[Footnote 161: Hold. Werke, Vol. I, p. 143.]

[Footnote 162: Hold. Werke, Vol. I, p. 140.]

[Footnote 163: Len. Werke, Vol. I, p. 258.]

[Footnote 164: Len. Werke, Vol. I, p. 250.]

[Footnote 165: Len. Werke, Vol. I, p. 260.]

[Footnote 166: Len. Werke, Vol. I, p. 249.]

[Footnote 167: Len. Werke, Vol. I, p. 147.]

[Footnote 168: Hold. Werke, Vol. I, p. 144.]

[Footnote 169: Hold. Werke, Vol. I, p. 164.]

[Footnote 170: Hold. Werke, Vol. II, p. 117.]

[Footnote 171: Len. Werke, Vol. I, p. 147.]

[Footnote 172: Werke, Vol. I, p. 51 f]

[Footnote 173: "Der Kranich," Werke, Vol. I, p. 328.]

[Footnote 174: "Herbstlied," Werke, Vol. I, p. 299.]

[Footnote 175: "Mondlied," Werke, Vol. I, p. 310.]

[Footnote 176: Hold. Werke, Vol. I, p. 146.]

[Footnote 177: Werke, Vol. I, p. 299.]

[Footnote 178: Schurz, Vol. II, p. 104.]

[Footnote 179: For an exhaustive discussion of Lenau's nature-sense cf.

Prof. Camillo von Klenze's excellent monograph on the subject, "The Treatment of Nature in the Works of Nikolaus Lenau," Chicago, University Press, 1902.]

[Footnote 180: Frankl, p. 116.]

CHAPTER IV

=Heine=

Heine was probably the first German writer to use the term Weltschmerz in its present sense. Breitinger in his essay "Neues uber den alten Weltschmerz"[181] endeavors to trace the earliest use of the word and finds an instance of it in Julian Schmidt's "Geschichte der Romantik,"[182] 1847. He seems to have entirely overlooked Heine's use of the word in his discussion of Delaroche's painting "Oliver Cromwell before the body of Charles I." (1831).[183] The actual inventor of the compound was no doubt Jean Paul, who wrote (1810): "Diesen Weltschmerz kann er (Gott) sozusagen nur aushalten durch den Anblick der Seligkeit, die nachher vergutet."[184]

But although Heine may have been the first to adapt the word to its present use, and although we have fallen into the habit of thinking of him as the chief representative of German Weltschmerz, it must be admitted that there is much less genuine Weltschmerz to be found in his poems than in those of either Holderlin or Lenau. The reason for this has already been briefly indicated in the preceding chapter. Holderlin's Weltschmerz is altogether the most nave of the three; Lenau's, while it still remains sincere, becomes self-conscious, while Heine has an unfailing antidote for profound feeling in his merciless self-irony. And yet his condition in life was such as would have wrung from the heart of almost any other poet notes of sincerest pathos.

In Lenau's case we noted circ.u.mstances which point to a direct transmission from parent to child of a predisposition to melancholia. In Heine's, on the other hand, the question of heredity has apparently only an indirect bearing upon his Weltschmerz. To what extent was his long and terrible disease of hereditary origin, and in what measure may we ascribe his Weltschmerz to the sufferings which that disease caused him?

The first of these questions has been answered as conclusively as seems possible on the basis of all available data, by a doctor of medicine, S.

Rahmer, in what is at this time the most recent and most authoritative study that has been published on the subject.[185] Stage by stage he follows the development of the disease, from its earliest indications in the poet's incessant nervous headaches, which he ascribes to neurasthenic causes. He attempts to quote all the pa.s.sages in Heine's letters which throw light upon his physical condition, and points out that in the second stage of the disease the first symptoms of paralysis made their appearance as early as 1832, and not in 1837 as the biographers have stated. To this was added in 1837 an acute affection of the eyes, which continued to recur from this time on. In addition to the pathological process which led to a complete paralysis of almost the whole body, Rahmer notes other symptoms first mentioned in 1846, which he describes as "bulbar" in their origin, such as difficulty in controlling the muscles of speech, difficulty in chewing and swallowing, the enfeebling of the muscles of the lips, disturbances in the functions of the glottis and larynx, together with abnormal secretion of saliva.

He discredits altogether the diagnosis of Heine's disease as consumption of the spinal marrow, to which Klein-Hattingen in his recent book on Holderlin, Lenau and Heine[186] still adheres, dismisses as scientifically untenable the popular idea that the poet's physical dissolution was the result of his sensual excesses, finally diagnoses the case as "die spinale Form der progressiven Muskelatrophie"[187] and maintains that it was either directly inherited, or at least developed on the basis of an inherited disposition.[188] He finds further evidence in support of the latter theory in the fact that the first symptoms of the disease made their appearance in early youth, not many years after p.u.b.erty, and concludes that, in spite of scant information as to Heine's ancestors, we are safe in a.s.suming a hereditary taint on the father's side.

The poet himself evidently would have us believe as much, for in his Reisebilder he says: "Wie ein Wurm nagte das Elend in meinem Herzen und nagte,--ich habe dieses Elend mit mir zur Welt gebracht. Es lag schon mit mir in der Wiege, und wenn meine Mutter mich wiegte, so wiegte sie es mit, und wenn sie mich in den Schlaf sang, so schlief es mit mir ein, und es erwachte, sobald ich wieder die Augen aufschlug. Als ich grosser wurde, wuchs auch das Elend, und wurde endlich ganz gross und zersprengte mein.... Wir wollen von andern Dingen sprechen...."[189]

And yet Heine's disposition was not naturally inclined to hypochondria.

In his earlier letters, especially to his intimate friends, there is often more than cheerfulness, sometimes a decided buoyancy if not exuberance of spirits. A typical instance we find in a letter to Moser (1824): "Ich hoffe Dich wohl nachstes Fruhjahr wiederzusehen und zu umarmen und zu necken und vergnugt zu sein."[190] Only here and there, but very rarely, does he acknowledge any influence of his physical condition upon his mental labors. To Immermann he writes (1823): "Mein Unwohlsein mag meinen letzten Dichtungen auch etwas Krankhaftes mitgeteilt haben."[191] And to Merkel (1827): "Ach! ich bin heute sehr verdriesslich. Krank und unfahig, gesund aufzufa.s.sen."[192] In the main, however, he makes a very brave appearance of cheerfulness, and especially of patience, which seems to grow with the hopelessness of his affliction. To his mother (1851): "Ich befinde mich wieder krankhaft gestimmt, etwas wohler wie fruher, vielleicht viel wohler; aber grosse Nervenschmerzen habe ich noch immer, und leider ziehen sich die Krampfe jetzt ofter nach oben, was mir den Kopf zuweilen sehr ermudet. So muss ich nun ruhig aushalten, was der liebe Gott uber mich verhangt, und ich trage mein Schicksal mit Geduld.... Gottes Wille geschehe!"[193] Again a few weeks later: "Ich habe mit diesem Leben abgeschlossen, und wenn ich so sicher ware, da.s.s ich im Himmel einst gut aufgenommen werde, so ertruge ich geduldig meine Existenz."[194] Not only to his mother, whom for years he affectionately kept in ignorance of his deplorable condition, does he write thus, but also to Campe (1852): "Mein Korper leidet grosse Qual, aber meine Seele ist ruhig wie ein Spiegel und hat manchmal auch noch ihre schonen Sonnenaufgange und Sonnenuntergange."[195]

1854: "Gottlob, da.s.s ich bei all meinem Leid sehr heiteren Gemutes bin, und die l.u.s.tigsten Gedanken springen mir durchs Hirn."[196] Much of this sort of thing was no doubt nicely calculated for effect, and yet these and similar pa.s.sages show that he was not inclined to magnify his physical afflictions either in his own eyes or in the eyes of others.

Nor is he absolutely unreconciled to his fate: "Es ist mir nichts gegluckt in dieser Welt, aber es hatte mir doch noch schlimmer gehen konnen."[197]

In his poems, references to his physical sufferings are remarkably infrequent. We look in vain in the "Buch der Lieder," in the "Neue Gedichte," in fact in all his lyrics written before the "Romanzero," not only for any allusion to his illness, but even for any complaint against life which might have been directly occasioned by his physical condition. What is there then in these earlier poems that might fitly be called Weltschmerz? Very little, we shall find.

Their inspiration is to be found almost exclusively in Heine's love-affairs, decent and indecent. Now the pain of disappointed love is the motive and the theme of very many of Holderlin's and Lenau's lyrics, poems which are heavy with Weltschmerz, while most of Heine's are not.

To speak only of the poet's most important attachments, of his unrequited love for his cousin Amalie, and his unsuccessful wooing of her sister Therese,--there can be no doubt that these unhappy loves brought years of pain and bitterness into his life, sorrow probably as genuine as any he ever experienced, and yet how little, comparatively, there is in his poetry to convince us of the fact. Nearly all these early lyrics are variations of this love-theme, and yet it is the exception rather than the rule when the poet maintains a sincere note long enough to engender sympathy and carry conviction. Such are his beautiful lyrics "Ich grolle nicht,"[198] "Du hast Diamanten und Perlen."[199] Let us see how Lenau treats the same theme:

Die dunklen Wolken hingen Herab so bang und schwer, Wir beide traurig gingen Im Garten hin und her.

So heiss und stumm, so trube, Und sternlos war die Nacht, So ganz wie unsre Liebe Zu Thranen nur gemacht.

Und als ich musste scheiden Und gute Nacht dir bot, Wunscht' ich bek.u.mmert beiden Im Herzen uns den Tod.[200]

We believe implicitly in the poet's almost inexpressible grief, and because we are convinced, we sympathize. And we feel too that the poet's sorrow is so overwhelming and has so filled his soul that it has entirely changed his views of life and of nature, or has at least contributed materially to such a change,--that it has a.s.sumed larger proportions and may rightly be called Weltschmerz. Compare with this the first and third stanzas of Heine's "Der arme Peter:"

Der Hans und die Grete tanzen herum, Und jauchzen vor lauter Freude.

Der Peter steht so still und stumm, Und ist so bla.s.s wie Kreide.

Der Peter spricht leise vor sich her Und schauet betrubet auf beide: "Ach! wenn ich nicht zu vernunftig war', Ich that' mir was zu leide."[201]

It is scarcely necessary to cite further examples of this mannerism of Heine's, for so it early became, such as his "Erbsensuppe,"[202] "Ich wollte, er schosse mich tot,"[203] "Doktor, sind Sie des Teufels;"[204]

"Madame, ich liebe Sie!"[205] and many other glaring instances of the "Sturzbad," in order to show how the poet himself deliberately attempted, and usually with success, to destroy the traces of his grief.

This process of self-irony, which plays such havoc with all sincere feeling and therefore with his Weltschmerz, becomes so fixed a habit that we are almost incapable, finally, of taking the poet seriously. He makes a significant confession in this regard in a letter to Moser (1823): "Aber es geht mir oft so, ich kann meine eigenen Schmerzen nicht erzahlen, ohne da.s.s die Sache komisch wird."[206] How thoroughly this mental att.i.tude had become second nature with Heine, may be inferred from a statement which he makes to Friederike Roberts (1825): "Das Ungeheuerste, das Ensetzlichste, das Schaudervollste, wenn es nicht unpoetisch werden soll, kann man auch nur in dem buntscheckigen Gewande des Lacherlichen darstellen, gleichsam versohnend--darum hat auch Shakespeare das Gra.s.slichste im "Lear" durch den Narren sagen la.s.sen, darum hat auch Goethe zu dem furchtbarsten Stoffe, zum "Faust," die Puppenspielform gewahlt, darum hat auch der noch grossere Poet (der Urpoet, sagt Friederike), namlich Unser-Herrgott, allen Schreckensszenen dieses Lebens eine gute Dosis Spa.s.shaftigkeit beigemischt."[207]

In not a few of his lyrics Heine gives us a truly Lenauesque nature-setting, as for instance in "Der scheidende Sommer:"

Das gelbe Laub erzittert, Es fallen die Blatter herab; Ach, alles, was hold und lieblich Verwelkt und sinkt ins Grab.[208]

This is one of the comparatively few instances in Heine's lyrics in which he maintains a dignified seriousness throughout the entire poem.

It is worth noting, too, because it touches a note as infrequent in Heine as it is persistent in Lenau--the fleeting nature of all things lovely and desirable.[209] This is one of the characteristic differences between the two poets,--Heine's eye is on the present and the future, much more than on the past; Lenau is ever mourning the happiness that is past and gone. Logically then, thoughts of and yearnings for death are much more frequent with Lenau than with Heine.[210]

Reverting to the point under consideration: even in those love-lyrics in which Heine does not wilfully destroy the first serious impression by the jingling of his harlequin's cap, as he himself styles it,[211] he does not succeed,--with the few exceptions just referred to,--in convincing us very deeply of the reality of his feelings. They are either trivially or extravagantly stated. Sometimes this sense of triviality is caused by the poet's excessive fondness for all sorts of diminutive expressions, giving an artificial effect, an effect of "Tandelei" to his verses. For example:

Du siehst mich an wehmutiglich, Und schuttelst das blonde Kopfchen, Aus deinen Augen schleichen sich Die Perlenthranentropfchen.[212]