Three Translations from the <i>Acta Comparationis Litterarum Universarum</i>: “Preliminary Tasks of Comparative Literature, Part III: Decaglotism”; “Laws of Comparative Literary Research”; and “Goethe’s World Literature”

The ACLU’s mission statement for the new field of comparative literature—“Vorläufige Aufgaben der vergleichenden Litteratur”—was serialized across three issues of Acta Comparationis (parts I and II appearing in 1877, with part III appearing in 1878). The third part of the text appears here in full for the first time in English translation. Parts I and II were first translated into English as “Present Tasks of Comparative Literature” by Hans-Joachim Schulz and Phillip H. Rhein for their anthology Comparative Literature: The Early Years (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1973, 53–62). Schulz and Rhein’s translation has been reproduced in more recent anthologies: see, for example, The Princeton Sourcebook in Comparative Literature, edited by David Damrosch, Natalie Melas, and Mbongiseni Buthelezi (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2009, 41–49); and World Literature: A Reader, edited by Theo D’Haen, Cesar Dominguez, and Mads Rosendahl Thomsen (Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 2013, 18–22). While Schulz and Rhein, as well as the editors of those later two collections, were aware of part III, for reasons unknown they chose not to translate it. As the essay accompanying this translation demonstrates, this decision has arguably shaped the Anglophone research literature on the ACLU. The ACLU originally used asterisks rather than numbers for notes, with * designating the first note on any given page, ** designating the second note, and so on. This format has been changed to numbered footnotes to conform with modern methods of electronic publication.__________The prospectus of our literary journal (provided as an extra-addendum to this issue) is called decaglot, because, from our point of view, there are exactly ten modern literatures in Europe with truly world-literary characteristics. Namely, alongside the literatures of the 3 great European languages, the German, French, and English: the Italian (with Dante and Leopardi, etc.); the Spanish (with Cervantes, etc.); the Portuguese (with Camoens); the Dutch (with Reinaert de Vos); the Swedish (with Tegnér); the Icelandic (with the Edda); and finally, that language to which our literary journal first and foremost most belongs: the Hungarian (with Eötvös and Petöfi).The literatures of the Danes, the Norwegians, the Latvians, the Finns, the Estonians, the Basques, the Irish, the Bretons, the Poles, the Czechs, the Slavonic peoples of western central Europe [Wenden], the Serbs, the Russians, the Modern Greeks, the Albanians, the Romanians, the Turks, as well as of the remaining smaller tribes [Volksstämme] of Europe, are either still only literatures of the folk song [Volksliederlitt.], or rather, if they are artistic literatures [Kunstlitteraturen], then mainly of recent emergence and of thoroughly naturalistic, in the best case Romantic, coloring. The Hungarian is perhaps the only non-Germanic literary area among the smaller literatures to have fundamentally broken with Romanticism and to have ascended toward a true classicism, admittedly through a slow process of around 500 years, but also only recently in its most modern publications, with Petöfi at its peak, who, alongside Goethe, is the greatest and most universal artistic poet [Kunstlyriker], at least of this century.2 Hungarian has therefore overcome Romanticism in a more fundamental way than even Swedish and more fundamentally than its northern neighbor, Polish, which otherwise demands such a high level of respect. Modern Greek literature does not stand in anywhere near so close a relation to ancient Greek, not even in respect of language, not to mention in respect of spirit, as does modern Icelandic to Old Icelandic (the Edda). For this reason, modern Icelandic is afforded a highly important aesthetic-literary role in the literary traffic of Europe, whatever the character of its political role may be.3 Admittedly, a very significant political role fell to Russian among the Slavic languages: but this is completely irrelevant in relation to purely literary and comparative-literary-historical matters. Classical and truly universal creations of the mind precisely cannot be created through diplomatic or undiplomatic, through bloody or peaceful, military campaigns; indeed, barely two or three generations ago we experienced the most significant ascent of German literature and its second classical period during the time of Germany’s deepest political humiliation. (The Seven Years’ War did not, on the whole, change anything in that respect.)It is, however, self-explanatory that, despite this restriction to decaglotism, a comparative forum such as ours makes in principle allowance for every still minor literature, or every literature that is still counted as minor.4Indeed, from the comparative-literary standpoint, the importance of one literature at the expense of others ceases completely;—they are all equally important,5 whether they be mental creations belonging to European or non-European, “cultured” or so-called savage peoples. Indeed, for the languages and folk-song culture [Volksliederleben] of certain small tribes of Europe, which are hated, derided, or, in the best case regarded with indifference by the larger peoples of Europe with a race-antagonism that can otherwise only be observed in relation to the savages of exotic countries, the comparative principle will offer an asylum that is to be opened to the oppressed in an even more accommodating and helpful manner than to all others. [By oppressed small tribes we mean especially Jews, Armenians, Roma, Chizeroths and Burins (in France), smaller Slavic dialects, Finnish and other Turanian tribes, such as Laplanders; also the dispersed fragments of greater nations, such as: Csángó-Hungarians in Moldavia, and Transylvanian Saxons6 etc. etc.] In these small and minute folk literatures—abandoned with a Micromegasian and unscientific disregard exclusively to the neighboring anthropological sciences, or in the best case, to so-called dialectology, by fashionable, mono-nationalist, and superficial literary history; in short: a case of pseudo-methodical neglect—there often lies hidden a complete and magnificent world of the most informative and primeval ethnological-literary-historical reminiscences and similar treasures.7Accordingly, decaglotism will assume a leading role only in the interests of a prudent economy and restriction, without having the slightest pretentions to distinction, or any claims to precedence at all, especially in relation to European literatures of predominantly Romantic coloring. (It is, in any case, extremely difficult to draw a boundary between superior Romanticism and the weak beginnings of classicism, and especially the Danish, Norwegian, Turkish, Polish, Czech, Little-Russian, and even Great-Russian literatures certainly already exhibit appearances of respectable independence, and indeed classical resonances. One needs merely to recall the luminous names: Holberg, Bj. Björnson, Baki, Mickiewicz, Czelakowszky, Taras Szewczenko, Pushkin, among others.)And then it still must be taken into consideration whether, if this purely European and modern decaglotism would really wish to validate itself as a world-dominator, then it would truly have to play a deplorable role in relation to the ancient and vast Asian literary territories. (Not to mention the extinct occidental ones, with the Hellenes at the top of the list.) Our decaglotism cannot, therefore, satisfy the higher demands of comparative literature at all, indeed especially because it is merely modern, on the one hand, and merely European, on the other; but for time being it will probably have to be viewed as the most important tool that works toward those higher aims of comparative literature.8But the principle of polyglotism, outlined in our second section, will always have to limit itself through prudent and careful selection, so that its execution, which is in any case seemingly bizarre, does not become bizarre in reality. Here the most common rocks of modern literary historicizing are especially to be steered clear of, those that uncritically sacrifice the purely literary interest for the sake of interests that are political, national, and of completely ephemeral importance. The application of this important principle would indeed turn out to be bizarre if someone, for example, would wish to incorporate Russian and Turkish, which do not belong within general European script (presuming that these two literatures would already have ascended to the necessary level of independence); or indeed the Indian, the Chinese, Japanese, and so on. For the time being, we must therefore wait until these aforementioned Asian literatures accommodate themselves to the adoption of our alphabet, since in literature this alphabet is the same as coattails and European costume in general in social life. Only then would one be able to speak of a truly universal literary exchange and of rigorous comparison. Already in the last century the great Schlözer smoothed the path to transcription for the Russian script, without success. Today, however, when Lepsius’s standard alphabet actually covers the entire earth, it would be an unforgiveable regression if one were to use the national scripts for anything other than, for example, poetry anthologies and other belletrist products, whose sale is primarily intended for the relevant national citizens. One sees that even within our modest decaglotism our comparative science is still obstructed at every turn by some unjustified particularism. It is very regrettable that it is precisely Goethe’s homeland that still today believes it necessary to clothe science in a national costume, thereby presenting a bad example to the smaller languages.9One finds it completely acceptable that the French language dominates the exchanges of world diplomacy; but that in scientific intercourse, which is far more important and approaches the true interests of humanity in a much closer way, only one alphabet (not to mention one language) should rule, this is not apprehended by the intellectual tendency of our day, which is so exceedingly petit bourgeois and philistine-minded, mono-nationally nervous and inferior, and which holds Europe and also, unfortunately, first and foremost the once most universal Germany, in a completely befogged state. One considers still that there was also in science, and only recently, a world-language; the loss of this language—which is in many ways lamentable—should, at least to some degree, be compensated for by a timely reform, lest we completely sink back into primitive-national barbarism.Kolozsvár. MeltzlThe “Gesetze der vergleichenden Litteraturforschung” appear immediately after the second part of a two-part article titled “Edward ein Székler: Der uralten schottischen Volksballade Archetypon unter den transylvanischen Magyaren” (ACLU, no. 63 [1880]: 27–34 and ACLU, no. 70 [1880]: 139–49), and stand as one of the ACLU’s most programmatic statements on research methodology. Presumably jointly written by Meltzl and Brassai (no author name is given), the article discusses what appear to be different versions of a similar folk ballad in Scottish, Finnish, Hungarian, Swedish, Transylvanian-Saxon, and standard German versions. It argues that certain formal elements of the tale (chiefly the dialogue or call-and-response structure between mother and son) remain stable across all versions, with the plot and protagonists changing significantly in each iteration. From this the authors conclude that in processes of comparison, formal elements should trump those of content. Explanatory footnotes are provided by the translator. Throughout, the attempt has been made to preserve the original stylistic conventions of the journal.__________Instead of indulging in speculations over the wanderings of Edward, or rather those of his unfaithful wife (who must as such already be older than the unfaithful widow who is so ingeniously treated by E. Grisebach,1 and who is incidentally based only on a prose tradition); it is permitted here to state some theses emerging from the above investigations.The original title of this short article is “Goethes Weltlitteratur: Neun Thesen zur Semisaecularfeier des Todes Goethes.” It is based on the final lecture of a commemorative seminar entitled “Critical Discussion of World Literature to Mark the Fiftieth Anniversary of Goethe’s Death” and held at the Royal Franz-Josef University in the summer semester of 1881/82. Translator’s footnotes have been identified as such. Throughout, the attempt has been made to preserve the original stylistic conventions of the journal.Until today the concept of world literature has constantly been misunderstood, especially since Koberstein and Gervinus opposed it out of a would-be patriotic intention (Fontes, Compar. Vol. 1, Prooem.),1 whereas with more rigor and less fervor, they could have discovered that the term already appears in 1773 in the works of a certain Schlözer, albeit only as something extrinsic, as a merely collective concept (ACLU, p. 1375).2 However, Goethe was the first to present the concept of world literature in the correct light, to deepen it, and to secure it for all times, for which reason also Goethe alone is to be regarded as the founder of world literature.There is no doubt that the burning reaction in Goethe’s breast against the abstract teutonism of the day was the formative pressure that led to such a concept; especially when Bonapartian intemperateness—for example, the pulping of the work by Mme. de Staël in 1810 and similar events—drew progressively coarser outgrowths of German literature in its wake; whereupon, at any rate, the reminiscences of youth also played a role. (Herder; Lessing’s Nathan; the epoch of Frederick the Great; both Forsters; Kant, and many others.)Goethe realized early on that the prevailing tone of the collected European literatures of the day (which, on the whole, is still the tone of today) was not able to satisfy serious standards; for this reason, the greatest instructor of humanity began—in the midst of orientalist musings (West-Eastern Divan), and immersing himself in a kind of philosophy of literature, an ideal and almost esoteric form of composition—to ruminate on a corrective.Single-handedly in those eventful times, and furthermore in the overcrowded and desultory last period of his life, the 68-year-old Goethe was not able systematically to formulate the main outlines of world literature, for which reason some of that which remains in incidental utterances appears on first consideration to be inadequate or obscure. Yet the epigones should never have been allowed to ignore that undreamed-of light can only too easily be shed upon apparent contradictions, when in days to come Goethe’s family archive will open itself to a more dispassionate generation, which, equipped with the necessary piety and judgment, will address the problems of the so-called Goethe philology.In the first instance, a systematic presentation was not at all required, because the matter at hand was only a discovery; however, one poem has been left to posterity as the single and most immediate legacy of world literature, and is even entitled “World Literature”3; an unappreciated relic from the year 1817, according to our conjecture.4 On this basis, 1817 would be the birth year of world literature.Incidentally, shortly before his death Goethe found some quiet moments in which to gather and express his thoughts sensu proprio; indeed, so definitively, that not even the smallest doubt can prevail concerning his world literature. This main locus classicus5 is to be found in the Conversations with Eckermann at the end of January 1827; he repeats only the reminder that had been issued, sensu allegorico, a decade earlier in poetry. (“ . . . Today national literature does not amount to much, etc.”)And in this way, Goethe dealt national literature a death blow, in that he established henceforth an equally binding norm for the totality of humanity—namely, the idea of the (folk)song of all peoples of the world—that is, “world literature” in contrast to always only utilitarian national literature.6 A norm which, for the first time, restores to nationality itself its lost rights; because hereafter every superstition or hidden agenda concerning the inferiority or superiority of this or that race must disappear, after which only the pure (rhythmic, binding) human sound (that is, poetry) remains as literature κατ’ɛξοχήν [par excellence]; while everything else (that is, prose) exists only as a scientific and practical (that is, in the first instance, animalistic, nonhuman) requirement (even if it may mistakenly—in everyday life—be regarded as the intrinsically national or even cultural).The sublime reflection “all peoples under = sky” and more commonly, “ = gift” includes, by definition, the scientific point of view (which today is the only legitimate one): ver } = { ungcom } = { atioössze } = { litás7But what is the eternal sameness of all people (amid the eternally changing)? Is it costume, custom, religion, spirit, language (prose)? Or only imagination, heart, rhythm, meter (poetry)?Accordingly, in this critical-aesthetic sense, the very first truly human and truly Goethean world literature is nothing other than our science of the future: COMPARATIVE LITERATURE.