¹ Critical opinion on the structure of Götz being what it is, the standard sources contain relatively little of a positive nature. The following works, referred to by author's name, are directly or indirectly helpful: Goethes Werke, Vol. iv, ed. W. Kayser (Hamburg, 1960). Citations are from this edition, with first line number added to the page when appropriate. P. Klaucke, Erläuterungen ausgewählter Werke Goethes, Vol. i: Götz von Berlichingen (Berlin, 1886). R. Weißenfels, Goethe im Sturm und Drang, Vol. i (Halle, 1894). F. Vollmer, Goethes Götz von Berlichingen (Leipzig, 1897). C. Wandrey, “Die Bedeutung der dichterischen Form und Goethes Götz von Berlichingen,” Deutsche Rundschau, clxxxvi (1921), 84–92. H. Meyer-Benfey, Goethes Götz von Berlichingen (Weimar, 1929). B. Fairley, Goethe as Revealed in his Poetry (Chicago, 1932). G. Schaeder, Gott und Welt (Hameln, 1947), esp. pp. 26–32. H. Voser, Individualität und Tragik in Goethes Dramen (Zürich, 1949). K. Viëtor, Der junge Goethe, 2nd ed. (Bern, 1950). E. Staiger, Goethe, Vol. i (Zürich, 1952). H. Schöffler, Deutscher Geist im 18. Jahrhundert (Göttingen, 1956). R. Ibel, Goethe, Götz von Berlichingen, 2nd ed. (Frankfurt, n.d., first publ. 1957). (My previous article “Toward a Revaluation of Goethe's Götz: The Protagonist,” PMLA, lxxvii, No. 1, March 1962, 58–70, is referred to by volume and page.)

Most of these and other critics agree that Götz is not stage-worthy. Many take this as a fault ascribable to youth, enthusiasm, Herder, or Shakespeare; others justify its eccentric structure in one way or another. Fairley calls it “a work more of delight than of depth” (A Study of Goethe, Oxford, 1947, p. 24). In Goethe (1932) he refers to its “perennial charm . . . a joy to read” but also to its “surface, if not . . . superficial, qualities,” its reveling in “pageantry, colour, bustle, hurly-burly ... for their own sakes” (p. 3), “its lack of any real poetic intensity” (p. 4). It is possible to plead nolo contendere to the charge of disunity and still convert at least one part of the evidence into a point of merit. Of all the plays, says Emil Staiger, “ist keines so ‘geistlos’ wie der ‘Götz,‘ und ebendeshalb keines so weit und so reich an mannigfaltigem Leben” (p. 95). Karl Viëtor points to the improvements in the 1773 version—shortening of sub-plot, more emphasis on Götz, less improvisation and lyricism—as a tentative reaching for unity, after the “buntwechselndes Hintereinander bezeichnender Einzelbilder” of the earlier version (pp. 60–61). But Wandrey sees basic inconsistencies of structure and speaks of the inner form as “eine den hymnischen Kern verhüllende epische Szenenfolge,” the outer as raising “die unerfüllte Forderung einer dramatischen Einheit” (p. 89).

One of the quickest ways to readjust one's focus and judgment on the structure of Götz is to abandon all notions of traditional (18th-century) dramatic form and look at the play as a representative of another, unspecified genre. Meyer-Benfey says, speaking of the many scene changes, “Eine solche Unzahl von Verwandlungen könnte keine Bühne

leisten; und so zeigt dieser Punkt aufs deutlichste, daß der Verfasser gar nicht mit einer Aufführung gerechnet, sondern sein Schauspiel lediglich für die innere Bühne der Einbildungskraft, d.h. als Lesedrama geschrieben hat“ (pp. 78–79). He is also clear about the highly dramatic possibilities of even the most rapid sequence of brief scenes. Of the 22 scenes of Act iii he says, ”Gerade der beständige Wechsel der Scene macht es möglich, diesen Kleinkrieg ungemein lebendig in lückenlosem Fortschritt vor unser Auge zu bringen“ (p. 35). He also sees merit in the general decentralization of scenes—in the interest of fullness and directness of action. Unfortunately, like most interpreters, he is also liberal with terms like ”undramatisch,“ ”episch,“ ”nicht einheitlich,“ etc. Goethe himself used the word ”antitheatralisch.“

For Goethe's time there may be no category for Götz, other than Lesedrama. For ours there is no difficulty in finding one, and—if the anachronism is not too shocking—it is an effective way to visualize the work produced in an appropriate medium. Götz is, as it stands, a nearly perfect scenario for a moving picture.

² The use of recurrences is only one way in which formal unity may be achieved. Another is the effective design of larger contours (lines of action, sub-plots, timing, etc.). This would require separate consideration. In such a study it would be perhaps more germane than it is here to operate from the starting point of Goethe's own concern for the priority of form, his distress at interest that is only “stoffartig.” M. Jolles, in “Die Form im künstlerischen Schaffen des jungen Goethe,” DVLG, xxviii (1954), 145–164 develops his study of Werther from this point, with interest especially in the ontogenetic aspect.

³ Less important but more obvious than the motif of pressure is the related motif of “negotiation.” Vollmer noted it long ago: “Den einzelnen Phasen des Kampfes, den Götz führt, gehören noch einzelne Unterhandlungen zu: des Bischofs Überlegen und Verhandeln gegen Götz einschließlich der Sendung Liebetrauts, ferner der Kampf der Reichsknechte gegen Götz, die Verhandlung der kaiserlichen Räte, die Beratungen der Bauernführer, die Hilfe der Zigeuner, der Beschluß des Gerichts gegen Adelheid” (pp. 57–58).

⁴ For an interesting theoretical treatment of kinds of motif, see Z. Czerny, “Contribution à une théorie comparée du motif ...” in Stil- und Formprobleme in der Literatur, ed. P. Böckmann (Heidelberg, 1959), pp. 38–50.

⁵ Klaucke, despite his curious view of the toasting scene (“freudig behagliche Stimmung”; p. 77), notices clearly the bond between it and the end. Actually, many critics take his view—in my reading, quite untenable—of the basic tone of the scene. Weißenfels views it as a patriarchal idyll. Meyer-Benfey calls it “ein behaglich verweilendes Zustandsbild” (p. 41). This is one of the serious consequences of taking Götz as a historical symbol, a character of no psychological complexity.

⁶ The pattern of anticipation and confirmation centering on this statement of dual allegiance is central to my reading of the play (PMLA, lxxvii, 61)—thus, to me, the paramount instance of such patterns. It is simply alluded to here, under a somewhat special aspect.

Weißenfels (pp. 496–497, 287–288, 295) also joins the Belagerung speech and the concluding scene, as “Vorhersage einer Zukunft.” Since he takes the first scene at face value, as an optimistic vision, and the latter as optimistic at least in its justification of Götz (“Apotheose”), he sees the same bridging of the two in a different light. It should be added, however, that Weißenfels, despite the historical and biographical orientation of most of his discussion, gives one of the soundest “intrinsic” analyses of Götz (including recognition, especially in the Urgölz, of fault and guilt).

⁷ Schöffler (p. 116) sees this as Shakespearean influence: the porter in Macbeth ii.3. Valid or not—and the basic spirit is sharply different—the identification of source seems almost to becloud the interpretation of the metaphor. In externals at most the device may be from Shakespeare. To the degree that its function is important it is discrete and original.

⁸ I take, therefore, virtually the opposite view from Ibel (the only commentator who makes much of its symbolic function), who calls it one of the elemental symbols of natural freedom (p. 40).