'Your Excellency will forgive a father this earnest pleading

in behalf of his son. These are but words, and in the

long-run every theatre can make of any piece what they think

proper; the author must content himself. In the present case,

he looks upon it as a happiness that he has fallen into such

hands. With Herr Schwann, however, I will make it a condition

that, at least, he _print_ the piece according to the first

plan. In the theatre I pretend to no vote whatever.

'That other change relating to Amelia's death was perhaps

even more interesting to me. Believe me, your Excellency,

this was the portion of my play which cost me the greatest

effort and deliberation, of all which the result was nothing

else than this, that Moor _must_ kill his Amelia, and that

the action is even a _positive beauty_, in his character; on

the one hand painting the ardent lover, on the other the

Bandit Captain, with the liveliest colours. But the

vindication of this part is not to be exhausted in a single

letter. For the rest, the few words which you propose to

substitute in place of this scene, are truly exquisite, and

altogether worthy of the situation. I should be proud of

having written them.

'As Herr Schwann informs me that the piece, with the music

and indispensably necessary pauses, will last about five

hours (too long for any piece!), a second curtailment of it

will be called for. I should not wish that any but myself

undertook this task, and I myself, _without the sight of a

rehearsal, or of the first representation_, cannot undertake

it.

'If it were possible that your Excellency could fix the

general rehearsal of the piece some time between the

twentieth and the thirtieth of this month, and make good to

me the main expenses of a journey to you, I should hope, in

some few days, I might unite the interest of the stage with

my own, and give the piece that proper rounding-off, which,

without an actual view of the representation, cannot well be

given it. On this point, may I request the favour of your

Excellency's decision soon, that I may be prepared for the

event.

'Herr Schwann writes me that a Baron von Gemmingen has given

himself the trouble and done me the honour to read my piece.

This Herr von Gemmingen, I also hear, is author of the

_Deutsche Hausvater_. I long to have the honour of assuring

him that I liked his _Hausvater_ uncommonly, and admired in

it the traces of a most accomplished man and writer. But what

does the author of the _Deutsche Hausvater_ care about the

babble of a young apprentice? If I should ever have the

honour of meeting Dalberg at Mannheim, and testifying the

affection and reverence I bear him, I will then also press

into the arms of that other, and tell him how dear to me such

souls are as Dalberg and Gemmingen.

'Your thought about the small Advertisement, before our

production of the piece, I exceedingly approve of; along with

this I have enclosed a sketch of one. For the rest, I have

the honour, with perfect respect, to be always,' &c.

This is the enclosed scheme of an Advertisement; which was

afterwards adopted:

'THE ROBBERS,

'A PLAY.

'The picture of a great, misguided soul, furnished with every

gift for excellence, and lost in spite of all its gifts:

unchecked ardour and bad companionship contaminate his heart;

hurry him from vice to vice, till at last he stands at the

head of a gang of murderers, heaps horror upon horror,

plunges from abyss to abyss into all the depths of

desperation. Great and majestic in misfortune; and by

misfortune improved, led back to virtue. Such a man in the

Robber Moor you shall "bewail and hate, abhor and love. A

hypocritical, malicious deceiver, you shall likewise see

unmasked, and blown to pieces in his own mines. A feeble,

fond, and too indulgent father. The sorrows of enthusiastic

love, and the torture of ungoverned passion. Here also, not

without abhorrence, you shall cast a look into the interior

economy of vice, and from the stage be taught how all the

gilding of fortune cannot kill the inward worm; how terror,

anguish, remorse, and despair follow close upon the heels of

the wicked. Let the spectator weep today before our scene,

and shudder, and learn to bend his passions under the laws of

reason and religion. Let the youth behold with affright the

end of unbridled extravagance; nor let the man depart from

our theatre, without a feeling that Providence makes even

villains instruments of His purposes and judgments, and can

marvellously unravel the most intricate perplexities of

fate.'

Whatever reverence Schiller entertained for Dalberg as a critic and a

patron, and however ready to adopt his alterations when they seemed

judicious, it is plain, from various passages of these extracts, that

in regard to writing, he had also firm persuasions of his own, and

conscientiousness enough to adhere to them while they continued such.

In regard to the conducting of his life, his views as yet were far

less clear. The following fragments serve to trace him from the first

exhibition of his play at Mannheim to his flight from Stuttgard:

'Stuttgard, 17th January 1782.

'I here in writing repeat my warmest thanks for the

courtesies received from your Excellency, for your attention

to my slender efforts, for the dignity and splendour you

bestowed upon my piece, for all your Excellency did to exalt

its little merits and hide its weaknesses by the greatest

outlay of theatric art. The shortness of my stay at Mannheim

would not allow me to go into details respecting the play or

its representation; and as I could not say all, my time

being meted out to me so sparingly, I thought it better to

say absolutely nothing. I observed much, I learned much; and

I believe, if Germany shall ever find in me a true dramatic

poet, I must reckon the date of my commencement from the

past week.' * * *

* * * * *

'Stuttgard, 24th May 1782.

* * * 'My impatient wish to see the piece played a second

time, and the absence of my Sovereign favouring that

purpose, have induced me, with some ladies and male friends

as full of curiosity respecting Dalberg's theatre and

_Robbers_ as myself, to undertake a little journey to

Mannheim, which we are to set about tomorrow. As this is the

principal aim of our journey, and to me a more perfect

enjoyment of my play is an exceedingly important object,

especially since this would put it in my power to set about

_Fiesco_ under better auspices, I make it my earnest request

of your Excellency, if possible, to procure me this

enjoyment on Tuesday the 28th current.' * * *

* * * * *

'Stuttgard, 4th June 1782.

'The satisfaction I enjoyed at Mannheim in such copious

fulness, I have paid, since my return, by this epidemical

disorder, which has made me till today entirely unfit to

thank your Excellency for so much regard and kindness. And

yet I am forced almost to repent the happiest journey of my

life; for by a truly mortifying contrast of Mannheim with my

native country, it has pained me so much, that Stuttgard and

all Swabian scenes are become intolerable to me. Unhappier

than I am can no one be. I have feeling enough of my bad

condition, perhaps also feeling enough of my meriting a

better; and in both points of view but _one_ prospect of

relief.

'May I dare to cast myself into your arms, my generous

benefactor? I know how soon your noble heart inflames when

sympathy and humanity appeal to it; I know how strong your

courage is to undertake a noble action, and how warm your

zeal to finish it. My new friends in Mannheim, whose respect

for you is boundless, told me this: but their assurance was

not necessary; I myself in that hour of your time, which I

had the happiness exclusively to enjoy, read in your

countenance far more than they had told me. It is this which

makes me bold to _give_ myself without reserve to you, to

put my whole fate into your hands, and look to you for the

happiness of my life. As yet I am little or nothing. In this

Arctic Zone of taste, I shall never grow to anything, unless

happier stars and a _Grecian climate_ warm me into genuine

poetry. Need I say more, to expect from Dalberg all support?

'Your Excellency gave me every hope to this effect; the

squeeze of the hand that sealed your promise, I shall

forever feel. If your Excellency will adopt the two or three

hints I have subjoined, and use them in a letter to the

Duke, I have no very great misgivings as to the result.

'And now with a burning heart, I repeat the request, the

soul of all this letter. Could you look into the interior of

my soul, could you see what feelings agitate it, could I

paint to you in proper colours how my spirit strains against

the grievances of my condition, you would not, I know you

would not, delay one hour the aid which an application from

you to the Duke might procure me.

'Again I throw myself into your arms, and wish nothing more

than soon, very soon, to have it in my power to show by

personal exertions in your service, the reverence with which

I could devote to you myself and all that I am.'

The 'hints' above alluded to, are given in a separate enclosure, the

main part of which is this:

'I earnestly desire that you could secure my union with the

Mannheim Theatre for a specified period (which at your

request might be lengthened), at the end of which I might

again belong to the Duke. It will thus have the air rather

of an excursion than a final abdication of my country, and

will not strike them so ungraciously. In this case, however,

it would be useful to suggest that means of practising and

studying medicine might be afforded me at Mannheim. This

will be peculiarly necessary, lest they sham, and higgle

about letting me away.'

'Stuttgard, 15th July 1782.

'My long silence must have almost drawn upon me the reproach

of folly from your Excellency, especially as I have not only

delayed answering your last kind letter, but also retained

the two books by me. All this was occasioned by a harassing

affair which I have had to do with here. Your Excellency

will doubtless be surprised when you learn that, for my last

journey to you, I have been confined a fortnight under

arrest. Everything was punctually communicated to the Duke.

On this matter I have had an interview with him.

'If your Excellency think my prospects of coming to you

anywise attainable, my only prayer is to _accelerate the

fulfilment of them_. The reason why I now wish this with

double earnestness, is one which I dare trust no whisper of

to paper. This alone I can declare for certain, that within

a month or two, if I have not the happiness of being with

you, there will remain no further hope of my ever being

there. Ere that time, I shall be forced to take a _step_,

which will render it impossible for me to stay at Mannheim.'

* * *

* * * * *

The next two extracts are from letters to another correspondent.

Doering quotes them without name or date: their purport sufficiently

points out their place.

'I must haste to get away from this: in the end they might

find me an apartment in the Hohenasperg, as they have found

the honest and ill-fated Schubart. They talk of better

culture that I need. It is possible enough, they might

cultivate me differently in Hohenasperg: but I had rather

try to make shift with what culture I have got, or may still

get, by my unassisted efforts. This at least I owe to no one

but my own free choice, and volition that disdains

constraint.'

* * * * *

'In regard to those affairs, concerning which they wish to

put my spirit under wardship, I have long reckoned my

minority to be concluded. The best of it is, that one can

cast away such clumsy manacles: me at least they shall not

fetter.'

* * * * *

[No date.]

'Your Excellency will have learned from my friends at

Mannheim, what the history of my affairs was up to your

arrival, which unhappily I could not wait for. When I tell

you _that I am flying my country_, I have painted my whole

fortune. But the worst is yet behind. I have not the

necessary _means_ of setting my mishap at defiance. For the

sake of safety, I had to withdraw from Stuttgard with the

utmost speed, at the time of the Prince's arrival. Thus were

my economical arrangements suddenly snapped asunder: I could

not even pay my debts. My hopes had been set on a removal to

Mannheim; there I trusted, by your Excellency's assistance,

that my new play might not only have cleared me of debt, but

have permanently put me into better circumstances. All this

was frustrated by the necessity for hastening my removal. I

went empty away; empty in purse and hope. I blush at being

forced to make such disclosures to you; though I know they

do not disgrace me. Sad enough for me to see realised in

myself the hateful saying, that mental growth and full

stature are things denied to every Swabian!

'If my former conduct, if all that your Excellency knows of

my character, inspires you with confidence in my love of

honour, permit me frankly to ask your assistance. Pressingly

as I now need the profit I expect from my _Fiesco_, it will

be impossible for me to have the piece in readiness before

three weeks: my heart was oppressed; the feeling of my own

situation drove me back from my poetic dreams. But if at the

specified period, I could make the play not only _ready_,

but, as I also hope, _worthy_, I take courage from that

persuasion, respectfully to ask that your Excellency would

be so obliging as _advance_ for me the price that will then

become due. I need it now, perhaps more than I shall ever do

again throughout my life. I had near 200 florins of debt in

Stuttgard, which I could not pay. I may confess to you, that

this gives me more uneasiness than anything about my future

destiny. I shall have no rest till I am free on _that_ side.

'In eight days, too, my travelling purse will be exhausted.

It is yet utterly impossible for me to labour with my mind.

In my hand, therefore, are at present no resources.

* * * * *

'My actual situation being clear enough from what I have

already said, I hold it needless to afflict your Excellency

with any _importuning picture_ of my want. Speedy aid is all

that I can now think of or wish. Herr Meyer has been

requested to communicate your Excellency's resolution to me,

and to save you from the task of writing to me in person at

all. With peculiar respect, I call myself,' &c.

* * * * *

It is pleasing to record that the humble aid so earnestly and modestly

solicited by Schiller, was afforded him; and that he never forgot to

love the man who had afforded it; who had assisted him, when

assistance was of such essential value. In the first fervour of his

gratitude, for this and other favours, the poet warmly declared that

'he owed all, all to Dalberg;' and in a state of society where

Patronage, as Miss Edgeworth has observed, directly the antipodes of

Mercy, is in general 'twice cursed,' cursing him that gives and him

that takes, it says not a little for the character both of the obliged

and the obliger in the present instance, that neither of them ever

ceased to remember their connexion with pleasure. Schiller's first

play had been introduced to the Stage by Dalberg, and his last was

dedicated to him.[69] The venerable critic, in his eighty-third year,

must have received with a calm joy the tragedy of _Tell_, accompanied

by an address so full of kindness and respect: it must have gratified

him to think that the youth who was once his, and had now become the

world's, could, after long experience, still say of him,

And fearlessly to thee may _Tell_ be shown,

For every noble feeling is thy own.

[Footnote 69: It clearly appears I am wrong here; I have

confounded the Freiherr Wolfgang Heribert von Dalberg,

Director of the Mannheim Theatre, with Archduke and _Fuerst

Primas_ Karl Theodor Dalberg, his younger Brother,--a man

justly eminent in the Politico-Ecclesiastical world of his

time, and still more distinguished for his patronage of

letters, and other benefactions to his country, than the

Freiherr was. Neither is the play of _Tell_ 'dedicated' to

him, as stated in the text; there is merely a copy presented,

with some verses by the Author inscribed in it; at which time

Karl Theodor was in his _sixtieth_ year. A man of conspicuous

station, of wide activity, and high influence and esteem in

Germany. He was the personal friend of Herder, Goethe,

Schiller, Wieland; by Napoleon he was made _Fuerst Primas_,

Prince Primate of the Confederation of the Rhine, being

already Archbishop, Elector of Mentz, &c. The good and brave

deeds he did in his time appear to have been many, public and

private. Pensions to deserving men of letters were among the

number: Zacharias Werner, I remember, had a pension from

him,--and still more to the purpose, Jean Paul. He died in

1817. There was a third Brother also memorable for his

encouragement of Letters and Arts. "_Ist kein Dalberg da_, Is

there no Dalberg here?" the Herald cries on a certain

occasion. (See _Conv. Lexicon_, B. iii.)

To Sir Edward Bulwer, in his _Sketch of the Life of Schiller_

(p. c.), I am indebted for very kindly pointing out this

error; as well as for much other satisfaction derived from

that work. (_Note of_ 1845.)]

Except this early correspondence, very few of Schiller's letters have

been given to the world.[70] In Doering's Appendix, we have found one

written six years after the poet's voluntary exile, and agreeably

contrasted in its purport with the agitation and despondency of that

unhappy period. We translate it for the sake of those who, along with

us, regret that while the world is deluged with insipid

correspondences, and 'pictures of mind' that were not worth drawing,

the correspondence of a man who never wrote unwisely should lie

mouldering in private repositories, ere long to be irretrievably

destroyed; that the 'picture of a mind' who was among the conscript

fathers of the human race should still be left so vague and dim. This

letter is addressed to Schwann, during Schiller's first residence in

Weimar: it has already been referred to in the Text.

[Footnote 70: There have since been copious contributions:

_Correspondence with Goethe, Correspondence with Madam von

Wolzogen_, and perhaps others which I have not seen. (_Note

of_ 1845.)]

* * * * *

'Weimar, 2d May 1788.

'You apologise for your long silence to spare _me_ the pain

of an apology. I feel this kindness, and thank you for it.

You do not impute my silence to decay of friendship; a proof

that you have read my heart more justly than my evil

conscience allowed me to hope. Continue to believe that the

memory of you lives ineffaceably in my mind, and needs not

to be brightened up by the routine of visits, or letters of

assurance. So no more of this.

'The peace and calmness of existence which breathes

throughout your letter, gives me joy; I who am yet drifting

to and fro between wind and waves, am forced to envy you

that uniformity, that health of soul and body. To me also in

time it will be granted, as a recompense for labours I have

yet to undergo.

'I have now been in Weimar nearly three quarters of a year:

after finishing my _Carlos_, I at last accomplished this

long-projected journey. To speak honestly, I cannot say but

that I am exceedingly contented with the place; and my

reasons are not difficult to see.

'The utmost political tranquillity and freedom, a very

tolerable disposition in the people, little constraint in

social intercourse, a select circle of interesting persons

and thinking heads, the respect paid to literary diligence:

add to this the unexpensiveness to me of such a town as

Weimar. Why should I not be satisfied?

'With Wieland I am pretty intimate, and to him I must

attribute no small influence on my present happiness; for I

like him, and have reason to believe that he likes me in

return. My intercourse with Herder is more limited, though I

esteem him highly as a writer and a man. It is the caprice

of chance alone which causes this; for we opened our

acquaintance under happy enough omens. Besides, I have not

always time to act according to my likings. With Bode no one

can be very friendly. I know not whether you think here as I

do. Goethe is still but _expected_ out of Italy. The Duchess

Dowager is a lady of sense and talent, in whose society one

does not feel constrained.

'I thank you for your tidings of the fate of _Carlos_ on

your stage. To speak candidly, my hopes of its success on

any stage were not high; and I know my reasons. It is but

fair that the Goddess of the Theatre avenge herself on me,

for the little gallantry with which I was inspired in

writing. In the mean time, though _Carlos_ prove a never so

decided failure on the stage, I engage for it, our public

shall see it ten times acted, before they understand and

fully estimate the merit that should counterbalance its

defects. When one has seen the beauty of a work, and not

till then, I think one is entitled to pronounce on its

deformity. I hear, however, that the second representation

succeeded better than the first. This arises either from the

changes made upon the piece by Dalberg, or from the fact,

that on a second view, the public comprehended certain

things, which on a first, they--did not comprehend.

'For the rest, no one can be more satisfied than I am that

_Carlos_, from causes honourable as well as causes

dishonorable to it, is no speculation for the stage. Its

very length were enough to banish it. Nor was it out of

confidence or self-love that I forced the piece on such a

trial; perhaps out of self-interest rather. If in the affair

my vanity played any part, it was in this, that I thought

the work had solid stuff in it sufficient to outweigh its

sorry fortune on the boards.

'The present of your portrait gives me true pleasure. I

think it a striking likeness; that of Schubart a little less

so, though this opinion may proceed from my faulty memory as

much as from the faultiness of Lobauer's drawing. The

engraver merits all attention and encouragement; what I can

do for the extension of his good repute shall not be

wanting.

'To your dear children present my warmest love. At Wieland's

I hear much and often of _your eldest daughter_; there in a

few days she has won no little estimation and affection. Do

I still hold any place in her remembrance? Indeed, I ought

to blush, that by my long silence I so ill deserve it.

'That you are going to my dear native country, and will not

pass my Father without seeing him, was most welcome news to

me. The Swabians are a good people; this I more and more

discover, the more I grow acquainted with the other

provinces of Germany. To my family you will be cordially

welcome. Will you take a pack of compliments from me to

them? Salute my Father in my name; to my Mother and my

Sisters _your daughter_ will take my kiss.'

* * * * *

'And with these hearty words,' as Doering says, 'we shall conclude

this paper.'

FRIENDSHIP WITH GOETHE.

The history of Schiller's first intercourse with Goethe has been

recorded by the latter in a paper published a few years ago in the

_Morphologie_, a periodical work, which we believe he still

occasionally continues, or purposes to continue. The paper is entitled

_Happy Incident_; and may be found in Part I. Volume 1 (pp. 90-96) of

the work referred to. The introductory portion of it we have inserted

in the text at page 109; the remainder, relating to certain scientific

matters, and anticipating some facts of our narrative, we judged it

better to reserve for the Appendix. After mentioning the publication

of _Don Carlos_, and adding that 'each continued to go on his way

apart,' he proceeds:

'His Essay on _Grace and Dignity_ was yet less of a kind to

reconcile me. The Philosophy of Kant, which exalts the

dignity of mind so highly, while appearing to restrict it,

Schiller had joyfully embraced: it unfolded the

extraordinary qualities which Nature had implanted in him;

and in the lively feeling of freedom and self-direction, he

showed himself unthankful to the Great Mother, who surely

had not acted like a step-dame towards him. Instead of

viewing her as self-subsisting, as producing with a living

force, and according to appointed laws, alike the highest

and the lowest of her works, he took her up under the aspect

of some empirical native qualities of the human mind.

Certain harsh passages I could even directly apply to

myself: they exhibited my confession of faith in a false

light; and I felt that if written without particular

attention to me, they were still worse; for in that case,

the vast chasm which lay between us gaped but so much the

more distinctly.

'There was no union to be dreamed of. Even the mild

persuasion of Dalberg, who valued Schiller as he ought, was

fruitless: indeed the reasons I set forth against any

project of a union were difficult to contradict. No one

could deny that between two spiritual antipodes there was

more intervening than a simple diameter of the sphere:

antipodes of that sort act as a sort of poles, and so can

never coalesce. But that some relation may exist between

them will appear from what follows.

'Schiller went to live at Jena, where I still continued

unacquainted with him. About this time Batsch had set in

motion a Society for Natural History, aided by some handsome

collections, and an extensive apparatus. I used to attend

their periodical meetings: one day I found Schiller there;

we happened to go out together; some discourse arose between

us. He appeared to take an interest in what had been

exhibited; but observed, with great acuteness and good

sense, and much to my satisfaction, that such a disconnected

way of treating Nature was by no means grateful to the

exoteric, who desired to penetrate her mysteries.

'I answered, that perhaps the initiated themselves were

never rightly at their ease in it, and that there surely was

another way of representing Nature, not separated and

disunited, but active and alive, and expanding from the

whole into the parts. On this point he requested

explanations, but did not hide his doubts; he would not

allow that such a mode, as I was recommending, had been

already pointed out by experiment.

'We reached his house; the talk induced me to go in. I then

expounded to him with as much vivacity as possible, the

_Metamorphosis of Plants_,[71] drawing out on paper, with

many characteristic strokes, a symbolic Plant for him, as I

proceeded. He heard and saw all this with much interest and

distinct comprehension; but when I had done, he shook his

head and said: "This is no experiment, this is an idea." I

stopped with some degree of irritation; for the point which

separated us was most luminously marked by this expression.

The opinions in _Dignity and Grace_ again occurred to me;

the old grudge was just awakening; but I smothered it, and

merely said: "I was happy to find that I had got ideas

without knowing it, nay that I saw them before my eyes."

[Footnote 71: A curious physiologico-botanical theory by

Goethe, which appears to be entirely unknown in this country;

though several eminent continental botanists have noticed it

with commendation. It is explained at considerable length in

this same _Morphologie_.]

'Schiller had much more prudence and dexterity of management

than I: he was also thinking of his periodical the _Horen_,

about this time, and of course rather wished to attract than

repel me. Accordingly he answered me like an accomplished

Kantite; and as my stiff necked Realism gave occasion to

many contradictions, much battling took place between us,

and at last a truce, in which neither party would consent to

yield the victory, but each held himself invincible.

Positions like the following grieved me to the very soul:

_How can there ever be an experiment that shall correspond

with an idea? The specific quality of an idea is, that no

experiment can reach it or agree with it._ Yet if he held as

an idea the same thing which I looked upon as an experiment,

there must certainly, I thought, be some community between

us, some ground whereon both of us might meet! The first

step was now taken; Schiller's attractive power was great,

he held all firmly to him that came within his reach: I

expressed an interest in his purposes, and promised to give

out in the _Horen_ many notions that were lying in my head;

his wife, whom I had loved and valued since her childhood,

did her part to strengthen our reciprocal intelligence; all

friends on both sides rejoiced in it; and thus by means of

that mighty and interminable controversy between _object_

and _subject_, we two concluded an alliance, which remained

unbroken, and produced much benefit to ourselves and

others.'

The friendship of Schiller and Goethe forms so delightful a chapter in

their history, that we long for more and more details respecting it.

Sincerity, true estimation of each other's merit, true sympathy in

each other's character and purposes appear to have formed the basis of

it, and maintained it unimpaired to the end. Goethe, we are told, was

minute and sedulous in his attention to Schiller, whom he venerated as

a good man and sympathised with as an afflicted one: when in mixed

companies together, he constantly endeavoured to draw out the stores

of his modest and retiring friend; or to guard his sick and sensitive

mind from annoyances that might have irritated him; now softening, now

exciting conversation, guiding it with the address of a gifted and

polished man, or lashing out of it with the scorpion-whip of his

satire much that would have vexed the more soft and simple spirit of

the valetudinarian. These are things which it is good to think of: it

is good to know that there _are_ literary men, who have other

principles besides vanity; who can divide the approbation of their

fellow mortals, without quarrelling over the lots; who in their

solicitude about their 'fame' do not forget the common charities of

nature, in exchange for which the 'fame' of most authors were but a

poor bargain.

No. 4. Page 125.

DEATH OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS.

As a specimen of Schiller's historical style, we have extracted a few

scenes from his masterly description of the Battle of Luetzen. The

whole forms a picture, executed in the spirit of Salvator; and though

this is but a fragment, the importance of the figure represented in it

will perhaps counterbalance that deficiency.

'At last the dreaded morning dawned; but a thick fog, which lay

brooding over all the field, delayed the attack till noon. Kneeling in

front of his lines, the King offered up his devotions; the whole army,

at the same moment, dropping on their right knees, uplifted a moving

hymn, and the field-music accompanied their singing. The King then

mounted his horse; dressed in a jerkin of buff, with a surtout (for a

late wound hindered him from wearing armour), he rode through the

ranks, rousing the courage of his troops to a cheerful confidence,

which his own forecasting bosom contradicted. _God with us_ was the

battle-word of the Swedes; that of the Imperialists was _Jesus Maria_.

About eleven o'clock, the fog began to break, and Wallenstein's lines

became visible. At the same time, too, were seen the flames of Luetzen,

which the Duke had ordered to be set on fire, that he might not be

outflanked on this side. At length the signal pealed; the horse dashed

forward on the enemy; the infantry advanced against his trenches.

* * * * *

'Meanwhile the right wing, led on by the King in person, had fallen

on the left wing of the Friedlanders. The first strong onset of the

heavy Finland Cuirassiers scattered the light-mounted Poles and

Croats, who were stationed here, and their tumultuous flight spread

fear and disorder over the rest of the cavalry. At this moment notice

reached the King that his infantry were losing ground, and likely to

be driven back from the trenches they had stormed; and also that his

left, exposed to a tremendous fire from the Windmills behind Luetzen,

could no longer keep their place. With quick decision, he committed to

Von Horn the task of pursuing the already beaten left wing of the

enemy; and himself hastened, at the head of Steinbock's regiment, to

restore the confusion of his own. His gallant horse bore him over the

trenches with the speed of lightning; but the squadrons that came

after him could not pass so rapidly; and none but a few horsemen,

among whom Franz Albert, Duke of Sachsen-Lauenburg, is mentioned, were

alert enough to keep beside him. He galloped right to the place where

his infantry was most oppressed; and while looking round to spy out

some weak point, on which his attack might be directed, his

short-sightedness led him too near the enemy's lines. An Imperial

sergeant (_gefreiter_), observing that every one respectfully made

room for the advancing horseman, ordered a musketeer to fire on him.

"Aim at _him_ there," cried he; "that must be a man of consequence."

The soldier drew his trigger; and the King's left arm was shattered by

the ball. At this instant, his cavalry came galloping up, and a

confused cry of "_The King bleeds! The King is shot!_" spread horror

and dismay through their ranks. "It is nothing: follow me!" exclaimed

the King, collecting all his strength; but overcome with pain, and on

the point of fainting, he desired the Duke of Lauenburg, in French, to

take him without notice from the tumult. The Duke then turned with him

to the right wing, making a wide circuit to conceal this accident from

the desponding infantry; but as they rode along, the King received a

second bullet through the back, which took from him the last remainder

of his strength. "I have got enough, brother," said he with a dying

voice: "haste, save thyself." With these words he sank from his horse;

and here, struck by several other bullets, far from his attendants, he

breathed out his life beneath the plundering hands of a troop of

Croats. His horse flying on without its rider, and bathed in blood,

soon announced to the Swedish cavalry the fall of their King; with

wild yells they rush to the spot, to snatch that sacred spoil from the

enemy. A deadly fight ensues around the corpse, and the mangled

remains are buried under a hill of slain men.

'The dreadful tidings hasten in a few minutes over all the Swedish

army: but instead of deadening the courage of these hardy troops, they

rouse it to a fierce consuming fire. Life falls in value, since the

holiest of all lives is gone; and death has now no terror for the

lowly, since it has not spared the anointed head. With the grim fury

of lions, the Upland, Smaeland, Finnish, East and West Gothland

regiments dash a second time upon the left wing of the enemy, which,

already making but a feeble opposition to Von Horn, is now utterly

driven from the field.

* * * * *

'But how dear a victory, how sad a triumph! Now first when the rage of

battle has grown cold, do they feel the whole greatness of their loss,

and the shout of the conqueror dies in a mute and gloomy despair. He

who led them on to battle has not returned with them. Apart he lies,

in his victorious field, confounded with the common heaps of humble

dead. After long fruitless searching, they found the royal corpse, not

far from the great stone, which had already stood for centuries

between Luetzen and the Merseburg Canal, but which, ever since this

memorable incident, has borne the name of _Schwedenstein_, the Stone

of the Swede. Defaced with wounds and blood, so as scarcely to be

recognised, trodden under the hoofs of horses, stripped of his

ornaments, even of his clothes, he is drawn from beneath a heap of

dead bodies, brought to Weissenfels, and there delivered to the

lamentations of his troops and the last embraces of his Queen.

Vengeance had first required its tribute, and blood must flow as an

offering to the Monarch; now Love assumes its rights, and mild tears

are shed for the Man. Individual grief is lost in the universal

sorrow. Astounded by this overwhelming stroke, the generals in blank

despondency stand round his bier, and none yet ventures to conceive

the full extent of his loss.'

The descriptive powers of the Historian, though the most popular, are

among the lowest of his endowments. That Schiller was not wanting in

the nobler requisites of his art, might he proved from his reflections

on this very incident, 'striking like a hand from the clouds into the

calculated horologe of men's affairs, and directing the considerate

mind to a higher plan of things.' But the limits of our Work are

already reached. Of Schiller's histories and dramas we can give no

farther specimens: of his lyrical, didactic, moral poems we must take

our leave without giving any. Perhaps the time may come, when all his

writings, transplanted to our own soil, may be offered in their entire

dimensions to the thinkers of these Islands; a conquest by which our

literature, rich as it is, might be enriched still farther.

APPENDIX II.

The preceding Appendix, which is here marked "Appendix _First_," has

hitherto, in all Editions, been the only one, and has ended the Book.

As indeed, for the common run of English readers, it still essentially

may, or even must. But now, for a more select class, and on

inducements that are accidental and peculiar, there is, in this final

or farewell Edition, which stands without change otherwise, something

to be added as Appendix _Second_, by the opportunity that offers.

Schiller has now many readers of his own in England: perhaps the most

and best that read this my poor Account of his _Life_ know something

of Germany and him at first-hand; and have their curiosity awake in

regard to things German:--to such readers, if not to others, I can

expect that the following Reprint or Reproduction of a Piece from the

greatest of Germans, which connects itself with Schiller and this Book

on Schiller, may not be unwelcome. To myself it has become symbolical,

touching and memorable; and much invites my insertion of it here,

since there happens to be room.

Certainly an interesting little circumstance in the history of this

Book, and to me the one circumstance that now has any interest, is,

That a German Translation of it had the altogether unexpected honour

of an Introductory Preface by Goethe, in the last years of his life. A

beautiful small event to me and mine, in our then remote circle;

coming suddenly upon us, like a little outbreak of sunshine and azure,

in the common gray element there! It was one of the more salient

points of a certain individual relation, and far-off personal

intercourse, which had arisen some years before, with the great man

whom we had never seen, and never saw; and which was very beautiful,

high, singular and dear to us,--to myself, and to ANOTHER who is not

with me now. A little gleam as of celestial radiancy, miraculous

almost, but indisputable, shining out on us always from time to time;

somewhat ennobling for us the much of impediment that lay there, and

forbidding it altogether to impede. Truly there are few things I now

remember with a more bright or pious feeling than our then relation,

amid the Scottish moors, to the man whom of all others I the most

honoured, and felt that I was the most indebted to. Looking back on

all this, through the vista of almost forty years, and what they have

brought and have taken, I decide to reproduce this Goethe

_Introduction_, as a little pillar of memorial, while time yet is.

Many of my present readers, too, readers especially of this Volume,

may have their curiosities about the "Introduction (_Einleitung_)" of

so small a thing by so great a man (which withal is a Piece not to be

found in the great man's _Collected Works_, or elsewhere that I know

of):--and will good-naturedly allow me to have my own way with it,

namely to reprint it here in the original words. And will not even

quarrel with me if I reproduce in _facsimile_ those poor

"_Verzierungen_ (Copperplates)" of Goethe's devising, Shadows of Human

Dwellings far away; judging well how beautiful and full of meaning the

poorest of them now is to me.

Subjoined, on the next page, is Goethe's List or 'special Indication'

of these latter; the only words of his which, on this occasion, I

translate as well (_Note of 1868_):

'SPECIAL INDICATION OF THE LOCALITIES REPRESENTED.

'_Frontispiece_, Thomas Carlyle's House in the County of

Dumfries, South of Scotland.

'_Titlepage Vignette_, The Same in the distance.

'_Upper-side of Cover_, Schiller's House in Weimar.

'_Under-side of Cover_, Solitary small Apartment in

Schiller's Garden, over the Leutra Brook in Jena, built by

himself; where, in the completest seclusion, he wrote many

things, _Maria Stuart_ in particular. After his removal from

Jena, and subsequent decease, the little Edifice was taken

away as threatening to fall ruinous; and we wished here to

preserve the remembrance of it.'

[Illustration]

Naehere Bezeichnung der dargestellten Lokalitaeten.

Titelkupfer, Thomas Carlyles Wohnung in der Graffschaft

Dumfries, des suedlichen Schottlands.

Titel-Vignette, dieselbe in der Ferne.

Vorderseite des Umschlags, Wohnung Schillers in Weimar.

Rueckseite des Umschlags, einsames Haeuschen in Schillers

Garten, ueber der Jenaischen Leutra, von ihm selbst

errichtet; wo er in vollkommenster Einsamkeit manches,

besonders Maria Stuart schrieb. Nach seiner Entfernung und

erfolgtem Scheiden, trug man es ab, wegen Wandelbarkeit, und

man gedachte hier das Andenken desselben zu erhalten.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

Thomas Carlyle

Leben Schillers,

aus dem Englischen;

eingeleitet

durch

Goethe.

Frankfurt am Main, 1830.

Verlag von Heinrich Wilmans.

Der hochansehnlichen

Gesellschaft

fuer auslaendische

schoene Literatur,

zu

Berlin.

Als gegen Ende des vergangenen Jahres ich die angenehme Nachricht

erhielt, dass eine mir freundlich bekannte Gesellschaft, welche bisher

ihre Aufmerksamkeit inlaendischer Literatur gewidmet hatte, nunmehr

dieselbe auf die auslaendische zu wenden gedenke, konnte ich in meiner

damaligen Lage nicht ausfuehrlich und gruendlich genug darlegen, wie

sehr ich ein Unternehmen, bey welchen man auch meiner auf das

geneigteste gedacht hatte, zu schaetzen wisse.

Selbst mit gegenwaertigem oeffentlichen Ausdruck meines dankbaren

Antheils geschieht nur fragmentarisch was ich im bessern Zusammenhang

zu ueberliefern gewuenscht haette. Ich will aber auch das wie es mir

vorliegt nicht zurueckweisen, indem ich meinen Hauptzweck dadurch zu

erreichen hoffe, dass ich naemlich meine Freunde mit einem Manne in

Beruehrung bringe, welchen ich unter diejenigen zaehle, die in spaeteren

Jahren sich an mich thaetig angeschlossen, mich durch eine

mitschreitende Theilnahme zum Handeln und Wirken aufgemuntert, und

durch ein edles, reines wohlgerichtetes Bestreben wieder selbst

verjuengt, mich, der ich sie heranzog, mit sich fortgezogen haben. Es

ist der Verfasser des hier uebersetzten Werkes, Herr #Thomas Carlyle#,

ein Schotte, von dessen Thaetigkeit und Vorzuegen, so wie von dessen

naeheren Zustaenden nachstehende Blaetter ein Mehreres eroeffnen werden.

Wie ich denselben und meine Berliner Freunde zu kennen glaube, so wird

zwischen ihnen und ihm eine frohe wirksame Verbindung sich einleiten

und beide Theile werden, wie ich hoffen darf, in einer Reihe von

Jahren sich dieses Vermaechtnisses und seines fruchtbaren Erfolges

zusammen erfreuen, so dass ich ein fortdauerndes Andenken, um welches

ich hier schliesslich bitten moechte, schon als dauernd gegoennt, mit

anmuthigen Empfindungen voraus geniessen kann.

in treuer Anhaenglichkeit und Theilnahme.

Weimar April

1830.

#J. W. v. Goethe.#

Es ist schon einige Zeit von einer allgemeinen Weltliteratur die Rede

und zwar nicht mit Unrecht: denn die saemmtlichen Nationen, in den

fuerchterlichsten Kriegen durcheinander geschuettelt, sodann wieder auf

sich selbst einzeln zurueckgefuehrt, hatten zu bemerken, dass sie

manches Fremde gewahr worden, in sich aufgenommen, bisher unbekannte

geistige Beduerfnisse hie und da empfunden. Daraus entstand das Gefuehl

nachbarlicher Verhaeltnisse, und anstatt dass man sich bisher

zugeschlossen hatte, kam der Geist nach und nach zu dem Verlangen,

auch in den mehr oder weniger freyen geistigen Handelsverkehr mit

aufgenommen zu werden.

Diese Bewegung waehrt zwar erst eine kurze Weile, aber doch immer lang

genug, um schon einige Betrachtungen darueber anzustellen, und aus ihr

bald moeglichst, wie man es im Waarenhandel ja auch thun muss, Vortheil

und Genuss zu gewinnen.

* * * * *

Gegenwaertiges, zum Andenken #Schillers#, geschriebene Werk kann,

uebersetzt, fuer uns kaum etwas Neues bringen; der Verfasser nahm seine

Kenntnisse aus Schriften, die uns laengst bekannt sind, so wie denn

auch ueberhaupt die hier verhandelten Angelegenheiten bey uns oefters

durchgesprochen und durchgefochten worden.

Was aber den Verehrern #Schillers#, und also einem jeden Deutschen, wie

man kuehnlich sagen darf, hoechst erfreulich seyn muss, ist: unmittelbar

zu erfahren, wie ein zartfuehlender, strebsamer, einsichtiger Mann ueber

dem Meere, in seinen besten Jahren, durch #Schillers# Productionen

beruehrt, bewegt, erregt und nun zum weitern Studium der deutschen

Literatur angetrieben worden.

Mir wenigstens war es ruehrend, zu sehen, wie dieser, rein und ruhig

denkende Fremde, selbst in jenen ersten, oft harten, fast rohen

Productionen unsres verewigten Freundes, immer den edlen,

wohldenkenden, wohlwollenden Mann gewahr ward und sich ein Ideal des

vortrefflichsten Sterblichen an ihm auferbauen konnte.

Ich halte deshalb dafuer dass dieses Werk, als von einem Juengling

geschrieben, der deutschen Jugend zu empfehlen seyn moechte: denn wenn

ein munteres Lebensalter einen Wunsch haben darf und soll, so ist es

der: in allem Geleisteten das Loebliche, Gute, Bildsame, Hochstrebende,

genug das Ideelle, und selbst in dem nicht Musterhaften, das

allgemeine Musterbild der Menschheit zu erblicken.

* * * * *

Ferner kann uns dieses Werk von Bedeutung seyn, wenn wir ernstlich

betrachten: wie ein fremder Mann die #Schillerischen# Werke, denen wir

so mannigfaltige Kultur verdanken, auch als Quelle der seinigen

schaetzt, verehrt und dies, ohne irgend eine Absicht, rein und ruhig

zu erkennen giebt.

Eine Bemerkung moechte sodann hier wohl am Platze seyn: dass sogar

dasjenige, was unter uns beynahe ausgewirkt hat, nun, gerade in dem

Augenblicke welcher auswaerts der deutschen Literatur guenstig ist,

abermals seine kraeftige Wirkung beginne und dadurch zeige, wie es auf

einer gewissen Stufe der Literatur immer nuetzlich und wirksam seyn

werde.

So sind z. B. #Herders# Ideen bey uns dergestalt in die Kenntnisse der

ganzen Masse uebergegangen, dass nur wenige, die sie lesen, dadurch

erst belehrt werden, weil sie, durch hundertfache Ableitungen, von

demjenigen was damals von grosser Bedeutung war, in anderem

Zusammenhange schon voellig unterrichtet worden. Dieses Werk ist vor

kurzem ins Franzoesische uebersetzt; wohl in keiner andern Ueberzeugung

als dass tausend gebildete Menschen in Frankreich sich immer noch an

diesen Ideen zu erbauen haben.

* * * * *

In Bezug auf das dem gegenwaertigen Bande vorgesetzte Bild sey

folgendes gemeldet: Unser Freund, als wir mit ihm in Verhaeltniss

traten, war damals in Edinburgh wohnhaft, wo er in der Stille lebend,

sich im besten Sinne auszubilden suchte, und, wir duerfen es ohne

Ruhmredigkeit sagen, in der deutschen Literatur hiezu die meiste

Foerderniss fand.

Spaeter, um sich selbst und seinen redlichen literarischen Studien

unabhaengig zu leben, begab er sich, etwa zehen deutsche Meilen

suedlicher, ein eignes Besitzthum zu bewohnen und zu benutzen, in die

Grafschaft Dumfries. Hier, in einer gebirgigen Gegend, in welcher der

Fluss Nithe dem nahen Meere zustroemt, ohnfern der Stadt Dumfries, an

einer Stelle welche Craigenputtock genannt wird, schlug er mit einer

schoenen und hoechst gebildeten Lebensgefaehrtin seine laendlich einfache

Wohnung auf, wovon treue Nachbildungen eigentlich die Veranlassung zu

gegenwaertigem Vorworte gegeben haben.

* * * * *

Gebildete Geister, zartfuehlende Gemuether, welche nach fernem Guten

sich bestreben, in die Ferne Gutes zu wirken geneigt sind, erwehren

sich kaum des Wunsches, von geehrten, geliebten, weitabgesonderten

Personen das Portrait, sodann die Abbildung ihrer Wohnung, so wie der

naechsten Zustaende, sich vor Augen gebracht zu sehen.

Wie oft wiederholt man noch heutiges Tags die Abbildung von Petrarch's

Aufenthalt in Vaucluse, Tasso's Wohnung in Sorent! Und ist nicht immer

die Bieler Insel, der Schutzort Rousseau's, ein seinen Verehrern nie

genugsam dargestelltes Local?

In eben diesem Sinne hab' ich mir die Umgebungen meiner entfernten

Freunde im Bilde zu verschaffen gesucht, und ich war um so mehr auf

die Wohnung Hrn. #Thomas Carlyle# begierig, als er seinen Aufenthalt in

einer fast rauhen Gebirgsgegend unter dem 55ten Grade gewaehlt hatte.

Ich glaube durch solch eine treue Nachbildung der neulich

eingesendeten Originalzeichnungen gegenwaertiges Buch zu zieren und dem

jetzigen gefuehlvollen Leser, vielleicht noch mehr dem kuenftigen,

einen freundlichen Gefallen zu erweisen und dadurch, so wie durch

eingeschaltete Auszuege aus den Briefen des werthen Mannes, das

Interesse an einer edlen allgemeinen Laender- und Weltannaeherung zu

vermehren.

* * * * *

#Thomas Carlyle# an #Goethe#.

Craigenputtock den 25. Septbr. 1828.

"Sie forschen mit so warmer Neigung nach unserem gegenwaertigen

Aufenthalt und Beschaeftigung, dass ich einige Worte hierueber sagen

muss, da noch Raum dazu uebrig bleibt. Dumfries ist eine artige Stadt,

mit etwa 15000 Einwohnern und als Mittelpunct des Handels und der

Gerichtsbarkeit anzusehen eines bedeutenden Districkts in dem

schottischen Geschaeftskreis. Unser Wohnort ist nicht darin, sondern 15

Meilen (zwei Stunden zu reiten) nordwestlich davon entfernt, zwischen

den Granitgebirgen und dem schwarzen Moorgefilde, welche sich

westwaerts durch Gallovay meist bis an die irische See ziehen. In

dieser Wueste von Heide und Felsen stellt unser Besitzthum eine gruene

Oase vor, einen Raum von geackertem, theilweise umzaeumten und

geschmueckten Boden, wo Korn reift und Baeume Schatten gewaehren,

obgleich ringsumher von Seemoeven und hartwolligen Schaafen umgeben.

Hier, mit nicht geringer Anstrengung, haben wir fuer uns eine reine,

dauerhafte Wohnung erbaut und eingerichtet; hier wohnen wir in

Ermangelung einer Lehr- oder andern oeffentlichen Stelle, um uns der

Literatur zu befleissigen, nach eigenen Kraeften uns damit zu

beschaeftigen. Wir wuenschen dass unsre Rosen und Gartenbuesche froehlich

heranwachsen, hoffen Gesundheit und eine friedliche Gemuethsstimmung,

um uns zu fordern. Die Rosen sind freylich zum Theil noch zu pflanzen,

aber sie bluehen doch schon in Hoffnung.

Zwei leichte Pferde, die uns ueberall hintragen, und die Bergluft sind

die besten Aerzte fuer zarte Nerven. Diese taegliche Bewegung, der ich

sehr ergeben bin, ist meine einzige Zerstreuung; denn dieser Winkel

ist der einsamste in Brittanien, sechs Meilen von einer jeden Person

entfernt die mich allenfalls besuchen moechte. Hier wuerde sich Rousseau

eben so gut gefallen haben, als auf seiner Insel St. Pierre.

Fuerwahr meine staedtischen Freunde schreiben mein Hierhergehen einer

aehnlichen Gesinnung zu und weissagen mir nichts Gutes; aber ich zog

hierher, allein zu dem Zweck meine Lebensweise zu vereinfachen und

eine Unabhaengigkeit zu erwerben, damit ich mir selbst treu bleiben

koenne. Dieser Erdraum ist unser, hier koennen wir leben, schreiben und

denken wie es uns am besten daeucht, und wenn Zoilus selbst Koenig der

Literatur werden sollte.

Auch ist die Einsamkeit nicht so bedeutend, eine Lohnkutsche bringt

uns leicht nach Edinburgh, das wir als unser brittisch Weimar ansehen.

Habe ich denn nicht auch gegenwaertig eine ganze Ladung von

franzoesischen, deutschen, amerikanischen, englischen Journalen und

Zeitschriften, von welchem Werth sie auch seyn moegen, auf den Tischen

meiner kleinen Bibliothek aufgehaeuft!

Auch an alterthuemlichen Studien fehlt es nicht. Von einigen unsrer

Hoehen entdeck' ich, ohngefaehr eine Tagereise westwaerts, den Huegel, wo

Agrikola und seine Roemer ein Lager zurueckliessen; am Fusse desselben

war ich geboren, wo Vater und Mutter noch leben um mich zu lieben. Und

so muss man die Zeit wirken lassen. Doch wo gerath ich hin! Lassen Sie

mich noch gestehen, ich bin ungewiss ueber meine kuenftige literarische

Thaetigkeit, worueber ich gern Ihr Urtheil vernehmen moechte; gewiss

schreiben Sie mir wieder und bald, damit ich mich immer mit Ihnen

vereint fuehlen moege."

* * * * *

Wir, nach allen Seiten hin wohlgesinnten, nach allgemeinster Bildung

strebenden Deutschen, wir wissen schon seit vielen Jahren die

Verdienste wuerdiger schottischer Maenner zu schaetzen. Uns blieb nicht

unbekannt, was sie frueher in den Naturwissenschaften geleistet, woraus

denn nachher die Franzosen ein so grosses Uebergewicht erlangten.

In der neuern Zeit verfehlten wir nicht den lichen Inflows

anzuerkennen, den ihre Philosophie auf die Sinnesaenderung der

Franzosen ausuebte, um sie von dem starren Sensualism zu einer

geschmeidigern Denkart auf dem Wege des gemeinen Menschenverstandes

hinzuleiten. Wir verdankten ihnen gar manche gruendliche Einsicht in

die wichtigsten Faecher brittischer Zustaende und Bemuehungen.

Dagegen mussten wir vor nicht gar langer Zeit unsre

ethisch-aesthetischen Bestrebungen in ihren Zeitschriften auf eine

Weise behandelt sehen, wo es zweifelhaft blieb, ob Mangel an Einsicht

oder boeser Wille dabey obwaltete; ob eine oberflaechliche, nicht genug

durchdringende Ansicht, oder ein widerwilliges Vorurtheil im Spiele

sey. Dieses Ereigniss haben wir jedoch geduldig abgewartet, da uns ja

dergleichen im eignen Vaterlande zu ertragen genuegsam von jeher

auferlegt worden.

In den letzten Jahren jedoch erfreuen uns aus jenen Gegenden die

liebevollsten Blicke, welche zu erwiedern wir uns verpflichtet fuehlen

und worauf wir in gegenwaertigen Blaettern unsre wohldenkenden

Landsleute, insofern es noethig seyn sollte, aufmerksam zu machen

gedenken.

* * * * *

Herr #Thomas Carlyle# hatte schon den #Wilhelm Meister# uebersetzt und gab

sodann vorliegendes Leben #Schillers# im Jahre 1825 heraus.

Im Jahre 1827 erschien _German Romances_ in 4 Baenden, wo er, aus den

Erzaehlungen und Maehrchen deutscher Schriftsteller als: #Musaeus#, #La

Motte Fouque#, #Tieck#, #Hoffmann#, #Jean Paul# und #Goethe#,

heraushob, was er seiner Nation am gemaessesten zu seyn glaubte.

Die einer jeden Abtheilung vorausgeschickten Nachrichten von dem

Leben, den Schriften, der Richtung des genannten Dichters und

Schriftstellers geben ein Zeugniss von der einfach wohlwollenden

Weise, wie der Freund sich moeglichst von der Persoenlichkeit und den

Zustaenden eines jeden zu unterrichten gesucht, und wie er dadurch auf

den rechten Weg gelangt, seine Kenntnisse immer mehr zu

vervollstaendigen.

In den Edinburgher Zeitschriften, vorzueglich in denen welche

eigentlich fremder Literatur gewidmet sind, finden sich nun, ausser

den schon genannten deutschen Autoren, auch #Ernst Schulz#, #Klingemann#,

#Franz Horn#, #Zacharias Werner#, Graf #Platen# und manche andere, von

verschiedenen Referenten, am meisten aber von unserm Freunde,

beurtheilt und eingefuehrt.

Hoechst wichtig ist bey dieser Gelegenheit zu bemerken, dass sie

eigentlich ein jedes Werk nur zum Text und Gelegenheit nehmen, um ueber

das eigentliche Feld und Fach, so wie alsdann ueber das besondere

Individuelle, ihre Gedanken zu eroeffnen und ihr Gutachten meisterhaft

abzuschliessen.

Diese _Edinburgh Reviews_, sie seyen dem Innern und Allgemeinen, oder

den auswaertigen Literaturen besonders gewidmet, haben Freunde der

Wissenschaften aufmerksam zu beachten; denn es ist hoechst merkwuerdig,

wie der gruendlichste Ernst mit der freysten Uebersicht, ein strenger

Patriotismus mit einem einfachen reinen Freysinn, in diesen Vortraegen

sich gepaart findet.

* * * * *

Geniessen wir nun von dort, in demjenigen was uns hier so nah angeht,

eine reine einfache Theilnahme an unsern ethisch-aesthetischen

Bestrebungen, welche fuer einen besondern Charakterzug der Deutschen

gelten koennen, so haben wir uns gleichfalls nach dem umzusehen, was

ihnen dort von dieser Art eigentlich am Herzen liegt. Wir nennen hier

gleich den Namen #Burns#, von welchem ein Schreiben des Herrn #Carlyle's#

folgende Stelle enthaelt.

"Das einzige einigermassen Bedeutende, was ich seit meinem Hierseyn

schrieb, ist ein Versuch ueber #Burns#. Vielleicht habt Ihr niemals von

diesem Mann gehoert, und doch war er einer der entschiedensten Genies;

aber in der tiefsten Classe der Landleute geboren und durch die

Verwicklungen sonderbarer Lagen zuletzt jammervoll zu Grunde

gerichtet, so dass was er wirkte verhaeltnissmaessig geringfuegig ist; er

starb in der Mitte der Manns-Jahre (1796)."

"Wir Englaender, besonders wir Schottlaender, lieben #Burns# mehr als

irgend einen Dichter seit Jahrhunderten. Oft war ich von der Bemerkung

betroffen, er sey wenig Monate vor #Schiller#, in dem Jahr 1759 geboren

und keiner dieser beiden habe jemals des andern Namen vernommen. Sie

glaenzten als Sterne in entgegengesetzten Hemisphaeren, oder, wenn man

will, eine truebe Erdatmosphaere fing ihr gegenseitiges Licht auf."

Mehr jedoch als unser Freund vermuthen mochte, war uns #Robert Burns#

bekannt; das allerliebste Gedicht _John Barley-Corn_ war anonym zu uns

gekommen, und verdienter Weise geschaetzt, veranlasste solches manche

Versuche unsrer Sprache es anzueignen. _Hans Gerstenkorn_, ein

wackerer Mann, hat viele Feinde, die ihn unablaessig verfolgen und

beschaedigen, ja zuletzt gar zu vernichten drohen. Aus allen diesen

Unbilden geht er aber doch am Ende triumphirend hervor, besonders zu

Heil und Froehlichkeit der leidenschaftlichen Biertrinker. Gerade in

diesem heitern genialischen Anthropomorphismus zeigt sich #Burns# als

wahrhaften Dichter.

Auf weitere Nachforschung fanden wir dieses Gedicht in der Ausgabe

seiner poetischen Werke von 1822, welcher eine Skizze seines Lebens

voransteht, die uns wenigstens von den Aeusserlichkeiten seiner

Zustaende bis auf einen gewissen Grad belehrte. Was wir von seinen

Gedichten uns zueignen konnten, ueberzeugte uns von seinem

ausserordentlichen Talent, und wir bedauerten, dass uns die

Schottische Sprache gerade da hinderlich war, wo er des reinsten

natuerlichsten Ausdrucks sich gewiss bemaechtigt hatte. Im Ganzen jedoch

haben wir unsre Studien so weit gefuehrt, dass wir die nachstehende

ruehmliche Darstellung auch als unsrer Ueberzeugung gemaess

unterschreiben koennen.

Inwiefern uebrigens unser #Burns# auch in Deutschland bekannt sey, mehr

als das Conversations-Lexicon von ihm ueberliefert, wuesste ich, als der

neuen literarischen Bewegungen in Deutschland unkundig, nicht zu

sagen; auf alle Faelle jedoch gedenke ich die Freunde auswaertiger

Literatur auf die kuerzesten Wege zu weisen: _The Life of Robert Burns.

By J. G. Lockhart. Edinburgh 1828_, rezensirt von unserm Freunde im

_Edinburgh Review_, December 1828.

Nachfolgende Stellen daraus uebersetzt, werden den Wunsch, das Ganze

und den genannten Mann auf jede Weise zu kennen, hoffentlich lebhaft

erregen.

* * * * *

"#Burns# war in einem hoechst prosaischen Zeitalter, dergleichen

Brittanien nur je erlebt hatte, geboren, in den aller unguenstigsten

Verhaeltnissen, wo sein Geist nach hoher Bildung strebend ihr unter dem

Druck taeglich harter koerperlicher Arbeit nach zu ringen hatte, ja

unter Mangel und trostlosesten Aussichten auf die Zukunft; ohne

Foerderniss als die Begriffe, wie sie in eines armen Mannes Huette

wohnen, und allenfalls die Reime von Ferguson und Ramsay, als das

Muster der Schoenheit aufgesteckt. Aber unter diesen Lasten versinkt er

nicht; durch Nebel und Finsterniss einer so duestern Region entdeckt

sein Adlerauge die richtigen Verhaeltnisse der Welt und des

Menschenlebens, er waechst an geistiger Kraft und draengt sich mit

Gewalt zu verstaendiger Erfahrung. Angetrieben durch die

unwiderstehliche Regsamkeit seines inneren Geistes strauchelt er

vorwaerts und zu allgemeinen Ansichten, und mit stolzer Bescheidenheit

reicht er uns die Frucht seiner Bemuehungen, eine Gabe dar, welche

nunmehr durch die Zeit als unvergaenglich anerkannt worden."

"Ein wahrer Dichter, ein Mann in dessen Herzen die Anlage eines reinen

Wissens keimt, die Toene himmlischer Melodien vorklingen, ist die

koestlichste Gabe, die einem Zeitalter mag verliehen werden. Wir sehen

in ihm eine freyere, reinere Entwicklung alles dessen was in uns das

Edelste zu nennen ist; sein Leben ist uns ein reicher Unterricht und

wir betrauern seinen Tod als eines Wohlthaeters, der uns liebte so wie

belehrte."

"Solch eine Gabe hat die Natur in ihrer Guete uns an #Robert Burns#

gegoennt; aber mit allzuvornehmer Gleichgueltigkeit warf sie ihn aus der

Hand als ein Wesen ohne Bedeutung. Es war entstellt und zerstoert ehe

wir es anerkannten, ein unguenstiger Stern hatte dem Juengling die

Gewalt gegeben, das menschliche Daseyn ehrwuerdiger zu machen, aber ihm

war eine weisliche Fuehrung seines eigenen nicht geworden. Das

Geschick--denn so muessen wir in unserer Beschraenktheit reden--seine

Fehler, die Fehler der Andern lasteten zu schwer auf ihm, und dieser

Geist, der sich erhoben hatte, waere es ihm nur zu wandern geglueckt,

sank in den Staub; seine herrlichen Faehigkeiten wurden in der Bluethe

mit Fuessen getreten. Er starb, wir duerfen wohl sagen, ohne jemals

gelebt zu haben. Und so eine freundlich warme Seele, so voll von

eingebornen Reichthuemern, solcher Liebe zu allen lebendigen und

leblosen Dingen! Das spaete Tausendschoenchen faellt nicht unbemerkt

unter seine Pflugschar, so wenig als das wohlversorgte Nest der

furchtsamen Feldmaus, das er hervorwuehlt. Der wilde Anblick des

Winters ergoetzt ihn; mit einer trueben, oft wiederkehrenden

Zaertlichkeit, verweilt er in diesen ernsten Scenen der Verwuestung;

aber die Stimme des Windes wird ein Psalm in seinem Ohr; wie gern mag

er in den sausenden Waeldern dahin wandern: denn er fuehlt seine

Gedanken erhoben zu dem, der auf den Schwingen des Windes

einherschreitet. Eine wahre Poetenseele! sie darf nur beruehrt werden

und ihr Klang ist Musik."

"Welch ein warmes allumfassendes Gleichheitsgefuehl! welche

vertrauenvolle, graenzenlose Liebe! welch edelmuthiges Ueberschaetzen

des geliebten Gegenstandes! Der Bauer, sein Freund, sein nussbraunes

Maedchen sind nicht laenger gering und doerfisch, Held vielmehr und

Koenigin, er ruehmt sie als gleich wuerdig des Hoechsten auf der Erde. Die

rauhen Scenen schottischen Lebens sieht er nicht im arkadischen

Lichte, aber in dem Rauche, in dem unebenen Tennenboden einer solchen

rohen Wirthlichkeit findet er noch immer Liebenswuerdiges genug. Armuth

fuerwahr ist sein Gefaehrte, aber auch Liebe und Muth zugleich; die

einfachen Gefuehle, der Werth, der Edelsinn, welche unter dem Strohdach

wohnen, sind lieb und ehrwuerdig seinem Herzen. Und so ueber die

niedrigsten Regionen des menschlichen Daseyns ergiesst er die Glorie

seines eigenen Gemueths und sie steigen, durch Schatten und

Sonnenschein gesaenftigt und verherrlicht, zu einer Schoenheit, welche

sonst die Menschen kaum in dem Hoechsten erblicken."

"Hat er auch ein Selbstbewusstseyn, welches oft in Stolz ausartet, so

ist es ein edler Stolz, um abzuwehren, nicht um anzugreifen, kein

kaltes misslaunisches Gefuehl, ein freyes und geselliges. Dieser

poetische Landmann betraegt sich, moechten wir sagen, wie ein Koenig in

der Verbannung; er ist unter die Niedrigsten gedraengt und fuehlt sich

gleich den Hoechsten; er verlangt keinen Rang, damit man ihm keinen

streitig mache. Den Zudringlichen kann er abstossen, den Stolzen

demuethigen, Vorurtheil auf Reichthum oder Altgeschlecht haben bey ihm

keinen Werth. In diesem dunklen Auge ist ein Feuer, woran sich eine

abwuerdigende Herablassung nicht wagen darf; in seiner Erniedrigung, in

der aeussersten Noth vergisst er nicht fuer einen Augenblick die

Majestaet der Poesie und Mannheit. Und doch, so hoch er sich ueber

gewoehnlichen Menschen fuehlt, sondert er sich nicht von ihnen ab, mit

Waerme nimmt er an ihrem Interesse Theil, ja er wirft sich in ihre Arme

und, wie sie auch seyen, bittet er um ihre Liebe. Es ist ruehrend zu

sehen, wie in den duestersten Zustaenden dieses stolze Wesen in der

Freundschaft Huelfe sucht, und oft seinen Busen dem Unwuerdigen

aufschliesst; oft unter Thraenen an sein gluehendes Herz ein Herz

andrueckt, das Freundschaft nur als Namen kennt. Doch war er scharf und

schnellsichtig, ein Mann vom durchdringendsten Blick, vor welchem

gemeine Verstellung sich nicht bergen konnte. Sein Verstand sah durch

die Tiefen des vollkommensten Betruegers, und zugleich war eine

grossmuethige Leichtglaeubigkeit in seinem Herzen. So zeigte sich dieser

Landmann unter uns: Eine Seele wie Aeolsharfe, deren Saiten vom

gemeinsten Winde beruehrt, ihn zu gesetzlicher Melodie verwandelten.

Und ein solcher Mann war es fuer den die Welt kein schicklicher

Geschaeft zu finden wusste, als sich mit Schmugglern und Schenken

herumzuzanken, Accise auf den Talg zu berechnen und Bierfaesser zu

visiren. In solchem Abmuehen ward dieser maechtige Geist kummervoll

vergeudet, und hundert Jahre moegen vorueber gehen, eh uns ein gleicher

gegeben wird, um vielleicht ihn abermals zu vergeuden."

* * * * *

Und wie wir den Deutschen zu ihrem #Schiller# Glueck wuenschen, so wollen

wir in eben diesem Sinne auch die Schottlaender segnen. Haben diese

jedoch unserm Freunde so viel Aufmerksamkeit und Theilnahme erwiesen,

so waer' es billig, dass wir auf gleiche Weise ihren #Burns# bey uns

einfuehrten. Ein junges Mitglied der hochachtbaren Gesellschaft, der

wir gegenwaertiges im Ganzen empfohlen haben, wird Zeit und Muehe

hoechlich belohnt sehen, wenn er diesen freundlichen Gegendienst einer

so verehrungswuerdigen Nation zu leisten den Entschluss fassen und das

Geschaeft treulich durchfuehren will. Auch wir rechnen den belobten

#Robert Burns# zu den ersten Dichtergeistern, welche das vergangene

Jahrhundert hervorgebracht hat.

Im Jahr 1829 kam uns ein sehr sauber und augenfaellig gedrucktes

Octavbaendchen zur Hand: _Catalogue of German Publications, selected

and systematically arranged for W. H. Koller and Jul. Cahlmann.

London._

Dieses Buechlein, mit besonderer Kenntniss der deutschen Literatur, in

einer die Uebersicht erleichternden Methode verfasst, macht demjenigen

der es ausgearbeitet und den Buchhaendlern Ehre, welche ernstlich das

bedeutende Geschaeft uebernehmen eine fremde Literatur in ihr Vaterland

einzufuehren, und zwar so dass mann in allen Faechern uebersehen koenne

was dort geleistet worden, um so wohl den Gelehrten den denkenden

Leser als auch den fuehlenden und Unterhaltung suchenden anzulocken und

zu befriedigen. Neugierig wird jeder deutsche Schriftsteller und

Literator, der sich in irgend einem Fache hervorgethan, diesen Catalog

aufschlagen um zu forschen: ob denn auch seiner darin gedacht, seine

Werke, mit andern Verwandten, freundlich aufgenommen worden. Allen

deutschen Buchhaendlern wird es angelegen seyn zu erfahren: wie man

ihren Verlag ueber dem Canal betrachte, welchen Preis man auf das

Einzelne setze und sie werden nichts verabsaeumen um mit jenen die

Angelegenheit so ernsthaft angreifenden Maennern in Verhaeltniss zu

kommen, und dasselbe immerfort lebendig erhalten.

* * * * *

Wenn ich nun aber das von unserm Schottischen Freunde vor soviel

Jahren verfasste Leben #Schillers#, auf das er mit einer ihm so wohl

anstehenden Bescheidenheit zuruecksieht, hiedurch einleite und

gegenwaertig an den Tag foerdere, so erlaube er mir einige seiner

neusten Aeusserungen hinzuzufuegen, welche die bisherigen gemeinsamen

Fortschritte am besten deutlich machen moechten.

* * * * *

#Thomas Carlyle an Goethe.#

den 22. December 1829.

"Ich habe zu nicht geringer Befriedigung zum zweitenmale den

#Briefwechsel# gelesen und sende heute einen darauf gegruendeten Aufsatz

ueber #Schiller# ab fuer das _Foreign Review_. Es wird Ihnen angenehm seyn

zu hoeren, dass die Kentniss und Schaetzung der auswaertigen, besonders

der deutschen Literatur, sich mit wachsender Schnelle verbreitet so

weit die englische Zunge herrscht; so dass bey den Antipoden, selbst

in Neuholland, die Weisen Ihres Landes ihre Weisheit predigen. Ich

habe kuerzlich gehoert, dass sogar in Oxford und Cambridge, unsern

beiden englischen Universitaeten, die bis jetzt als die Haltpuncte der

insularischen eigenthuemlichen Beharrlichkeit sind betrachtet worden,

es sich in solchen Dingen zu regen anfaengt. Ihr #Niebuhr# hat in

Cambridge einen geschickten Uebersetzer gefunden und in Oxford haben

zwei bis drei Deutsche schon hinlaengliche Beschaeftigung als Lehrer

ihrer Sprache. Das neue Licht mag fuer gewisse Augen zu stark seyn;

jedoch kann Niemand an den guten Folgen zweifeln, die am Ende daraus

hervorgehen werden. Lasst Nationen wie Individuen sich nur einander

kennen und der gegenseitige Hass wird sich in gegenwaertige

Huelfleistung verwandeln, und anstatt natuerlicher Feinde, wie

benachbarte Laender zuweilen genannt sind, werden wir alle natuerliche

Freunde seyn."

* * * * *

Wenn uns nach allen diesem nun die Hoffnung schmeichelt, eine

Uebereinstimmung der Nationen, ein allgemeineres Wohlwollen werde sich

durch naehere Kentniss der verschiedenen Sprachen und Denkweisen, nach

und nach erzeugen; so wage ich von einem bedeutenden Inflows der

deutschen Literatur zu sprechen, welcher sich in einem besondern Falle

hoechst wirksam erweisen moechte.

Es ist naemlich bekannt genug, dass die Bewohner der drei brittischen

Koenigreiche nicht gerade in dem besten Einverstaendnisse leben, sondern

dass vielmehr ein Nachbar an dem andern genuegsam zu tadeln findet, um

eine heimliche Abneigung bey sich zu rechtfertigen.

Nun aber bin ich ueberzeugt, dass wie die deutsche ethisch-aesthetische

Literatur durch das dreifache Brittanien sich verbreitet, zugleich

auch eine stille Gemeinschaft von #Philogermanen# sich bilden werde,

welche in der Neigung zu einer vierten, so nahverwandten Voelkerschaft,

auch unter einander, als vereinigt und verschmolzen sich empfinden

werden.

#Schillers Leben.#

#Erster Abschnitt.#

#Seine Jugend# (1759-1784.)

Unter allen Schriftstellern ist am Schluss des letzten Jahrhunderts

wohl keiner der Aufmerksamkeit wuerdiger, als #Friedrich Schiller#.

Ausgezeichnet durch glaenzenden Geist, erhabenes Gefuehl und edlen

Geschmack liess er den schoensten Abdruck dieser selten vereinigten

Eigenschaften in seinen Werken zurueck. Der ausgebreitete Ruhm, welcher

ihm dadurch geworden,...

... es sind neue Formen der Wahrheiten, neue Grundsaetze der Weisheit,

neue Bilder und Scenen der Schoenheit, die er dem leeren formlosen

unendlichen Raum abgenommen; zum [Greek: ktema eis aei] oder zum

ewigen Eigenthum aller Geschlechter dieses Erdballs. [s. 301.]

... die unsere Literatur, so reich sie auch schon an sich ist, noch

ungleich mehr bereichern wuerde.

[_Anhang_, s. 54.]

SUMMARY AND INDEX.

SUMMARY.

PART I.

SCHILLER'S YOUTH.

(1759-1784.)

Introductory remarks: Schiller's high destiny. His Father's career:

Parental example and influences. Boyish caprices and aspirations. (p.

3.)--His first schoolmaster: Training for the Church: Poetical

glimmerings. The Duke of Wuertemberg, and his Free Seminary: Irksome

formality there. Aversion to the study of Law and Medicine.

(9.)--Literary ambition and strivings: Economic obstacles and pedantic

hindrances: Silent passionate rebellion. Bursts his fetters.

(13.)--_The Robbers_: An emblem of its young author's baffled, madly

struggling spirit: Criticism of the Characters in the Play, and of the

style of the work. Extraordinary ferment produced by its publication:

Exaggerated praises and condemnations: Schiller's own opinion of its

moral tendency. (17.)--Discouragement and persecution from the Duke of

Wuertemberg. Dalberg's generous sympathy and assistance. Schiller

escapes from Stuttgard, empty in purse and hope: Dalberg supplies his

immediate wants: He finds hospitable friends. (28.)--Earnest literary

efforts. Publishes two tragedies, _Fiesco_ and _Kabale und Liebe_. His

mental growth. Critical account of the Conspiracy of Fiesco: Fiesco's

genial ambition: The Characters of the Play nearer to actual humanity.

How all things in the Drama of Life hang inseparably together.

(35.)--_Kabale und Liebe_, a domestic tragedy of high merit: Noble and

interesting characters of hero and heroine. (42.)--The stormy

confusions of Schiller's youth now subsiding. Appointed poet to the

Mannheim Theatre. Nothing to fear from the Duke of Wuertemberg. The

Public, his only friend and sovereign. A Man of Letters for the rest

of his days. (46.)

PART II.

FROM HIS SETTLEMENT AT MANNHEIM TO HIS SETTLEMENT AT JENA.

(1784-1790.)

Reflections: Difference between knowing and doing: Temptations and

perils of a literary life: True Heroism. Schiller's earnest and

steadfast devotion to his Ideal Good: Misery of idleness and

indecision. (p. 51.)--German esteem for the Theatre. Theatrical, and

deeper than theatrical activities: The _Rheinische Thalia_ and

_Philosophische Briefe_. The two Eternities: The bog of Infidelity

surveyed but not crossed. (56.)--Insufficiency of Mannheim. A pleasant

tribute of regard. Letter to Huber: Domestic tastes. Removes to

Leipzig. Letter to his friend Schwann: A marriage proposal.

Fluctuations of life. (63.)--Goes to Dresden. _Don Carlos_: Evidences

of a matured mind: Analysis of the Characters: Scene of the King and

Posa. Alfieri and Schiller contrasted. (73.)--Popularity: Crowned with

laurels, but without a home. Forsakes the Drama. Lyrical productions:

_Freigeisterei der Leidenschaft_. The _Geisterseher_, a Novel. Tires

of fiction. Studies and tries History. (95.)--Habits at Dresden.

Visits Weimar and Bauerbach. The Frauelein Lengefeld: Thoughts on

Marriage. (102.)--First interview with Goethe: Diversity in their

gifts: Their mistaken impression of each other. Become better

acquainted: Lasting friendship. (106.)--History of the _Revolt of the

Netherlands_. The truest form of History-writing. Appointed Professor

at Jena. Friendly intercourse with Goethe. Marriage. (112.)

PART III.

FROM HIS SETTLEMENT AT JENA TO HIS DEATH.

(1790-1805.)

Academical duties. Study of History: Cosmopolitan philosophy, and

national instincts. History of the _Thirty-Years War_. (p.

119.)--Sickness, and help in it. Heavy trial for a literary man.

Schiller's unabated zeal. (125.)--Enthusiasm and conflicts excited by

Kant's Philosophy. Schiller's growing interest in the subject: Letters

on _AEsthetic Culture_, &c. Claims of Kant's system to a respectful

treatment. (129.)--Fastidiousness and refinement of taste. Literary

projects: Epic poems: Returns to the Drama. Outbreak of the French

Revolution. (137.)--Edits the _Horen_: Connexion with Goethe. A

pleasant visit to his parents. Mode of life at Jena: Night-studies,

and bodily stimulants. (143.)--_Wallenstein_: Brief sketch of its

character and compass: Specimen scenes, Max Piccolomini and his

Father; Max and the Princess Thekla; Thekla's frenzied grief: No

nobler or more earnest dramatic work. (152.)--Removes to Weimar:

Generosity of the Duke. Tragedy of _Maria Stuart_. (178.)--The _Maid

of Orleans_: Character of Jeanne d'Arc: Scenes, Joanna and her

Suitors; Death of Talbot; Joanna and Lionel. Enthusiastic reception of

the play. (181.)--Daily and nightly habits at Weimar. The _Bride of

Messina_. _Wilhelm Tell_: Truthfulness of the Characters and Scenery:

Scene, the Death of Gossler. (201.)--Schiller's dangerous illness.

Questionings of Futurity. The last sickness: Many things grow clearer:

Death. (219.)--General sorrow for his loss. His personal aspect:

Modesty and simplicity of manner: Mental gifts. (222.)--Definitions of

genius. Poetic sensibilities and wretchedness: In such miseries

Schiller had no share. A fine example of the German character: No

cant; no cowardly compromising with his own conscience: Childlike

simplicity. Literary Heroism. (227.)

* * * * *

SUPPLEMENT OF 1872.

Small Book by Herr Saupe, entitled _Schiller and his Father's

Household_. Really interesting and instructive. Translation, with

slight corrections and additions. (p. 241.)

SCHILLER'S FATHER.

Johann Caspar Schiller, born in Wuertemberg, 27th October 1723. At ten

years a fatherless Boy poorly educated, he is apprenticed to a

barber-surgeon. Becomes 'Army Doctor' to a Bavarian regiment. Settles

in Marbach, and marries the daughter of a respectable townsman,

afterwards reduced to extreme poverty. The marriage, childless for the

first eight years. Six children in all: The Poet Schiller the only

Boy. (p. 243.)--Very meagre circumstances. At breaking-out of the

Seven-Years War returns to the Army. At the Ball of Fulda; at the

Battle of Leuthen. Cheerfully undertakes anything useful. Earnestly

diligent and studious. Greatly improves in general culture, and even

saves money. (244.)--Boards his poor Wife with her Father. His first

Daughter and his only Son born there. At the close of the War he

carries his Wife and Children to his own quarters. A just man; simple,

strong, expert; if also somewhat quick and rough. (246.) Solicitude

for his Son's education. Appointed Recruiting Officer, with permission

to live with his Family at Lorch. The children soon feel themselves at

home and happy. Little Fritz receives his first regular school

instruction, much to the comfort of his Father. Holiday rambles among

the neighbouring hills: Brotherly and Sisterly affection. Touches of

boyish fearlessness: Where does the lightning come from? (248.)--The

Family run over to Ludwigsburg. Fritz to prepare for the clerical

profession. At the Latin School, cannot satisfy his Father's anxious

wishes. One of his first poems. (253.)--The Duke of Wuertemberg notices

his Father's worth, and appoints him Overseer of all his Forest

operations: With residence at his beautiful Forest-Castle, Die

Solituede. Fritz remains at the Ludwigsburg Latin School: Continual

exhortations and corrections from Father and Teacher. Youthful heresy.

First acquaintance with a Theatre. (255.)--The Duke proposes to take

Fritz into his Military Training-School. Consternation of the Schiller

Family. Ineffectual expostulations: Go he must. Studies Medicine.

Altogether withdrawn from his Father's care. Rigorous seclusion and

constraint. The Duke means well to him. (258.)--Leaves the School, and

becomes Regimental-Doctor at Stuttgard. His Father's pride in him.

Extravagance and debt. His personal appearance. (260.)--Publication of

the _Robbers_. His Father's mingled feelings of anxiety and

admiration. Peremptory command from the Duke to write no more poetry,

on pain of Military Imprisonment. Prepares for flight with his friend

Streicher. Parting visit to his Family at Solituede: His poor Mother's

bitter grief. Escapes to Mannheim. Consternation of his Father.

Happily the Duke takes no hostile step. (263.)--Disappointments and

straits at Mannheim. Help from his good friend Streicher. He sells

_Fiesco_, and prepares to leave Mannheim. Through the kindness of Frau

von Wolzogen he finds refuge in Bauerbach. Affectionate Letter to his

Parents. His Father's stern solicitude for his welfare. (268.)--Eight

months in Bauerbach, under the name of Doctor Ritter. Unreturned

attachment to Charlotte Wolzogen. Returns to Mannheim. Forms a settled

engagement with Dalberg, to whom his Father writes his thanks and

anxieties. Thrown on a sick-bed: His Father's admonitions. He vainly

urges his Son to petition the Duke for permission to return to

Wuertemberg; the poor Father earnestly wishes to have him near him

again. Increasing financial difficulties. More earnest fatherly

admonition and advice. Enthusiastic reception of _Kabale und Liebe_.

_Don Carlos_ well in hand. A friend in trouble through mutual debts.

Applies to his Father for unreasonable help. Annoyance at the

inevitable refusal. His Father's loving and faithful expostulation.

His Sister's proposed marriage with Reinwald. (273.)--Beginning of his

friendly intimacy with the excellent Koerner. The Duke of Weimar

bestows on him the title of Rath. No farther risk for him from

Wuertemberg. At Leipzig, Dresden, Weimar. Settles at last as Professor

in Jena. Marriage and comfortable home: His Father well satisfied, and

joyful of heart. Affectionate Letter to his good Father.

(282.)--Seized with a dangerous affection of the chest. Generous

assistance from Denmark. Joyful visit to his Family, after an absence

of eleven years. Writes a conciliatory Letter to the Duke. Birth of a

Son. The Duke's considerateness for Schiller's Father. The Duke's

death. (286.)--Schiller's delight in his Sisters, Luise and Nanette.

Letter to his Father. Visits Stuttgard. Returns with Wife and Child to

Jena. Assists his Father in publishing the results of his long

experiences of gardens and trees. Beautiful and venerable old age.

(290.)--Thick-coming troubles for the Schiller Family. Death of the

beautiful Nanette in the flower of her years: Dangerous illness of

Luise: The Father bedrid with gout. The poor weakly Mother bears the

whole burden of the household distress. Sister Christophine, now

Reinwald's Wife, hastens to their help. Schiller's anxious sympathy.

His Father's death. Grateful letters to Reinwald and to his poor

Mother. (296.)

HIS MOTHER.

Elizabetha Dorothea Kodweis, born at Marbach, 1733. An unpretending,

soft and dutiful Wife, with the tenderest Mother-heart. A talent for

music and even for poetry. Verses to her Husband. Troubles during the

Seven-Years War. Birth of little Fritz. The Father returns from the

War. Mutual helpfulness, and affectionate care for their children. She

earnestly desires her Son may become a Preacher. His confirmation. Her

disappointment that it was not to be. (p. 300.)--Her joy and care for

him whenever he visited his Home. Her innocent delight at seeing her

Son's name honoured and wondered at. Her anguish and illness at their

long parting. Brighter days for them all. She visits her Son at Jena.

He returns the visit with Wife and Child. Her strength in adversity.

Comfort in her excellent Daughter Christophine. Her Husband's death.

Loving and helpful sympathy from her Son. (307.)--Receives a pension

from the Duke. Removes with Luise to Leonberg. Marriage of Luise.

Happy in her children's love and in their success in life. Her last

illness and death. Letters from Schiller to his Sister Luise and her

kind husband. (318.)

HIS SISTERS.

Till their Brother's flight the young girls had known no misfortune.

Diligent household occupations, and peaceful contentment. A

love-passage in Christophine's young life. Her marriage with Reinwald.

His unsuccessful career: Broken down in health and hope.

Christophine's loving, patient and noble heart. For twenty-nine years

they lived contentedly together. Through life she was helpful to all

about her; never hindersome to any. (p. 324.)--Poor Nanette's brief

history. Her excitement, when a child, on witnessing the performance

of her Brother's _Kabale und Liebe_. Her ardent secret wish, herself

to represent his Tragedies on the Stage. All her young glowing hopes

stilled in death. (331.)--Luise's betrothal and marriage. An anxious

Mother, and in all respects an excellent Wife. Her Brother's last

loving Letter to her. His last illness, and peaceful death. (333.)

APPENDIX I.

No. 1. DANIEL SCHUBART.

Influence of Schubart's persecutions on Schiller's mind. His Birth and

Boyhood. Sent to Jena to study Theology: Profligate life: Returns

home. Popular as a preacher: Skilful in music. A joyful, piping,

guileless mortal. (p. 341.)--Prefers pedagogy to starvation. Marries.

Organist to the Duke of Wuertemberg. Headlong business, amusement and

dissipation. His poor Wife returns to her Father: Ruin and banishment.

A vagabond life. (343.)--Settles at Augsburg, and sets up a Newspaper:

Again a prosperous man: Enmity of the Jesuits. Seeks refuge in Ulm:

His Wife and Family return to him. The Jesuits on the watch.

Imprisoned for ten years: Interview with young Schiller. (346.)--Is at

length liberated. Joins his Wife at Stuttgard, and reestablishes his

Newspaper. Literary enterprises: Death. Summary of his character.

(351.)

No. 2. LETTERS OF SCHILLER TO DALBERG.

Brief account of Dalberg. Schiller's desire to remove to Mannheim.

Adaptation of the _Robbers_ to the stage. (p. 354.)--Struggles to get

free from Stuttgard and his Ducal Jailor: Dalberg's friendly help.

Friendly letter to his friend Schwann. (362.)

No. 3. FRIENDSHIP WITH GOETHE.

Goethe's feeling of the difference in their thoughts and aims: Great

Nature _not_ a phantasm of her children's brains. Growing sympathy and

esteem, unbroken to the end. (p. 371.)

No. 4. DEATH OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS.

Schiller's historical style. A higher than descriptive power. (p.

375.)

APPENDIX II.

Schiller's Life into German; Author's Note thereon. (p.

380.)--Goethe's introduction (in German), with Four Prints. (393.)

End of Project Gutenberg's The Life of Friedrich Schiller, by Thomas Carlyle