Part 9

The first important event in the life of the young couple was Fichte's coming to live with them. Fichte had been accused of teaching atheism, and his position as a professor was in jeopardy. Caroline Schlegel writes to a friend: "I must answer your questions about the Fichte affair, though it is a very painful one to me and to all admirers of honourable, frank behaviour. You know pretty well yourself what to think of the first accusation, made by a bigoted sovereign and his counsellors, half of them Catholics, the rest Moravian Brethren.... But Fichte is so exasperated by all sorts of reports from Weimar, about things looking bad for him there, &c. &c., that he declares he will resign if they reprimand him, or put any restriction on his teaching.... All who would stand well at court, and the professors whom Fichte has outshone, denounce his boldness and precipitancy. He is abandoned, actually avoided."

In a letter written jointly by Friedrich, Schleiermacher, and Dorothea, the last-mentioned says: "Things are going well with Fichte here; he is left in peace. Nicolai has intimated that no notice whatever will be taken of him so long as he does not attempt to give public lectures; this would not be well received.... I get on excellently with Fichte, and feel as much at home in this gathering of philosophers as if I had never been accustomed to anything inferior. Though I am still a little timid, this has nothing to do with Fichte personally, but rather with my own position to the world and to Friedrich--I am afraid--yet possibly I am mistaken. I cannot write another word, dear, for my philosophers are pacing up and down the room so incessantly that I am quite giddy."

Here we have a little domestic scene from Dorothea's life in Berlin. The three were so comfortable together that Fichte was desirous to make the arrangement permanent. He writes to his wife that he is trying to persuade Friedrich to remain in Berlin, and August Wilhelm and his wife to remove there. "If my plan succeeds, the two Schlegels, Schelling, who must also be persuaded to come, and we ourselves will form one family, take a large house, have only one cook, &c., &c."[5] The plan was not carried out. The wives of the two Schlegels did not get on with each other. But is it not like a breath from another world to come, in the midst of all this solicitude for Fichte and indignation at the wrong done him, upon such a passage in one of Dorothea's letters as the following: "I heartily thank your mother for the sweet picture of the saint. I keep it where I can always see it. She is the very saint I should have chosen for myself; she suits me exactly. These pictures and the Catholic music touch me so, that I am determined, if I become a Christian, to be a Catholic."[6] Nowhere is the religious confusion which distinguishes the Romantic School more plainly displayed.

But Dorothea is not the only female portrait in _Lucinde_. During the course of his development Julius makes the acquaintance of an admirable woman, who is described as follows: "This disease was cured, was expelled, by the very first sight of a woman who was quite unique, and who was the first to exercise complete influence over his mind.... She had made her choice, and had given herself to one who was his friend as well as hers, and who was worthy of her love. Julius was the confidant. He knew exactly what it was that made him unhappy, and sternly judged his own baseness.... He forced all his love back into his inmost heart and let passion rage and burn and consume there. But his outward man was quite changed. So successful was he in counterfeiting the most childlike frankness and innocence, and in assuming a sort of fraternal brusqueness to prevent his melting into tenderness, that she never entertained the slightest suspicion. She was gay and genial in her happiness; suspecting nothing, she shunned nothing, but gave her mood and wit free play when she found him unamiable. All the nobility and all the grace, all the divinity and all the waywardness of the feminine character found in her their most refined, their most womanly expression. Each quality was allowed to develop as freely and vigorously as if it were the only one; and the daring mixture of dissimilar elements did not produce confusion, for a spirit inspired it which was a living breath of harmony and love. In the course of the same hour she would reproduce some comic episode with the refined abandon of the accomplished actress, and read a great poem with simple, touching dignity. At one time it pleased her fancy to shine and trifle in society, at another she was all enthusiasm and ardour, and presently she would be assisting others by word and deed, serious, unassuming, and gentle as a tender mother. Her manner of relating it made any trifling incident as entertaining as a delightful fairy tale. She embellished everything with feeling and wit; she had a power of comprehending everything, and of ennobling everything she touched. Nothing great or good was too holy or too common for her passionate sympathy. She understood the slightest suggestion, and answered even the question that was not asked. It was not possible to make long speeches to her; they turned naturally into interesting conversations, during which an ever-varying music of intelligent glances and sweet expressions played over her delicate features. One seemed to see these glances and expressions while reading her letters, so lucidly and genially did she write, as if talking with her correspondent. Those who only knew this side of her might think that she was merely lovable, that she would make an enchanting actress, that nothing but metre and rhyme were wanting to make her winged words exquisite poetry. But this same woman showed on every occasion that called for it the most astonishing courage and energy; and it was from this side of her character, by her own heroic standard, that she judged men."

There is more praise than art in this portrait. Sainte-Beuve would have given us a very different delineation. The original of the picture is a woman who, after the publication of her letters under the title Caroline, was known, as if she had been a queen, only by this, her Christian name. It simplified matters, too, to designate her thus, for she had had so many surnames that it was difficult to know by which to call her. She was a daughter of the well-known German philologist, Michaelis; her first husband was a Dr. Böhmer; after his death she married A. W. Schlegel, and her third husband was Schelling. These two last marriages placed her in the centre of the Romantic circle, which seems naturally to group itself round her. She was its own special muse. Grier, the gifted translator of Calderon and Ariosto, says of her that she is by far the cleverest woman he has known. Steffens and Wilhelm von Humboldt use similar expressions. A. W. Schlegel writes of several of his essays, that they are "in part the work of a highly gifted woman, who possessed all the qualifications of a successful author, but whose ambition did not lie in that direction." Schelling writes at the time of her death: "Even had she not been to me what she was, I should mourn the human being, should lament that this intellectual paragon no longer exists, this rare woman, who to masculine strength of soul and the keenest intellect united the tenderest, most womanly, most loving heart. We shall never see her like again." Her portrait is very striking--fascinating, refined, roguish, and yet tender. She is quite in Leonardo's style. Dorothea is far less complex.

Caroline was born in 1763, and was twenty-one at the time of her first marriage. A. W. Schlegel made her acquaintance whilst he was a student at Göttingen, and fell in love with her, but she refused to marry him. Intercourse between them was broken off for a time, but was carried on by correspondence while Schlegel was at Amsterdam, where he went as a tutor in 1791. Here various amorous episodes, amongst them one serious love affair, threw Caroline for a time into the shade. Meanwhile, she was entangling herself in a net of the strangest relations. In 1799 she had gone to Mainz, where she lived in the house of Georg Forster, Humboldt's teacher, a man equally distinguished as a scientist and an author. When this gifted and admirable, but far too sanguine man, embarked on revolutionary enterprises and attempted to extend French republicanism to the Rhine districts, Caroline enthusiastically aided and abetted him. She was in communication with the members of the Republican Club in Mainz, and she was unjustly suspected of communicating with the enemy through her brother-in-law, G. Böhmer, who was Custine's secretary. When Mainz was reconquered by the German troops, she was arrested, and spent several months in barbarous imprisonment, sharing a room with seven other people. From prison she wrote to A. W. Schlegel for assistance.

Her position was even worse than it appeared to be. In Mainz, in desperation at the disappointment of her dearest hopes (she had expected that the manly, energetic Tatter would offer her his hand), she had thrown herself into the arms of her adorer for the moment, a Frenchman, and the results of this connection would inevitably compromise her for ever, if she were not freed from prison in time. Schlegel's influence and her own brother's unremitting endeavours procured her release. With quiet chivalry August Wilhelm placed Caroline, now forsaken by all her other friends, under the protection of his younger brother, Friedrich. It was in these singularly unpropitious circumstances that Friedrich made her acquaintance. He was by no means prepossessed in her favour, in fact, was inclined to look upon her with contempt; yet this is how he writes: "I had certainly not expected simplicity and a positively divine truthfulness.... She made a profound impression upon me. I longed to be in a position to win her confidence and friendship; but the moment she showed some return of the feeling I saw very clearly that the bare attempt would lead to the most painful struggles, and that if a friendship between us were possible at all, it could only be the fruit of much that was unjustifiable.... Thenceforward every selfish desire was abandoned. The relation in which I stood to her was perfectly innocent and simple. In my behaviour there was the reverence of a son, the candour of a brother, the frankness of a child, and the unobtrusiveness of a stranger."[7]

In 1796 A. W. Schlegel married his somewhat deeply compromised friend. Her circle soon included all the leading men of the day. She was in constant intercourse with Goethe, Herder, Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, Tieck, Schleiermacher, and Hardenberg. This was the time of Goethe's intimate connection with the young school. It was in the process of formation, and its members held their first meetings at Jena. Caroline breakfasts with Goethe, dines with Fichte, and is soon only too inseparable from Schelling.

The following extract from one of her letters to Schelling (March 1, 1801) affords an example of the vigour and the subtlety of this remarkable woman's criticism: "You surely do not expect me, dearest friend, to enlighten you as to the compass of Fichte's mind, though you almost express yourself as if you did. It has always seemed to me as if, in spite of his incomparable reasoning powers, the soundness of his deductions, his lucidity and accuracy, his direct intuition of the Ego, and his discoverer's enthusiasm--as if in spite of all this he were limited. My explanation of the matter is, that the divine spark is lacking in him; and if you have broken through a circle from which he has not been able to escape, I believe that you have done it not so much as the philosopher--don't scold me if I am using the word wrongly--but rather because there is poetry in you and none in him. Poetical inspiration led you directly to productiveness; keenness of apprehension led him to knowledge. He has light, the clearest and brightest, but you have warmth as well; and light can only illuminate, while warmth produces. Now, have I not seen all this cleverly?--just as one sees a boundless landscape through a keyhole."

In another letter we find an amusing reference to Hegel, which shows us that philosopher in a novel light: "Hegel is playing the beau and general gallant" (Hegel macht den Galanten und allgemeinen Cicisbeo).[8]

Caroline shares enthusiastically in all the efforts of the Romantic School; she revises, reviews anonymously, writes herself, influences other writers directly and indirectly. She is obliged to expend that politico-revolutionary ardour, of which she possesses a far larger share than the men, on literary skirmishes and intrigues. We find her, for instance, writing an anonymous and tolerably sharp review of Schlegel's _Ion_; Schlegel replies, also anonymously, criticising her criticism; then Caroline calls Schelling to her assistance, and he, acting as her champion, falls upon Schlegel still more heavily in a third anonymous article, written in an extremely polished manner--at the same time writing privately to him that he hopes he will not take it amiss. It is to Caroline that the misunderstanding and final rupture between Schiller and Schlegel is due; she sets the brothers against the poet by her extremely witty but unfair mockery of his style; Schiller, on his side, cannot be acquitted of having treated them with considerable haughtiness at the beginning of their literary career. His name for Caroline is "Dame Lucifer."

Caroline's worst side was displayed in her small-minded hatred of poor Dorothea Veit, whom she positively persecuted. This hatred disturbed the beautiful relation between August Wilhelm and Friedrich, who were intimate friends as well as brothers. At one time it threatened to separate them altogether. Observe the way in which she speaks of Dorothea: "Friedrich was present at the performance of _Alarkos_, and immediately afterwards got into a post-chaise and set off for France, where it is his intention to be married in republican fashion. Under Robespierre, drowning in the Loire went by the name of _noces republicaines_; such a wedding for one half of the couple I should not object to."

Her best qualities were called forth by her daughter, that remarkable child, Auguste Böhmer, whose name, although she died at the age of fifteen, has a place in the history of German literature. All who read this child's criticism of Friedrich or of Dorothea, or her rhymed letters to Tieck and Schleiermacher, are astounded by her precociousness. Her death was a turning-point in Caroline's life. Schelling, who very possibly had been first attracted by the daughter, drew nearer to the mother in her sudden and sad bereavement. He was then quite young, labouring ardently at his earliest works, glowing with passion, sparkling with genius, the favourite of Goethe. Caroline and he had a great common sorrow and need of consolation. Their feeling for each other soon assumed the character of passionate love. The publication by the unscrupulous opponents of the Romanticists of a pamphlet in which it was asserted that Schelling, with his crazy _Naturphilosophie_ and the treatment he had recommended, had shortened the child's life, only drew them closer together. The charge was a pure fabrication. It was in his reply to this pamphlet that Schelling made use of the violent language quoted in the introduction to Lassalle's _Capital and Labour_. Caroline's relations with Schlegel had long been of the coldest; he and she lived in different towns. Had she been of a jealous disposition, she would have found abundant cause for complaint. After his separation from Caroline, Schlegel formed a connection with Tieck's sister, Sophie Bernhardi, who divorced her husband for his sake. His last attempt at marriage, with the daughter of Paulus, the rationalist, was not a success, and ended in a divorce.

When Schelling and Caroline had become so indispensable to each other that it was necessary to break the tie which bound her to Schlegel, the latter, with perfect chivalry, gave his consent. Writing of the divorce, Caroline says: "We broke a tie which neither of us had ever considered permanently binding."[9] Her new marriage was a perfectly happy one.

The way in which Schlegel takes Caroline's decision enlightens us not only as to the theories of the Romanticists, but as to the manner in which the leaders of the school applied them in their own lives. August Wilhelm not only gives his consent, but continues to keep up a friendly correspondence with Schelling, and in literary matters the two men render each other valuable assistance. Caroline herself maintains the friendliest relations with Schlegel long after he is aware of the relation in which she stands to Schelling. She writes to him in May 1801: "Will you, please, decide a dispute between Schelling and me? Are these hexameters (Schelling's) worth anything? I consider the last lines awkward, but he maintains that they are good." Schlegel actually visited the couple at Munich, in company with Madame de Staël.

Thus even very serious personal disagreements and ruptures could not divide those whom fellowship of ideas and a common endeavour to promote them, united. The Romanticists considered personal liberty an inalienable right, and respected it in others while demanding it for themselves.

But we learn something else besides the fact that the Romanticists were very changeable in their loves, and perfectly regardless of social ties; and that something is, that their women were superior to them in everything but talent, and that what the men did was to drag them down to their own level. We see the strong-minded, energetic Dorothea, who is so keenly sensible of the pettiness of the purely literary endeavours of the Romanticists, slowly change, see her reluctantly admire _Lucinde_, then write novels herself in the prescribed style, and finally follow Friedrich to Vienna and become a Catholic along with him. Or look at the high-spirited, enthusiastic, resolute Caroline, who, as a young widow not much over twenty, attempts to revolutionise the Rhineland. So unflinching is she then, that she compromises herself recklessly, and risks the life and well-being of those dearest to her with absolute regardlessness. Friedrich writes to August Wilhelm: "I shall never forgive her heartlessness in being ready to beguile you, her friend, into that vortex of ignoble dangers and worthless characters." Only a few years later we see this same woman writing anonymous reviews, favourable or unfavourable, of her husband's wretched dramas, and entirely absorbed in literary intrigues. Ever and anon her spirit is momentarily stirred by a breath wafted from the old times. Then we feel how changed she is. Writing to her daughter in October 1799, after giving her a quantity of family news, the last item of which is: "Hofrath Hufeland has returned, with wife and children," she exclaims: "But what sorry trash is all this! _Buonaparte is in Paris!_ Think of that, child! All will go well again. The Russians have been driven out of Switzerland; they and the English will be obliged to capitulate with disgrace in Holland; the French are making way in Swabia; and now comes Buonaparte. Rejoice with me, or I shall think that you are entirely taken up with frivolities and have no serious thoughts at all." Then, almost in the same breath, literary gossip: "Tieck is here and we are much together. You would never believe all that these men take it into their heads to do. I will send you a sonnet on Merkel. He has been running about Berlin, telling that the Schlegels have received a reprimand from the Duke on account of the _Athenæum_, &c. So Wilhelm and Tieck set to work the other evening and wrote a wicked sonnet in his honour. It was splendid to see the two pairs of brown eyes flashing at each other, and the wild merriment with which the perfectly justifiable squib was concocted. Dorothea and I almost rolled on the floor with laughter. She knows how to laugh, which will recommend her to you. Merkel is done for; he will never recover it. There will be a terrible uproar.... Schelling is attacking the _Allgemeine Litteraturzeitung_ with all his might. _These quarrels, however, are of no importance to you; but Buonaparte and the Russians most certainly are_." It is as though she strove to keep the larger interests alive in her daughter, feeling that they were dying in herself. Soon she marries Schelling, and conforms to all the established conventions of that great clerical stronghold, Bavaria.

Many great men have vainly attempted to teach the women they loved to share their interests. To my mind no worse accusation can be brought against gifted men, no surer sign of their weakness adduced than this, that, far from raising the women who have given themselves to them and followed them, they have dragged them down, taken from them their highest interests and noblest sympathies, and given them small and mean ones in exchange. From such a charge the Romanticists cannot free themselves. They treated the great women given them by the gods as they did the great ideas which were their own heritage; they took from them the noble, liberal-minded social and political enthusiasm by which they were naturally characterised, and made them, first Romantic and literary, then remorseful, and finally Catholic.

[1] Plitt: _Aus Schelling's Leben_, i. 282. "I can bear it no longer; I must live once more, must let my senses have free play--these senses of which I have well-nigh been robbed by the grand transcendental theories to which they have done their utmost to convert me. But I too will now confess how my heart leaps and the hot blood rushes through my veins; my word is as good as any man's; and of good cheer have I been, in fair weather and in foul, since I became persuaded that there is nothing real but matter. I care not for the invisible; I keep to the tangible, to what I can taste and smell, and feel, and satisfy all my senses with. I have no religion but this, that I love a well-shaped knee, a fair, plump bosom, a slender waist, flowers with the sweetest odours, full satisfaction of all desires, the granting of all sweet love can ask. If I am obliged to have a religion (though I can live most happily without it), then it must be the Catholic, such as it was in the olden days, when there was no scolding and quarrelling, when all were kneaded of one dough. They did not trouble about the far-off, did not look longingly up to heaven; they had a living image of God. The earth they held to be the centre of the universe, and the centre of the earth was Rome. There the great vicegerent sat enthroned, and wielded the sceptre of the world; and priests and laity lived together as they live in the land of Cocagne; and in the house of God itself high revelry was held."

[2] Köpke: _Tieck's Leben_, i. 193.

[3] Florentin, pp. 65, 80, 170, 195, 230, 310.

[4] Haym, _Die romantische Schule_, 509, 525, 663, &c.

[5] _Caroline_, i. 254, 259, 261.

[6] _Caroline_, i. 393.

[7] _Caroline_, i. 347, 348.

[8] _Caroline_, ii. 2.

[9] _Caroline_, ii. 237.

VIII

SCHLEIERMACHER'S LETTERS