the unfinished _Der Feind_ owe their origin to a visit which Hoffmann
paid to Erlangen and Nuremberg in March, 1812. In the same year he also
devoted some attention to sport, and learned to use a sportsman's
rifle; but his imagination was always swifter than his rifle-charge. A
_ sitting_ sparrow he did at length contrive to hit, but a flying one,
or a hare, or even a deer, he never could succeed in knocking over,
that is to say the real animals. Clods of earth and tufts of grass
which his imagination conjured into game he could sometimes hit, but no
living animal would ever be likely to approach near him, for his quick
restless movements and mercurial gestures were a standing impediment to
any game ever coming within shot of him unless actually driven close
past his "stand," and then his excitement either made him fire too soon
or else miss. Nevertheless, he enjoyed these sporting excursions, in
his own eccentric fashion, immensely.20
During the summer Hoffmann took up his residence for four weeks in the
picturesque ruins of the castle of Altenburg, in the immediate
neighbourhood of Bamberg, where, whilst living a hermit's life in
company with his spouse, he painted one of the towers with frescoes
illustrative of incidents in the life of Count Adalbert von Babenberg,
whose residence the castle had formerly been. But he also occupied
himself with literary schemes; it was in this retreat that he wrote
certain sketches designed to form parts of a work which long occupied
his mind, but which never came to anything, namely, the _Lichte Stunden
eines wahnsinnigen Musikers_ (Rational Intervals of a Crack-brained
Musician). In this he purposed to develop his opinions on the theory of
music and the principles of harmony. The fragments were afterwards
revised and appeared as the _Kreisleriana_ in the _Fantasiestücke_.
In the next month, July, his star of adversity was again to be in the
ascendant. Holbein severed his connection with the theatre, and
Hoffmann lost his fixed income. Things grew darker and darker for him,
until he was almost reduced to actual want; at any rate he came to be
in very embarrassed circumstances. Singular to say, however, under all
this cloud of adversity he maintained a shining face and a light heart
behind it. This was peculiar to him; Rochlitz says "he belonged to the
large class of men who can bear ill fortune better than good fortune."
During this time of distress, which was a repetition of his dark days
in Berlin in 1807-8, he displayed a remarkable activity in his usual
pursuits. His criticism of _Don Juan_, and exposition of the problem of
Mozart's great opera, for which Hoffmann cherished a profound and
almost extravagant admiration, owes its origin to this period.21 An
anecdote in relation to this will also illustrate his true passionate
admiration of art. Kunz lost a child, for which he grieved sadly; two
days afterwards Hoffmann advised him to go with him to see _Don Juan_
at night, declaring it would assuage his grief and soothe and comfort
his heart. Of course Kunz looked upon the idea as preposterous.
Nevertheless Hoffmann would not be denied; he exerted all his arts of
persuasion to induce his friend to go. At last Kunz did go; on the way
to the theatre Hoffmann discoursed of the opera in such a sensible,
acute, and touching way, and so poetically and with especial reference
to his friend's loss, and afterwards in the theatre he expressed his
sympathy in such kind and delicate lines, whilst tears of genuine
feeling stood in his eyes, that his friend was obliged to admit, "This
music of the spheres, which I had heard at least a dozen times before,
exerted a greater power over me than all the dictates of reason or the
consolations of friends."
In February, 1813, the struggling ex-director received an altogether
unexpected letter from Joseph Seconda, offering him the post of music-
director to his opera company at Dresden; and on April 21, 1813,
Hoffmann's residence in Bamberg, which may be regarded as the turning-
point in his life, came to an end. Four days later he arrived at his
destination without encountering any very serious adventure on the
road, although it swarmed most of the way with scouting Bashkirs,
Cossacks, Prussian hussars, and Russian dragoons, and was thickly lined
with heavy guns and munition-waggons,--massing for the battle of Lützen
(May 2). On arriving at Dresden Hoffmann found quite unexpectedly his
friend Hippel, and with him spent several right happy days. Then he was
summoned by Seconda to join him at Leipsic, for Seconda seems to have
spent his time between this town and Dresden. But the journey was
postponed until May 20th, owing to the proximity of the contending
forces and the consequent unsettled state of the country. In the
intervals several sharp skirmishes between the Russians and French took
place in and close around Dresden. As might be expected, Hoffmann could
not check his irrepressible desire to be in the thick of the
excitement; on May 9th he was standing close beside one of the town
gates when a ball struck against a wall near him and in the rebound hit
him on the shin; he quietly stooped down and picked up the flattened
"coin," and preserved it as a memento, "being quite satisfied with that
one memento, unselfishly not asking for any more," as he wrote. Even
during these troubled restless days he worked at the _Fantasiestücke_.
On the way to Leipsic happened a startling occurrence, which probably
served as the prototype for the catastrophe at the end of _Das Majorat_
(The Entail). The coach was upset and a newly married Countess was
taken up dead; Hoffmann's own wife also received a severe wound on the
head. Seconda's troupe only remained in Leipsic a few weeks longer;
permission was given him to play in the Court theatre at Dresden; hence
on 24th June we find Hoffmann on his way back to Dresden, and deriving
in his characteristic fashion much amusement from a waggon heavily
laden with theatrical appurtenances, living and non-living, something
in the style of the carriage scene in _Die Fermate_.
The return, however, was a return into the very hottest scene of the
struggle between the Allies and Napoleon. On August 26th and 27th the
fight raged furiously around the walls of Dresden; the quarter in which
Hoffmann was living was shelled; the people in the house "bivouaced"
under the stone stairs, trembling with fear and anxiety. Hoffmann,
however, could not bear to hide away, so he slipped out by a back door
and went to join one of his theatrical friends. Looking out of his
window they watched the damage done by the shells, and saw one burst in
the market-place below, crushing a soldier's head, tearing open the
body of a passing citizen, and seriously wounding three other people
not far away. Keller the actor, in his start of apprehension, let his
glass fall out of his hand; "I," says Hoffmann, "drank mine empty and
cried, 'What is life? Not able to bear a little bit of hot iron? Poor
weak human nature! God give me calmness and courage in the midst of
danger! We can get over it all better so.'" Then he returned to the
anxious party under the steps, taking them wine and rum--the latter was
Hoffmann's favourite drink. His presence brought the unfailing good
spirits and humour which hardly ever deserted him, even under the
darkest cloud of adversity. On the 29th he visited the battle-field and
saw its cruel sights and its horrors. But other horrors were in store
for the inhabitants of the city; for the next few weeks Dresden was
besieged, and her citizens suffered from famine and pestilence and all
the other usual terrible concomitants of a siege.
Hoffmann's literary activity through all these weeks of turmoil was
something astonishing. Whilst the thunders of cannon were making "the
ground to tremble and the windows to shake," and the shells were
bursting around him and the sharp crack and dull ping of bullets were
incessantly striking upon his ear, this extraordinary man sat
unconcerned amidst it all, absorbed in literary or musical composition,
either writing his _Goldener Topf_ (or _Der Dichter und der Componist_
or _Der Magnetiseur_) or working out his opera _Undine_, which was
begun in Bamberg in 1812. Even when suffering from the dysentery which
raged in the place, his intellectual activity went on without being
impaired. In a letter to Kunz of date Sept 8th of this year he writes,
"I am, as you will observe, unwearied in cultivating the fine arts, and
if to-morrow or the day after I am not blown into the air by a Prussian
or Russian or Austrian shell, you will find me fat and well-favoured
from art enjoyments of every sort."
It was through Kunz's intervention that the Introduction prefixed to
the _Fantasiestücke_ was obtained from Jean Paul, and that against
Hoffmann's own wish, for all introductions except those which stand as
_ prolegomena_ before a scientific work he hated--when a well-known
writer prefixed an introduction before the work of an unknown as a sort
of attestation, it seemed to him like "an incendiary letter which the
young author takes into his hand in order to go and beg for applause
with it." Another short passage from one of his letters to Kunz of this
same summer may here be quoted as illustrating a trait in his
character:--
"So far about business; and now the earnest request that you will keep
in mind and constantly before your eyes who and what I am, and let our
business even be inspired with that spirit of cheerfulness and good-
humour which always marked our intercourse with each other, and even in
money matters prevented the dead, stiff, frosty mercantile style from
coming to the surface. I am sure it was quite foreign to both of us,
and could only excite in us such fear as we feel when set upon by an
angry 'wauwau,' at which afterwards we can only laugh to each other."
This unwillingness, nay almost repugnance to look at things from their
serious side, was quite characteristic of him. "But these are _odiosa_"
was a frequent phrase in his mouth.
On 9th December Seconda and his opera company once more repaired to
Leipsic, and Hoffmann of course along with them. There on New Year's
Day he was struck down by a severe attack of inflammation in the chest,
aggravated by gout, in consequence of a violent cold caught in the
theatre; the case was so severe and grave that his life was at times in
danger. "Podagrists are generally visited by an especial humour--
brilliant fancies; this comforts me; I experience the truth of it,
since often when I feel the sharpest pangs I write _con amore_," he
states in a letter to Kunz (24th March). And during his illness one of
his friends "found him in one of the meanest rooms in one of the
meanest inns, sitting on a wretched bed, but ill protected against the
cold, and with his feet drawn up by gout." A board was lying in front
of him, and he appeared to be busy doing something upon it. "God bless
me!" exclaimed his friend, "whatever are you doing?" "Making
caricatures," replied Hoffmann laughing--"caricatures of the cursed
Frenchman; I am inventing them, drawing them, and colouring them." He
also wrote about this time the _Vision auf dem Schlachtfelde bei
Dresden_ and other pieces, and finished his _Undine_; further, whilst
in this distressing condition, he began the _Elixiere des Teufels_, the
first volume of which was completed in less than a month. This work he
intended to be an illustration, or illustrative exposition of his own
notions, of "a man who even at his birth was an object of contention
between the powers divine and demoniacal, and his tortuous wonderful
life was intended to exhibit in a clear and distinct light those secret
and mysterious combinations between the human spirit and all those
Higher Principles which are concealed in all Nature, and only flash out
now and again--and these flashes we call chance." That he succeeded in
his purpose cannot be maintained. His own individuality was too strong
for him: he failed to handle his subject from a sufficiently
independent standpoint. He was not the artist creating a work that was
quite outside himself; he was rather the silk-worm spinning his
entangling threads round about himself. The book can scarcely be read
without shuddering; the dark maze of humane motion and human weakness--
a mingling of poetry, sentimentality, rollicking humour, wild remorse,
stern gloom, blind delusion, dark insanity, over all which is thrown a
veil steeped in the fantastic and the horrible--all this detracts from
the artistic merits of the work, but invests it with a corresponding
proportion of interest as a revealer of some of the deepest secrets and
hidden phases of the human soul, if one only has the courage to wade
through it. The dreamy mystifications and the wild insanity and mystic
passion of Brother Medardus are not unrelieved by scenes and characters
which bear the stamp of bright poetic beauty and rich comic humour
(_e.g._, the character of the Abbess of the Cistercian convent, the _
jäger_, the description of the monastery, the scenes with Mr. Ewson and
Belcampo _alias_ Schönfeld).
For some reason which cannot be quite made out for certain, either in
consequence of his continued illness or because of a quarrel with
Seconda, Hoffmann found himself once more adrift in the world without
an anchor to hold fast by in February, 1814. In striking contrast with
his treatment by the Bamberg public, his talents as director whilst
with Seconda's company were fully and adequately appreciated, both by
the artistes and the orchestra, as well as by the general public. This
may have been due to two causes; first, the actors and actresses were
not embarrassed by his directing from the pianoforte instead of with
the violin as those in Bamberg were, and in the second place his
criticisms and essays on musical subjects in Rochlitz's _Musicalische
Zeitung_ had gained him a certain reputation as an authority in musical
matters. After having refused the offer of a post as music-director in
his native city of Königsberg in February (1814), he was agreeably
surprised by Hippel's promise to secure his return into official life.
Accordingly towards the end of September in that same year he set out
for Berlin.
Here ends what may be termed the second act of this very unsettled,
eventful life. That this wandering aside from the career he first
started upon--viz., that of law and public life to tread the thorny
precarious path of art was fraught with greater consequences than can
be estimated upon the unfortunate man's character, will be evident from
what has been already stated. These dark years were those mainly
instrumental in stifling the good germs that had once been in him, and
yet more did they result in encouraging and bringing out prominently
all his less praiseworthy qualities. As his works and his life are so
intimately interwoven, and as his works were nearly all written
subsequent to this disastrous period, it seemed desirable to dwell
somewhat upon the events and circumstances of the earlier part of his
life. With the view of showing that Hoffmann himself fully understood
the nature and tendency of his existence in Bamberg, the following
passages are quoted from a letter written to Dr. Speyer in that town in
July, 1813:--
"I felt in my own mind perfectly convinced that I must get out of
Bamberg as soon as possible if I was not to be ruined altogether. Call
vividly to mind what my life in Bamberg was from the first moment of my
arrival, and you will allow that everything co-operated like an hostile
demoniacal power to thrust me forcibly from the path I had chosen, or
rather from art, to which I had devoted my entire existence, my very
self with all my activities and energies. My position under Cuno, and
even all those unbargained-for duties which were thrown upon me by
Holbein, notwithstanding their many seductive attractions, but above
all those scenes with----which I shall never forget and never overcome,
the old man's miserable stupid platitudes, which yet in another respect
had a pernicious influence, those wretched, terrible scenes with----and
last of all with----, whom I always thought a parvenu ill-bred imp,--in
a word, everything that went against all effort and doing and work in
the higher life, in which a man raises himself on alert wing above the
stinking morass of his miserable crust-begging life, engendered within
me an inward dissension--an inward strife, which much sooner than any
external commotion around me would have caused me to perish. Every
harsh and undeserved indignity I had to suffer only increased my secret
rancour, and whilst accustoming myself more and more to wine as a
stimulant and so stirring up the fire to make it bum more merrily, I
heeded not that this was the only way by which good could come out of
the ruinous evil. In these few words, in this brief statement, I hope
you will find the key to many things which may have appeared to you
contradictory, if not enigmatical But _transeant cum ceteris._"22
Again, it can scarcely be doubted that we have a description of his own
state when he writes in the _Elixiere_ (Part II.), "I am what I appear
to be, and do not appear as what I really am; to myself an unsolvable
riddle, I am at variance with my own self."
The change of residence to Berlin did little to improve Hoffmann's
circumstances. During the first ten months he was, according to the
conditions imposed, labouring to make himself acquainted with the
changes that had taken place in legal procedure, and to fit himself for
entering the service of the state again and resuming his interrupted
career; but he received no compensation for his pains; he had to
support himself as best he could by the fruits of his pen. On July 1,
1815, he was appointed to a clerkship in the department of the Minister
of Justice, which post he exchanged on 1st May, 1816, for that of
Councillor in the Supreme Court, being also restored to all his rights
of seniority as though no break had ever taken place in his official
career. The duties attaching to this office he continued to discharge
with his accustomed diligence and skill until promoted in the autumn of
1821 to be a member of the Senate of Higher Appeal in the same court.
Notwithstanding his sad and disappointing experiences, and the
tempestuous times of his "martyr years" at Bamberg, he was not yet
disgusted with the life of an artist. His hopes were not yet alienated
from the calling that hovered before his mind as an ideal for so many
years. Whilst battling, with somewhat less of reckless high spirits and
humour, against the embarrassments and pecuniary difficulties which he
had to encounter during these ten months, he was also dreaming of an
appointment as _Kapellmeister_ (orchestral director) or as musical
composer to a theatre. He says upon this point in a letter to Hippel,
of date March 12, 1815, "I cannot anyhow cease to interest myself in
art; and had I not to care for a dearly beloved wife, and were it not
my duty to try and procure her a comfortable life after what she has
gone through with me, I would rather become a music schoolmaster again
than let myself be stamped in the juristic fulling-mill."23 After more
than one disappointment in his efforts to secure permanent and
remunerative employment, in which efforts he was assisted by his
influential friend Hippel, he became a clerk, as already stated, in the
department of the Minister of Justice.
In his social relations Hoffmann was more fortunate. He now enjoyed the
close companionship of Hitzig again, and through Hitzig was introduced
into a select circle which counted amongst its members such men as
Fouqué (author of _Undine_), Chamisso (of _Peter Schlemihl_ fame),
Contessa, Koreff, Tieck, Bernhardi, Devrient, and others. The harassing
tumultuous days he had passed through during the last eight years had
now begun to make him gentler and more modest; his character was more
tempered, and his behaviour more subdued. His good-nature too took such
a prominent place in the qualities he displayed that Hitzig's children
were quite delighted with their father's newly arrived friend; for them
Hoffmann wrote the pleasant little fairy tale _Nussknacker und
Mäusekönig_ (Nutcracker and the King of the Mice). Before the end of
1815 he had finished the second part of the _Elixiere des Teufels_, to
which he himself attached no value, since its connection with the first
part was broken; its author's ideas had got into another track;
feelings and circumstances were changed. Still less than Schiller with
_ Don Carlos_. did Hoffmann succeed in making an artificial junction
between the two parts of his work atone for its breach of artistic
unity; he even said later of the first part, "I ought not to have had
it printed." Besides this second part of the _Elixiere_, he also wrote
the concluding pieces of the _Fantasiestücke_, namely, _Die Abenteuer
der Sylvesternacht_, which owes its existence to Chamisso's _Peter
Schlemihl_ and to Chamisso himself, who is portrayed in the work; and
also _Die Correspondenz des Kapellmeisters Kreisler mit dem Baron
Wallborn_, that is Hoffmann himself and Baron von Fouqué. With the
latter Hoffmann spent a happy fortnight in 1815 at his seat of
Nennhausen near Rathenow; Hitzig was also of the party. In August of
the following year the opera _Undine_ was put upon the stage. Though
Fouqué's libretto did not pass without some adverse criticism, all
voices were unanimous in praise of the music. Von Weber the musician
especially expressed himself warmly in admiration of it, affirming that
it was "one of the most talented productions of recent times;" and he
especially singled out for attention its truth, its smooth-flowing
melodies, and its instrumentation; it was "in truth _one_ gush" of
music. The opera was repeated more than a score of times, when
unfortunately the theatre was burnt down, and Hoffmann, who lived
immediately adjoining it, was almost burnt out of house and home at the
same time.
Through the success of this opera as well as through that of his
_Fantasiestücke_, Hoffmann found himself celebrated. He was invited as
the hero of the evening to the fashionable tea circles of Berlin, where
ignorant or half-educated _dilettanti_ affected an interest in art
matters, that was over-strained and wanting in sincerity when it was
not ridiculous. For what was there the man could not do? He wrote books
about which all Germany was talking, he could improvise on the
pianoforte, compose operas, sketch caricatures, and streams of wit
gushed from him so soon as he opened his mouth. The homage showered
upon him at these gatherings flattered Hoffmann's vanity for a time,
but he soon saw the motives for which he was asked to be present--to
amuse the guests with his wit, to accompany the daughter or lady of the
house on the piano, to discuss art matters in a becoming way now with
an old grandmother, now with a grave professor, to tell diverting
anecdotes, to tickle the lazy minds of those who listened with some
spicy satire upon their enemies--in fact to be made a useful show of.
Quickly fathoming these motives, Hoffmann proved himself readily equal
to the occasion: as soon as he began to get bored, which very
frequently was the case, he made the most hideous grimaces, and when he
saw the company were preparing to draw something from him by way of
criticism which they could carry further and perhaps repeat again as
springing from their own acute judgment, he began to talk the most
arrant nonsense he could think of, or to fire off some of his stinging
sarcasms steeped in the bitterness of gall, till there were none but
blank and embarrassed faces around him--everybody thinking the man was
mad; but he went away delighted at the consternation he had been
instrumental in causing. The givers of fashionable teas soon ceased to
invite Hoffmann to their entertainments, but they had already
sufficiently sown the seeds of fresh mischief in him.