and of driving out all
originality and all wildness, so that in the end nothing
remains but the Philistine.
"You know that scarcely a day passes in which I
am not visited by some travelling foreigner. But if I
were to say that I took great pleasure, in the personal
appearance, especially of young, learned Germans from
a certain north-eastern quarter, I should tell a false-
hood.
"Short-sighted, pale, narrow-chested, young with-
out youth ; that is a picture of most of them as they
appear to me. And if I enter into a conversation with
any of them, I immediately observe that the things
in which one of us takes pleasure seem to them vain
and trivial, that they are entirely absorbed in the Idea,
and that only the highest problems of speculation are
fitted to interest them. Of sound senses or delight in
the sensual, there is no trace ; all youthful feeling and
all youthful pleasure are driven out of them, and that
irrecoverably ; for if a man is not young in his twentieth
year, how can he be so in his fortieth ?"
Goethe sighed and was silent.
I thought of the happy time in the last century,
in which Goethe's youth fell j the summer air of
Seesenheim passed before my soul, and I reminded
him of the verses, —
In the afternoon we sat,
Young people, in the cool.
"Ah," sighed Goethe, " those were, indeed, happy
times. But we will drive them from our minds, that
the dark foggy days of the present may not become
quite insupportable."
"A second Redeemer," said I, " would be required
to remove from us the seriousness, the discomfort, and
the monstrous oppressiveness of the present state of
things."
"If he came," answered Goethe, " he would be
crucified a second time. Still, we by no means need
anything so great. If we could only alter the Germans
after the model of the English, if we could only have
less philosophy and more power of action, less theory
and more practice, we might obtain a good share of re-
demption, without waiting for the personal majesty of a
second Christ. Much may be done from below by the
people by means of schools and domestic education ;
much from above by the rulers and those in immediate
connection with them.
"Thus, for instance, I cannot approve the requi-
sition, in the studies of future statesmen, of so much
theoretically-learned knowledge, by which young people
are ruined before their time, both in mind and body.
When they enter into practical service, they possess,
indeed, an immense stock of philosophical and learned
matters j but in the narrow circle of their calling, this
cannot be practically applied, and must therefore be
forgotten as useless. On the other hand, what they
most needed they have lost ; they are deficient in the
necessary mental and bodily energy, which i6 quite
indispensable when one would enter properly into
practical life.
"And then, are not love and benevolence also needed
in the life of a statesman, 4 — in the management of men ?
And how can any one feel and exercise benevolence
towards another, when he is ill at ease with himself.
" But all these people are in a dreadfully bad case.
The third part of the learned men and statesmen,
shackled to the desk are ruined in body, and con-
signed/ to the demon of hypochondria. Here there
should be action from above, that future generations
may at least be preserved from a like destruction.
"In the mean time," continued Goethe, smiling,
" let us remain in a state of hopeful expectation as to
the condition of us Germans a century hence, and
whether we shall then have advanced so far as to be
no longer savants and philosophers, but men."
Page 52 into Eckermanns' book linked below for this dream account with Eck. and Goethe. Through the years they actually share quite a bit about their dreams
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