Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance.

by Friedrich von Hardenberg.

LIFE OF THE AUTHOR.

Probably some of the readers of this volume will feel an interest in the author's life. Although there are but few works, in which the mind of the author is more clearly and purely reflected than in this; yet it is natural that the reader should feel some interest in the outward circ.u.mstances of one, who has become dear to him; and those friends of Novalis, who have never known him personally, will be glad to hear all that we can bring to light concerning him.

The Baron of Hardenberg, the father of the author, was director of the Saxonian salt works. He had been a soldier in his younger days, and retained even in his old age a predilection for a military life. He was a robust, ever active man, frank and energetic;--a pure German. The pious character of his mind led him to join the Moravian community; yet he remained frank, decided, and upright. His mother, a type of elevated piety and Christian meekness, belonged to the same religious community.

She bore with lofty resignation the loss, within a few successive years, of a blooming circle of hopeful and well educated children.

Friedrich von Hardenberg (Novalis) was born on the second of May, in the year 1772, on a family estate in the county of Mansfield. He was the oldest of eleven children, with the exception of a sister who was born a year earlier. The family consisted of seven sons and four daughters, all distinguished for their wit and the lofty tone of their minds. Each possessed a peculiar disposition, while all were united by a beautiful and generous affection to each other and to their parents.

Friedrich von Hardenberg was weak in const.i.tution from his earliest childhood, without, however, suffering from any settled or dangerous disease. He was somewhat of a day-dreamer, silent and of an inactive disposition. He separated himself from the society of his playmates; but his character was distinguished from that of other children, only by the ardor of his love for his master. He found his companions in his own family. His spirit seemed to be wakened from its slumber, by a severe disease in his ninth year, and by the stimulants applied for his recovery; and he suddenly appeared brighter, merrier, and more active.

His father, who was obliged by his business to be much of his time away from home, entrusted his education for the most part to his mother, and to family tutors. The gentleness, meekness, and the pure piety of his mother's character, as well as the religious habits of both parents, which naturally extended to the whole household, made the deepest impression upon his mind; an impression which exerted the happiest influence upon him throughout his whole life. He now applied himself diligently to his studies, so that in his twelfth year he had acquired a pretty thorough knowledge of the Latin language, and some smattering of Greek. The reading of Poetry was the favorite occupation of his leisure hours. He was particularly pleased with the higher kind of fables, and amused himself by composing them and relating them to his brothers. He was accustomed for several years to act, in concert with his brothers Erasmus and Charles, a little poetical play, in which they took the characters of spirits, one of the air, another of the water, and the other of the earth. On Sunday evenings, Novalis would explain to them the most wonderful and various appearances and phenomena of these different realms. There are still in existence some of his poems written about this period.

He now applied himself too severely to study, especially to history, in which he took a deep interest. In the year 1789, he entered a Gymnasium, and in the autumn went to Jena to pursue his studies there.

Here he remained until 1792, and then with his brother Erasmus entered the University at Leipzig; he left the following year for Wittenberg, and there finished his studies.

At this time the French war broke out, which not only interrupted his studies greatly, but which also inspired him suddenly with so great a desire to enter upon a military life, that the united prayers of his parents and relations were scarcely able to restrain his wishes.

About this time he became acquainted with Frederick Schlegel, and soon became his warmest friend; he also gained the friendship of Fichte; and these two great spirits exerted a powerful and lasting influence upon his whole life. After applying himself with unwearied ardor to the sciences, he left Wittenberg for Arnstadt in Thuringia, in order to accustom himself to practical business with Just, the chief judiciary of the district. This excellent man soon became one of his nearest friends. Shortly after his arrival at Arnstadt, he became acquainted with Sophia von K., who resided at a neighboring country seat. The first sight of her beautiful and lovely form decided the fate of his whole life; or rather the pa.s.sion, which penetrated and inspired his soul, became the contents of his whole life. Often even in the face of childhood, there is an expression so sweet and spiritual, that we call it supernatural and heavenly; and the fear impresses itself on our hearts, that faces, so transfigured and transparent, are too tender and too finely woven for this life; that it is death or immortality that gazes through the glancing eye; and too often are our forebodings realized by the rapid withering of such blossoms. Still more beautiful are such forms, when, childhood left behind, they have advanced to the full bloom of youth. All who knew the betrothed of our author are agreed, that no description could do justice to her beauty, grace, and heavenly simplicity. She was in her fourteenth year when Novalis became acquainted with her; and the spring and summer of 1795 were indeed the blooming season of his life. Every hour he could spare from his business was spent at Gruningen; and late in the fall of 1796, he was betrothed to Sophia with the consent of her parents. Shortly after she was taken severely sick with a fever, which, though it lasted but a few weeks, yet left her with a pain in the side, which by its intensity rendered unhappy many of her hours. Novalis was much alarmed, but was quieted by her physician, who p.r.o.nounced this pain of no consequence.

Shortly after her recovery he departed for Weissenfels, where he was appointed auditor in the department of which his father was director.

He pa.s.sed the winter of 1795-96 in business, hearing news from Gruningen of a quieting character. He journeyed thither in the spring, and found his betrothed to all appearance recovered. At this time his brother Erasmus was taken sick, so that he left off his studies, and devoted himself in a distant place to the chase and a forest life. His brother Charles joined the army, and in the spring entered upon active service. Thus Novalis lived quietly at home, his parents and sisters forming his chief society, the other children being yet quite young. In the summer, while he was rejoicing in the prospect of being soon united to Sophia, he received information, that she was at Jena, and there on account of ulceration of the liver, had undergone a severe operation.

It had been her wish, that he should not be informed of her sickness, nor of the dangerous operation, till it was over. He hastened to Jena, and found her in intense suffering. Her physician, one far famed for his ability, could allow them to hope only for a very slow recovery, if indeed she should survive. He was obliged to repeat the operation, and feared that she would want strength to support her through the healing process. With lofty courage and indescribable fort.i.tude, Sophia bore up against all her sufferings. Novalis was there to console her; his parents offered up their sympathetic prayers; his two brothers had returned and strove to be of service to the sorrowing one, as well as to the suffering. In December Serbia desired to visit Gruningen again.

Novalis requested Erasmus to accompany her on her journey. He did so, together with her mother and sisters, who had attended her at Jena.

After having accompanied her to her place of residence, he returned to his residence in Franconia.

Novalis was now by turns in Weissenfels and Gruningen. With great grief, however, he was obliged to confess, that he found Sophia worse and worse at every visit. Towards the end of January, 1797, Erasmus also returned to Weissenfels very sick, and the expected deaths of two beings, so much beloved, filled the house with gloom.

The 17th of March was Sophia's fifteenth birthday, and on the 19th, about noon, she fell asleep in the arms of her sisters, and faithful instructress Mademoiselle Danscour, who loved her tenderly. No one dared bring the news to Novalis, until his brother Charles at last undertook the mournful office. For three days and nights, the mourner shut himself up from his friends, weeping away the hours, and then hastened to Arnstadt, that he might be with his truest friends, and nearer to the beloved place, which contained the remains of her who was dearest to him. On the 14th of April, he also lost his brother Erasmus.

Novalis writing to his brother Charles, who had been obliged to travel to Lower Saxony, says, speaking of the death of Erasmus, "Be consoled; Erasmus has conquered; the flowers of the lovely wreath are dropping off, one by one, to be united more beautifully in Heaven."

At this time Novalis, living as he did only for suffering, naturally regarded the visible and the invisible world as one, and regarded life and death as distinguished only by our longing for the latter. At the same time life was transfigured before him, and his whole being flowed together as in a clear conscious dream of a higher existence. His sensibilities, as well as his imagination, were very much decided from the solemnity of his suffering, from his heartfelt love, and from the pious longing for death, which he cherished. It is indeed very possible, that deep sorrow at this time planted the death-seed in him; unless perhaps it was his irrevocable destiny, to be so early torn away.

He remained many weeks in Thuringia, and returned consoled and truly exalted to his business, which he pursued more eagerly than ever, though he regarded himself as a stranger upon earth. About this time, some earlier, some later, but particularly during the fall of this year, he composed most of those pieces, which have been published under the t.i.tle of "Fragments," as also his "Hymns to Night."

In December of this year, he went to Freiberg, where the acquaintance and instruction of the renowned Werner awoke anew his pa.s.sion for physical science, and especially for mining. Here he became acquainted with Julia von Ch.; and, strange as it may appear to all but his intimate friends, he was betrothed to her, as early as the year 1798.

Sophia (as we may see from his works) remained the balancing point of his thoughts; he honored her, absent as she was, even more than when present with him; but yet he thought that loveliness and beauty could, to a certain degree, replace her loss. About this time he wrote "Faith and Love," the "Flower Dust," and some other fragments, as "The Pupils at Sais." In the spring of 1799, Serbia's instructress died; which event moved Novalis the more deeply, because he knew that sorrow for the loss of her beloved pupil had chiefly contributed to hasten her death. Soon after this event he returned to the paternal estate, and was appointed under his father a.s.sessor and chief Judiciary of the Thuringian district.

He now visited Jena often, and there became acquainted with A. W.

Schlegel, and sought out the gifted Ritter, whom he particularly loved, and whose peculiar talent for experimenting he greatly admired. Ludwig Tieck saw him this year for the first time, while on a visit to his friend Wm. Schlegel. Their acquaintance soon ripened into a warm friendship. These friends, in company with Schlegel, Sch.e.l.ling, and other strangers, pa.s.sed many happy days in Jena. On his return, Tieck visited Novalis at his father's house, became acquainted with his family, and for the first time listened to the reading of "the Pupils at Sais," and many of his fragments. He then accompanied him to Halle, and many hours were peacefully pa.s.sed in Reichardt's house. His first conception of Henry of Ofterdingen dates about this time. He had also already written some of his spiritual songs; they were to make a part of a hymn book, which he intended to accompany with a volume of sermons. Besides these labors he was very industrious in the duties of his office; all his duties were attended to with willingness, and nothing of however little importance was insignificant to him.

When Tieck, in the autumn of 1799, took up his residence at Jena, and Frederick Schlegel also dwelt there, Novalis often visited them, sometimes for a short, and sometimes for a longer time. His eldest sister was married about this time, and the wedding was celebrated at a country seat near Jena. After this marriage Novalis lived for a long time in a lonely place in the golden meadow of Thuringia, at the foot of the Kyffhauser mountain; and in this solitude he wrote a great part of Henry of Ofterdingen. His society this year was mostly confined to that of two men; a brother-in-law of his betrothed, the present General von Theilman, and the present General von Funk, to whom he had been introduced by the former. The society of the last-mentioned person was valuable to him in more than one respect. He made use of his library, among whose chronicles he, in the spring, first hit upon the traditions of Ofterdingen; and by means of the excellent biography of the emperor Frederick the Second, by General von Funk, he became entirely possessed with lofty ideas concerning that ruler, and determined to represent him in his romance as a pattern for a king.

In the year 1800, Novalis was again at Weissenfels, whence, on the 23d of February, he wrote to Tieck,--"My Romance is getting along finely.

About twelve printed sheets are finished. The whole plan is pretty much laid out in my mind. It will consist of two parts; the first, I hope, will be finished in three weeks. It contains the basis and introduction to the second part. The whole may be called an Apotheosis of Poesy.

Henry of Ofterdingen becomes in the first part ripe for a poet, and in the second part is declared poet. It will in many respects be similar to Sternbald, except in lightness. However, this want will not probably be unfavorable to the contents. In every point of view it is a first attempt, the print of that spirit of poesy, which your acquaintance has reawakened in me, and which gives to your friendship its chief value.

"There are some songs in it, which suit my taste. I am very much pleased with the real romance,--my head is really dizzy with the mult.i.tude of ideas I have gathered for romances and comedies. If I can visit you soon, I will bring you a tale and a fable from my romance, and will subject them to your criticism." He visited his friends at Jena the next spring, and soon repeated his visit, bringing the first part of Henry of Ofterdingen, in the same form as that of which this volume is a translation.

When Tieck, in the summer of 1800, left Jena, he visited his friend for some time at his father's house. He was well and calm in his spirits; though his family were somewhat alarmed about him, thinking that they noticed, that he was continually growing paler and thinner. He himself was more attentive than usual to his diet; he drank little or no wine, ate scarcely any meat, living princ.i.p.ally on milk and vegetables. "We took daily walks," says Tieck, "and rides on horseback. In ascending a hill swiftly, or in any violent motion, I could observe neither weakness in his breast nor short breath, and therefore endeavored to persuade him to forsake his strict mode of life; because I thought his abstemiousness from wine and strengthening food not only irritating in itself, but also to proceed from a false anxiety on his part. He was full of plans for the future; his house was already put in order, for in August he intended to celebrate his nuptials. He spake with great pleasure of finishing Ofterdingen and other works. His life gave promise of the most useful activity and love. When I took leave of him, I never could have imagined that we were not to meet again."

When in August he was about departing for Freiberg to celebrate his marriage, he was seized with an emission of blood, which his physician declared to be mere hemorrhoidal and insignificant. Yet it shook his frame considerably, and still more when it began to return periodically. His wedding was postponed, and, in the beginning of October, he travelled with his brother and parents to Dresden. Here they left him, in order to visit their daughter in Upper Lausatia, his brother Charles remaining with him in Dresden. He became apparently weaker; and when, in the beginning of November, he learned that a younger brother, fourteen years of age, had been drowned through mere carelessness, the sudden shock caused a violent bleeding at the lungs, upon which the physician immediately declared his disease incurable.

Soon after this his betrothed came to Dresden.

As he grew weaker, he longed to change his residence to some warmer climate. He thought of visiting his friend Herbert; but his physician advised against such a change, perhaps considering him already too weak to make such a journey. Thus the year pa.s.sed away; and, in January 1801, he longed so eagerly to see his parents and be with them once more, that at the end of the month he returned to Weissenfels. There the ablest physicians from Leipzig and Jena were consulted, yet his case grew rapidly worse, although he was perfectly free from pain, as was the case through his whole illness. He still attended to the duties of his office, and wrote considerably in his private papers. He also composed some poems about this time, read the Bible diligently, and much from the works of Zinzendorf and Lavater. The nearer he approached his end, the stronger was his hope of recovery; for his cough abated, and, with the exception of debility, he had none of the feelings of a sick man. With this hope and longing for life, fresh powers and new talents seemed to awaken within him; he thought with renewed love of his projected labors, and undertook to write Henry of Ofterdingen anew.

Once, shortly before his death, he said; "I now begin, for the first time, to see what true poetry is. Innumerable songs and poems far different from those I have written awake within me." From the 19th of March, the day on which Sophia died, he became very perceptibly weaker; many of his friends visited him, and he was particularly delighted when, on the 21st of March, his faithful and oldest friend Frederick Schlegel came to see him from Jena. He conversed much with him, particularly concerning their mutual labors. During these days his spirits were good, his nights quiet, and he enjoyed tranquil sleep.

About six o'clock on the morning of the 26th, he asked his brother to hand him some books, in order to look out certain pa.s.sages, that he had in mind; he then ordered his breakfast, and conversed with his usual vivacity till eight. Towards nine he asked his brother to play for him on the piano, and soon after fell asleep. Frederick Schlegel soon after entered the chamber, and found him sleeping quietly. This sleep lasted till twelve o'clock, at which hour he expired without a struggle; and unchanged in death his countenance retained the same pleasant expression, that it exhibited during life.

Thus died our author before he had finished his nine-and-twentieth year. In him we may alike love and admire his extensive knowledge and his philosophical genius, as well as his poetical talents. With a spirit much in advance of his times, his country might have promised itself great things of him, had not an untimely death cut him off. Yet his unfinished writings have already had their influence; many of his great thoughts will yet inspire futurity; and n.o.ble minds and deep thinkers will be enlightened and set on fire by the sparks of his spirit.

Novalis was slender and of fine proportions. He wore his light brown hair long, hanging over his shoulders in flowing locks, a style less singular then than now; his brown eye was clear and brilliant, and his complexion, particularly his forehead, almost transparent. His hands and feet were rather too large, and had something awkward about them.

His countenance was always serene and benignant. To those, who judge men by their forwardness, or by their affectation of fashion or dignity, Novalis was lost in the crowd; but to the practised eye he appeared beautiful. The outlines and expression of his face resembled very much those of St. John, as he is represented in the magnificent picture of A. Durer, preserved in Nuremberg and Munchen.

His speech was clear and vivacious. "I never saw him tired," says Tieck, "even when we continued together till late at night; he only stopped voluntarily to rest, and then read before he fell asleep." He knew not what it was to be tired, even in the wearisome companionship of vulgar minds; for he always found some one, who could impart some information to him, useful, though apparently insignificant. His urbanity and sympathy for all made him universally beloved. So skilful was he in his intercourse with others, that lower minds never felt their inferiority. Although he preferred to veil the depths of his mind in conversation, speaking, however, as if inspired, of the invisible world, he was yet merry, as a child, full of art and frolic, giving himself wholly up to the jovial spirit prevailing in the company. Free from self-conceit or arrogance, a stranger to affectation or dissimulation, he was a pure, true man; the purest, loveliest spirit, ever tabernacled in the flesh.

His chief studies for many years were philosophy and physical science.

In the latter he discovered and foretold truths, of which his own age was in ignorance. In philosophy he princ.i.p.ally studied Spinoza and Fichte; but soon marked out a new path, by aiming to unite philosophy with religion; and thus what we possess of the writings of the new Platonists, as well as of the mystics, became very important to him.

His knowledge of mathematics, as well as of the mechanic arts, especially of mining, was very considerable. But in the fine arts he took but little interest. Music he loved much, although he knew little about its rules. He had scarcely turned his attention to painting and sculpture; still he could advance many original ideas about those arts, and p.r.o.nounce skilful judgment upon them.

Tieck mentions an argument with him, concerning landscape painting, in which Novalis expressed views, which he could not comprehend; but which in part were realized, by the rich and poetical mind of the excellent landscape painter, Friedrichs, of Dresden. In the land of Poetry he was in reality a stranger. He had read but few poets, and had not busied himself with criticism, or paid much attention to the inherited system, to which the art of poetry had been reduced. Goethe was for a long while his study, and Wilhelm Meister his favorite work; although we should scarcely suppose so, judging from his severe strictures upon it in his fragments. He demanded from poesy the most everyday knowledge and inspiration; and it was for this reason, that, as the chief masterpieces of poetry were unknown to him, he was free from imitation and foreign rule. He also loved, for this very reason, many writings, which are not generally highly prized by scholars, because in them he discovered, though perhaps painted in weak colors, that very informing and significant knowledge, which he was chiefly striving after.

Those tales, which we in later times call allegories[1] with their peculiar style, most resemble his stories; he saw their deepest meaning, and endeavored to express it most clearly in some of his poems. It became natural for him to regard what was most usual and nearest to him, as full of marvels, and the strange and supernatural as the usual and common-place. Thus everyday life surrounded him like a supernatural story; and that region, which most men can only conceive as something distant and incomprehensible, seemed to him like a beloved home. Thus uncorrupted by precedents, he discovered a new way of drawing and exhibiting his pictures; and in the manifold variety of his relation to the world, from his love and the faith in it, which at the same time was his instructress, wisdom, and religion, since through them a single great moment of life, and one deep grief and loss became the essence of his poesy and of his contemplation, he resembles among late writers the sublime Dante alone, and like him sings to us an unfathomable mystical song, very different from that of many imitators, who think, that they can a.s.sume and lay aside mysticism as they could a mere ornament. Therefore his romance is both consciously and unconsciously the representation of his own mind and fate; as he makes Henry say, in the fragment of the second part, "Fate and mind are but names of one idea." Thus may his life justly appear wonderful to us. We shudder too, as though reading a work of fiction, when we learn, that of all his brothers and sisters only two brothers are now alive; and that his n.o.ble mother, who for several years has also been mourning the death of her husband, is in solitude, devoting herself to her grief and to religion with silent resignation.

HENRY OF OFTERDINGEN.

PART FIRST.

THE EXPECTATION.

DEDICATION.

Thou didst to life my n.o.ble impulse warm, Deep in the spirit of the world to look.

And with thy hand a trusting faith I took, Securely bearing me through every storm, With sweet forebodings thou the child didst bless, To mystic meadows leading him away, Stirring his bosom to its finest play, Ideal, thou, of woman's tenderness.