My _Laocoon_ is
now a secondary labor." And yet he never fell into the mistake of
overvaluing what he valued so highly. His unflinching common-sense would
have saved him from that, as it afterwards enabled him to see that
something was wanting in him which must enter into the making of true
poetry, whose distinction from prose is an inward one of nature, and not
an outward one of form. While yet under thirty, he assures Mendelssohn
that he was quite right in neglecting poetry for philosophy, because
"only a part of our youth should be given up to the arts of the
beautiful. We must practise ourselves in weightier things before we die.
An old man, who lifelong has done nothing but rhyme, and an old man who
lifelong has done nothing but pass his breath through a stick with holes
in it,--I doubt much whether such an old man has arrived at what he was
meant for."
This period of Lessing's life was a productive one, though none of its
printed results can be counted of permanent value, except his share in
the "Letters on German Literature." And even these must be reckoned as
belonging to the years of his apprenticeship and training for the
master-workman he afterwards became. The small fry of authors and
translators were hardly fitted to call out his full strength, but his
vivisection of them taught him the value of certain structural
principles.
Pages:
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454